At the first sound of his voice the girl started violently, leaned forward and scanned his face keenly. "Anthony Babington," she cried as she recognized the unhappy man, "how came you here?" "You know me?" cried Babington in dismay. "Who in the fiend's name are you that know me?" "One that knows all of your nefarious purpose," said Francis accusingly, her girl nature imputing to this man her father's trouble. "Wretched man, knowest thou that the queen's men search for thee even now?" "Ha!" cried Babington peering into her face, "'tis the page that was with Stafford at Salisbury. Boy, where is thy master?" "At Stafford Hall." "And thou! Thou art not with him. Hast thou been at court?" Babington peered suspiciously into her countenance. "Yes;" answered the unsuspecting girl. "I have been at court, Anthony Babington, where all thy deed is known. The whole palace, ay! the whole city of London is in an uproar because of the discovery of thy intention to kill the queen. I was present when the matter was discovered to the queen. Death will be thy portion if thou art apprehended. Why stand you here? If you would save yourself, fly!" "Thou present when it was discovered? Then it is thou who hast betrayed us? Varlet! Base brawler of men's secrets! die, ere thou canst betray others." His dagger flashed in the air as he spoke, but ere it could descend Francis gave him a sharp, stinging cut across the face with her whip. With a cry of rage Babington let fall the poniard, and before he could regain the weapon the girl dashed away. On she rode, never stopping until at length the night fell, and she knew that she was far from the wretched Babington. CHAPTER XIX A SHELTER FROM THE STORM The morning of the second day found Francis once more on her way without having seen any of the queen's men. The day was unusually warm, and both the girl and her horse, wearied by the hard riding, showed the effects of the journey. But fatigued though she was she pushed resolutely on, pausing only to care for the tired animal. At length the road entered a deep wood and she gave a sigh of relief as the grateful shade of the trees enveloped her. The horse too seemed to revive somewhat and went forward with more briskness. So dense was the shade that Francis was not aware that the sky had become overcast with clouds until a distant peal of thunder broke upon her ear. "A storm is coming," she cried. "I must seek shelter; but where?" It was a problem that would have puzzled a head older and wiser than that of Francis Stafford. She was in the midst of a dense forest. She looked about her in dismay. "Beshrew me!" she uttered, "these woods are impenetrable enough to furnish hiding-place for Robin Hood and all his men. Surely there must be an inn or house somewhere near. Patience! I will find shelter. On, good horse!"