hardened out of all
its softness. She clenched her fists viciously, and her blue eyes grew
cold and dangerous as steel. At this moment she hardly looked the
delicate flower she had appeared to Wogan's fancy.

"But you need not blame yourself," said Whittington, and he lowered his
head to a level with hers. "All the procurations in Christendom will not
marry James Stuart to Clementina Sobieski."

"She has not come, then?"

"No, nor will she come. There is news to-day. Lean back from the window,
and I will tell you. She has been arrested at Innspruck."

The lady could not repress a crow of delight.

"Hush," said Whittington. Then he withdrew his head and resumed in his
ordinary voice, "I have hired a house for your Ladyship, which I trust
will be found convenient. My servant will drive you thither."

He summoned his servant from the group of footmen about the entrance,
gave him his orders, bowed to the ground, and twisting his cane
sauntered idly down the street.

CHAPTER II

Wogan mounted the stairs, not daring to speculate upon the nature of the
bad news. But his face was pale beneath its sunburn, and his hand
trembled on the balustrade; for he knew--in his heart he knew. There
could be only one piece of news which would make his haste or tardiness
matters of no account.

Both branches of the stairs ran up to a common landing, and in the wall
facing him, midway between the two stairheads, was a great door of tulip
wood. An usher stood by the door, and at Wogan's approach opened it.
Wogan, however, signed to him to be silent. He wished to hear, not to
speak, and so he slipped into the room unannounced. The door was closed
silently behind him, and at once he was surprised by the remarkable
silence, almost a cessation of life it seemed, in a room which was quite
full. Wherever the broad bars of sunshine fell, as they slanted dusty
with motes through the open lattices of the shutters, they striped a
woman's dress or a man's velvet coat. Yet if anyone shuffled a foot or
allowed a petticoat to rustle, that person glanced on each side
guiltily. A group of people were gathered in front of the doorway. Their
backs were towards Wogan, and they were looking towards the centre of
the room. Wogan raised himself on his toes and looked that way too.
Having looked he sank down again, aware at once that he had travelled of
late a long way in a little time, and that he was intolerably tired. For
that one glance was eno