On their way back to the palace
neither Frances nor Nelly spoke after Nelly had told what she had heard
at the inn. Usually Nelly was laughing or talking, or both, and when a
woman of her temperament is silent, she is thinking. In this instance her
thinking brought her to two conclusions: first, that Hamilton was the man
Frances loved and hated; and second, that it was his face she had
recognized on the night Roger Wentworth was killed.
The dangerous element in these calculations was that they were sure to
reach the king's ear as soon as Nelly found an opportunity to impart
them. It were treason to withhold from his Majesty such a tearing bit of
scandal. She had no reason to suspect that the telling of what had
happened and of what she had deduced would bring trouble to Frances and
George. She simply knew that the king would be vastly pleased with the
story, and her only purpose in life was to give him pleasure. How well
she pleased him in this instance and the result of her innocent effort to
make him happy will soon appear.
The day after the adventure of Frances and Nelly at the Old Swan, I had
business with Backwell, the goldsmith, and when I had disposed of my
matters, I walked over to the Old Swan near by to eat a grilled lobster,
a dish for which the inn was famous. I knew nothing of the trouble that
had occurred the day before, not having seen my cousin, nor did I know
that Hamilton was in London, not having seen nor heard from him since
Frances's arrival at court.
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