"Then, Anthony, it may be unwise to try to release Mary from her prison. She hath suffered much of late from illness. It was my hope that if we were successful, to place her where she might obtain the comforts of which she hath been bereft, and so placed she would regain her health." "The matter hath gone too far to end in her mere release," cried Babington earnestly. "Elizabeth must die." "Babington, thou art mad!" exclaimed Lord Stafford starting up in horror. "Mad? Nay; I have just begun to see that I have been called to rid England of that most unjust queen who transcends the laws of blood by keeping her own kin imprisoned as she hath done. And I am not alone, Stafford. There are others who believe as I do. Wilt thou join us?" "Never," cried Lord Stafford sternly. "May my right hand drop from its shoulder ere it be raised against England's queen. Unjust to Mary she hath been. Unjust in her treatment of her, and unjust in usurping the throne. But still she is her father's daughter, and crowned queen of England. If it be so that the release of Mary can be compassed, and Elizabeth forced to recognize her as her successor, I will join the effort even as I have already pledged to do. But no more." "Hast thou not seen Ballard?" asked the young man in surprise. "Yes; he tarried with me at mine own house as Captain Fortescue. How now?" "He said that thou wert ripe for the project," mused the other. "Not to assassinate Elizabeth," returned Lord Stafford firmly. "I go to Chartley now to acquaint Mary with the plan for her release. But I tell thee, Anthony, if what thou tellest me be true, then will I withdraw from the enterprise." "My lord, I did but try thee. Some there be who advocate the slaying of Elizabeth, but they are few. I beseech you, as you have given your pledge, aid us in acquainting Mary with the plan for her rescue. No more than this do we ask, and thou art depended on for this much." "As mine honor hath been given, I will continue to Chartley," said Lord Stafford. "Then, my lord, wilt thou bear this letter also from me," and Babington handed him a small missive. "It hath given her some uneasiness at not hearing from me, and I would ease her mind." "Yes, Anthony; the letter shall be given her with these others." Lord Stafford concealed it in his belt. "Methinks that thou art in a bad way, my lad." "More anon," said Babington. "Our host comes. Thy dinner is served, my lord." CHAPTER V ON THE ROAD TO STAFFORD Francis was so absorbed in the thoughts engendered by the conversation that she had just heard that she forgot all about her character as page and her duties as such. She was recalled to herself by a sharp reprimand from her father: "Thy duty, Francis. Attend to the serving." Babington turned a startled glance upon her as she arose in obedience to her father's command. "The page?" he cried. "Did he hear our converse, my lord?"