“See here, my lady——” he began.
The men had fallen back from her a little now that the papers were safe, and she lifted her ringed hand and struck his ruddy face with all her might. There was a moment of confusion and laughter as he recoiled.
“Now will you remember that her Grace’s ladies are not to be trifled with?”
There was a murmur from the crowded room, and a voice near the door cried:
“She says truth, Mr. Nichol. It is Mistress Corbet.”
Nichol had recovered himself, but was furiously angry.
“Very good, madam, but I have these papers now,” he said, “they can still be read.”
“You blind idiot,” hissed Mary, “do you not know lute music when you see it?”
“I know that ladies do not burn lute music with locked doors,” observed Nichol bitterly.
“The more fool you!” screamed Mary, “when you have caught one at it.”