“Yes, your grace, that is the view I hold. In the first place, I have taken the opportunity to compare the writing in the paper with that of another document in the same hand. And may it please your grace that I am fully satisfied that they are one and the same. And, further, I will add that the death in such circumstances of such a man convinces me that a grievous miscarriage of justice has been perpetrated in the case of the young man, Gervase Heriot.”
Another round oath rose to the lips of the Queen. She got up impulsively from her couch. The heart of a woman had begun to stir in that withered and grotesque frame.
“My lord, if that is your opinion, we must go further into this,” she said. “Upon my life, we must not send to the ax those who have done nothing to deserve it.”
“To that, your grace, I say amen with all my heart,” said the Lord Treasurer, assuming an air of simple human kindness, which really became him very well indeed.
“Let this young man, Heriot, attend us here and now,” said the Queen.
“Unfortunately, both Mr. Heriot and Mistress Feversham have already been removed to the Tower,” said the Lord Treasurer, “until the pleasure of your Majesty be further known.”
“Let the young man be brought to us at once,” said the Queen. “And the girl also.”
“The commands of your Majesty shall be obeyed,” said the Lord Treasurer. “Both prisoners shall be sent for immediately.”
With a low bow, the minister quitted the room.
A subtle but marked change had suddenly taken place in the Queen’s manner. She turned to the playwright with a certain kindness in the hard eyes.