reeching piteously the while
to the Queen to save him. And Mary, trembling with passion, herself
struggling in the arms of Darnley, flung an angry warning after them.

"If Davie's blood be spilt, it shall be dear blood to some of you!
Remember that, sirs!"

But they were beyond control by now, hounds unleashed upon the quarry of
their hate. Out of her presence Morton and Douglas dragged him, the rest
of the baying pack going after them. They dragged him, screeching still,
across the ante-chamber to the head of the great stairs, and there they
fell on him all together, and so wildly that they wounded one another
in their fury to rend him into pieces. The tattered body, gushing blood
from six-and-fifty wounds, was hurled from top to bottom of the stairs,
with a gold-hilted dagger--Darnley's, in token of his participation in
the deed--still sticking in his breast.

Ruthven stood forward from the group, his reeking poniard clutched in
his right hand, a grin distorting his ghastly, vulturine face. Then he
stalked back alone into the royal presence, dragging his feet a little,
like a man who is weary.

He found the room much as he had left it, save that the Queen had sunk
back to her seat on the settle, and Darnley was now standing over her,
whilst her people were still hemmed about by his own men. Without a "by
your leave," he flung himself into a chair and called hoarsely for a cup
of wine.

Mary's white face frowned at him across the room.

"You shall yet drink the wine that I shall pour you for this night's
work, my lord, and for this insolence! Who gave you leave to sit before
me?"

He waved a hand as if to dismiss the matter. It may have seemed to him
frivolous to dwell upon such a trifle amid so much.

"It's no' frae lack o' respect, Your Grace," he growled, "but frae lack
o' strength. I am ill, and I should ha' been abed but for what was here
to do."

"Ah!" She looked at him with cold repugnance. "What have you done with
Davie?"

He shrugged, yet his eyes quailed before her own.

"He'll be out yonder," he answered, grimly evasive; and he took the wine
one of his followers proffered him.

"Go see," she bade the Countess.

And the Countess, setting the candle-branch upon the buffet, went out,
none attempting to hinder her.

Then, with narrowed eyes, the Queen watched Ruthven while he drank.

"It will be for the sake of Murray and his friends that you do this,"
she said slowly. "Tell me, my lord, what