eturned Francis bravely.

"Have a care, boy. There are ways of extorting confessions from unwilling
lips."

"I do not misunderstand your meaning," returned the girl with white lips,
"but I cannot tell."

[Illustration: "_I WILL NOT TELL, SIR FRANCIS_"]

"What did your father when the proposition was made to kill the queen?"
asked Walsingham so suddenly that Francis was caught unawares.

"He would have naught to do with it," answered she promptly, glad to
speak in his favor. "He rejected it with horror."

"Ah, ha! he did know of it!" ejaculated the secretary. "Thou hast
betrayed thyself. Come! Let us have the full particulars."

"Sir," said Francis, perceiving the snare into which she had fallen, "I
am unable to meet your craft with like guile. Therefore question me no
further. I will say no more."

And despite all attempts to trip her into answering, she maintained an
obstinate silence with regard to all their questions.

"Let us leave him," said Walsingham at length. "Obdurate lad, thou wilt
regret thy stubbornness ere long. There are other means of dealing with
such spirits than gentleness. We will return ere long, and if thou art
still of the same mind, thou shalt taste them." And he withdrew, leaving
Francis to face this new trial.

CHAPTER XXIV

A FRIEND IN NEED

It was with much apprehension that Francis awaited the return of the
secretary. Stories that she had heard regarding the tortures inflicted
upon prisoners in the Tower came to her mind with such vividness and
force as to cause her soul to sicken with fear.

"I must not think on them," she said, trying to drive this terror from
her mind. For diversion she arose and examined the inscriptions in the
room. "How many there have been before me!" she mused gazing at the coats
of arms and other devices with which the walls were covered. "What
melancholy memorials of illustrious and unfortunate people! Here is the
name of the Earl of Arundel."

She looked long and earnestly at the autograph of that unhappy nobleman,
Phillip Howard, Earl of Arundel, who was beheaded for aspiring to the
hand of Mary Stuart. This name was written boldly over the fireplace,
and the girl turned from it with a sigh as the thought occurred to her
that all who were connected in any manner with that ill-starred princess
must meet with some untoward fate.

She passed with a shudder from the next inscription bearing the recent
date of 1582, which read: