But there was one man at least who did not share the general depression and uneasiness.  Cuthbert Cholmondeley, esquire to Lord Guildford Dudley, husband of Queen Jane, found much to interest him in the scene.  The reception of her Majesty by Og, Gog, and Magog had already driven away the sense of portending evil from his mind when he caught sight of a girl’s face in the crowd.  It was only for a moment that he had sight of it; but it left such a deep impression on his mind that for the rest of the day he burned with impatience to discover who the girl might be.

Much had to happen before he could satisfy his curiosity.  Once in the Tower, plots against Queen Jane and the Duke of Northumberland began to thicken.  At a meeting of the Privy Council the duke compelled the lords, under threat of imprisonment, to sign a proclamation declaring Princess Mary illegitimate.  Renard lost no time in turning to his own advantage the bad impression created by these tactics.

“Do you consent to Northumberland’s assassination?” he whispered to Pembroke.

“I do,” replied the Earl of Pembroke.  “But who will strike the blow?”

“I will find the man.”

This sinister fragment of conversation fell upon the ears of Cuthbert.  He at once sent a warning missive to his master, telling him of the plot against the duke’s life.  Then, this duty performed, he set out to try and find the girl whose face had so impressed him.  From the giant warders he learnt that she was the adopted daughter of Dame Potentia Trusbut, wife of Peter, the pantler of the Tower.  A mystery surrounded her birth.  Her mother had been imprisoned in the Tower by Henry VIII., and in her dungeon had given birth to Cicely—­such was the name of the girl.

Magog, seeing Cuthbert’s interest, good-naturedly carried him off with him to the pantler’s quarters.  Here a gargantuan feast was in progress, to which the three giants did full justice, devouring whole joints and pasties and quaffing vast flagons of wine, to the great delight of the pantler and his wife.  But Cuthbert had no eyes except for Cicely.  He was not content until he was by her side and was able to hear her voice.  The attraction between them was mutual, and it was not long before they were whispering the first words of love into one another’s ears.

While all was merriment, Renard and Pembroke made their appearance unobserved.  They had intercepted Cuthbert’s letter, and were anxious to satisfy themselves as to the identity of the rash youth who had dared to cross their path.

“Though we have intercepted his missive to Lord Dudley,” whispered Renard, “he may yet betray us.  He must not return to the palace.”

“He shall never return, my lords,” said a tall, dark man, advancing towards them, “if you will entrust his detention to me.”

“Who are you?” demanded Renard, eyeing him suspiciously.

“Lawrence Nightgall, the chief gaoler.”