It was during the fit of rage consequent upon disappointment, that Leicester had behaved with a degree of intemperance so distasteful to Her Majesty, that she dismissed him in anger, and refused to be reconciled.

The despondence which followed the violence of his rage on this occasion brought on an illness, from which he, in truth, never recovered.

At the moment Shakespeare obtained an interview, he accordingly found the earl in so ill a frame of mind, that he refused to interest himself in favour of Walter Arderne.

He was about, he said to quit London for his castle of Kenilworth, and was so utterly disgusted with Courts and all pertaining, that he vowed to Heaven he would no more return.

As the poet looked in the face of this ambitious and still powerful n.o.ble, he thought it not unlikely his words would prove true; for the inroads of his peculiar disease were so apparent in his countenance, that the grisly tyrant seemed to have put his mark upon him.

Leicester, at this period of his life, had grown bulky, and lost much of that striking beauty of face and form for which he had been so celebrated. His countenance shewed traces of his ungovernable temper and evil disposition; his hair, lately coal-black, had become a "sable silvered;" his frown had contracted into an habitual scowl; his dark complexion, and from which he had obtained the _sobriquet_ of "The Gipsey," had changed to a sickly yellow; his fine features had become bloated; and every part about him seemed blasted with premature age.

As he rose from his seat during the interview, the poet observed that he looked the personification of an evil-disposed but powerful man. One who was torn by the fiend of avarice, the l.u.s.t of power, and the chagrin of blasted ambition. The Court smile was gone for ever from that once pliant brow, and the scowl of hate seated in its stead.

To the surprise of the poet, whilst he flatly refused interference on the subject of Arderne's imprisonment, he even seemed to experience satisfaction at that youth's danger. The poisonous mind of the most successful poisoner of the age was now recklessly displayed. He seemed to rejoice in the misfortunes of his fellow-men, whilst he felt that his own further success in life was ended. He was indeed at that moment sinking into the grave a hopeless unbeliever, "a bold bad man."

"Sir Thomas Lucy," he said, rudely and abruptly, "hath sought me on the subject of this Arderne, praying of me to intercede with the Queen. But I meddle not again with matters of state or the business of others. My health requires change from the pestilential vapour of this city. I have done with Courts and seek my castle at Kenilworth."

Shakespeare bowed, and was about to withdraw, when Leicester turned and again spoke.

"I advise you yourself, Master Shakespeare," he said, "to keep free of such matters. Peril not your present favour by mixing in treasonable affairs, and so farewell."

"Nay, my Lord," said Shakespeare, "this gentleman, my friend, hath been most unjustly accused. He is one to whom I owe much love. I may not cease from making what interest I can in his favour."

"And I tell thee then," said Leicester, imperiously, "that in me you will find an opponent in his cause; my interest lieth in the very opposite direction, since I am informed by a law-man of your native town that, in right of my wife, I can claim some of those estates in Warwickshire so lately in possession of this Arderne."

Shakespeare felt surprised at this intimation, and immediately the interview terminated.

There was evidently a secret enemy at work, he thought, as he left the house; and, as he pa.s.sed through the gateway, he ran against a man who was entering.

The poet was so wrapped in his own thoughts that he observed not the features of this person; but Grasp (for it was no less a person who was entering the courtyard) started at the well-known form of his sometime clerk, and, hesitating for the moment, seemed divided as to whether he should not defer his present business and follow the poet.

Whilst he stood undecided, Shakespeare took boat, and so Grasp turned towards the building.

"I shall find the pestilent fellow," he said, "and I shall also penetrate into the mystery of that fair Lindabrides who dwells beneath his roof, and masquerades about the city at nights. My certie, but I'll spoil his actings, his writings, his inditings, his poetizing, and rhapsodizing. I can myself indite, aye, and play a part, too, as well as he; and so, Master William Shakespeare, look to thyself, for thou art in jeopardy;" and so Grasp turned and proceeded, across the court of Leicester House rejoicing.

CHAPTER LVI.

THE a.s.sOCIATES.

So great were the talents possessed by Grasp for smelling out a plot, whether it existed or not, that he seemed peculiarly fitted for the period in which he lived, and in which conspiracies, either real or pretended, were so frequently agitating the kingdom.

Plot and pestilence, indeed, during Elizabeth's reign seemed the bug-bears of the time. At one moment the Court was driven from its locality, by some of the attendants being seized at the very palace gates with some infectious disorder, and the next, some dark, evil-minded fanatic was apprehended, dagger in hand, almost in the very presence-chamber.

Since the execution of the Queen of Scots those conspirators had been more hopeless of success; yet still, ever and anon, a new and dangerous attempt against the life of the Queen was brought to light.

