Rose Marie read the paper through, then she looked inquiringly on Rupert.
"What are we to do, sir," she asked coldly.
"You have no option," he said, as he took hold of her wrist and quietly drew her back under the shadow of the doorway.
"There is no doubt," he continued in an agitated whisper, "that if your father attempts to disobey the order, he would be stopped more forcibly, and his situation would then become more uncomfortable. Does this paper state on what grounds your father is thus forbidden to go away?"
"Yes," she replied calmly; "it says that by order of the king, Master Legros, tailor of Paris, is required to give evidence on behalf of the Crown in the forthcoming trial of the Earl of Stowmaries and Rivaulx, for conspiracy and treason."
"He is summoned as a witness. He has no option—he must stay—they would stop him if he attempted to go," reiterated Rupert Kestyon, whose trembling voice scarce contrived to pass from his dry throat through his parched lips.
"Then with your permission," she rejoined, "I will stay with my father."
"As you please," he said hurriedly.
Rose Marie bent her head in token of farewell. She felt more like a puppet moving and acting mechanically than like a sentient woman. She suffered such an agony of mind and heart at thought of what had occurred, what she visualized and what she guessed, that the mere act of speaking and of moving seemed no part of her present existence. She was called upon to act and to decide for herself and for her father—but as Rupert Kestyon very properly said, there was no option. Nor had Rose Marie anything to fear for her father; it was difficult for her to imagine how the present situation had come about, and why the King of England should desire Master Legros to be a witness for the Crown against the Earl of Stowmaries and Rivaulx, accused of conspiracy and treason, nor did she quite understand what being a witness for the Crown really meant, but for her own part she was conscious of an intense sense of relief when she saw Rupert Kestyon—her husband—turning on his heel, and without looking either to right or left, making his way somewhat hurriedly to his coach.