e to bear the
brunt, in the London mind, of all these unpunished crimes. It will be
next to impossible to liberate him, except by arranging privately with
the keeper for his escape. He could go down into the country and wait
in seclusion until it is all blown over, or until London has a new
victim, and then an order can be made pardoning him, and he can
return."

"Pardoning him! What are you talking of, my lord? He has done nothing
to be pardoned for. He should be, and shall be, rewarded." Mary spoke
impetuously, but caught herself and tried to remedy her blunder. "That
is, if I have heard the straight of it. I have been told that the
killing was done in the defense of two--women." Think of this poor
unconscious girl, so full of grief and trouble, talking thus to
Buckingham, who knew so much more about the affair than even she, who
had taken so active a part in it.

"Who told you of it?" asked the duke.

Mary saw she had made a mistake, and, after hesitating for a moment,
answered: "Sir Edwin Caskoden. He had it from Master Brandon, I
suppose." Rather adroit this was, but equidistant from both truth and
effectiveness.

"I will go at once to London and arrange for Brandon's escape," said
Buckingham, preparing to leave. "But you must not divulge the fact
that I do it. It would cost me all the favor I enjoy with the people
of London, though I would willingly lose that favor, a thousand times
over, for a smile from you."

She gave the smile, and as he left, followed his retiring figure with
her eyes, and thought: "After all, he has a kind heart."

She breathed a sigh of relief, too, for she felt she had accomplished
Brandon's release, and still retained her dangerous secret, the
divulging of which, she feared, would harden Henry's heart against her
blandishments and strand her upon the throne of France.

But she was not entirely satisfied with the arrangement. She knew that
her obligation to Brandon was such as to demand of her that she should
not leave the matter of his release to any other person, much less to
an enemy such as Buckingham. Yet the cost of his freedom by a direct
act of her own would be so great that she was tempted to take
whatever risk there might be in the way that had opened itself to her.
Not that she would not have made the sacrifice willingly, or would not
have told Henry all if that were the only chance to save Brandon's
life, but the other way, the one she had taken by Buckingham's help,