"Good-morrow, young sir," returned the wight civilly. "It hath been some days since I saw your worshipful sir. Methought that you had gone away." "Nay; I tarry here still for there is good cheer to be found at the Red Hand," quoth Francis with a bold swagger. "How busy thou art." "Yes; the likes o' us have to be. What with loading the cart, delivering, and unloading again, and caring for the nag I find the time full." "And where doth it all go, lad?" "To Chartley, sir." "Chartley? Is not that where Mary of Scotland is confined?" asked Francis, trying to speak indifferently. "The very place." "Didst ever see her, boy?" "Why, yes, my young master. Many a time and oft since she hath been at Chartley. She takes the air in the early morning in the gardens and I have seen her there when I drove in with my cart." "I would that I might see her. Could I--could I go with you?" The youth stared for a moment and then answered soberly: "It is forbid to us to carry aught besides our wares within the gates. And Sir Amyas is that particular that I misdoubt if he would let you enter." "Still I would like to try. 'Tis only for a sight of the queen. And see! here is a gold piece that thou canst have. Do let me go with thee, Will. Thy name is Will?" "That is my name, sir." Will's hand closed over the gold but he still appeared reluctant. "Well, it shall be as you wish, my young master. But you must wear other garb than that, else you cannot enter." "What habit shall I wear, good Will?" "I will give thee my cloak and bonnet, master. I durst not do this if thou shouldst want else but to look at the queen. But what harm is there in that?" "What in truth, Will? A cat may look at a king, I trow. When do you go again?" "To-morrow. Wouldst go then?" "Ay, Will." "Then, my master, you must be up with the lark for we start early." "I will be ready. Then farewell until then. Thou wilt not regret thy favor to me, Will, I promise thee." "I hope not, master." "Thou wilt not. Farewell till the morrow." And Francis ran lightly back to her father to report the result of the interview. CHAPTER VIII THE DELIVERY OF THE LETTERS Will was disposed to be taciturn on the way to Chartley. Francis did not know whether he suspected her design was more than to see Mary or not, but summoning all the finesse of which she was mistress she made herself as agreeable as she could, relating stories and incidents of the chase, until long before the plain which lay between Stafford and Chartley was crossed, Will's surliness had vanished. The sun was an hour high when they reached their destination. Chartley, grim and gray in the morning light, rose before them. The manor was large and roomy, surrounded by such a high wall that none, unless he were endowed with the wings of a bird, could scale its heights. A moat encompassed the whole. The castle with wall and moat forming a stronghold well suited to its present use as prison.