ey are cruel, cruel men, and they would not
hear of a pardon."

Gertrud did not speak; she knew that words of comfort would fall on deaf
ears, even if she could find any words of comfort to say, so she only
held out her arms, and gathered the poor heart-broken maiden into them,
and in silence they sat, until the light faded, and the stars came out
over Arthur's Seat. At last came a sound which made them both start. It
was the grating noise of a key being turned in a lock, and the clang of
bolts and bars, and then came the sound of marching feet, which passed
right under their little window. Gertrud rose and looked out, but
Margaret only shuddered. "They are taking him before the King," she
said. "They will question him, and he will speak the truth, and he will
lose his head for it."

She was right. The prisoner was being conducted to the presence of the
King and the Lords of Council, to be questioned, and, as he openly
acknowledged having spoken to the Earl of Bothwell, and did not deny
having carried the packet, although he swore that he had no idea of its
contents, his guilt was considered proved, and he was taken back to
prison, there to await sentence, which everyone knew would be death.

From the little window Gertrud watched the soldiers of the King's guard
lock and bar the great door, and give the key to Sir John Carmichael,
their captain, who crossed the square swinging it on his finger.

"Would that I had that key for half an hour," she muttered to herself.
"I would let the bird out of his cage, and old Karl Sevgen would do the
rest."

Margaret started up from the floor where she had been crouching in her
misery. "Old Karl Sevgen," she cried; "is he here?"

The old man was the captain of a little schooner which plied between
Denmark and Leith, who often carried messages backwards and forwards
between the Queen's maids and their friends.

"Ay," said Gertrud, glad to have succeeded in rousing her friend, and
feeling somehow that there was hope in the sound of the old man's
familiar name. "He sent up a message this evening--'twas when thou wert
with the King--and if we have anything to send with him it must be at
Leith by the darkening to-morrow. I could get leave to go, if thou hadst
any message," she added doubtfully, for she saw by Margaret's face that
an idea had suddenly come to her, for she sat up and gazed into the
twilight with bright eyes and flushed cheeks.

"Gertrud," she said at last, "I see a