at
these stairs; and before Thee, O God, I speak it!"

"Isn't there a proverb, 'A loyal heart may be landed at Traitor's
Gate'?" questioned Mrs. Pitt; and turning to the guide she added,
"Wasn't it right here where we are standing that Margaret Roper
caught sight of her father, Sir Thomas More, after his trial?" As the
guide nodded his assent, she went on, "You all remember Sir Thomas
More, of course,--the great and noble man whom Henry VIII beheaded
because he would not swear allegiance to the King as head of the
Church in England. In those days, an ax was always carried in the boat
with the prisoner, on his return to the Tower, after the trial. If the
head of the ax was turned toward the victim, it was a sign that he was
condemned. It was here, as I said, that Margaret Roper stood with the
crowd, eagerly watching for the first glimpse of her beloved father;
and when he came near and she saw the position of the ax, she broke
away from the soldiers, and flung herself into her father's arms. The
two were so devoted that their story has always seemed an especially
pathetic one to me. I suppose there were many like it, however."

"Indeed there were, lady," returned the guide, quite moved.

Just opposite Traitor's Gate is the Bloody Tower, the most picturesque
bit of the entire fortress. The old portcullis there is known as the
only one in England which is still fit for use. At the side is an
ancient and rusty iron ring, which attracted John's attention so much
that he asked about it.

"Boatmen coming through the Traitor's Gate yonder, used to tie their
boats to that ring," the "beefeater" told them. "That shows you 'ow
much farther h'up the water came in those days. H'in a room over the
gateway of the Bloody Tower there, the Duke of Clarence, h'according
to some, drowned himself in a butt of Malmsey wine; and in h'an
adjoining room, they say that the little Princes were murdered by
h'order of their uncle, the powerful Duke of Gloucester, who stole
their right to the throne. Right 'ere, at the foot of these steps, is
where 'e 'urriedly buried them, h'after 'is men 'ad smothered them."

The children stood gazing at the little window over the gateway, their
eyes big with horror. It did not seem as though such terrible things
could have been done there in that little room, into which the sun now
poured through the tiny window.

Every night at eleven o'clock, the warder on guard at the Bloody
Tower challenges the Chief