"It is thy duty," I answered. "Worry not about it. Let but two men accompany me, and I will go on quietly to the Tower."
He turned to the sailors.
"Do ye, Giles and Henry, go with Sir Thomas," he commanded.
"Ay, Sir," they replied.
With them in the lead I passed on to the grim old fortress of London, in which had been confined the bravest and noblest of England. How many, as the heavy doors shut behind them, had breathed for the last time the breath of freedom? It had almost become an adage, "That he who goes to the Tower leaves hope behind him." It loomed dark and gray before me now. Crossing a narrow court-yard, one of the men beat upon the great door studded with nails.
"Who is it?" a voice asked from the inside.
"Friends," he answered. "A gentleman to see Sir Henry DeGray."
At this the heavy bolts rattled and the door opened. A man, a candle in his hand, peered out at us.
"Why canst thou not come in the daylight?" he grumbled. "Thou hast all day, and yet thou must worry us at night."
"We have just arrived in England to-night, my friend," I answered, "and could not have come sooner."