“Woman, I do not like your bearing, touching what you have done. You did your duty by your country, God aiding you. Neither do I like your attitude towards this meddler in affairs of state. What is your relationship to him?”
“Merely that of the highwayman toward his victim.”
“Sharp words again; hollow-sounding brass, and the tinkling of cymbals. I ask you if there has been any foolish talk between you?”
“If ’t were so, ’t is not an affair of state, and I shall follow the example of General Cromwell and allow no meddlers in it.”
A wry smile came to the lips of her questioner, and he remarked drily:
“I told you the wine would do you good.”
He sat down by the table and wrote the pass for John, the servant, tying the three papers together with the discarded silk cord that had wrapped the parchment of the King. Giving her the package, he accompanied her to the head of the stair, and stood there while she descended. He did not offer her his hand, nor say any word of farewell. They needed now no candle, for the early daylight was coming through the broad eastern window. Half way down the stair she turned, and looked up at him.
“The innkeeper at Banbury did everything that was possible for a man to do in aiding me.”
Cromwell made no comment on this piece of information, standing there as if he were a carven, wooden statue, part of the decoration of the hall. She completed her descent, passed outside without looking back, and mounted the horse which a soldier was holding for her. The birds were twittering in the trees, and the still water of the moat lay like molten silver in the new light. She rode up the aclivity, then galloped for Banbury, reaching the town before anyone was astir. The streets were entirely deserted, Cromwell’s command having cleared them, and the invisible guards of a few hours before, whom the magic pass-word stilled, seemed as nonexistent as if they had been phantoms of a vision.
The sleepy innkeeper received the horse, and she crept up the stair of Old John’s room and knocked upon it until he responded. She gave him his pass, and the two documents for her brother, and told him to set off for Durham as soon as he got his breakfast, making what haste he could to Warburton Park, he was to tell her brother that she was well and would follow shortly. Then she went to her own room, threw herself on the bed, dressed as she was, and, certain she would never enjoy innocent sleep again, slept instantly.