“You have not deceived me as to the efficacy of the potion,” said the lady; “it has given me new life, and with returning vigour I can view all things as I viewed them heretofore.  Now mark what I have to say, villain.  You have placed me and my daughter in fearful jeopardy; but it is in your power to make reparation for the injury; and as I hold you to be a mere instrument in the matter, I am willing to spare the life you have forfeited, on condition of your making a full confession in writing of your attempt, to be ’used by me against your employers.  Are you willing to do this, or shall I strike upon the bell, and have you bound hand and foot, and conveyed to the Gatehouse?”

“I will write that I was employed by the Countess of Exeter to poison you and my Lady Roos,” replied Luke Hatton, stubbornly; “but I will do nothing more.”

“That will suffice,” replied Lady Lake, after a moment’s reflection.

“And when I have done it, I shall be free to go?” he asked.

“You shall be free to go,” she replied.

There were writing materials on an adjoining table, and, without another word, Luke Hatton sat down, and with great expedition drew up a statement which he signed, and handed to Lady Lake; asking if that was what she required?

A smile lighted up her ghastly features as she perused it.

“It will do,” she said.  “And now answer me one question, and you are free.  Will this cordial have the same effect on my daughter as on me?”

“Precisely the same.  It will cure her.  But you must proceed more cautiously.  Were she to take the quantity you have taken, it would kill her.  Am I now at liberty to depart?”

“You are,” replied Lady Lake.

So saying, she struck the bell, and immediately afterwards the door was opened; not, however, by the attendants, but by Sir Thomas Lake.

As the Secretary of State perceived that the apothecary avoided him, and would have passed forth quickly, he sternly and authoritatively commanded him to stay, exclaiming, “You stir not hence, till you have accounted to me for my daughter, who, I understand, is dying from your pernicious treatment.  What ho, there!  Keep strict watch without; and suffer not this man to pass forth!”

CHAPTER III.

Showing that “our pleasant vices are made the whips to scourge us.”

We must now request the reader to visit the noble mansion in the Strand, erected by Thomas Cecil, then Earl of Exeter, and bearing-his name; in a chamber of which Lord Roos and the Countess of Exeter will be found alone together—­alone for the last time.