Then the tidings were confirmed, and for a while there was hope.
Sir Nicholas Maxwell rode over to see Chris, and was admitted into one of the parlours to talk with him.
He seemed furiously excited, and hardly saluted his brother-in-law.
“Chris,” he said, “I have come straight from London with great news. The King’s harlot is fallen.”
Chris stared.
“Dead?” he said.
“Dead in a day or two, thank God!”
He spat furiously.
“God strike her!” he cried. “She has wrought all the mischief, I believe. They told me so a year back, but I did not believe it.”