"Ah, Rowley," said Nell. "You have been away from me a long weary time, and I know you have forgotten me."

The king denied the charge, and doubtless took his own way to convince her.

"While you have been away, I have found a new friend to console me," said Nelly.

"Ah!" exclaimed the king, with suddenly awakened interest.

"Yes," returned Nelly.

"Is your new friend a man or a woman?" asked Charles.

"A woman, of course, oh, jealous heart! You know there is but one man in the world for me--your ugly self."

"Who is your friend?" asked the king.

"I'll give you three guesses. You admire her greatly," said Nelly.

"Indeed, it must be the Bishop of Canterbury's lady," suggested his Majesty.

"Surely!" exclaimed Nell, with a merry laugh. "But guess again."

When the king had exhausted his three guesses, she said triumphantly, "My new friend's name is Frances Jennings."

"Ah, indeed!" exclaimed the king. "She will have nothing to say to my friends, Lady Castlemain and others, and I supposed she would be too nice and proper to choose you for her friend."

"No, no," returned Nelly. "She is my first friend among the court ladies.

We have had several rare adventures together, and don't you know, I have discovered that she is in love."

"With whom?" demanded the king.

"With your friend and mine, George Hamilton," returned Nelly.

"Ah, well, he is in France, and we shall see that he remains there," said the king.

"No, he is not in France. He is in London," said Nelly. "I saw him at the Old Swan just before you left for Sheerness, nearly two months ago."

"Odds fish!" swore his Majesty. "We'll find a mission for him abroad."

"You'll have to find him first," said Nelly. "I've been down to the Old Swan to see him, but the girl there tells me he left the tavern long ago, and I suspect he is at his brother's house near St. Albans. But I'll tell you further."

Then she told the king what Frances had said about a mysterious man whom Nelly a.s.serted Frances both hated and loved. She told him also that Frances had recognized one of the highwaymen who had robbed Roger Wentworth, and closed her narrative with an account of my cousin's refusal to recognize Hamilton and her eagerness to explain to him after the fight.

"So you see, Rowley dear, I put this and that together and concluded that Frances Jennings loves George Hamilton because she can't help it, and hates him because she recognized him as one of the murderers of Roger Wentworth. She did not say that this is all true, nor will she talk on the subject, but one may see through a millstone with a hole in it."

"Perhaps Hamilton's complicity in the crime may save us the trouble of sending him abroad," said the king. "We may be able to hang him instead."

"Surely you would not hang him for so small an offence? The murdered man was only a tanner!" cried Nelly, fearing she had brought trouble on Hamilton by her gossip.

"Of course, if there were no reason save the demands of grasping justice, we should not trouble ourselves to look into the matter," said Charles, "but stern justice, if used and not abused, is often a ready help to kings."

Charles laughed, doubtless showing his yellow fangs, as was his habit when uttering a cruel jest, and Nelly began to coax him, hoping to avert the unforeseen trouble she had set afoot. At last the king promised that he would take no steps against Hamilton, but I knew that royal promises were never worth the breath they cost in making.

* * * * *

As soon as Nelly and the king left my lord's closet, I hastened to the river and took a boat for the Old Swan, intending to find Hamilton and to warn him.

When I told Betty that I wanted to see Hamilton on an affair of great urgency, she admitted that she knew where he was, and that she had refused to tell me when I asked her the last time because he had exacted a promise from her to tell no one.

"But I shall see him," said Betty, "and if you will come back to-morrow, I'll tell you where he can be found if he consents."

During the last month or two a _News Letter_ had been circulated by thousands throughout London and Westminster, in which the character of the king had been a.s.sailed with great bitterness. At first Charles paid no attention to the new journal, but soon its attacks got under his skin.

I was told that efforts had been made to discover the publisher and his printing shop, but that nothing could be learned save that the sheets were left at taverns and bookstalls by boys who declared they found them in bundles in the churchyards.

It was impossible to find even the boys. The bookstalls and taverns were ordered not to sell the _News Letter_, but the people hated the king so bitterly that the circulation increased rather than diminished after the royal interdict, and as the sheets sold for the extravagant price of one shilling, it was impossible to stop the sale, since every one who handled them was making a rich profit.

Judging from many articles appearing in the _News Letter_, I suspected that Hamilton was a contributor, if not the editor. If either, he was piling up trouble, should he be discovered.

On leaving the Old Swan, I went back to the palace and met Frances at the Holbein Gate, cloaked and bonneted, ready to go to see her father.

I offered to accompany her, and we took a coach at Charing Cross for Sir Richard's house.

My conscience had troubled me because I had done nothing to clear Hamilton of her unjust suspicions. Up to that time I had found no opportunity to speak to her privately after my return from Sheerness, nor had I fully made up my mind to try to convince her that George was not guilty of Roger's death. But when she and I entered the coach to go to her father's house, I broached the subject:--

"You remember, cousin," I began, "what I said to you in Hamilton's presence on the Bourne Path?"

"Every word," she replied. "It was all true, and I shall be grateful so long as I live."

"But what I said at that time did not seem to cause you to hate him?" I continued, wondering what her reply would be.

"No," she answered, with slight hesitancy. "It did not."

"Is the aversion you now feel toward him the result of what I said at that time?" I asked.

"No, no," she returned quickly. Then suddenly checking herself, she demanded, "Why do you speak of my aversion to him, and what do you know about it?"

I told her that I knew all the particulars of her meeting with Hamilton at the Old Swan, of her refusal to recognize him and of the fight that ensued. I told her of my talk with him, at the beginning of his sickness, two weeks before I left for Sheerness, and then without giving her time to guard against surprise, I asked:--

"Do you believe he was implicated in the Roger Wentworth tragedy?"

She looked at me a moment, and answered defiantly: "I do not believe it.

I know it. I have not spoken to any one else about it, nor shall I speak of it again, but I saw him, and of course I hate him." She turned her face from me, and I fancied there were tears in her eyes.

"You know that I do not favor Hamilton as your suitor?" I asked.

"Yes," she answered, still with averted face.

"And if I were to tell you that you were wrong, that Hamilton had no part in the robbing and killing of Roger Wentworth, would you believe me?"

"No, no!" she exclaimed, turning to me quickly, with an angry gleam in her eyes. "I tell you I saw him, and I thank G.o.d that at last I know him as he is! After he had fought so bravely to defend me at the Old Swan, my heart softened for a moment, and I forgot that he was a murderer. He is brave and strong, but--why should you try to excuse him now, when you spoke so plainly at Sundridge? I thought you were too severe then; now I know that you told me only a part of the terrible truth. My softened mood lasted only a short time after I left the Old Swan, and I cared not whether he lived or died."