“Too well, if anything,” said Ephraim. “I was sadly afraid of a slip once. If that fellow had insisted on carrying in the basket, Cary, we should have had a complete smash of the whole thing.”
“Why, did you see that?” said I.
“Of course I did,” he answered. “I was never many yards from you. I lay hidden in a doorway, close to. Cary, you make a deplorably good scold! I never guessed you would do that part of the business so well.”
“I am glad to hear it, for I found it the hardest part,” said I.
Her Ladyship came up and helped me to change my dress.
“The Cause owes something to you to-night, Miss Courtenay,” said she. “At least, if Colonel Keith can escape.”
“And if not, Madam?”
“If not, my dear, we shall but have done our duty. Good-night. Will you accept a little reminder of this evening—and of Lady Inverness?”
I looked up in astonishment. Was this beautiful woman, with her tinge of sadness in face and voice, the woman who had so long stood first at the Court of Montefiascone—the Mistress of the Robes to Queen Clementina, and as some said, of the heart of King James?
My Lady Inverness drew from her finger a small ring of chased gold. “It will fit you, I think, my dear. You are a brave maid, and I like you. Farewell.”