“To add to this unfortunate young man’s mischances, his trial is held behind closed doors, for, as I say, the times are greatly perilous and the public mind is much inflamed. And he is condemned privily to the block, and is sent to a strong fortress in the country, there to die by the ax on a certain day. He makes an appeal to his sovereign, an august and gracious lady whom he has faithfully served. But stealthy serpent tongues have done their work only too well. The Queen will not heed the appeals of this innocent, unhappy youth, and he is left to his cruel fate. “The decree of heaven is otherwise, however. The inscrutable Providence which has used the young man tenderly in all things save one and in that one so unkindly, begins to relent toward him, and, as your grace shall hear, he is not left to die.” The playwright paused for a moment. The attention of his hearers was riveted by the force and cogency of a narrative which was given with a solemnity so impressive that it was made to appear a veritable page from life itself. The Queen, her ladies and her gentlemen, were spellbound by the vivid power of the recital. But Cecil and other high officers of the household, who were able to trace the parallel of the story were transfixed by the man’s audacity. Only too clearly did they recognize the source of the plot of the dreadful drama this man was daring to unfold. And if they could have done so they would have stopped this hopelessly indiscreet recital of it. Blank consternation was written in the faces of those who knew whence the story came. “Stop the mouth of that madman, for God’s sake!” cried the Lord Treasurer in the ear of Pembroke. But not Cecil and not Pembroke and not mortal man in that assembly could stop the mouth of the player now. “Your grace,” the low, clear voice went on, “this innocent youth is not left to die. The governor of the fortress wherein the young man is held captive, a most honorable and worthy and highly esteemed servant of the state, has a young daughter. She too, like this ill-starred youth, is passing fair, and like him is also happy in every relation and attribute of life save one. And her unhappiness is that she has not yet known love. “But on a day, your grace, love comes to her. One summer’s morning it is the will of fate that she shall see the condemned man in the courtyard of his prison. And from his own lips she learns his grievous history. She learns that three days hence he is to die by the ax. “A rage of pity comes upon her. At all costs she is resolved to save him from a fate he has done nothing to deserve. And this young girl, so brave and so high of soul, finds a means to let him out of his dungeon, and contrives his escape from the castle by a famous secret passage way.