She rose, and her full height, with heels and head-dress, was more than his. He made as if to speak.
"There is no more to say," she said coldly, and left him discomfited.
No news came, but many rumours found their way into the crowded galleries at Whitehall, where the anxious courtiers waited and endeavoured to read the situation in the Queen's face and manner.
She baffled them all, both at her supper-table and afterwards, when she sat down to basset as usual in that splendid hall where King Charles had held his festivals. She was gay and gracious and unconcerned—some even thought her unfeeling. She appeared to notice nothing; but her eyes and ears were quick for it all—the whispers, the looks, the ill-concealed fears and hopes.
She was, she knew, absolutely alone; not one of the throng about her could she confide in, and very few could she trust. She suspected that many of them were but waiting for a slackening of her courage to call all lost and hasten to make their peace with James; ill news from the Fleet or from Ireland might mean instant rebellion, she was well aware.
Meanwhile she played basset and made no mistake in her moves.
When it was near ten of the clock Lord Nottingham entered the room. The Queen's eyes at once distinguished him among the crowd.
She continued dealing the cards. When he approached her she looked up with a steady smile.
Her lips shaped the one word—
"News?"