Three days later the Sheriff appeared at Gray's Inn with much ceremony, and Ralph saw his brother carried off a prisoner to the Fleet.
It was the first moment of real anguish in his young life, and but for the sweet influence of his sister, Ralph would have then proclaimed himself the offender and demanded the release of his brother.
From the library window Ralph and Susan had seen the departure of William under the escort of the Sheriff's guard, and the boy's pale face was wrung with so intense an agony that Susan's fears were strongly aroused.
"Oh, Ralph," she cried, "for the love of God do nothing rashly, bring not your uncle's plans to confusion; have faith that all will come right in Heaven's good time."
She laid her hand upon his shoulder and drew him lovingly towards her, seeing that he was irresolute.
"Have you no pity for me?" she said. "Think you that I do not suffer with you, and with our beloved uncle also?"
A moment more, and the crisis was past; the prisoner and his escort had moved out of sight, and Ralph sank exhausted upon a couch: his barely recovered strength had failed him.
Three days had passed since William had been committed to the Fleet prison, where, thanks to the Sheriff, the prisoner had been granted a private room, and every alleviation of his hard lot which the Governor could give to him.
He had been permitted to receive visitors, and each day Sir John and Susan had spent some hours with him. On the evening of the third day Simon Renard, the Spanish Ambassador, had brought the great news to Gray's Inn that the Council of the Star Chamber would meet on the morrow, and that William's fate would be then decided.