"They may hang me and welcome since you believe this thing. They could
not hurt me more than you are doing, nor by hanging me could they
deprive me of aught I value, since your faith in me is a thing to be
blown upon by the first rumour of the countryside."

He saw the pale lips twist themselves into a dreadful smile. "There is
more than rumour, I think said she. "There is more than all your lies
will ever serve to cloak."

"My lies?" he cried. "Rosamund, I swear to you by my honour that I have
had no hand in the slaying of Peter. May God rot me where I stand if
this be not true!"

"It seems," said a harsh voice behind him, "that you fear God as little
as aught else."

He wheeled sharply to confront Sir John Killigrew, who had entered after
him.

"So," he said slowly, and his eyes grew hard and bright as agates, "this
is your work." And he waved a hand towards Rosamund. It was plain to
what he alluded.

"My work?" quoth Sir John. He closed the door, and advanced into the
room. "Sir, it seems your audacity, your shamelessness, transcends all
bounds. Your...."

"Have done with that," Sir Oliver interrupted him and smote his great
fist upon the table. He was suddenly swept by a gust of passion.
"Leave words to fools, Sir John, and criticisms to those that can