“Hist!” cried Lady Exeter.  “Did you not hear a noise?”

“No,” he rejoined.  “Where?”

She pointed to the little passage leading to the ante-chamber.  He instantly went thither, and examined the place, but without discovering any listener.

“There is no one,” he said, as he returned.  “No one, in fact, could have obtained admittance without my knowledge, for my Spanish servant, Diego, in whom I can place full confidence, is stationed without.”

“I distrust that man, William,” she observed.  “When I asked whom you thought had removed the letters, my own suspicions had attached to him.”

“I do not think he would have done it,” Lord Roos replied.  “He has ever served me faithfully; and, besides, I have a guarantee for his fidelity in the possession of a secret on which his own life hangs.  I can dispose of him as I please.”

“Again that sound!” exclaimed the Countess.  “I am sure some one is there.”

“Your ears have deceived you,” said the young nobleman, after examining the spot once more, and likewise the secret entrance by which the Countess had approached the chamber.  “I heard nothing, and can find nothing.  Your nerves are shaken, and make you fanciful.”

“It may be so,” she rejoined.  But it was evident she was not convinced, for she lowered her tones almost to a whisper as she continued.  It might be that the question she designed to put was one she dared not ask aloud.  “What means do you purpose to employ in the execution of your design?”

“The same as those employed by Somerset and his Countess in the removal of Sir Thomas Overbury; but more expeditious and more certain,” he replied under his breath.

“Dreadful!” she exclaimed, with a shudder.  “But the same judgment that overtook the Somersets may overtake us.  Such crimes are never hidden.”

“Crimes fouler than theirs have never been brought to light, and never will.  There was one in which Somerset himself was concerned, involving the destruction of a far higher personage than Overbury; and this dare not even be hinted at.”

“Because the greatest person in the land was connected with it,” returned the Countess, “I conclude you refer to the death of Prince Henry?”

“I do,” answered Lord Roos.  “Somerset would never have been questioned about Overbury, if his fall had not been resolved upon by the King.”

“One other question, and I ask no more,” said the Countess, scarcely able to syllable her words.  “Who is to administer the deadly draught?”

“Luke Hatton, Lady Lake’s apothecary.  He is a creature of mine, and entirely devoted to me.”

“Our lives will be in his hands ever afterwards,” said the Countess, in a deep whisper.

“They will be in safe keeping,” he rejoined, endeavouring to reassure her.

“O, William!  I would I could prevail upon you to defer this project.”

“To what end?  The sooner it is done the better.  It cannot, indeed, be deferred.  I shall send for Luke Hatton to-night.”