“No, it will pass in a moment,” she replied.
Resolved not to give way, she went on; but the effort was too much for her, and she had no sooner gained the Post Room than she sank on a chair completely exhausted.
“What place is this?” she asked, in a feeble voice, and glancing around.
“It is called the Post Room, Madam, from that wooden pillar in the centre,” replied Pole.
“It looks like a torture-chamber,” observed Philip.
“It has been put to a similar purpose, I fear,” said the Cardinal. “Yon pillar has not served merely to support the roof.”
“Where is Constance Tyrrell?” demanded Mary.
“In the prison-chamber overhead,” replied Pole. “The staircase is steep and difficult. ’Twould be hazardous to your Majesty to mount it.”
“Let her be brought down,” said the Queen.
Upon this, Rodomont Bittern, who, with Simon Mallet, keeper of the tower, stood waiting for orders, immediately disappeared through an arched doorway at the further end of the sombre apartment. Shortly afterwards they returned, bringing with them Constance Tyrrell. This done, they retired.