"I am not clear about that, sir, not knowing the country," he replied. "But I heard that a gentleman there had fallen foul of her Grace's orders about church matters, and beaten the officers sent to see them carried out; and that, when the sheriff remonstrated with him, he beat him too. But I warrant they will soon bring him to his senses." "Did you hear his name?" I asked. There was a natural misgiving in my mind. Warwickshire was large; and yet something in the tale smacked of Sir Anthony. "I did hear it," the host answered, scratching his head, "but I cannot call it to mind. I think I should know it if I heard it." "Was it Sir Anthony Cludde?" "It was that very same name!" he exclaimed, clapping his hands in wonder. "To be sure! Your worship has it pat!" I slipped back into my cloak again, and snatched up my hat and whip. But the Duchess was as quick. She stepped between me and the door. "Sit down, Francis!" she said imperiously. "What would you be at?" "What would I be at?" I cried with emotion. "I would be with my uncle. I shall take horse at once and ride Warwickshire way with all speed. It is possible that I may be in time to avert the consequences. At least I can see that my cousin comes to no harm." "Good lad," she said placidly. "You shall start tomorrow." "To-morrow!" I cried impatiently. "But time is everything, madam." "You shall start to-morrow," she repeated. "Time is not everything, firebrand! If you start to-day what can you do? Nothing! No more than if the thing had happened three years ago, before you met me. But to-morrow--when you have seen the Secretary of State, as I promise you you shall, this evening if he be in London--to-morrow you shall go in a different character, and with credentials." "You will do this for me?" I exclaimed, leaping up and taking her hand, for I saw in a moment the wisdom of the course she proposed. "You will get me----" "I will get you something to the purpose," my lady answered roundly. "Something that shall save your uncle if there be any power in England can save him. You shall have it, Frank," she added, her color rising, and her eyes filling, as I kissed her hand, "though I have to take Master Secretary by the beard!" CHAPTER XXII. SIR ANTHONY'S PURPOSE. Late, as I have heard, on the afternoon of November 20, 1558, a man riding between Oxford and Worcester, with the news of the queen's death, caught sight of the gateway tower at Coton End, which is plainly visible from the road. Though he had already drunk that day as much ale as would have sufficed him for a week when the queen was well, yet much wants more. He calculated he had time to stop and taste the Squire's brewing, which he judged, from the look of the tower, might be worth his news; and he rode through the gate and railed at his nag for stumbling.