'He has not seen it,' replied Wogan, who began to fear from her ladyship's discomposure that the letter held news of an urgent importance. She took the letter from his hands, and broke the seal. 'This was my message,' she said. There was no scrap of writing in the letter, but a feather from a bird's wing: it meant "Fly!" 'The feather is white,' said Wogan. He could not have mounted it.' 'He loses his life.' 'Perhaps, but he keeps his honour. There is something that he must do in London if by any means he can. He must burn the papers at his lodgings and the best hope lies in audacity.' Mr. Wogan tore up the sheet on which her ladyship had written Mr. Johnson's name into fragments too minute for anyone to piece them together again. 'This proof of your good will,' said he, 'shall not rise in judgment against you.' 'But you?' said Lady Mary. 'Why do you stay?' Wogan laughed. 'For one thing, I have a little business of my own to settle, and--well--' 'And,' said she, 'your friend's in danger.' She spoke with so much kindliness that Mr. Wogan felt a trifle awkward, and turned his eyes from her face. He saw that Rose still stood alone, though many of the gallants eyed her through their quizzing-glasses. 'Lady Mary,' he said, 'you have the kindest heart!' 'Hush! Whisper it,' she replied, 'or you will destroy my reputation. What service would you have me do now?' 'You see Miss Rose? You have read a certain ballad which the ignorant give to your ladyship? And you know Lady Oxford. It is Miss Rose Townley's first visit to this house, and one cannot believe that Lady Oxford asked her with any amiable intention.' 'And I am to be Lady Oxford's spoil-sport?' 'It has gone beyond sport. At this moment her ladyship has murder in her mind. The girl entered the room wearing our hostess's portrait in diamonds,' and he told her shortly how she came to wear it. Lady Mary looked her horror. 'She has hidden it, but you will not leave the girl?' Lady Mary nodded, her lips tight closed. Wogan presented the girl. Lady Mary made room for her at her side, and Wogan only heard her say, 'My dear, be brave, you tremble.' What else passed, Wogan did not desire to hear. Lady Mary had faults, they say, as a woman, but she was of a manlike courage, and her's was the friendship of a man. Never did woman need it more than Miss Townley, and never, sure, was counsel and comfort wiser and kinder than that which, Wogan knew later, Lady Mary gave to the angry, frightened, and bewildered girl.