“Tell me, my lord,” said Richard presently, halting beside him and putting a hand on his shoulder, “if you were King of England, what would you do with the Princes?”

Stanley evaded the direct question.  “Your Majesty is King of England, and I can never be aught but a subject—­how can I know what a King would do?”

Richard nodded.  “That is but fair, my lord,” he said.  “To decide as King one must be King.  Yet I would gather from our talk that you deem the . . . removal . . . most essential—­is it not so?”

Pushed into the corner, the shifty Baron hesitated and sought to evade again.  But he managed badly, for now the King’s eyes were hard upon his face.

“Of a truth, Sire,” he replied, “our talk this night has convinced me it would be most expedient for Your Majesty.”

Richard’s lips softened into the very faintest smile.

“Our talk------!” he began.

Then suddenly Stanley started up and pointed to the window.

“Who is yonder listener?” he exclaimed.

Richard turned quickly, following the gesture.

“Are your eyes failing?” he asked.  “It is De Lacy—­he is on duty to-night.”

“Did you know he was there?”

“Most assuredly, my lord.”

Stanley stared at the King in amazed silence, and despite his careful dissimulation the indignation blazed in his eyes.

“If Your Majesty deem it wise to discuss such matters before a simple attendant,” he said, “it is not for me to criticise . . . yet, methinks, if it be not risky, it is at least unusual.”

“Never fear, Lord Steward; I will answer for my Body-Knight,” Richard responded.

During the colloquy, De Lacy had been leaning on the window edge, watching idly the courtyard below, but paying strict attention to all that was said behind him.  Now he came forward and bent knee to Richard.

“My King’s confidence,” he said, “makes contemptible the insinuations of the fickle Stanley.”

“How now, Sir------” Stanley began angrily; but Richard silenced him with
an imperious gesture.

“Hold, my Lord Steward,” he said sternly, “no words betwixt you two.  And hark you both, no renewal of this hereafter.  You are each acquittanced of the other now.”

De Lacy drew himself up stiffly and saluted.

“The King commands,” he said.

“And you, my lord?” asked Richard, eyeing Stanley.

“Pardieu!  Sire, I have no quarrel with Sir Aymer,” he answered, and affably extended his hand.

Just then there came loud voices from the outer room, followed immediately by the entrance of the page.

“May it please Your Majesty,” the boy said, as the King’s curt nod gave him leave to speak, “Sir Robert Brackenbury craves instant audience on business of state.”

“Admit him!”

The next moment the old Knight strode into the room, spurs jangling and boots and doublet soiled by travel.