As she spoke, she drew nearer the fire and seated herself on a settle opposite the astrologer, and Betty came over and stood beside her, looking eagerly at the weird figure before them. “You came from Hampton Court,” remarked the wizard composedly, for the first time looking at them attentively, “with the king’s warrant to visit the Tower in the matter of my Lord Raby.” “We came to see you, sir,” Betty said earnestly, “to learn the truth. We are convinced that you can clear him if you will. In common charity, I pray you, help us untangle this conspiracy against an innocent man.” “Ay, I know the truth,” retorted the magician; “’tis my business; but why should I make my Lord Raby’s affairs mine?” “Tush, Sanders!” exclaimed Lady Crabtree, who was unmoved by any awe of him, “do not play the innocent. We all know that you are knee-deep and elbow-deep in this conspiracy and like to hang at Tyburn.” “Nay, I will never hang,” replied the wizard coldly, fixing his large and marvellously radiant eyes upon her, “nor will the prince baptized last night live to manhood.” “Pshaw!” said Lady Crabtree, with a laugh, “it takes no magician to predict danger to the baby with the rumpus they are making over it; any old wife can beat you there as a prophet!” The strong-minded old woman had thrown back her wraps and sat by the fire, her hawk-like nose and square chin sharply outlined in the red light, and her great frame contrasting strangely with the diminutive one of the prisoner. The two natures, naturally defiant and antagonistic, recognized the qualities which made them so, and they eyed each other in mutual dislike and suspicion. But Betty Carew had only the one object and hope, and something in her beauty perhaps appealed to Sanders, for he treated her with more consideration than usual; he had, too, his own reasons for aiding her. She came a step nearer now and stood looking at him; her hood had fallen back and revealed her head, with its black hair uncovered, framing her pale but handsome face; her hands hung loosely clasped before her, and the firelight played in her deep brown eyes. “I pray you,” she said eagerly, “consider that he who so entangled Raby by placing that packet on his person,--in some marvellous manner,--he also must have betrayed you. Your cause is therefore identical with ours. Surely you can think of some one who had the means to compass this--and the will.” The wizard looked at her thoughtfully; not a change of expression denoted that he felt any interest in what she said. “Lord Raby had a servant,” he replied, deliberately stirring the fire; “he can tell you all you wish to know.” “We thought of that,” cried Betty; “but it is judged impossible that so ignorant a man could have had access to the papers which are now in the hands of Cromwell.” “Nevertheless, I tell you, find him,” returned the wizard, calmly.