‘Of course he knows. But the Queen does not know it.[5] Now, if I tell him that you will use the letter against him with the Queen, Mr. Secretary, you will be hanged.’
The Secretary flinched. ‘My lord,’ he said, ‘what is it that you want from me?’
‘Your master’s sign-manual, hireling,’ says Bothwell. ‘Go and get it.’
He left him to scheme it out, of all wretches in Scotland at that hour the one I could pity the most. Lethington was a man who saw every head an empty pot compared with his own; and yet, by mere pusillanimity, he had to empty himself to fill them. He was a coward, must have countenance if he were to have courage. With a brain like his, a man might lord it over half Europe; yet the water in his heart made him bond-slave of every old Scots thief in turn. The only two he dared to best and betray were——Well! we shall have to see him do it soon enough. And yet, I say, pity Mr. Secretary!
The Earl of Atholl, kindly, dull man, who was his friend through all, went with him now to beard the Bastard of Scotland. Bolt upright in his elbow-chair, his Bible on one hand, his sword and gloves on the other, my lord of Moray listened to what was said without movement. His face was a mask, his hands placid, his eyes fixed on the standish. Atholl talked, Lethington talked, but not a word was said of Bothwell so long as the first of these two was in the room. The moment he was out of it, the question came sharp and short.
‘Who stands in the dark of this, Lethington? Who is at your back?’
Lethington never lied to his master. ‘My lord, it was the Earl of Bothwell came suddenly upon me this morning.’
‘You surprise me, sir. I had not thought you shared confidences with that lord.’
‘Nor have I ever, my lord,’ says Lethington, with much truth; ‘nor did I to-day. Such confidence as there was came from him.’