Mistress Margaret who had followed the stranger up, and who stood now behind him at the door, came forward to Isabel with a little cry, with her hands trembling before her. But before she could reach her, Lady Maxwell herself came swiftly forward, her head thrown back, and her arms stretched out towards the girl, who still stood dazed and swaying more and more. "My poor, poor child!" said Lady Maxwell; and caught her as she fell. CHAPTER IX FROM FULHAM TO GREENWICH Anthony in London, strangely enough, heard nothing of the arrest on the Sunday, except a rumour at supper that some Papists had been taken. It had sufficient effect on his mind to make him congratulate himself that he had been able to warn his friend last week. At dinner on Monday there were a few guests; and among them, one Sir Richard Barkley, afterwards Lieutenant of the Tower. He sat at the Archbishop's table, but Anthony's place, on the steward's left hand, brought him very close to the end of the first table where Sir Richard sat. Dinner was half way through, when Mr. Scot who was talking to Anthony, was suddenly silent and lifted his hand as if to check the conversation a moment. "I saw them myself," said Sir Richard's voice just behind. "What is it?" whispered Anthony. "The Catholics," answered the steward. "They were taken in Newman's Court, off Cheapside," went on the voice, "nearly thirty, with one of their priests, at mass, in his trinkets too--Oldham his name is." There was a sudden crash of a chair fallen backwards, and Anthony was standing by the officer. "I beg your pardon, Sir Richard Barkley," he said;--and a dead silence fell in the hall.--"But is that the name of the priest that was taken yesterday?" Sir Richard looked astonished at the apparent insolence of this young official. "Yes, sir," he said shortly. "Then, then,----" began Anthony; but stopped; bowed low to the Archbishop and went straight out of the hall. * * * * Mr. Scot was waiting for him in the hall when he returned late that night. Anthony's face was white and distracted; he came in and stood by the fire, and stared at him with a dazed air. "You are to come to his Grace," said the steward, looking at him in silence. Anthony nodded without speaking, and turned away. "Then you cannot tell me anything?" said Mr. Scot. The other shook his head impatiently, and walked towards the inner door. The Archbishop was sincerely shocked at the sight of his young officer, as he came in and stood before the table, staring with bewildered eyes, with his dress splashed and disordered, and his hands still holding the whip and gloves. He made him sit down at once, and after Anthony had drunk a glass of wine, he made him tell his story and what he had done that day.