"Thou. Thou canst no longer remain here, because this Hall and its estate are forfeited to the crown by the treason of its owner. 'Tis the queen's command that thou dost go with thy son to London there to be immured in the Tower. Make ready, madam. Ye two must this hour to the queen." "But what crime have I committed?" asked the poor lady in dismay. "I know not, madam. 'Tis the queen's command," was the reply. "'Tis the worst of all crimes, my mother," said Francis with irony. "Thou art too fair. 'Tis a fault unforgivable by Elizabeth." "Hush, child," whispered the lady quickly. "Make our sad plight no worse by thy railing." "Stay, boy!" cried Wainwright as Francis started to leave the apartment with her mother. "Remain where thou art. I would have speech with thee." Wonderingly, the girl paused, and Master Wainwright, making a peremptory motion to Lady Stafford to leave them, continued: "Thou art too elusive to be out of my sight, young sir. Now answer these queries. Wert thou in the dwelling of old Margery when we entered it?" "Marry! what is it to thee where I was," answered Francis, desiring not to get the dame into trouble. "Be not too pert, sir page. I wrung from the old woman that thou wert, after I found that we o'erslept. Now, boy, was it due to thee or to the witch that we slept so long?" "To me, master," replied the girl boldly. "Upon my shoulders cast all blame. Impute nothing to the old woman. I did all, for I knew that I must distance thee to warn my father. And thou wert outstripped! Thou wert close after the game but he took to soil, and the track is lost, good master." "Crow on, my bantam," cried Wainwright angrily. "Thou wilt sing another tune when Sir Francis Walsingham hath thee. And mark me, sirrah! The track will be regained, and the game brought to cover ere thou dost reach the Tower. Then upon Tower Hill thou canst behold its breaking up." Francis turned pale as death at this reference to what would be her father's fate if taken. "Ah, that hipped thee, young cock! Dost ken what happens to traitors? 'Twill be thy fate as well as thy father's. Dream on't, master! Now must you and your mother take horse for London." "To-day?" said Francis faintly, a sense of weakness coming over her. "Oh, sir, not to-day, beseech you. I have ridden so much. I am so tired!" "This day shalt thou start," said Wainwright rejoicing with all the might of a small man in the power over another. "No pleading will avail thee. Thou must go!" "As you will then," answered Francis wearily, though every muscle in her tired body rebelled at this further tax upon her strength. And so the long, weary journey to London was again begun. CHAPTER XXIII IN THE TOWER OF LONDON