The old knight raised his hands above his head—but Cicely Elliott turned her back to the fire.
'What would you with me?' she asked. Her face was all in shadows.
'I have a warrant to take the Lady Katharine.'
Cicely Elliott screamed out:
'Me! Me! Ah God! ah God!'
She shrank back; she waved her hands, then suddenly she caught at the coif above her head and pulled forward the tail of her hood till, like a veil, it covered her face.
'Let me not be seen!' she uttered hoarsely.
The old knight's impatient desires burst through his terror.
'Nick Throckmorton,' he bleated, 'yon mad wench of mine....'
But the large man cut in on his words with a harsh and peremptory vehemence.