as waiting, he turned again and saw the sunken eyes of the old man still
looking after him; when he turned to the gaoler he saw the same odd look
in his face that he had noticed before.

"Why do you look like that?" he asked. "Who is that old man?"

"That is Mr. Topcliffe," said the keeper.

The Lieutenant of the Tower, Sir Richard Barkley, saluted him kindly at
the gate, and begged him to follow him; the keeper still came after and
another stepped out and joined them, and the group of four together
passed out through the Lion's Tower and across the moat to a little
doorway where a closed carriage was waiting. The Lieutenant and Anthony
stepped inside; the two keepers mounted outside; and the carriage set
off.

Then the Lieutenant turned to the priest.

"Do you know where you are going, Mr. Norris?"

"No, sir."

"You are going to Whitehall to see the Queen's Grace."

CHAPTER XIV

AN OPEN DOOR

When the carriage reached the palace they were told that the Queen was
not yet come from Greenwich; and they were shown into a little ante-room
next the gallery where the interview was to take place. The Queen, the
Lieutenant told Anthony, was to come up that afternoon passing through
London, and that she had desired to see him on her way through to
Nonsuch; he could not tell him why he was sent for, though he conjectured
it was because of Mistress Corbet's death, and that her Grace wished to
know the details.

"However," said the Lieutenant, "you now have your opportunity to speak
for yourself, and I think you a very fortunate man, Mr. Norris. Few have
had such a privilege, though I remember that Mr. Campion had it too,
though he made poor use of it."

Anthony said nothing. His mind was throbbing with memories and
associations. The air of state and luxury in the corridors through which
he had just come, the discreet guarded doors, the servants in the royal
liveries standing here and there, the sense of expectancy that mingled
with the solemn hush of the palace--all served to bring up the figure of
Mary Corbet, whom he had seen so often in these circumstances; and the
thought of her made the peril in which he stood and the hope of escape
from it seem very secondary matters. He walked to the window presently
and looked out upon the little court below, one of the innumerable yards
of that vast palace, and stood staring down on the hound that was chained