She found him standing in satin breeches, silk hose and buckled high-heeled shoes, and shirt of sheer white lawn and rare lace.  He raised his drooping eyelids lazily, and looked at Janet as he lifted from the dressing-table before him rings—­rare jewelled—­and adjusted them on his white fingers.  At his side was a valet, placing fresh sachets filled with civet within false pockets of the satin lining of his lord’s waistcoat.  The cold, proud gleam from Cedric’s dark orbs daunted not Janet.  She courtesied with grave respect.  There was that in her eyes, as she raised them, that called for the dismissal of the lackeys.  As they passed beyond to the ante-chamber, she approached and spoke low in tones vibrant with suppressed emotion.

“My lord, as I am with thee in the chiefest thought of thine heart, I make bold to inform thee of a virulent action that is about to be made against thee; one flagrant of state intrigue and court duplicity.”

“Damme, what now?” and his Lordship leaned heavily upon the table; the conversation at the monastery recurring to his mind with force as Janet proceeded.

“Not being able to contain my anxiety for Mistress Penwick, I wrapt myself and went forth in the storm to watch and listen for aught of her return.  I passed some little distance within the confines of the forest, and was soon put upon my guard by the approaching tramp of horses’ feet, and then, low-keyed voices, and in very truth I thought my lady was come; instead, three horsemen came within a few feet of my hiding and one said,—­’We are even now hard by the Castle courtyard; ’tis possible the lackeys are waiting for the beauty who is perchance now started from the monastery.  Didst ever see such beauty?’ They halted and dismounted some distance from the open road.  Then one said,—­’’Twill send his Majesty to madness when he sees before him such perfect mould, suing for his most gracious clemency toward our cause.’ ’’Tis a wonder my lord of Crandlemar does not take such beauty to wife,’ said another.  ’He may bid her farewell when once her fame reaches the Court; and ’twill be there in less than two days from this hour.  Who will remain with the despatches while we find that rascal Christopher?’ ’’Twill best serve for one to go, and two guard the horses and bags.  Thou hadst best go, Twinkham, thou art as subtle as the wind.  Prod the villain Christopher to haste and enjoin upon him secrecy in the name of His Most Catholic Majesty, the Pope,—­and do not thou be hindered by some scullion wench.’  These things I heard, well-seasoned with imprecation against the king.  I hastened from the rendezvous to my chamber and thought upon it, and—­and there is naught can be done, unless thou wed Mistress Penwick straightway.”

His Lordship fell into furious rage, and vowed he would sever Christopher’s head from his rotting body with a cleaver, and honour him not with a thought of Tyburn Hill.  He would burn yonder monastery and all within to ashes for the wind to carry away; and he would lock Katherine in the tower with his own hands; and he started toward the door, half-dressed as he was, and flung it wide open.