He held out the letter the King had just signed.
“Weel,” said the Earl peevishly. “What may this be?”
Sir John lowered his voice.
“The authority—the warrant you asked for, my lord. The King saith he is no man’s puppet—but he has served my turn now—he signed and did not read this—look here—my Lord Argyll.” He pointed out a clause in the letter; it ran:
“As for Makian of Glencoe and that tribe, if they can well be distinguished from the other Highlanders, it will be proper for the vindication of public justice to extirpate that set of thieves.”
CHAPTER XXII
THE RESOLUTION OF DESPAIR
Delia Featherstonehaugh sat in her miserable little lodgings in Southwark and looked across the gaunt room at Jerome Caryl. He had told her how the cold clemency of the King had thwarted all the schemes of the Master of Stair, how all evidence against them was destroyed.
Delia listened with no look of joy or relief; she gave a bitter laugh.
“So it has all been for nothing—nothing,” she said. “Why could not he have been merciful rather than the Prince—why could not he have done the fine things?”
“It is not in his nature,” answered Jerome Caryl.