"Good business!" ejaculated Alexander.
"'Tis through Mistress Phœbe I found it out. She has a lover who is one of his life-guard, and this lover she has had cause to suspect is not entirely loyal to him. Last night she did ply him with overmuch good malt brew, and in his befogged state she did get him to babble the secret. Oh, it is a vile scheme! They are planning to deliver the city out of his hands. But that is not the worst. They seek first of all to murder him, and in some underhand, cowardly fashion. The manner of it is not decided yet. Phœbe tells me her lover will remember no word of what he said to her last night in his cups. But she intends to watch him right closely. When she has learned the manner of the plotted murder, he must be warned."
"Isn't this exciting!" exclaimed Corinne.
"Bully! Hot stuff!" agreed Alexander.
Margaret continued: "Now, another entry.
"I have confided my story to Phœbe. She is well to be trusted, I feel. She has promised to help me in my need. I am becoming right fond of Phœbe. Corbie was here last night to see the steward. They are both in the plot, we feel sure. After Corbie left, the steward descended to the cellar. I did not dare to follow—I could only guess that he went to his secret hiding-place.
"Now another space. Then:
"Phœbe had news to-day. Last night she did again muddle her lover with much strong drink. And she did get him to confess that the plot is near completion; that if all goes well, 'twill be put in action four days from now. He also did acknowledge that they intended to put him out of the way by poisoning something he ate. But he knew nothing more definite. Phœbe says she dares not thus befuddle him again. It is too dangerous, as he has shown that he suspects he is babbling and has asked her since many searching questions, to which she pretends guileless ignorance. We must watch him. What if we should not be able to foil him and his vile conspirators!
"Madame M.'s health does not improve. Nay, she has dropped so low that 'tis feared she will not live. Her physician did bleed her yesterday, but 'twas of no avail. She recognizes me, but she will have naught to say to me. In fact she is too weak to utter a word. I am right sorry for her and grieve that she cannot forgive me, though I have done no real wrong. I have sometimes thought she must know of the plot, the vile plot that is to be enacted in this house. But Phœbe declares she is innocent of that. Deep as her hatred may be, she would never wink at such a crime."