After an instant’s hesitation, Sir William pushed his niece forward and then followed her across the threshold. Kingston, closing the door, left them alone with the imprisoned nobleman. It was a low, dark room, so insufficiently lighted that at first they could not plainly see Lord Raby’s face as he rose at their entrance. A small fire took off a little of the chill of the place, but the atmosphere was unwholesomely damp. The unwonted captivity and the anxiety had driven all the color from the prisoner’s cheeks, and his expression was stern and sad. For an instant he did not recognize Carew, and then he uttered an exclamation of joy. “This is kind of you indeed!” he exclaimed, advancing, and as he did so, his eyes lighted on the cloaked figure beside Sir William. In an instant he recognized her, and regardless of her uncle, he sprang forward and caught her in his arms. Mistress Betty’s high spirit would at other times have resisted her lover’s fashion of taking possession of her, but his situation made a sad difference, and she clung to him a moment, tears shining in her eyes, while he caressed her and blessed her for coming. It was Carew who interrupted this little drama. “Come, come,” he said with gruff kindness, “our time is short; and if we are to serve you, we must inquire into your case.” “’Tis so,” said Betty, withdrawing from Raby’s embrace; “you must tell us all.” Her lover drew forward the only two chairs the room afforded for his guests, and seating himself on a low stool at her feet, listened patiently to Sir William’s harangue. “My Lord Raby,” he said gravely, “but yesterday we received the tidings of your arrest, and came post-haste to London to my lord privy seal to learn what we could of the matter. Nor can I say that we were comforted thereby; the information is so strange that it perplexeth me marvellously. We were granted permit to come to the Tower by Cromwell, and here we be, but how we may serve you is not so plain to me. Doubtless, though, you can make some clean statement of the matter, albeit it seems so bewildering to others.” Sir William’s frame of mind was not easily mistaken and Raby’s cheek flushed at the doubt implied, even though he saw only faith and trust in the eyes of Betty Carew. “Unhappily, sir,” he said stiffly, “I can make no explanation; could I do so, doubtless I should not be in the Tower.” Carew bent his brows. “My lord privy seal tells me that you were chiefly condemned by the packet you gave him,” he said slowly; “therefore it would seem that you must hold some key to the matter. What was this packet? Wherefore did you give it to Cromwell?” “The packet was yours, Sir William,” Raby replied sharply, “therefore ’tis you who should unfold the story.” Carew’s face flushed red with indignation.