There was a suppressed exclamation of grief and dismay through the room, for in the death of the great Parliamentary Leader they all knew that the country had sustained an irreparable loss. Great soldiers were left to them, but the greatest statesman of the age had passed away.
“He had been failing throughout the autumn, and died of an internal abscess the eighth night of this month,” said Humphrey Neal. “In company with my kinsman, Sir Robert, I was present at his funeral in King Henry VII.‘s chapel at Westminster—a great gathering it was, too, the Lords and Commons, the Assembly of Divines, and a host of people besides being there.”
“Perchance your presence there was noted by some of the King’s spies, and may account for your arrest to-day,” said Gabriel. “Your kinsman, Sir Robert Neal, hath all his life opposed the Court party.”
“That is true. Years ago he was imprisoned for refusing to pay one of the loans which the King illegally enforced, and hath ever since been a marked man. Doubtless, that explains the matter. What are the chances of escape here?”
“The only hope would be through Sandy, the half-witted lad who helps the gaoler,” said Gabriel. “He hath a curious liking for me, which might prove of use. Otherwise, I see no possible way, though I have made many plans to wile away the time.”
The advent of this fresh, vigorous, well-fed man seemed to raise the spirits of all the half-starved prisoners, and Christmas Day found them almost cheerful. The friendly robin had never afforded them more amusement, and they were so intent on showing off his many tricks and accomplishments to Humphrey Neal that they never noticed the entrance of Aaron the gaoler. It was too late to conceal the bird, and certain that the brutal fellow would, if possible, kill it, Gabriel deliberately let it fly, and with satisfaction watched it perch on one of the rafters.
“What mischief are you hatching?” said Aaron, angrily.
“We did but watch a bird that hath harboured here,” said Gabriel, watching the robin rather apprehensively as it flew about overhead. Aaron made ineffectual efforts to reach it with his rod, growing more surly with each failure.
“Drat the bird,” he said. “I can’t waste my time over it; but you can spend your Christmas in the sport of taking its life, and I shall expect you to hand it over to me when I next come in.”
Gabriel made no reply, but secretly resolved to let the bird out of the window rather than place it in the hands of the gaoler. Aaron turned to vent his ill-humour on Humphrey Neal.