“You are tongue-tied,” he said sternly, “It may be we must enforce the matter from you,” he added, touching the papers; “never saw I a greater batch of treason in so little space.” “My lord, I am innocent!” exclaimed Raby; “I--” “Remove the prisoner,” Cromwell interrupted coldly, making a sign to his officers, and returning to his work without another word or glance at the nobleman. A short while afterwards, Simon Raby entered at the water-gate of the Tower, and its gloomy doors closed upon him, shutting out the beauty and the fragrance of the summer world and separating him from the woman he loved. The king’s prisoner, charged with high treason, had little cause to rejoice in his lot. CHAPTER XXIII MISTRESS BETTY USES HER WHIP TIDINGS of an arrest for high treason travelled but slowly. The movements of the government were swift and secret. A man might be pounced upon, examined, committed to prison, and his own family be unconscious of his situation. It was a golden opportunity for the false witness; for the public gratification of private malice. The marvellous stories told at the trials showed the luxuriance of the popular imagination. No intimation of Lord Raby’s fate reached the household at Deptford. He had been expected to return almost immediately, but he came not, and his absence was attributed to some unlooked-for business. At first, Sir William threatened to set out for Devon without him, but seeing his niece’s disappointment and remembering that Raby had accepted a commission from him, he decided to wait, although he chafed under the delay. The third day after Raby’s departure, Mistress Betty was riding through the fields behind Lady Crabtree’s house. She had been out with her uncle and was returning alone by a short cut, leaving Sir William some distance behind, engaged in conversation with an acquaintance. The meadow through which Betty rode lay behind the orchards and was skirted on the right by a copse of beech-trees. She was walking her horse and had come nearly to the middle of the field, when a man stepped out from the shadow of the trees. At first, taking him for one of old Madam’s household, she did not notice him, and it was not until he had fairly placed himself before her horse that she recognized Sir Barton Henge. Her animal stopping of its own accord, Henge caught the bridle and for the moment held her prisoner. She was not naturally fearful and her only feeling was one of indignation. “Let go the bridle, sir!” she said angrily; “what right have you to stop me?” “I have tidings for you, fair mistress,” Sir Barton replied, with an evil smile upon his handsome face; “tidings of my Lord Raby, which are for your ear alone.” “Sir, loose my horse!” she cried, vainly endeavoring to drive the animal forward or to one side, but Henge was too strong for her and held the creature’s head.