"Thy need must be urgent that impels thee onward through the darkness," observed the woman keenly. "Boy, what is thy business? Would have me read the stars for its issue?" "Nay, mother," answered Francis in agitated tones. "Were it favorable all would be well, but if it were evil I would not know of it. But it will not be ill. It must not, shall not be!" She arose and paced the floor, chafing that she must be inactive when time was so precious. The dame regarded her curiously. Presently she spoke. "Mistress, I may not call thee because of thy garb. Master, I cannot because of thy sex; but whatsoe'er thou art, tell old Margery why thou art so dressed, and why you wander forth alone?" "Woman, are you in very truth a witch?" cried the girl in astonishment. "So men call me," returned Margery dryly. "But save for the few who were told, not one at the court penetrated my masquerade," said Francis. "Then how is it, that thou, at our first meeting, know that my dress covers a maiden?" "Old Margery hath lived long, and her eyes are sharp," answered the dame. "But tell me. What brings you hither, if you are of the court?" Francis paused in front of the woman and looked long and earnestly into her eyes. Something she saw there made her say impulsively: "Good mother, thou must be in truth the witch men call thee, because thine eyes impel me to tell thee all. Listen! and I will unfold the tale from the beginning." And she recounted the affair of Elizabeth's coming, the reason for donning the page's dress, her going to court, and now the cause of her desire to reach her father. The woman listened attentively. "Child, thou hast done well. And thou sayst that none of the queen's men have passed thee?" "None, mother. I have outstripped them all," exulted Francis. "Let me but continue in the lead for a few hours longer so that my father may have opportunity to get to a place of safety, and I care not how soon they come." At this moment there came the sound of hoarse shouting of men, followed by the clatter of horses' hoofs, and then above the storm came a loud knocking at the door. "Open in the name of the queen," came the stern command. CHAPTER XX FRANCIS FINDS A HELPER "It is the pursuivants," cried Francis in consternation. "Good mother, hide me, I entreat. They must not know that I am here." Then, indeed, was she thankful that she had taken the old woman into her confidence. The beldame arose and with an agility that was surprising in one of her years glided across the room, and opened a small door that was so small, and black, and grimy that it had escaped the girl's attention. "Enter," whispered the woman. "Enter and fear nothing. They shall not know of thy presence." Francis passed through the entrance and closed the door after her just as the rapping came again with renewed vigor. "What, ho inside!" came a voice. "Give entrance, whosoe'er ye be, else it will be made by force."