‘Madam——’ he began; but Douglas nudged him furiously.
‘Your bonnet, man, your bonnet!’
The Queen had risen, and the fixed direction of her eyes gave him understanding.
‘Ah, my knapscall! I do as others do, madam,’ he said, with a meaning look at the Italian. ‘What is pleasant to your Majesty in yonder servant should not be an offence in a councillor.’
‘No, no, ma’am, nor it should not,’ muttered Fawdonsyde, who, nevertheless, doffed his bonnet.
The King was holding her again, she staring still at the scowling man in steel. ‘What do you want with me, Ruthven?’ she said. She had very dry lips.
He made a clumsy bow. ‘May it please your Majesty,’ he said, ‘we are come to rid you of this fellow Davy, who has been overlong familiar here, and overmuch—for your Majesty’s honour.’
She turned her face to the King, whose arm still held her—a white, strong face.
‘You,’ she said fiercely, ‘what have you to do in this? What have you to say?’