The prandium hour was past, and the evening far spent when Mistress Penwick desired to retire.

“’Tis most likely his Lordship will not return to-night, Janet?”

“He has gone on a journey of some import, as Angel hath just said; so I could not say when to look for his return.”

Janet had been asleep some time when she was aroused by some subtle thing that brought her upright and from thence to the floor and from the floor to the closet that connected her apartment with that of her mistress.  The door was locked; this was an innovation that startled Janet to a keen alertness.  She rattled the knob and knocked upon the panelling.  Stooping, she saw the key was turned in the door.  She hurried from the place to her own room and into the hall, and from the hall to a small corridor, and from thence to the grand corridor, where opened the door of her mistress’ ante-chamber.  In she flew, and tried the inner door.  ’Twas fast locked, and the key gone.  It seemed she sped on wings as she descended the oaken stairway in her trailing gown.  She reached Lord Cedric’s bed-chamber with trepidation and not a little daunted; for should his Lordship be within ’twas possible his anger would know no bounds; and while she loved his good hot temper, she feared it when so justly aroused.  Within the ante-chamber was a steward and two or three lackeys, all asleep; she passed them silently, and without hesitation opened the door.  Lord Cedric sat before the table in riding boots and spurs, divested of coat and waistcoat; writing, and looked up surprised and amazed at one who dared to so enter his presence; but he read that in Janet’s countenance that brooked not at delay.

“My lord, Mistress Penwick hath deserted her chamber, and I know not where to find her, nor can think of where she may be gone.”  Lord Cedric stood before her still and white as marble, his face glistened with the cold sweat of fear.

“By God, Janet, thy tale doth take from me all strength!” Even as he spoke he sunk down upon his chair.  Janet brought from a stool hard by a posset-pot and pressed it to his lips.  He drank gurglingly, as if his throat was paralyzed.

“Janet,” he breathed forth, “call the lackeys.”  He had somewhat recovered, and stood upright while his valet buckled on his sword.  He took from the table a polished dagger and placed it in his belt; he called for candles and bade the lackeys lead on.  Janet was well-nigh distraught at this awful cloud of anger that was about to break forth in the thunder of his tongue and stroke of sword.  The steward of the household was aroused, and keys were brought to unfasten Mistress Penwick’s door, that they might ascertain if she had fled afar.  Her hoods and hats were all in place upon the shelves of the dressing-closet, but there was gone a white camelot cloak.  The footman near the outer entrance said none had passed since Lord Cedric’s arrival.

“But, my God!  I have just arrived; who passed before?”