"So, Master Talbot," she said, "you are the son of Richard Talbot of Bridgefield."
"An it so please your Majesty."
"And you request license from us to go to the Hague?"
"An it so please your Majesty," repeated Diccon, wondering what was coming next; and as she paused for him to continue—"There are grave rumours and great fears for my brother's ship—he being in the Dutch service—and I would fain learn the truth and see what may be done for his wife."
"Who is his wife?" demanded the Queen, fixing her keen glittering eyes on him, but he replied with readiness.
"She was an orphan brought up by my father and mother."
"Young man, speak plainly. No tampering serves here. She is the wench who came hither to plead for the Queen of Scots."
"Yea, madam," said Diccon, seeing that direct answers were required.
"Tell me truly," continued the Queen. "On your duty to your Queen, is she what she called herself?"
"To the best of my belief she is, madam," he answered.