Just at the present period of our story, such a design was pounced on by Grasp; but, like all over-zealous persons, he was liable, in his eagerness, to run upon a wrong scent, and lose sight of the game he had started.

It happened, during his visit to London at this time, and in an interval spared from his numerous avocations, (for Grasp was now a man in full business), that he, one night, amused himself by witnessing an execution in company with his friend Doubletongue.

This execution was one possessing considerable interest, inasmuch as several criminals were to suffer for conscience-sake, and that was always a popular exhibition during Elizabeth's reign. Six were Catholic priests, who were hung, drawn, and quartered, for conspiring against the Queen's life. Two more were laymen, who, having embraced protestantism and returned to the old belief, were to be burned alive in company with a wretched atheist named Francis Wright, alias Kit Wyndham. Besides these there was one other named Word, who was to be executed for concealment of Catholics under suspicion of treason.

The execution took place in Smithfield, and, like those of more modern times, when the cut-purse is seen to exercise his vocation beneath the gallows on which a fellow thief was struggling, so was treason watching within the scorching influence of the fire which burned these traitors.

One Reginald Deville, an usurer and an informer, who also bore the appropriate cognomen of Reynard Devil, had tracked a suspicious character into Smithfield on this very night; a fanatic being, whose husband had been in the service of the Queen of Scots, and who, in the disguise of a man, was known to be in concealment in London for the purpose of a.s.sa.s.sinating Elizabeth.

In the crowd, and during the excitement of the execution, Deville had lost sight of this person, almost at the moment he was about to gain a.s.sistance and pounce upon her; and, as he was prying about, he stumbled upon Grasp, whom he had formerly known.

Now Grasp himself, besides his other business, occasionally did a little in the informing way. Such pursuit formed a sort of afterhour recreation with him. He and Doubletongue, at such times, hunted in couples, and as evil speaking, lying, and slander, were the peculiar talents of his friend, so the more covert villany was his own peculiar forte.

The moment Reginald Deville stumbled upon Grasp and his friend, in his eagerness he half divulged the secret intelligence with which he was furnished.

"Ah," he said, "my good friend Grasp, I am glad to meet. Hast seen a slight rakish figure pa.s.s this minute, wearing a cloak of scarlet serge, a red feather in his hat, a brace of petronels in his girdle, and drab trunks with hose to match?"

Grasp was never at fault. "I have," he said hastily.

"Which way went he, in G.o.d's name," said Deville. "Quick, or I lose a chance--he's worth the having, I can a.s.sure you."

"I will put you upon his trail," said Grasp, "perhaps inform you where he haunts, an you promise half profits and tell me what's his crime."

"Treason is his crime," said Deville, "'Tis a female in man's apparel, one Margaret Lambrun. Her husband died of grief after Queen Mary was executed. The woman was in the service of Mary, and hath resolved on the death of the Queen. I had secret intelligence from a cousin of my own in Scotland, and have been in pursuit for some days."

"Well, then," said Grasp, "I can only tell you in return for your secret that your man, or woman rather, was here beside me in company with four others. Catholics, I dare be sworn, for they looked upon the burning of yonder priests with a devilish expression of horror, in place of viewing it as you and I. They marked me as I watched them, and they are off; but I heard one of them name some place in Blackfriars as where he resided."

"How said ye," exclaimed Doubletongue, "in Blackfriars? then, by my fay, I think I can give ye a clue to this same female."

"As how?" inquired Grasp, eagerly.

"As thus," said Doubletongue. "Dost remember the night on which we consulted with Lawyer Quillet at the Blue Boar Inn?"

"Truly so," said Grasp, "and what o' that?"

"On that night I marked, although you did not, a couple of persons who kept themselves altogether apart from the other guests--a young and a middle-aged person. Nay, I especially marked the younger of the twain, and as I looked upon the tiny foot, the sparkling eyes, and the slender form, methinks I penetrated through the disguise worn, and beheld a female."

"Ah! caitiff," said Grasp, "thou were't ever a devil to spy out a farthingale. And so--"

"And so, I said to myself, where disguise is there mischief is meant, and I resolved to know more. Acting upon this resolve, albeit I lost sight of them during the riot which ensued in the tavern, I followed them out into the street, dodged them to their lair--"

"And that is--?" inquired Deville impatiently.

"In the Blackfriars, at a house down by the water-side, and which I can point out."

"But thou may'st have been mistaken," said Grasp, "appearances may have deceived thee."

"Not a whit," said Doubletongue. "I took some pains to make a.s.surance; for, sooth to say, I was taken with this mysterious female. I watched about the house till I again saw her. I even ventured within, concealed myself during the absence of herself and him who seemed her protector, and I found in the room which she inhabited--"