'Sot!' she cried. 'Tell me! Tell me!'
He rose to his seat and held his arms to protect his head and eyes. When he stuttered:
'Nick Throckmorton had it!' her hand fell powerless to her side; but when he added: 'He gave it to Privy Seal!' she cast the tongs into the brands to save herself from cleaving open his head.
'God!' she said drily, 'you have lost your advancement. And I mine!... And I mine.'
She wavered to her chair by the hearth-place, and covered her face with her white hands.
The boy got to his knees, then to his feet; he staggered backwards into the arras beside the door.
'God's curse on you!' he said. 'Where is Margot? That I may beat her! That I may beat her as you have beaten me.' He waved his hand with a tipsy ferocity and staggered through the door.
'Was it for this I did play the —— for thee?' he menaced her. 'By Cock! I will swinge that harlot!'
The old knight got to his feet. He laid his hand heavily upon Cicely Elliott's shoulder.
'Best begone from here,' he said, 'this is no quarrel of mine or thine.'