"
"Only now?" he demanded angrily. "What have you been doing? I supposed
you were watching over her. A fine guardian, upon my word! Where is she?
Carried off by the king, of course! What else have you expected from our
friend at Whitehall? If harm comes to her, I'll kill him!"
He threw off his printer's cap and apron, hastily cleansed his face and
hands, put on the gray beard and wig, took his broad hat and long coat
from the chest, and started toward the door, bidding me follow.
"Where are you going?" I asked.
"To Whitehall," he replied. "You to learn, if you can, where Frances is;
I to form my plans what to do in case you do not find her. You must go to
the river ahead of me and take a boat. I'll follow in another. We should
not be seen together. You stop at Sir Richard's house, and if she is not
there, go to Whitehall. Then come to me at the house of Carter, the
Quaker. You know where it is--just off King's Street, not far from the
Cross."
I followed Hamilton's suggestion. I did not find Frances at Sir Richard's
house, so I hastened to Whitehall, where I learned that she had left
shortly before noon, saying that she was going to spend the afternoon and
night at home. It was near the hour of three o'clock when I had started
up the river, from the Old Swan, and a snowstorm was raging which became
violent before I reached the palace.
While I was talking to one of the maids in the parlor of the duchess, a
page came to me and whispered, "A lady is waiting for you at Holbein's
Gate, and wishes you to go to her as soon as possible.
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