“To whom?” he thundered. “Answer, Madam.”
“To your Royal Commissioner, Dr. Legh.”
“Ah! I thought as much, though when he spoke of you he did not tell it, the snuffling rogue.”
“The jewels that came to me from my mother are in pawn for that £1000, and I have no more.”
“A palpable lie, Dame Harflete, for if so, how have you paid Cromwell? He did not bring you here for nothing.”
“Oh, my Liege, my Liege,” said Cicely, sinking to her knees, “ask not a helpless woman to betray those who have befriended her in her most sore and honest need. I said I have nothing, unless those gems are worth more than I know.”
“And I believe you, Dame Harflete. We have plucked you bare between us, have we not? Still, perchance, you will be no loser in the end. Now, Master Smith, there, does not work for love alone.”
“Sire,” said Jacob, “that is true, I copy my masters. I have this lady’s jewels in pledge, and I hope to make a profit on them. Still, Sire, there is among them a pink pearl of great beauty that it might please the Queen to wear. Here it is,” and he laid it upon the table.
“Oh, what a lovely thing,” said Jane; “never have I seen its like.”
“Then study it well, Wife, for you look your last upon it. When we cannot pay our soldiers to keep our crown upon our head, and preserve the liberties of England against the Spaniard and the Pope of Rome, it is no time to give you gems that I have not bought. Take that gaud and sell it, Master Smith, for whatever it will fetch among the Jews, and add the price to the £1000, lessened by one tenth for your trouble. Now, Dame Harflete, you have bought the favour of your King, for whoever else may, I’ll not lie. Ah! here comes Cromwell. My Lord, you have been long.”