e knew it, unless through servants' talk; and
since Mr. Thomas knows your reverence, it will be better to be hid for a
little longer. So, if you will, in a week from now, I will send Dick
once, again to tell you if all be well. I look for no letter back for
this since you have nothing to write with in the hut, as I know; but
Dick will tell me how you do; as well as anything you may choose to say
to him.

"I ask your reverence's blessing again. I do not forget your reverence
in my poor prayers."

* * * * *

And so it ended, without signature--for safety's sake.

IV

Robin looked up when he had finished to where the faint outline of the
servant could be seen behind the lantern, against the greater darkness
of the wall.

"You know of all that has fallen at Derby?" he said, with some
difficulty.

"Yes, sir."

"Well, pray God we may be willing, too, if He bids us to it."

"Yes, sir."...

"You had best lose no time if you are to be home before dawn. Say to
Mistress Manners that I thank her for her letter; that I praise God for
the graces she relates in it; and that I will do as she bids.... Dick."

"Yes, sir."

"Is Mr. Audrey in any of this?"

"I do not know, sir.... I heard--" The man's voice hesitated.

"What did you hear?"

"I heard that my lord Shrewsbury wondered at his absence from the trial;
and ... and that a message would be sent to Mr. Audrey to look to it to
be more zealous on her Grace's commission."

"That was all?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then you had best be gone. There is no more to be said. Bring me what
news you can when you come again. Good-night, Dick."

"Good-night, sir.... God bless your reverence."

* * * * *

An hour later, with the first coming of the dawn, the storm ceased. (It
was that same storm, if he had only known it, that had blown upon the
Spanish Fleet at sea and driven it towards destruction. But of this he
knew nothing.) He had not slept since Dick had gone, but had lain on his
back on the turfed and blanketed bed in the corner, his hands clasped
behind his head, thinking, thinking and re-thinking all that he had read
just now. He had known it must happen; but there seemed to him all the
difference in the world between an event and its mere certainty.... The
thing was done--out to every bitter detail of the loathsome, agonizing
death--and it had been two of the men whom he had seen say mass after
himself--t