The man who held the keys nodded without speaking.

“Then, my dearest wife,” said Thomas, embracing her all of a sudden, and simultaneously drawing her towards the door, “we will leave you to speak with the man.  He will come back for Mistress Manners directly.”

“Oh! my Thomas!” wailed the girl, clinging to him.

“There, there, my dearest.  And you will come and see me again as soon as you can get the order.”

* * * * *

The instant the door was closed he came up to Marjorie and his face looked ghastly.

“Mistress Manners,” he said, “I dare not speak to my wife.  But ... but, for Jesu’s sake, get me out of here.  I ...  I cannot bear it....  Topcliffe comes to see me every day....  He ... he speaks to me continually of—­O Christ!  Christ!  I cannot bear it!”

He dropped suddenly on to his knees by the table and hid his face.

III

At Babington House Marjorie slept, as was often the custom, in the same room with her maid—­a large, low room, hung all round with painted cloths above the low wainscoting.

On the night after the visit to the prison, Janet noticed that her mistress was restless; and that while she would say nothing of what was troubling her, and only bade her go to bed and to sleep, she herself would not go to bed.  At last, in sheer weariness, the maid slept.

She awakened later, at what time she did not know, and, in her uneasiness, sat up and looked about her; and there, still before the crucifix, where she had seen her before she slept, kneeled her mistress.  She cried out in a loud whisper: 

“Come to bed, mistress; come to bed.”

And, at the word, Marjorie started; then she rose, turned, and in the twilight of the summer night began to prepare herself for bed, without speaking.  Far away across the roofs of Derby came the crowing of a cock to greet the dawn.

CHAPTER X

I

It was a fortnight later that there came suddenly to Babington House old Mr. Biddell himself.  Up to the present he had been careful not to do so.  He appeared in the great hall an hour before dinner-time, as the tables were being set, and sent a servant for Mistress Manners.

“Hark you!” he said; “you need not rouse the whole house.  It is with Mistress Manners alone that my business lies.”

He broke off, as Mrs. FitzHerbert looked over the gallery.

“Mr. Biddell!” she cried.

He shook his head, but he seemed to speak with some difficulty.

“It is just a rumour,” he said, “such as there hath been before.  I beg you—­”

“That ... there will be no trial at all?”

“It is just a rumour,” he repeated.  “I did not even come to trouble you with it.  It is with Mistress Manners that—­”