This Susan had ascribed to fear that she should be warned off for her fortune-telling propensities, or the children’s little bargains interfered with.  All she could answer for was that she had once seen a huge pair of grizzled eyebrows, with light eyes under them, and that the woman, if woman she were, was tall, and bent a good deal upon a hooked stick, which supported her limping steps.  Cicely could say little more, except that the witch had a deep awesome voice, like a man, and a long nose terrible to look at.  Indeed, there seemed to have been a sort of awful fascination about her to all the children, who feared her yet ran after her.

Antony was then sent for.  It was not easy to judge of the expression of his disfigured countenance, but when thus brought to bay he threw off all tokens of compunction, and stood boldly before the Earl.

“So, Master Babington, I find you have been betraying the trust I placed in you—­”

“What, trust, my Lord?” said Antony, his bright blue eyes looking back into those of the nobleman.

“The cockerel crows loud,” said the Earl.  “What trust, quotha!  Is there no trust implied in the coming and going of one of my household, when such a charge is committed to me and mine?”

“No one ever gave me any charge,” said Antony.

“Dost thou bandy words, thou froward imp?” said the Earl.  “Thou hast not the conscience to deny that there was no honesty in smuggling forth a letter thus hidden.  Deny it not.  The treasonable cipher hath been read!”

“I knew nought of what was in it,” said the boy.

“I believe thee there, but thou didst know that it was foully disloyal to me and to her Majesty to bear forth secret letters to disguised traitors.  I am willing to believe that the smooth tongue which hath deluded many a better man than thou hath led thee astray, and I am willing to deal as lightly with thee as may be, so thou wilt tell me openly all thou knowest of this infamous plot.”

“I know of no plot, sir.”

“They would scarce commit the knowledge to the like of him,” said Richard Talbot.

“May be not,” said Lord Shrewsbury, looking at him with a glance that Antony thought contemptuous, and which prompted him to exclaim, “And if I did know of one, you may be assured I would never betray it were I torn with wild horses.”

“Betray, sayest thou!” returned the Earl.  “Thou hast betrayed my confidence, Antony, and hast gone as far as in thee lies to betray thy Queen.”

“My Queen is Mary, the lawful Queen of us all,” replied Antony, boldly.

“Ho!  Sayest thou so?  It is then as thou didst trow, cousin, the foolish lad hath been tampered with by the honeyed tongue.  I need not ask thee from whom thou hadst this letter, boy.  We have read it and know the foul treason therein.  Thou wilt never return to the castle again, but for thy father’s sake thou shalt be dealt with less sternly, if thou wilt tell who this woman is, and how many of these toys thou hast given to her, if thou knowest who she is.”