"On whose word does that
stand?"
"Why, on her own! Whose else's?" snapped Anthony.
"You mean, you have it in her own hand, signed by her name?"
"It is in Gifford's hand! Is not that enough? And there is her seal to
it. It is in cypher, of course. What would you have?"
"Where is she now?" asked Robin, paying no attention to the question.
"She hath just now been moved again to Tixall."
"For what?"
"I do not know. What has that to do with the matter? She will be back
soon again. I tell you all is arranged."
"Tell me the rest of the story," said the priest.
"There is not much more. So it stands at present. I tell you her Grace
hath been tossed to and fro like a ball at play. She was at Chatsworth,
as you know; she has been shut up in Chartley like a criminal; she was
at Babington House even. God! if I had but known it in time!"
"In Babington House! Why, when was that?"
"Last year, early--with Sir Ralph Sadler, who was her gaoler then!"
cried Anthony bitterly; "but for a night only.... I have sold the
house."
"Sold it!"
"I do not keep prisons," snapped Anthony. "I will have none of it!"
"Well?"
"Well," resumed the other man quietly. "I must say that when Ballard was
taken--"
"When was that?"
"Last week only. Well, when he was taken I thought perhaps all was
known. But I find Mr. Walsingham's conversation very comforting, though
little he knows it, poor man! He knows that I am a Catholic; and he was
lamenting to me only three days ago of the zeal of these informers.
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