“Read, Sire,” said Bedingfeld, handing the missive he had just received to the King.
“Ha! is it so?” cried Philip, his countenance changing as he read the dispatch. “Remove her, I pray you, my Lord Cardinal,” he added to Pole.
“I will not go till I learn the truth,” cried Constance, distractedly. “Speak, Sir, I conjure you,” she added to Bedingfeld.
“Better let her know the truth, be it what it may,” said Pole.
“Ay, speak, Sir Henry—keep her not in suspense,” said the Queen. “The prisoner was well when you left the Tower—ha?”
“He was, Madam, but——”
“But what?” demanded Mary.
“Since then he has died by poison,” said Philip.
“By poison! how could it be procured?” asked the Queen.
“It appears to have been contained in a ring which he was unluckily allowed to wear,” replied Philip.