Earl Douglas stood behind him, with eager attention, in breathless expectation, his look steadily fixed on the paper over which the king's hand, white, fleshy, and sparkling with diamonds, glided along in hasty characters.
He had at length reached his goal.

When at last he should hold in his hand the paper which the king was then writing--when he had induced Henry to return to his apartments before the imprisonment of the queen had taken place--then was he victorious.

Not that woman there would he then imprison; but, with the warrant in his hand, he would go to the real queen, and take her to the Tower.
Once in the Tower, the queen could no longer defend herself; for the king would see her no more; and if before the Parliament she protested her innocence in ever so sacred oaths, still the king's testimony must convict her; for he had himself surprised her with her paramour.
No, there was no escape for the queen.

She had once succeeded in clearing herself of an accusation, and proving her innocence, by a rebutting alibi.

But this time she was irretrievably lost, and no alibi could deliver her.
The king completed his work and arose, whilst Douglas, at his command, was employed in setting the king's seal to the fatal paper.
From the hall was heard a slight noise, as though some person were cautiously moving about there.
Earl Douglas did not notice it; he was just in the act of pressing the signet hard on the melted sealing-wax.
The king heard it, and supposed that it was Geraldine, and that she was just waking from her swoon and rising.
He stepped to the door of the hall, and looked toward the place where she was lying.