They were ushered in, and all doubt of their position left them. It was a prison cell. Piled hay on the floor comprised the beds, two water buckets, one filled, the other empty, their only toilet. Two woolen blankets had been rudely thrown down, as if their captors resented even this small show of humanity. But for these, and for the water, the place might have gone unchanged for a hundred years. Ballard approached the girl, and took her roughly by the wrist. Too numb to react, she could only watch as he pulled the ring from her finger, and flung it out of the high, paneless window. No explanation was given for this action, or for the sudden change in their status. And when they tried to ask, the Lieutenant only smiled, and said in a harsh voice: "Little Mary, Queen of Scots, locked in the Tower, waiting for death." And he let go a laugh, so void of compassion that it made the blood run cold. He strode back out onto the landing, then turned again to face them through the closing door. "Master `enry has a visitor, and needs no more trouble of you. If you want to live a little longer, do nothing to call attention to yourselves. Quiet as mice, my pretties, or bad men will be sent to keep an eye, and more `an likely both hands, on you ." He pulled the door to, and left them in darkness. Twenty-Three That same evening, after observing the necessary formalities surrounding the arrival of Earl Arthur, Stephen at last broke away from the banquet and went in search of his sister. Whatever his father's feelings, he was both glad to have her under his roof, and firmly set in the belief that he was acting on her behalf. His motive for seeing her now (so he told himself) was a sense of responsibility for her comfort and well-being. The affection which he felt for her at their first meeting had not changed, his thoughts continued, except that the lust had gone out of it. And in a sense, even this was a relief. His greatest need now was for friendship and a sense of family, both of which might only have been lost and obscured, had they become conventional lovers. He had drunk more than his share of the wine served at dinner, seeming unconcerned by his father's tension, and the measured severity of Earl Arthur. And now, as he walked the long corridors he fell to reminiscing, to gentle, water-color thoughts of their long ride together across the countryside. And he remembered their first kiss, so innocent, so full of feeling. To see her now, and to know that it was in his power to bring her back to pride and prosperity, aroused in him a feeling of warmth and tenderness which he had not experienced since childhood. To speak with her late into the night. To kiss and to touch, her..... The door was ajar. The room was empty. She was gone. An old peasant woman was making up the bed. He wasted little time on her. "Where is my sister?" he demanded.