He turned again to the window—­and started forward with surprise.  “Darby!  By all the devils in Hell!  Here, with the King. . .  The false-hearted scoundrel!  With him, at least, I can square off.”

He struck the door sharply; it opened and Raynor Royk stepped within and saluted.

“Will you deliver a message for me?” Buckingham asked, offering him a rose-noble.

The old soldier drew back.

“I am not for sale, Sir Duke,” he said.  “What is the message?”

“For Sir Aymer de Lacy, my good fellow.  Tell him I pray a moment’s conversation on a matter of grave importance.”

Without a word Royk faced about and went pounding down the passage.

Presently a light, quick step came springing up the stairway, and De Lacy entered and closed the door behind him.

“You sent for me?” he said.

“Aye, Sir Aymer, and I thank you for the coming.  Tell me, when did Lord Darby join the King?”

“About a week since; though he left us at Lincoln on the seventeenth to gather his retainers.”

“Bah!  I might have known it!” the Duke exclaimed.  “It was he, then, that betrayed our plans to Richard.  God in Heaven, that I might have him by the throat!” and he clinched his hands in fury.

“Was Darby forewarned of your revolt?” De Lacy asked.

“Forewarned!  Forewarned!  The dog helped me arrange and mature it.  He swore he hated Richard.”

“Doubtless he did—­and does so still, it was not he who betrayed you.”

Stafford stared incredulously.

“Then how, in Satan’s name, comes he here now?” he demanded.

“I can answer that better after I know his part with you—­may I send for Ratcliffe?”

“As you wish,” was the reply.

That the Master of Horse was surprised at the summons was very evident; and he turned to De Lacy questioningly.

“The Duke has certain information touching Lord Darby which must be confided to some one else than me,” Sir Aymer explained.

Ratcliffe nodded.  “Since your quarrel with Lord Darby such a course were very wise.”

“I know nothing of Darby’s quarrel with Sir Aymer de Lacy,” said Stafford, “but I have seen him here and have learned that he joined Richard at Lincoln, the day prior to that set for the revolt, so I denounce him as a double traitor—­traitor to the King, forsworn to me.  It was he—­he and that hawk-faced priest Morton—­who, ere we left Windsor and on all the march to Gloucester, urged and persuaded me to turn against the King.  He visited me at Brecknock to arrange details; was there only four days before he deserted me at Lincoln.  It was he who was to lead the rising in West Yorkshire.  The only reward he asked was my promise for the new King that he be permitted to marry the Countess of Clare.”

“The Countess of Clare!” De Lacy exclaimed.