Betty sprang to her feet.
“Quick!” she cried, “Donough, there is the other door!”
“’Tis useless,” cried Alice; “they come from both sides—I saw them!”
“Then I will hide you!” Betty cried wildly, catching her husband’s arm.
For an instant he hesitated; he, too, heard the heavy feet in the gallery, then he shook his head.
“No, Betty, dear,” he said, “I cannot be hunted like a rat in a hole; I must face them like a man, like your husband.”
She uttered a little cry of despair and clung to him, while Alice wrung her hands.
“Oh, the window, my lord!” she cried, “there is a balcony!”
“Too late, my girl,” Lord Clancarty replied calmly, the light flashing in his gray eyes, his head erect; “no, no, I’ve never let an enemy see my back—I can’t learn to run now.”
Betty looked up at him and caught her breath; here was a man after her own heart. She felt his hand go to his sword and she, too, looked toward the door. They had not even thought of barring it, but it would have been useless, for it was thrown wide open by a sheriff’s deputy, who was followed by a guard of stout yeomen from the Tower.