“Perdone, vuestra merced!—­we are not quits,” cried De Gondomar quickly.  “The account between us is far from settled; nor will I rest content till you have paid me in full.  But we had better break off this interview,” he added, more calmly, “since no good is like to result from it.  It is useless to reason with you; but you are wantonly throwing away a fairer opportunity than falls to the lot of most men, and will see your folly when too late.”

“In taking my leave of your Excellency, as there are no terms henceforth to be observed between us, except those of hostility, I deem it right to state, that though I shall make no especial reference to yourself, I shall hold it my duty to acquaint his Majesty with the system of espionage introduced into the palace; and, above all, I shall take care to guard the Prince against the insidious snares laid for him.”

“It is a pity so faithful a councillor as yourself should not be listened to,” rejoined De Gondomar.  “Yet, when I shut the doors of the palace against you—­as I will do—­you will find it difficult to obtain a hearing either from Prince or King.  In spite of all your efforts to the contrary, I shall learn any state secrets I desire to know, and I have great hopes of winning over Charles Stuart to the faith for which his lovely and martyred ancestress died.  One more word at parting, Sir Jocelyn.  You will remember, when we first met, you were in danger from the Star-Chamber.  It would be useless now to say how I saved you from the punishment your rashness had incurred—­how, while aiding you with the King, I kept aloof your enemies, Mompesson and Mitchell, who were prepared to attach your person for contempt of that terrible court, and would have done so, if I had not prevented them.  The warrant for your arrest still exists, and can be employed at any moment; so you will consider how long you can count upon your freedom, now that you have no strong arm to protect you.”

“I have my own arm to trust to,” rejoined Sir Jocelyn, resolutely, “and have no apprehensions.”

"Vaya usted con dios!" said the Spaniard, bowing him out; “or I should rather say,” he added to himself, “Vaya mucho en mala hora!”

CHAPTER XVII.

Disgrace.

Sir Jocelyn was not without great uneasiness at the result of his interview with De Gondomar.  Had it been possible, he would have avoided a rupture with so influential a personage—­an event to be dreaded at any time, but especially so at a juncture like the present, when dangers menaced him on all sides, and the only question appeared to be, from what side the first blow would come.  His chief anxiety, however, was for Aveline, whose position was one of such strange and imminent peril, against which he knew not how to guard her.  He was still left in the same state of uncertainty as to who would be the claimant of her hand; for the mysterious personage