“Shall I go with you, Mistress Betty?” the tirewoman asked.
“Nay; you must stay for Lady Crabtree,” Betty replied; “and tell her where I am. It does not matter; I can go alone with my uncle’s servants.”
Without further delay, she ran lightly down the stairs, where she found two serving men in Sir William’s livery, and at the door a litter carried by four others, and there were two pages with lanterns. She did not recognize any of the men, but observed that one was cross-eyed, a powerful fellow, standing by the litter. She asked no questions, but sprang into her place, dropping the curtains to keep out the chill night air, and in a moment they were off upon their journey. Her attendants said nothing, but walked so rapidly along the streets that she was jolted from side to side; but they could not travel fast enough to keep pace with her eagerness. Twice or thrice she peeped out from behind her curtains, but the night was so dark that she could not see beyond the small circles of light made by the lanterns. They passed the watch, for she heard them answering his challenge, and it seemed to her that it took longer to reach Sir William’s lodgings than it had taken to come from them earlier in the evening. Yet no doubt crossed her feverishly excited brain, and she was all hope and expectation when at last the party halted, and the men helped her to alight. She had been but once to her uncle’s quarters, and was not sufficiently familiar with them to be startled when she found herself at the door of a tall house; but something in its aspect roused her first suspicion. Before she could realize where she was, the door opened, and partly because she was not yet aroused, and partly, too, because the men gathered behind her, leaving no retreat, she entered, and seeing a staircase like the one at Sir William’s lodgings, began to ascend. Stopping half-way, she asked the man who followed her, the cross-eyed escort, where her uncle was? He pointed to a door before her without speaking, and she opened it and walked in. It was dimly lighted, and at the farther end was standing a tall man with his back toward her.
“Uncle, I have come,” she exclaimed; “what tidings have you?”
He turned and came slowly forward; as the light of the solitary taper that burned on the table fell on his face, she recognized Sir Barton Henge.
CHAPTER XXIX
MASTER CROSS-EYES
The instant that Betty Carew recognized Sir Barton’s dark face, she recoiled with a cry of terror. Her first thought was of the door by which she had entered, but when she ran to it she found it fastened on the outside. There was another entrance, but that was behind Henge, and he stepped back, and locking it, put the key in his pocket with a grim smile. She was a prisoner; but after the first moment of dismay, she collected herself and confronted him with spirit. She was angry at his insolent daring, and her cheeks flushed and her eyes sparkled.
“Sir,” she said proudly, “what means this? How dare you so insult me? Undo the door and let me go or you will answer for it to my uncle!”
Henge laughed and sneered.
“You take a high tone, mistress,” he said tauntingly, “but it will be long ere Carew finds you; you are safe enough at last!”