“What?” cried Rutland.
Lord Cromwell was silent.
“An heir, mayhap?” said the Earl of Essex.
“A hare? fie!” answered Cromwell. “A deer would mark nearer.”
“Ha! ha! ha!” roared Bedford and Rutland.
“Now, fie on thee, talebearer!” cried Essex, yet smiling. “We must be on our guard against thee. But who comes now?”
The door opened as he spoke, and loud cries of “Sweet Hal Tracey! good Hal!” in which he himself joined, greeted the person who entered.
Sir Henry Tracey—for such was the real designation of the new comer—answered this welcome in the same spirit, and saluted each of the company separately. That done, he turned to Essex, and, with a familiarity that, of its single self, denoted them to be on the most intimate relations, drew him aside.
“Art ready to depart?” he inquired.