Mills did not go out crying, as she came in, that my lord might better pass for the lady who came in crying and afflicted; and the more so that as he had the same dress that she wore. When I had almost finished dressing my lord, I perceived it was growing dark, and was afraid that the light of the candle might betray us, so I resolved to set off. I went out leading him by the hand, whilst he held his handkerchief to his eyes. I spoke to him in the most piteous and afflicted tone, bewailing the negligence of my maid Evans, who had ruined me by her delay. Then I said, ‘My dear Mrs. Betty ... run quickly and bring her with you. I am almost distracted with this disappointment.’ The guards opened the door, and I went downstairs with him, still conjuring him to make all possible despatch. As soon as he had cleared the door, I made him walk before me, for fear the sentinel should take notice of his walk. At the bottom of the stairs I met my dear Evans, into whose hands I confided him.” Lord Nithsdale, now safely out of the walls and on Tower Hill, was hurried to a convenient lodging in the City. Lady Nithsdale, having sent “her maid Betty” off, returned to her lord’s room, and, alone there, pretended to converse with her husband, imitating his voice so well that no suspicions were aroused. She continues her narrative thus: “I then thought proper to make off also. I opened the door and stood half at it, that those in the outward chamber might hear what I said, but held it so close that they could not look in. I bade my lord formal farewell for the night, and added that something more than usual must have happened to make Evans negligent, on this important occasion, who had always been so punctual in the smallest trifles; that I saw no other remedy but to go in person; that if the Tower was then open, when I had finished my business, I would return that night; but that he might be assured I would be with him as early in the morning as I could gain admittance to the Tower, and I flattered myself I should bring more favourable news. Then, before I shut the door, I pulled through the string of the latch, so that it could only be opened on the inside.” On her way out Lady Nithsdale told one of the servants that candles need not be taken in to his master “until he sent for them,” and so left the King’s House, crossed Tower Green in the dusk of the evening, and was soon safely in London streets. Lord Nithsdale eventually escaped, disguised as a footman, in the suite of the Venetian Ambassador, from Dover. Lady Nithsdale bravely returned to Dumfriesshire, and, at great risk, for “the King was great insensed at the trick she had played,” recovered valuable papers buried in a garden there, then joined her husband in Rome. By her splendid intrepidity she had saved her lord from the scaffold on the very eve of execution, had baffled the King’s emissaries, and altogether gave King George cause to complain that she