‘Well, you for one, are glad that’s over, I’ll wager,’ said Luke.
‘I am, indeed,’ sighed Anne. ‘I was so terrified that some of them would get to know the Countess wasn’t here and start some sort of a scandal story going. That was another funny thing; I never told you about that cat. Yesterday, I left Barbara’s rooms and forgot to lock the door behind me. While I was away, one of the guests—a duchess, I believe, she was—took a notion to call on the Countess. It seemed she knocked, and getting no answer, had half opened the door to walk in. Anyway, I arrived back just in time to see the big cat attacking the duchess, spitting at her and driving her away. And you remember what a friendly creature it is ordinarily—even playing with the spaniel. What do you make of that?’
‘Well, nothing much out of the way,’ grunted Luke. ‘The cat likes spaniels, it seems, and doesn’t like duchesses. Very natural.—Oh, there’s somebody beckoning from the door. One of the Queen’s ladies. It will be for you, Anne.’
‘Goodness!’ whispered Anne, springing up. ‘I hope it’s not bad news about the King.’
‘If it is,’ Luke called after her, ‘come back and let me know as soon as you can get away. I’ll be here.’
As a matter of fact, it was bad news. The King was worse. But even if Anne had come back to bring it, she would not have found Luke upon the terrace.
For, shortly after she had left, those watching eyes of the esquire had spied at last the tiny shape of a coach, away off in the distance, lumbering towards the castle.
In a dozen breakneck bounds he went flying down the garden steps. At the foot, within a small clump of trees, he had a horse tied, saddled and waiting.
A moment later he was galloping down the road to meet his master.