chamberlain is likely to enter at any moment. And goodness knows what
they'd say at finding you here."

The Masked Lady turned a page. "King John would not see me here if he
were to enter," said she; "no, neither here nor anywhere. And as for
honest old Hubert de Burgh . . . well, perhaps I have a purpose in
being here. You have said this place is genuine; yet I sometimes
wonder if any place in all the world is so unreal as the palace of a
king." She gazed before her dreamily for an instant and added, "I can
see a day coming when all such palaces will be viewed by wondering,
emancipated people, their minds filled with incredulity: because they
will realize that kings' palaces have represented the most terrible
delusion of all."

There was a footfall without at that moment, and the Masked Lady
resumed her writing.

A bluff, soldierly-appearing man of middle age entered the room: a
bearded man of harsh visage, yet with an eye in which justice sat
enthroned. He looked about the room with an air of dawning relief; and
when two villainous-looking rascals followed him into the room he
remarked, with a sigh: "He's not here. And that's a bit of luck at
least--to have no one about whilst we mix this devil's brew." Then
more briskly: "A red-hot iron--red-hot, do you hear?--in a hurry!"

The first attendant, to whom he had spoken, glanced darkly at the
second door of the room, which remained closed. "A hot iron? Yes,
sir," he said, trying to speak naturally. "It shall be prepared."

The second attendant seemed incapable of remaining silent--after the