came into the great hall when the King was there, and he cried out in a
loud voice that he had killed you, unarmed."

"Your father?" He forgot his suffering altogether now. "Your father was
not even in the room when--when I fell! And did the King say nothing?
Tell me quickly!"

"There was a great uproar, and I ran away to find Dolores. I do not know
what happened afterwards."

Don John turned painfully in his chair and lifted his hand to the back
of his head. But he said nothing at first, for he was beginning to
understand, and he would not betray the secret of his accident even to
Inez.

"I knew he could not have done it! I thought he was mad--he most have
been! But I also thought your Highness was dead."

"Dear child!" Don John's voice was very kind. "You brought me to life.
Your father was not here. It was some one else who hurt me. Do you think
you could find Dolores or send some one to tell her--to tell every one
that I am alive? Say that I had a bad fall and was stunned for a while.
Never mind the scratch--it is nothing--do not speak of it. If you could
find Adonis, he could go."

He groaned now, for the pain of speaking was almost intolerable. Inez
put out her hand towards him.

"Does it hurt very much?" she asked, with a sort of pathetic, childlike
sympathy.