anced close to the gate, only to
start back in a horror of surprise which racked even his steeled
composure.

"Madam!" he cried; and then, "Catharine!"

Catharine Knollys made no answer to him, though she looked straight and
calmly into his face, seeming not in the least to see the woman near
him. Her eyes were wide and shining. "Sir," said she, "keep fast to
Hope! This was for Faith, and for Love!"

The jailer with one quick gesture swung wide the gate. "Haste, haste!"
he cried. "Quick and begone! This night may mean my ruin! Get ye gone,
all of ye, and give me time to think. Out with ye all, for I must lock
the gate!"

John Law passed as one stupefied, the slender form of Mary Connynge
still upon his arm. Hands of men hurried them. "Quick! Into the
carriage!" one cried.

And now the sounds of feet and voices approaching along the corridor
were heard. The jailer swiftly swung the heavy gate to and locked it.
Catharine Knollys caught his last gesture, which bade her begone as fast
as might be. Her feet were strangely heavy, in spite of her. She reached
the curb in time to hear only the whir of wheels as a carriage sped away
over the stones of the street. She stood alone, irresolute for half an
instant as the crunch of wheels spun up to the curb again. A hand
reached out and beckoned; involuntarily she obeyed the summons. Her
wrist was seized, and she was half pulled through the door of the
carriage.

"What!" cried a voice. "You, Lady Catharine! Why, how is this?"

It was the voice of Will Law, whom she knew, but who certainly was not
the one who had brought her hither. The Lady Catharine accepted this
last situation as one no longer able to reason. She sank down in the
carriage seat, shivering.

"Is all well?" asked Will Law, eagerly.

"He is safe," said Lady Catharine Knollys. "It is done. It is finished."

"What does this mean?" exclaimed Will.

"His carriage--there it is. It goes to the ship--to the Pool. He and
Mary Connynge are only just ahead of us. You may hear the wheels. Do you
not hear them?" She spoke with leaden voice, and her head sank heavily.

"What! My brother--Mary Connynge--in that carriage--what can you mean?
My God! Lady Catharine, tell me, what do you mean?"

"I do not know," said Catharine Knollys. All things now seemed very far
away from her. Her head sank gently forward, and she heard not the words
of the man who frantically sought to awaken her to speech.

From the prison to Lo