"Is it the last night Your Eminence will spend at our Court?" she asked pointedly.
"I think not, Your Majesty," replied the Cardinal blandly. "'Tis many days yet which I shall hope to spend in Your Majesty's company."
"Yet the skein is still entangled, my lord."
"'Twill be unravelled, Your Majesty."
"When?"
"Quien sabe?" he replied. "Perhaps to-night."
"To-night?"
She had allowed herself to be led away by the eagerness of her desire to know what was happening. Shrewd enough where her own wishes and plans were concerned, she could not help but notice the air of contentment, even of triumph, which the Cardinal had worn throughout the evening. He certainly did not look like a man about to be sent back discomfited, to an irate master, there to explain that he had failed in the task allotted to him.
Mary's curiosity was very much on the alert, but His Eminence's monosyllabic answers were not intended to satisfy her, and perforce she had to desist from further questioning him. Obviously he did not mean to tell her anything just yet. She bade him good night with more graciousness than he could have anticipated, and his bow to her was full of the most profound respect.
A moment later she had passed out of the room, followed by Her Grace of Lincoln and her maids-of-honour.