A strange peace took possession of Sir John's soul as he gazed into the semi-darkness of the Chapel of King Edward the Confessor, where, over the altar, gleamed a dull red light.
Sir John was no Romanist—nay, he was a somewhat ardent follower of Luther!
But it was no hour to think upon mysteries and niceties.
"Come with me, my dear nephew," he said.
And under his guidance William in a moment found himself kneeling by his uncle's side in front of the glorious altar of King Edward's Chapel. Long they knelt in fervent prayer, commending the condemned prisoner to the mercy of Almighty God, and beseeching His blessing on the steps they were taking on his behalf.
Then, comforted and refreshed, they rose and made their way towards Whitehall and Gray's Inn.
CHAPTER IX
THE DAWN OF HOPE
It was past mid-day when Sir John and William reached Gray's Inn, and, as their footsteps reached the ears of the watchful and anxious Susan, she flew down-stairs to meet them.
Already the fatal news had reached the girl's ears, but she was far too prudent a housewife and too loving a niece and sister to show her grief to men who had not dined, who were probably well-nigh spent with anxiety and need of bodily refreshment.