to suggest that perhaps there was a-foot a ruse to get from her those possessions her father had written of.  Katherine rebelled at these insinuations and thought that “dear, good, sweet Janet would never take a pin from her Lambkin to save Church or State.  And Lord Cedric, too, even though he would condemn his servant, he would never take her property, he loved her too well for that; beside, he was a gentleman of honour, even though his evil temper did goad him to fearful deeds.”  She tried to make herself believe that she truly loved Cantemir, and ’twas her religious duty to marry him; but when he spoke either against Cedric or Janet, she was quite sure she hated him.

In pursuance of Lady Constance’ diplomacy, she had assisted Cantemir in arranging the rendezvous for himself first, and finally for Christopher, who was to escape with provision for a long journey, as ’twas not certain what Lord Cedric would do if he found him at the monastery.  And Katherine had this night pledged to wed the count in three days’ time.  Even as they were arranging their plans Cantemir’s valet had rushed to him saying that his Lordship’s page had come to his apartments, and finding him gone his master had vowed death to any who would intrigue at such hours with his promised wife.  Cantemir, a polished, hollow-hearted, selfish sycophant and coward, made more so perhaps by Constance’ influence over him, at Katherine’s command, as it were, had taken flight.

Constance listened eagerly the next morning, as she sat ’neath her maid’s hands, to every detail of the evening’s adventure; but her disappointment at such mischance was greatly allayed by the unexpected presence of Sir Julian Pomphrey.  He was second only to Lord Cedric in her affections.  Her greatest desire was to gain his Lordship’s love; if she could not have that, then she would try for the king’s favour whereby she would be able to live at court and be ever near Sir Julian, whose mistress she had been and might be again.

She had begun well to bombard for the accomplishment of her first desire.

As soon as possible she rode forth, passing beyond Crandlemar village, where a short way from its confines she came upon a certain innocent looking tree that had some six feet above its broad trunk a loosened knot, which could be removed at will.  She plucked it forth and looked within.  It was empty and barren of even a bird’s nest.  Constance had no compassion for its loneliness when she laid therein a small, white piece of paper and filled the orifice with the rough knot.  She rode away content and doubting not that Count Cantemir would soon have her letter.

He had halted some five leagues beyond Crandlemar at an inn remote from the highway, the landlord of which was a monk, dissembling his name to Jacques Dempsy of the Cow and Horn, and his religion to anything that was the king’s pleasure.

The two sat in the deserted drinking-room; their heads bent together and speaking in subdued tones.  Cantemir’s hand rested upon his leg, that had been freshly washed and bound by the landlord.