"For the present, yes, Your Majesty, but meanwhile if Your Majesty will permit me"--I took from a little bag which hung at my waist a parcel of papers--"here is an appeal for clemency. 'Tis signed by the Lord Chief Justice and the Justices of your High Court. 'Tis countersigned by many great and loyal gentlemen to Your Majesty. 'Tis attested by depositions to show my father's unwillingness to follow the Duke of Monmouth, his efforts at restraint. Upon it I base an appeal for mercy." The King looked hard upon me, frowning as before. "Fetch hither the paper, Feversham," he said at last. When it was placed in his hands--it was a brief paper for all its weighty import--he glanced at it curiously and balanced it a moment, his eye turning to Jeffreys and then to Ken. What was passing through his mind? I divined instantly. He would give it to one or the other of these men for examination, and as he gave it, he would determine the fate of us all, for I do believe no human soul ever looked to Jeffreys for mercy and received it. My hand caught my throat. I bent forward, such pleading in my looks as for the moment seemed to move even the hard heart of the King. To my relief, he turned to the left and handed the note to the Bishop. "Do you examine this, my lord," he said, "with all speed, and let me have your best opinion of its contents." Ken instantly opened the paper. "Now," said the King, turning his face toward me, "while my lord of Bath and Wells reads your humble petition for mercy, I would fain question you further, madam." "I have naught to conceal from Your Majesty," replied I. "You say that Sir Hugh Richmond was stopped and robbed in the highway?" "Yes, Your Majesty." "Was he seriously wounded?" "No, Your Majesty." "Why hath he not returned at once then to report the failure of his errand?" I hesitated. "Sire," said I at last, "rumour hath it that he is under close arrest." "Arrest!" "It is suspected that he connived with the highwayman." "That's treason!" roared Jeffreys. "But, Your Majesty...." I faltered, and then I stopped. How could I say that it was not true, for it was. The King looked puzzled. "Hath search been made for this highwayman?" "I suppose so," was my answer. "Your Majesty," interposed Feversham, "I know General Ramesay well. He would leave no stone unturned to apprehend the villain who affected this bold despoilment." "Evidently," said the King to me, "it was some one interested in the welfare of your house who thus robbed my messenger on the highway. Do you know his name?" What I did from one point of view was wild, foolish, reckless, and yet I believe that my action was the result of one of those sudden inspirations which sometimes govern people to their weal or woe in critical moments. "Your Majesty," said I boldly, "I myself despoiled your messenger." "Good God!" exclaimed the King, "you, a woman, to overmaster a tried soldier like Sir Hugh Richmond?"