“By all the saints!” Law was saying, “you might be the very maker of this little slipper yourself.  I have won the forty crowns, I swear!  Perforce, I’ll leave them to you in my will.”

The shock of the light speech made even Mary Connynge wince.  For the moment she averted her eyes from the handsome face above her.  She looked, and saw what gave her greater shock.  Law, too, stared, as her own startled gaze grew fixed.  He advanced close to the gate, only to start back in a horror of surprise which racked even his steeled composure.

“Madam!” he cried; and then, “Catharine!”

Catharine Knollys made no answer to him, though she looked straight and calmly into his face, seeming not in the least to see the woman near him.  Her eyes were wide and shining.  “Sir,” said she, “keep fast to Hope!  This was for Faith, and for Love!”

The jailer with one quick gesture swung wide the gate.  “Haste, haste!” he cried.  “Quick and begone!  This night may mean my ruin!  Get ye gone, all of ye, and give me time to think.  Out with ye all, for I must lock the gate!”

John Law passed as one stupefied, the slender form of Mary Connynge still upon his arm.  Hands of men hurried them.  “Quick!  Into the carriage!” one cried.

And now the sounds of feet and voices approaching along the corridor were heard.  The jailer swiftly swung the heavy gate to and locked it.  Catharine Knollys caught his last gesture, which bade her begone as fast as might be.  Her feet were strangely heavy, in spite of her.  She reached the curb in time to hear only the whir of wheels as a carriage sped away over the stones of the street.  She stood alone, irresolute for half an instant as the crunch of wheels spun up to the curb again.  A hand reached out and beckoned; involuntarily she obeyed the summons.  Her wrist was seized, and she was half pulled through the door of the carriage.

“What!” cried a voice.  “You, Lady Catharine!  Why, how is this?”

It was the voice of Will Law, whom she knew, but who certainly was not the one who had brought her hither.  The Lady Catharine accepted this last situation as one no longer able to reason.  She sank down in the carriage seat, shivering.

“Is all well?” asked Will Law, eagerly.

“He is safe,” said Lady Catharine Knollys.  “It is done.  It is finished.”

“What does this mean?” exclaimed Will.

“His carriage—­there it is.  It goes to the ship—­to the Pool.  He and Mary Connynge are only just ahead of us.  You may hear the wheels.  Do you not hear them?” She spoke with leaden voice, and her head sank heavily.

“What!  My brother—­Mary Connynge—­in that carriage—­what can you mean?  My God!  Lady Catharine, tell me, what do you mean?”

“I do not know,” said Catharine Knollys.  All things now seemed very far away from her.  Her head sank gently forward, and she heard not the words of the man who frantically sought to awaken her to speech.