Darby halted and bowed low and long—­very low and very long.

“Your ladyship does me too much honor,” he said, with well assumed humility, “in even thinking of the Countess of Clare and my poor self in the same moment.”

“Doubtless I do—­since your devotion was too feeble even to send you to her rescue.”

“And now you do me deep injustice; I sought the Countess from the day following the abduction until all hope was gone.  Methinks alas! she has long since been gathered with the Saints.”

The Countess of Ware—­the Lady Mary Percy that was—­laughed with gibing intonation.

“There is one, at least, who has not ceased to hope and to search,” she said.

“And has been as successful as myself,” he retorted, nor hid the sneer.

“But if he find her?”

Darby shrugged his shoulders.  “Think you there is recognition in the spirit world?”

“Then you actually believe the Countess dead?” the Lady Lovel asked.

“Beyond all question, madam.  It is near three months since the abduction and a trace of her has yet to be discovered;” and was going on when the Countess of Ware stopped him.

“Can you tell us what detains the King?” she asked.

“I have no notion,” he replied.  “I saw him an hour or so ago and he was in the best of health and humor.”

“Your news is stale,” she laughed; “a King’s humor an hour old is very ancient.”

“True,” said Darby, “true indeed, yet here comes one who can doubtless answer fittingly. . .  Sir Ralph, what delays His Majesty?”

But De Wilton looked him straight in the face, and with never a word in reply, passed on.

And at that moment the Black Rod entered, and behind him came the King.

Save for the crimson lining of his short gown, he was clad in white from head to foot, an ivory boar with eyes of rubies and tusks of sapphires, pinned the feather in his bonnet, about his neck hung the George, and his only weapon was the diamond hilted dagger at his girdle.  With it he toyed, looking neither to the right nor to the left, nor yet to the front; but rather at the mental picture of one engrossed in thought.

Slowly and with the impressive dignity that was the natural heritage of the Plantagenets, he mounted the steps to the Throne and turning faced his Court; and all bowed low, and then in silence waited, while his dark eyes searched them through.

“You may take your places, my Lord Cardinal and Lord Chancellor,” he said.  “Her Majesty will not join us until later.”

Bowing in response, the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Bishop of Lincoln assumed their stools on the third step of the dais; and the crowd, released from the ceremonial calm, began to buzz softly with conversation, though without taking eye from the King.  And they turned quickly dumb again as Richard raised his hand.

“We will have to beg your kind indulgences if, for a while, we delay the games and the dance,” he said.  “It is a most unhappy chance upon this evening of all others, when we are about to celebrate our safe return from rebellious war, that there has come to us evidences of foulest crime and darkest treason by one high in rank and station, and who is, even now, within sound of my voice.”