“I flew upstairs on hearing the voices,” replied Oldcorne. “But what has happened to the steward?”
“He is a prisoner,” replied Viviana.
“All then is lost, unless you are acquainted with the secret panel he spoke of in the oratory,” rejoined Oldcorne.
“Alas! father, I am wholly ignorant of it,” she answered. “But, come with me into my chamber; they will not dare to invade it.”
“I know not that,” returned the priest, despairingly. “These sacrilegious villains would not respect the sanctity of the altar itself.”
“They come!” cried Viviana, as lights were seen at the foot of the stairs. “Take my hand—this way, father.”
They had scarcely gained the room, and fastened the door, when the pursuivant and his attendants appeared in the corridor. The officer, it would seem, had been well instructed where to search, or was sufficiently practised in his duty, for he proceeded at once to several hiding-places in the different chambers which he visited. In one room he detected a secret staircase in the wall, which he mounted, and discovered a small chapel built in the roof. Stripping it of its altar, its statue of the Virgin, its crucifix, pix, chalice, and other consecrated vessels, he descended, and continued his search. Viviana's chamber was now the only one unvisited. Trying the door, and finding it locked, he tapped against it with his wand.
“Who knocks?” asked the maiden.
“A state-messenger,” was the reply. “I demand entrance in the King's name.”
“You cannot have it,” she replied. “It is my sleeping-chamber.”