“What new treason has come to light, brother!” demanded the Duke of Suffolk, uneasily.
“Nothing new,—nothing but what I suspected. But their plots have taken a more dangerous and decided form,” replied Northumberland, sternly.
“You do not name the traitors,—but you speak of the privy-council, I conclude?” observed Suffolk.
“Ay, brother, of the privy-council. They are all my enemies,—your enemies,—the queen’s enemies. This scroll warns me that a conspiracy is forming against my life.”
“Heaven forbid!” ejaculated Suffolk. “Surely, our English nobles are not turned assassins.”
“The chief mover in the dark scheme is not an Englishman,” returned Northumberland.
“It cannot be the light-hearted De Noailles. Ha! I have it: it is the plotting and perfidious Simon Renard.”
“Your Grace is in the right,” replied Northumberland; “it is Simon Renard.”
“Who are his associates?” inquired Suffolk.
“As yet I know not,” answered the other; “but I have netted them all, and, like the fowler, will spare neither bird of prey nor harmless songster. I have a trick shall test the true metal from the false. What think you, brother?—a letter has arrived from Mary to this false council, claiming the crown.”.