"What have you been doing? Have you killed my little girl?" he asked
sorrowfully.
"I hope not, Pickering," I answered. "She had a fall of not more than
eight or ten feet, and although I fear she is hurt, I am sure the injury
is not serious, as I caught her and broke the fall."
"Let us take her to bed," suggested Frances.
George went to fetch Doctor Price, the surgeon, and I carried Betty
upstairs. I laid her on the bed, and after I had talked a few minutes
with Pickering, explaining to him the events of the night, and telling
him of Betty's glorious part in our success, I went downstairs to wait in
the tap-room for George and the surgeon.
Presently they came, and George and I followed the surgeon to Betty's
door, where we waited in the hallway outside to hear his report.
Presently Frances came out to tell us that Betty's injuries were no
greater than a few sprains and bruises, and that the surgeon said she
would be well in a few days.
I could have shouted for joy on hearing the news, but restrained myself,
and suggested to Frances that she go at once to her father's house and
that I go to Whitehall to be there before its awakening.
If I learned that the king had been absent during the night, I should
know with reasonable certainty that he had been privy to the outrage
perpetrated on Frances. If he has been at the palace all night, he might
be innocent of the crime.
"In neither case will I return to Whitehall," declared Frances,
indignantly, when I spoke of the possibility of the king's innocence.
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