who hath his foot in the grave?" returned the old man solemnly.
The Earl made two or three strides through the apartment, with his hand outstretched, as one who follows the beckoning signal of some phantom, waving him on to deeds of high import. As he turned, however, he caught the eye of the astrologer fixed on him, while an observing glance of the most shrewd penetration shot from under the penthouse of his shaggy, dark eyebrows. Leicester's haughty and suspicious soul at once caught fire. He darted towards the old man from the farther end of the lofty apartment, only standing still when his extended hand was within a foot of the astrologer's body.
"Wretch!" he said, "if you dare to palter with me, I will have your skin stripped from your living flesh! Confess thou hast been hired to deceive and to betray me--that thou art a cheat, and I thy silly prey and booty!"
The old man exhibited some symptoms of emotion, but not more than the furious deportment of his patron might have extorted from innocence itself.
"What means this violence, my lord?" he answered, "or in what can I have deserved it at your hand?"
"Give me proof," said the Earl vehemently, "that you have not tampered with mine enemies."
"My lord," replied the old man, with dignity, "you can have no better proof than that which you yourself elected. In that turret I have spent the last twenty-four hours under the key w
