waist upwards, in the room where he died, that people might see he had not been murdered: though who gave the order for this exhibition, the boy could not tell. The little duke was also able to describe to his brother, how he had been roused up after midnight, two months ago, by his mother the queen, and hurried away with their sisters to the Sanctuary at Westminster. And again he could tell what a sorrowful parting from his mother it was when the cardinal and other lords went to fetch him from that Sanctuary, which, however, he was not sorry to leave, for it was an exceedingly dull and disagreeable place.

We have no reason to suppose that their confinement was very close, or that they were in any way badly treated by the governor of the Tower, who probably let them do pretty much as they liked, so they were but safe. And there was no danger of their making their escape, even if they had been so disposed for all the outlets from the Tower were kept strictly guarded; while, every night, the drawbridge over the moat was pulled up, so that there was no possibility of any one getting away. So we may suppose that the two boys wandered through the state apartments of the Tower; and sometimes even were permitted to go on the battlemented walls, and look down upon the Thames on one side, or across London to the pleasant hills of Highgate or the fields of Finsbury on the other, talking of what they would do when they had their liberty, and when the elder of them was really king. For, alas! they did not know what was going on outside the Tower, and

were not aware that Edward had been robbed of his crown before ever he had worn it.

One day, when the two young princes had been a month or more together, and their usurping uncle was still on his royal progress, there came a man on horseback, and armed, riding over the drawbridge of the Tower; and when he came to the great closed gate, he demanded admittance of the sentinels, saying that he had a message to deliver from King Richard, to the governor. Accordingly, after a little delay, the gate was opened, and the man entered the outer court. Then he dismounted, and was conducted to the presence of Sir Robert Brackenbury.

"What is your name, good fellow; and whence come you?" demanded Sir Robert, rather suspiciously, perhaps; for the man was not very honest-looking. "My name is John Green, may it like you," said the messenger; and I am come from near the city of Gloucester; and I bring letters to you from King Richard." Then he put a packet into the governor's hand.

Sir Robert broke the seal, opened the letter, and began to read. But he had not read far before his countenance betokened both horror and indignation: for the letter was nothing less than an order from the usurping king, that the governor of the Tower was "in some wise, to put the two children to death."

Richard, in sending this message, did not quite know what sort of man he had to deal with. He had hitherto been so successful in his usurpation, had found almost every one around him so pliant, that he did not expect to be thwarted by such an one as

Brackenbury, who, he might have supposed, would be afraid to offend him! It is not unlikely, indeed, that he had, until now, found the governor of the Tower very submissive; and it is not to be supposed either that Sir Robert was a man of very tender and scrupulous conscience; for had he been, he would not have been fit for the post he held in the state prison in those violent and unscrupulous times.

But the governor of the Tower had not lost all humanity; and he was horror-struck when he read the king's order. So, without waiting to consider what the consequences might be to himself, he at once sent a message back to King Richard, by John Green, saying that he declined to load his soul with such an infamous crime.

What the tyrant said when this message was delivered to him we can only guess; but we know what he did. There were plenty of men who, he knew, would be willing enough to commit any number of murders, if they were well paid for it; and one such man was a certain Sir James Tyrrel, who had an office in the king's court, and was called Master of the Horse.

Not many hours after Sir Robert Brackenbury's bold answer was received by Richard, this Sir James Tyrrel, with his own groom, one John Dighton, who is described as "a big, broad, square, and strong knave," and another man named Miles Forest, a fellow flushed in murder beforetime," with an assistant whose name was Slater, were on the way to London. They did not spare their horses, we may be sure; for what they had to do, was to be done

quickly. They were not long, therefore, in presenting themselves at the Tower, and, like John Green, demanding speech of the governor. Sir James, too, had a letter from the king to Sir Robert Brackenbury: and this letter was an order to the governor to deliver up all the keys and the command of the Tower to the bearer, for twenty-four hours.

This order was not to be disputed like the former; so, with sorrowful forebodings, Sir Robert obeyed and retired; and Tyrrel was governor of the Tower for one day and one night.

That night (it was a night in August, 1483) the three murderers "ascended the staircase which led to the chamber where the young princes lay sleeping together. While Tyrrel waited at the door, Miles Forest and John Dighton entered the room, and smothered the children in the bed-clothes, as they lay. When the deed was done, Tyrrel stepped into the chamber to take a hasty view of the dead bodies, which were then, by his orders, carried down and buried by the two murderers, at the stair-foot, deep in the ground, under a great heap of stones."

This tragical deed is thus described in verse by an author who, fifty years ago and more, took the trouble of writing a Metrical History of England:

""Twas at the silent midnight hour,
When deeds of murder vainly try
To shun all-seeing Heaven's eye,
And awful darkness wrapped the Tower,
Where innocence was doomed to die,

1 Thomas Dibdin.