“No; I heard he was not.  He was come from London yesterday morning.  That was the first I heard of him.”

Then Alice began again to soothe her gently, to tell her that her husband was in no great danger as yet, that he was well known for his loyalty, and to do her best to answer the girl’s pitiful questions.  And Marjorie sat back and considered.

Marjorie had a remarkable knowledge of the methods of the Government, gathered from the almost endless stories she had heard from travelling priests and others; it was her business, too, to know them.  Two or three things, therefore, if the girl’s account was correct, were plain.  First, that this was a concerted plan, and not a mere chance arrest.  Mr. Audrey’s message to her showed so much, and the circumstances of Topcliffe’s arrival confirmed it.  Next, it must be more than a simple blow struck at one man, Mr. Thomas FitzHerbert:  Topcliffe would not have come down from London at all unless it were a larger quarry than Mr. Thomas that was aimed at.  Thirdly, and in conclusion, it would not be easy therefore to get Mr. Thomas released again.  There remained a number of questions which she had as yet no means of answering.  Was it because Mr. Thomas was heir to the enormous FitzHerbert estates in this county and elsewhere, that he was struck at?  Or was it the beginning, merely, of a general assault on Derbyshire, such as had taken place before she was born?  Or was it that Mr. Thomas’ apparent coolness towards the Faith (for that was evident by his not having heard mass for so long, and by his refusal to entertain priests just at present)—­was it that lack of zeal on his part, which would, of course, be known to the army of informers scattered now throughout England, which had marked him out as the bird to be flown at?  It would be, indeed, a blow to the Catholic gentry of the county, if any of the FitzHerberts should fall!

She stood up presently, grave with her thoughts.  Mistress Alice glanced up.

“I am going out for a little,” said Marjorie.

“But—­”

“May two of your men follow me at a little distance?  But I shall be safe enough.  I am going to a friend’s house.”

* * * * *

Marjorie knew Derby well enough from the old days when she rode in sometimes with her father and slept at Mr. Biddell’s; and, above all, she knew all that Derby had once been.  In one place, outside the town, was St. Mary-in-Pratis, where the Benedictine nuns had lived; St. Leonard’s had had a hospital for lepers; St. Helen’s had had the Augustinian hospital for poor brothers and sisters; St. Alkmund’s had held a relic of its patron saint; all this she knew by heart; and it was bitter now to be here on such business.  But she went briskly out from the hall; and ten minutes later she was knocking at the door of a little attorney, the old partner of her father’s, whose house faced the Guildhall across the little market-square.  It was opened by an old woman who smiled at the sight of her.