I do not know what is the
matter with her--beyond what Mr. Bourgoign has told me," he added
hastily, remembering the supposed situation.
The soldier paid no attention. Like all slow-witted men, he was
following up an irrelevant train of thought from his own last sentence
but one.
"Fiddle-faddle!" he said again. "I am sick of her megrims and her
vapours and her humours. Has she not blood and bones like the rest of
us? And yet she cannot take her food nor her drink, nor sleep like an
honest woman. And I do not wonder at it; for that is what she is not.
They will say she is poisoned, I dare say.... Well, sir; I suppose you
had best see her; but in my presence, remember, sir; in my presence."
Robin's spirits sank like a stone.... Moreover, he would be instantly
detected as a knave (though that honestly seemed a lesser matter to
him), if he attempted to talk medically in Sir Amyas' presence; unless
that warrior was truly as great a clod as he seemed. He determined to
risk it. He bowed.
"I can at least try my poor skill, sir," he said.
Sir Amyas instantly turned, with a jerk of his head to beckon them, and
clanked out again into the hall. There was not a moment's opportunity
for the two conspirators to exchange even a word; for there, in the
hall, stood the two men who had brought Robin in, to keep guard; and as
the party passed through to the foot of the great staircase, he saw on
each landing that was in sight another sentry, and, at a door at the end
of the overhead gallery, against which hung a heavy velvet curtain,
stood the last, a stern figure to keep guard on the rooms of a Queen,
with his body-armour complete, a steel hat on his head and a pike in his
hand.
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