er
under strong guards; and what I had done for her before--"

Robin looked up. He was still quite pale and quite quiet.

"What was that?" he said.

Anthony again made his impatient gesture. He was fiercely excited; but
kept himself under tolerable control.

"Why, I have been her agent for a great while back, getting her letters
through to her, and such like. But last year, when that damned Sir Amyas
Paulet became her gaoler, I could do nothing. Two or three times my
messenger was stopped, and the letters taken from him. Well; after that
time I could do no more. There her Grace was, back again at Tutbury, and
none could get near her. She might no more give alms, even, to the poor;
and all her letters must go through Walsingham's hands. And then God
helped us: she was taken last autumn to Chartley, near by which is the
house of the Giffords; and since that time we have been almost merry. Do
you know Gilbert Gifford?"

"He hath been with the Jesuits, hath he not?"

"That is the man. Well, Mr. Gilbert Gifford hath been God's angel to us.
A quiet, still kind of a man--you have seen him?"

"I have spoken with him at Rheims," said Robin. "I know nothing of him."

"Well; he contrived the plan. He hath devised a beer-barrel that hath
the beer all roundabout, so that when they push their rods in, there
seems all beer within. But in the heart of the beer there is secured a
little iron case; and within the iron case there is space for papers.
Well, this barrel goes to and fro to Chartley and to a brewer that is a
good Catholic; and within the case there are the letters. And in this
way, all has been prepared--"

Robin looked up again. He remained quiet through all the story; and
lifted no more than his eyes. His fingers played continually with a
button on his doublet.

"You mean that Queen Mary hath consented to this?"

"Why, yes!"

"To her sister's death?"

"Why, yes!"

"I do not believe it," said the priest quietly. "On whose word does that
stand?"

"Why, on her own! Whose else's?" snapped Anthony.

"You mean, you have it in her own hand, signed by her name?"

"It is in Gifford's hand! Is not that enough? And there is her seal to
it. It is in cypher, of course. What would you have?"

"Where is she now?" asked Robin, paying no attention to the question.

"She hath just now been moved again to Tixall."

"For what?"

"I do not know. What has that to do with the matter? She will be back
soon again. I tell