f disappointment, for a long time she had no longer interrogated it;
however, she resolved to make one last attempt, and, almost hopeless,
she put her light near the window, and immediately took it away; still,
faithful to the signal, the other disappeared at the same moment, and
reappeared at the eleventh heart-beat of the queen. At the same time, by
a strange coincidence, a stone passing through the window fell at Mary
Seyton's feet. It was, like the first, wrapped in a letter from George:
the queen took it from her companion's hands, opened it, and read:

"The moment draws near; your adherents are assembled; summon all your
courage."

"To-morrow, at eleven o'clock in the evening, drop a cord from your
window, and draw up the packet that will be fastened to it."

There remained in the queen's apartments the rope over and above what
had served for the ladder taken away by the guards the evening of the
frustrated escape: next day, at the appointed hour, the two prisoners
shut up the lamp in the bedroom, so that no light should betray them,
and Mary Seyton, approaching the window, let down the cord. After a
minute, she felt from its movements that something was being attached to
it. Mary Seyton pulled, and a rather bulky parcel appeared at the bars,
which it could not pass on account of its size. Then the queen came
to her companion's aid. The parcel was untied, and its contents,
separately, got through easily. The two prisoners carried them into the
bedroom, and, barricaded within, commenced an inventory. There were two
complete suits of men's clothes in the Douglas livery. The queen was at
a loss, when she saw a letter fastened to the collar of one of the two
coats. Eager to know the meaning of this enigma, she immediately opened
it, and read as follows:

"It is only by dint of audacity that her Majesty can recover her
liberty: let her Majesty read this letter, then, and punctually follow,
if she deign to adopt them, the instructions she will find therein.

"In the daytime the keys of the castle do not leave the belt of the old
steward; when curfew is rung and he has made his rounds to make sure
that all the doors are fast shut, he gives them up to William Douglas,
who, if he stays up, fastens them to his sword-belt, or, if he sleeps,
puts them under his pillow. For five months, Little Douglas, whom
everyone is accustomed to see working at the armourer's forge of the
castle, has been employed in making some keys li