When the two captains came again to London they found the air full of the intriguings of Spain.  In that year Santa Cruz had organized a plot against the Queen’s life, discovered almost by chance; in that year it became clear that Philip’s long chafing against the growing sea-power of England and his hatred of such rangers as Drake and Hawkins must sooner or later blaze up in war.  And by chance also Armadas learned how narrow had been their own escape from a Spanish prison.

He had been the guest of a friend at the acting of Master Lyly’s new masque by the Children of the Chapel at Gray’s Inn.  Little Tom Poope sang Apelles’s song and ruffled it afterward among the ladies of the court, as lightly as Essex himself.  Armadas came out into the dank Thames air humming over the dainty verses,—­

    “’At last he staked her all his arrows. 
    His mother’s doves, and team of sparrows—­’”

A small hand slid into his own and pulled him toward a byway.

“Why, how is it with thee, Master Poope?  Didst play thy part bravely, lad.”

“Come,” said the boy in a low breathless voice.  “I have somewhat to tell thee.  In here,” and he drew Armadas toward a doorway. “’T is my mother’s lodging—­there is nothing to fear.”

A woman let them in as if she had been watching for them, opened the door into a small plainly furnished private room and vanished.

“Art not going on any more voyages to the Virginias?” asked the boy, his eager eyes on the Captain’s face.

“Not for the present, my boy.  Why?  Wouldst like to sail with us, and learn more of the ways of Indian Princes?”

“Nay, I have no time for fooling—­they’ll miss me,” said the youngster impatiently.  “The Spanish Ambassador has his spies upon thee, and thou must leave a false scent for them to smell out.  He sent his report on thee, eight months ago.”

“Before we sailed to Roanoke?” queried Armadas with lifted brows.

“Before thou went to Richmond that day.  His Excellency quizzed me after the masque and asked me did I know when the ships sailed and whither they were bound, believing me to be cozened by his gold.  I told him they were for Florida to find the fountain of youth for the Queen, and would sail on May-day!”

A grin of pure delight widened the boy’s face, and he wriggled in gleeful remembrance where he perched, on a tall oaken chair.  “Oh, they will swallow any bait, those gudgeons, and some day their folly will be the end of them.  I would not have them catch thee if they could be fooled, and well did I fool them, I tell thee!”

“For—­heaven’s—­sake!” stammered Armadas in amazement.  “Little friend,” he added gently, “it seems to me that we owe thee life and honor.  But why didst do it?”

“Why?” The boy’s fine dark brows bent in a quick frown.  “What a pox right had they to be tempting me to be false to the salt that I and they had eaten?  I hate all Spaniards.  I’d ha’ done it any way,” he added shyly, “for to win our game, but I did it for love o’ thee because thou took my part about the mascarado.”