“And of course they found the child?” I asked.

“They did.  It was with a band of gypsies who made their headquarters at a place called Gypsy Hill, Lambeth,” returned Hamilton, provoked by my scepticism.  “He learns some very curious truths from the stars.”

“The stars!” I exclaimed contemptuously.  “He is a shrewd observer of men and of things about him, and when he guesses right, I venture to say he finds his inspiration much lower than the stars.”

“Perhaps he does,” returned Hamilton.  “Of that I cannot say.  But this I know.  He can put two and two together and make a larger sum total than I have ever seen come from any other man’s calculations.  He is learned in every branch of knowledge, and I respect his wonderful conclusions, asking no questions about his methods.”

“Very well, I’ll not dispute with you if you admit that he receives even a part of his knowledge from substellar sources.  But while we are alone I want to ask you, and I want you to tell me the truth:  has Frances been here to-day?”

“No!  Tell me, for God’s sake, tell me quickly!  Why do you ask?” he exclaimed, turning to me in alarm.  “Of late I have been haunted with the fear that she is in danger of violence from the king.  He is capable of committing any crime—­has committed many, as we all know!  Why do you ask about Frances, Baron Ned?”

“Because she is not at Whitehall nor at her father’s house, where the duchess said she was going.  She never goes any place else, and it only now occurs to me to be alarmed.”

“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.