It may be that it is the one that will unravel
the meaning of this for us."

Francis awaited the result with impatience while her father applied
himself to the task of deciphering the characters. Presently he looked up
triumphantly.

"I have it, child. Mary is in truth on the alert. She knows that we have
messages for her. Listen! she says: 'I find no security in writing by
carrier; the best recipe for secret writing is alum dissolved in a little
clear water twenty-four hours before it is required to write with. In
order to read it the paper must be wetted in a basin of water and then
held to the fire; the secret writing then appears white and may easily be
read until the paper gets dry. You may write in this manner on white
taffeta or white linen, especially lawn; and as a token when anything is
written on a piece of taffeta or linen a little snip can be cut off from
one of the corners. Friend, if so be that you have letters, transcribe
their message in the above manner. As to the manner of their delivery I
know not. I will this way as often as the disposition of my jailer will
permit. Adieu, my friend--though I know not thy name, yet thy features
are engraved upon the heart of your queen,

'MARIE, ROYNE.'"

"There!" Lord Stafford smoothed the piece of cloth complacently. "The
thing that troubles is how to give her the papers and letters. 'Tis my
belief that they would be as easy to deliver as to transcribe their
contents upon cloth to give her. She must be made aware of the plan for
her rescue."

"What is the plan, father?"

"To overwhelm her escort while she is taking the air, child. Babington is
to come with one hundred men and carry Mary off. Her escort seldom
consists of more than eighteen or twenty men, and we think she might be
easily taken from them."

"But would not other of Sir Amyas's men follow after and retake her?"

"We hope to place her in a secure spot ere they could do so, Francis.
Once across the border Elizabeth would have no power over her, and her
son, unfilial though he hath shown himself, could not for very shame
refuse her safe asylum. Then she might, if she would so choose, retire to
France where she could dwell in peace."

"She must have those letters, my father."

"Yes, Francis; but how? My mind plays me false when I would discover a
way. It is not active. We must think, think, Francis."

Francis arose and walked to the window