"And you have a suspicion of who the traitor was?"
"A suspicion I may have. But for aught else--for elucidation--you and I must be content alike to wait."
"Elucidation!" spoke the clergyman in something like derision. "It will not, I presume, ever be allowed to come."
"Yes, it will, William," answered Bede, quietly. "Time--events--heaven--all are working rapidly on for it. Alletha Rye is innocent; I could not affirm that truth to you more solemnly if I were dying. She must be set at liberty."
As it was only on the question of her guilt or innocence that the council had been called, it seemed that there was nothing more to do than to break it up. An uncomfortable sensation of doubt, dissatisfaction, and mystery, lay on all. The clergyman stalked away in haughty displeasure. Bede Greatorex, under cover of the crowd, slid his hand gratefully for a moment into that of George Winter, his sad eyes sending forth their thanks. Then he turned to the Judge.
"You can give the necessary authority for the release, Sir Thomas."
"Can I?" was the answer, as Sir Thomas looked at him. "I'll talk about it with Butterby. But I should like to have a private word first with Mr. Winter."
"Why! you do not doubt that she is innocent?"
"Oh dear no; I no longer doubt that. Winter," he added in a whisper, laying his hand on the clerk's shoulder to draw him outside, "whose face was it that you saw at the door of the room?"
"Tell him," said Bede suddenly, for he had followed them. "You will keep the secret, Kene, as I have kept it?"