"Who are they, Mr. Babington?"
"Why, Campion and Sherwine and Brian. They were taken a month or two ago…. I had heard not a word of it, and … and it ended three days ago."
"I … I do not understand."
The man struck his hand heavily on the long table against which he leaned. He appeared one flame of fury; courtesy and gentleness were all gone from him.
"They were hanged for treason, I tell you…. Treason! … Campion!…
By God! we will give them treason if they will have it so!"
All seemed gone from Marjorie except the white, splashed face that stared at her, lighted up by the lantern beside him, glaring from the background of darkness. It was not Robin … not Robin … yet—
The shocking agony of her face broke through the man's heart-broken fury, and he stood up quickly.
"Mistress Marjorie," he said, "forgive me…. I am like a madman. I am on my way from Derby, where the news came to me this afternoon. I turned aside to tell you. They say the truce, as they call it, is at an end. I came to warn you. You must be careful. I am riding for London. My men are in the valley. Mistress Marjorie—"
She waved him aside. The blood was beginning again to beat swiftly and deafeningly in her ears, and the word came back.
"I … I was shocked," she said; "… you must pardon me…. Is it certain?"