“You will bring me this document?”
“I swear to God I will.”
“Nay, nay, swear not at all. If a man’s word bear him not up, he will sink when his oath alone buoys him. Wench, I will trust you; but remember this: if I am compelled to take this man through force of arms, to surround him with a troop and publicly wrench his burden from him, I must as publicly hang him, to warn the next Scot who would make the essay on Oxford. If you succeed, you save not only your brother’s life, but this man’s as well. Now go. Let there be no turning back from the plough to which your hand is set.”
Frances retreated and let herself out of the room. On the stair-head at the end of the passage, well out of possible earshot, two soldiers stood on guard, and between them an elderly woman, who immediately advanced when she saw the girl leave the General’s room.
“I am the landlady,” she said. “Will you come with me?”
“I wish a word with my friend,” replied Frances. The woman appeared nonplussed, and stood hesitating; but at that moment the officer who had conducted her came up the stair and approached. “I wish to speak with Mr. Armstrong,” she said to him. “Where is he?”
“One moment, madam, if you please,” replied the officer, knocking at the General’s door. He was not bade to enter, but the single word, “Oxford,” uttered in a deep voice, came from within. The subordinate appeared to understand, and with a bow to the lady said: “Mr. Armstrong is waiting below. Will you come down, or shall I ask him to come up?”
“You may tell him I wish to see him.”
She walked to the head of the stair and saw Armstrong alone in the lower hall, pacing up and down with a fine swagger of Scottish indifference, which he must have been far from feeling, while the doorway was blocked by two guards holding grounded pikes. The moment the young man saw her he came bounding up the stair two steps at a time. All the guards, above and below, seemed struck with simultaneous alertness, and made a motion which, if continued, would have brought their weapons to bear on the prisoner, but a slight signal from the officer’s hand brought back their former stolidity.
“Oh, Mr. Armstrong, I merely wished to know at what hour we set out to-morrow.”