Across the candles of the supper table Mistress Keziah looked curiously at her niece, and the footman behind her chair could scarcely attend to his duties for watching the face of the young mistress. Her eyes were bright, spots of colour showed in her cheeks; she was wearing a beautiful London gown; Mistress Keziah knew that for some reason Marion was calling up her defences. 'For a complete actress,' mused the old woman, 'give me a girl who is at her wits' end with anxiety and grief.'

Marion was talking of her childhood at Garth, of the various activities that had filled her days. From that she went Lightly back to Kensington, and thence again to Cornwall. She appeared to be relishing greatly the prospect of returning to Garth.

'Only my promise to stay with you a sennight would keep me, Aunt Keziah. I am suddenly become mightily homesick. I want the stables and the horses—my horses—the boats and the beach. I declare I should like to look at my dolls again, and my skipping rope. Oh yes! and my bow and arrows. Ah, those days! 'Tis a pity you never learned to shoot, Aunt Keziah. I remember your telling me you had never handled a bow. If only you had one, 'twould have pleased me mightily to set up a target in the garden. Did I tell you,' she went on, 'that Colonel Sampson and Captain Beckenham took me to an archery one day, and I beat my lord the captain by a good two yards?'

Marion laughed merrily. The footman, his wits dissolved in admiration, stored up the gossip for the kitchen, and wondered where a bow was to be had. He would like greatly to watch the young lady shoot.

'Who is Captain Beckenham?' asked Mistress Keziah.

'One of Aunt Constance's friends, in Her Majesty's suite. He was mightily kind. He risked the Queen's displeasure in absenting himself to ride with us over the heath past Hounslow, giving me to understand it was for the sake of my beaux yeux. But,' added Marion, a smile coming and going, 'in the coach I discovered that my own were outshone by Simone's. He amused me somewhat, that young man. He changes from one weighty affection to another as lightly as he changes a coat.'

Mistress Keziah, following her niece's lead, talked in a similar vein until the cloth was removed, and William departed. As he closed the door Marion leaned back in her chair, and drew a long breath. Mistress Keziah waited. Marion had nothing more to say. In silence the two finished their meal, the girl toying with the sweets on her plate. She followed her aunt into her little sitting-room upstairs, where Simone, who always ate her meals in her own chamber, had been bidden to wait. From a stool by the window in the dusk-filled room, Simone looked anxiously at her mistress. The evening had been heavy for her. She had once more been counting the hours; the lingering daylight showed her face wan and grave.

'Well,' said the old lady drily, as she sat down, ''twas mightily pretty, all that talk. What did it mean?'

'It means, Aunt Keziah, that by fair means or foul, I must have a bow and arrows.'

Mistress Keziah stared at her niece.

'I am not demented,' said Marion, 'though I see you think so. I sought the town this afternoon. There seems not to be such a thing in Exeter. But there must be, if one knew where to look.'

'So that is why you discoursed on the subject so pleasantly that William spilt the gravy all over the trencher.'

'Just that, Aunt Keziah. If William knows any one who possesses a bow, 'twill be forthcoming for the young mistress's amusement.'

Simone and Mistress Keziah stared afresh at the speaker. Marion had given no inkling of her motives for wandering about the town during the afternoon, nor had she explained her reason for making the purchases she had.

'But why?'

'To kill the sentry?' queried Simone.

'To shoot sparrows, ma petite. See,' Marion looked round, 'just glance over the gallery, Simone, lest some one should be within earshot.'

'No one is about,' said Mistress Keziah. 'William is holding forth in the kitchen on the subject of Mistress Marion. 'Tis long since he has had such entertainment.'

Simone returned to her seat. Her face was grave.

'See,' said Marion again, speaking slowly, looking from one to the other of her hearers. 'To the end of an arrow may be attached a length of fine silk; to that a length of stout thread; to that'—Simone gave a little cry—'a length of fine cord; then a rope; to the end of the rope may be tied a package containing a note and a file. Simone, if you go into hysterics, I shall put you to bed!'

Simone was struggling between tears and laughter, her Gallic temperament suddenly roused in a helpless emotion. She clasped her hands over her face. 'Oh, Mademoiselle! Mademoiselle!' she sobbed. 'I see it plainly. He will be saved! Oh!'

Aunt and niece were looking at each other. 'Well?' said Marion.

'Mes compliments,' returned Mistress Keziah quietly. A gleam of pride flashed in her keen old eyes. She looked from her niece to Simone, who was rocking to and fro on her stool. 'Any one would know you were not English, Simone!' she said, with a touch of asperity.

'Eh bien!' sobbed the girl, 'one may love one's mistress, even if one is not English.' Simone was completely undone by the swift reaction of four days and nights of anxiety and hopelessness. Marion laid a soothing hand on her shoulder. By degrees she calmed down.

'But where can one be got, Aunt Keziah?'

'So. Before shooting the arrow of fate it is first necessary to have a bow.'

'And any day after to-morrow the courier may return.'

Silence fell on the little room.

'You did not say how you would do it, Mademoiselle,' presently said Simone.

'From the little window across into the cell, through the bars.'

'But, Mademoiselle, can you do such a thing? It seems incredible, at that distance, through those narrow bars!'

'I know not whether any one can do such a thing or not. But I am going to do it.'

'That is the right spirit,' commented Mistress Keziah, her eyes gleaming again. 'There speaks victory. But taking your skill for granted, my dear, how avoid the risk of shooting the lad himself?'

'I have thought of that. We had a trick, Roger and I,' Marion made a swift gesture with one hand, 'like that, when we were shooting together in the country, a gesture that told the one who was marking where arrows fell to stand to the left or right out of danger as the other changed his aim. I will make the sign when they are out in the yard. There will be one second in the hour when the sentry is not looking, as there was to-day. Also, to make sure, I am going now to note what his cell looks like by candlelight. I feel sure that if Roger has sixpence in his pocket he will have a candle to-night. He will want us to see him. You may be quite sure Roger is thinking hard, as well as ourselves, and doing all he can. He will know I am not here in Exeter just now simply to take the air.'

Mistress Keziah pondered a while.

'Suppose your silk catches in the trees?'

'It cannot. The window is too high.'

'Will it not interfere with the flight of the arrow, Mademoiselle?'

Marion shook her head. 'The silk I bought is tough, but very fine.'

'But,' said Simone, her brows puckered, 'I do not understand, Mademoiselle. How will you dispose of the silk so that it will run easily?'

'I see you are not a sailor, Simone,' remarked Marion.

Simone looked puzzled. Mistress Keziah smiled.

'In which storey is Roger's cell?'

'The first.'

'Are you sure the boundary wall of the gaol will not be in your way?'

'Quite sure, Aunt Keziah. This house is much loftier than the prison, and the little window is under the eaves.'

''Tis a hare-brained scheme, and would e'en seem hopeless,' remarked Mistress Keziah, 'had I not a lurking feeling that fortune favours the brave. I must think it over. But, dear, you have been some months at least without any great practice. Are you sure of your aim? It will be in the dark, I suppose?'

'At dawn; just before three o'clock.'

Mistress Keziah nodded. 'Better so. But as I said, 'tis a good distance for a shot.'

'Close on a hundred yards,' said Marion. 'I measured this morning. And to-morrow I shall practise in the garden.'

'Suppose there is a wind, Mademoiselle,' said Simone presently.

Marion clasped............