Perhaps, if all this were
true, thought Robin, the officer was especially careful on this very
account that the Queen's health should be above suspicion. He remembered
that Sir Amyas had referred just now to a suspicion of poison.... He
determined on the bold line.
"Her Grace has spoken, sir," he said modestly. "And I think I should
have a word to say. It is plain to me, by looking at her Grace, that her
health is very far from what it should be--" (he paused
significantly)--"I should have to make a thorough examination, if I
prescribed at all; and, even should her Grace consent to this being done
publicly, for my part I would not consent. I should be happy to have her
women here, but--"
Sir Amyas turned on him wrathfully.
"Why, sir, you said downstairs--"
"I had not then seen her Grace. But there is no more to be said--" He
kneeled again as if to take his leave, stood up, and began to retire to
the door. Mr. Bourgoign stood helpless.
Then Sir Amyas yielded.
"You shall have fifteen minutes, sir. No more," he cried harshly. "And I
shall remain in the next room."
He made a perfunctory salute and strode out.
The Queen opened her eyes, waited for one tense instant till the door
closed; then she slipped swiftly off the couch.
"The door!" she whispered.
The woman was across the room in an instant, on tip-toe, and drew the
single slender bolt. The Queen made a sharp gesture; the woman fled back
again on one side, and out through the further door, and the old man
hobbled after her.
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