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Updated: May 19, 2025
It was one of my lord's men, too, that had helped to identify the prisoner. But the supreme interest lay in even more startling circumstances in the history of Mistress Manners, who was present through the trial with Mr. Biddell the lawyer, and who had obtained at least two interviews with the prisoner, one before the torture and the other after sentence.
It was but too clearly indicated by the bands of pilgrims, going or returning. And among the latter were those whom Monny callously referred to as "poor Lord Ernest's crowd." Miss Hassett-Bean and the Biddell girls made us linger, with sand trickling over the tops of our shoes, while they poured into our ears their impressions of the Sphinx.
Then the lawyer turned and put out his hand for the paper without a word. He nodded to George, who went out, bidding him good-night. Ten minutes later Mr. Biddell walked quietly through the passengers' gate by the side of the great doors that led to the court beside Babington House, closing it behind him. He knew that it would be left unbarred till eleven o'clock that night.
There was, therefore, no kind of reason why Mr. Bassett or Mr. John FitzHerbert should remain any longer in Derby. Mr. John had been there, but had gone again, under advice from the lawyers; but he was in constant communication with Mr. Biddell, who had all the papers ready and the names of the witnesses, and had made more than one application already for the trial to come on.
Biddell had written her a letter on the point, saying that the blood of those martyrs might well be the peace, if it might not be the seed, of the Church in the district. Men openly said in the taverns, he reported, that it was hard that any should die for religion merely; politics were one matter and religion another.
And, last, it was she who had to tell Robin of this. Even as she waited, with Mr. Biddell behind her, as the gaoler fumbled with the keys, she was aware that the last breath of resentment had been drawn.... It was, indeed, a monstrous Power that had so dealt with her.... It was none other than the Will of God, plain at last.
Sir John Biddell and Harry Snell, the newspaper man, came gallumping up on their camels before I could stuff the flag into my pocket. "What's the matter?" they asked, as their animals squatted to let them down. "Were you run away with? What are you so mad about? Hullo! What flag's that C-O-O-K!" "It should be over the kitchen-tent," I heard myself explaining. "Don't you see?
It blew Miss Hassett-Bean's hat up instead of down, and other hats off, when we had started again and it blew into our eyes grains of sand as large as able bodied paving-stones. Also, as we passed through a picturesque mud-village which ought to have pleased everybody, it blew into our noses smells which Lady Biddell knew would give us plague.
Captain Biddell sent for me, and desired to know who I was. "That's more than I can very well tell you, sir," I answered in the broken English I then spoke; "but my friend Jack Headland can tell you more about me than I can." He accordingly sent for Jack, who told him all he knew. He seemed, by his remarks, to have some doubts of the truth of the story.
There was a Sir John Biddell, who informed me in the first five minutes that he had been Lord Mayor of London. He promised to show me a speech he had made in the presence of King Edward which, in the form of a newspaper cutting, he never travelled without. This, however, was his first trip farther than Paris, and he had brought with him, not only the speech, but his wife and twin daughters.
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