“Leave it to me, my lord,” rejoined De Noailles. “All I require is your voice with the queen.”
“That you may rely on,” answered the bishop.
With this, they separated; Gardiner proceeding to his own apartments, and De Noailles bending his steps towards the green, debating with himself, as he wended thither, what course it would be best to pursue in the emergency. Nothing occurred to him but expedients so hazardous that he instantly dismissed them. While resolving these matters, as he walked to and fro beneath the avenue, he was accosted by Xit, who, doffing his cap, and making a profound bow, inquired whether the rumour was correct that the Earl of Devonshire had incurred the queen’s displeasure and was imprisoned.
“Ay, marry is it,” replied De Noailles.
“I am truly concerned to hear it,” replied the mannikin; “and I make no doubt his lordship’s disgrace is owing to the machinations of his mortal foe, Simon Renard.”
“Thou art in the right,” replied De Noailles. “And let it be known throughout the Tower that this is the case.”
“I will not fail to spread it among my fellows,” replied Xit. “But none can lament it more than myself. I would lay down my life for his lordship.”
“Indeed!” exclaimed De Noailles. “This knave may be useful,” he muttered. “Harkee, sirrah! Canst thou devise some safe plan by which a letter may be conveyed to the earl, who is imprisoned in the lieutenant’s lodgings?”
“Your excellency could not have chanced upon one more able or willing to serve you,” replied Xit. “Give me the letter, and I will engage it shall reach its destination.”
“Come to my lodgings this evening,” said De Noailles, “and it shall be ready for thee. As yet, my plan is not matured.”