With a cold fury sparkling in her eyes, Elizabeth handed the document to the Lord Treasurer. She commanded him to read it to her.
Surprise, excitement, incredulity were evoked in that tyrannical bosom by the minister’s perusal of this document. But not for a moment did her native keenness of mind desert her.
“Tell me, my lord,” she said, “is this an honest and genuine document?”
Cecil scrutinized the paper closely.
“It bears no evidence, your grace, as far as one can at present see,” said the Lord Treasurer, cautiously, “of its being a counterfeit. But it would be well, perhaps, to have further and more expert testimony upon the subject.”
“Let this man, Simon Heriot, be at once summoned,” said the Queen.
“Alas! your grace,” said the player, “Simon Heriot has been ten days dead. This is his dying testimony.”
The Queen shook her head suspiciously.
“I like not this matter,” she said. “Who are the others named in this conspiracy?”
“One William Muir, your grace, and one Robert Grisewood.”