Then they alighted upon the Cardinal de Moreno, who, pale to the lips, strove in vain to smother the growing agitation which had mastered him from the moment when he too first recognized Mirrab. Her passion at sight of him now turned to fury, and, pointing a vengeful finger at him, she shouted wildly—
"'Twas he who tricked and fooled me . . . with smooth and lying tongue he cajoled me! . . . he and his friend . . . then they threatened to have me whipped . . . if I did not depart in peace!"
Awed, horrified, every one listened. Mary Tudor herself hung upon the girl's lips. The Cardinal made a final effort to preserve his outward composure.
"A madwoman!" he murmured with a shrug of the shoulders. "Your Majesty would do well to retire; there's danger in the creature's eyes."
But Wessex was slowly coming to himself. His horror had vanished, leaving him calm before this terrible revelation. With the privilege ever accorded to him by the fond Queen, he now placed a firm hand upon her arm.
"In the name of Your Majesty's ever-present graciousness to me, I entreat you to listen to this woman," he said quietly. "Meseems that some dastardly trick hath been played upon us all."
The Cardinal tried to protest, but already Mary had acquiesced in Wessex' wish, with a nod of the head.
"I have naught to refuse you, my dear lord," she said sadly.
Vaguely she too had begun to guess the appalling riddle which had puzzled her for so long, and though her heart dimly felt that she was even now losing for ever the man whom she so ardently loved, she was too fearless a Queen, too much of a proud Tudor, not to see justice done in the face of so much treachery.
Then Wessex once more turned to Mirrab.