Bothwell read all this to the Queen, who said nothing. She was thinking of a business of her own, as appeared when she was alone. She beckoned up Baptist.
‘There’s not a moment to be lost. Find me a messenger, a trusty one, who will get speech with Mary Fleming.’
‘Madam,’ says Baptist, ‘let me go.’
‘No, no: I need you. Try Paris—no! my lord would never spare him. And he would deny me again. Do you choose somebody.’
‘What is he to say to her, ma’am?’
‘He shall speak to her in private. She knows where my coffer is—my casket.’
Ah! this was a grave affair. Des-Essars made up his mind at once. ‘Madam,’ he said, ‘let me advise your Majesty. Either send me, or send no one. If you send me I will bring the casket back. That I promise. If you send no one—if you do not remind her—it will slip her memory.’
The Queen’s eyes showed her fears. ‘Remember you, Baptist, of my casket. If Fleming were to betray me to Lethington——’ No need to end.
‘Again I say, madam, send me.’
She thought; but even so her eyes filled with tears, which began to fall fast.