"The queen is dying," I answered simply, "or dead, and you can do us no more harm. You are free."
"Free?" He repeated the word, leaning against the wall, his eyes wild and glaring, his lips parted.
"Yes, free," I answered, in a lower voice--"free to go out into the air of heaven a living man!" I paused. For a moment I could not continue. Then I added solemnly, "Sir, Providence has saved you from death, and me from a crime."
He leaned still against the wall, dazed, thunderstruck, almost incredulous, and looked from me to the open door and back again as if without this constant testimony of his eyes he could not believe in his escape.
"It was not Anne?" he murmured. "She did not----"
"She tried to save your life," I answered; "but they would not listen to her."
"Did she come here?"
As he spoke, he straightened himself with an effort and stood up. He was growing more like himself.
"No," I answered. "She sent for me and told me her terms. But Kingston and the others would not listen to them. You would have been dead now, though I did all I could to save you, if Penruddocke had not brought this news of the queen."
"She is dead?"