It was at this time I called to mind that I had not heard her name, so without first telling her to follow me where my father was I said quietly, "What is your name, good dame?"
"Name," she replied, "when Katharine Harcomb knows that Mistress Walters is here she will not keep me waiting."
"That is well," I replied; "will you follow me?" But although I spoke quietly my heart beat quickly, for I felt sure that she was in some way connected with Lucy Walters, whose son, Katharine Harcomb said, was the next heir to the throne of England.
No sooner had the library door opened than I saw the two women exchange glances, but I had no opportunity of noticing more, for my father gave me a look which told me that I must leave them alone, which I did much to my impatience.
I did not go far away, however. It is true I left the house, for cool as the night had become the air seemed stifling, so I stepped on to the grass outside, and began to walk up and down in the light of the window, behind which I knew my father and the two women were. How long I stayed there I know not, but it must have been more than an hour, for I noticed that the moon which stood high in the heavens when I went out had dropped behind the trees. In a sense the time seemed long. To a lad barely twenty-three, to be kept away from the knowledge of a secret which promised to vitally affect his future, was calculated to multiply every minute into five. Nevertheless I had so much to think about, that I thought but little of the time, and that in spite of my impatience. The mystery of the box containing the marriage contract between the new king and Lucy Walters, and the woman's request that I should go on a voyage of discovery kept me wondering so much, that at times I almost forgot that I knew very little of the whole business, and that my father was even then talking about these things with the two women who had in such an unaccountable way entered my life.
The moon had sunk far behind the trees when I was startled by the loud noises of those within the house. A minute later I heard my father's voice.
"Roland, my son."
I entered the house again, and soon found myself in the room where I had left the two women. I could see that something of importance had passed between them. The woman Katharine Harcomb seemed much wrought upon, while in her eyes was a look which might mean anger or terror.
I looked from one to the other questioningly, for I was eager to know what had been said.
"Roland, my son," said my father, "you have long complained of idleness. You will have no need to complain longer."
I did not speak, although many questions came into my mind.
"Ay," cried the old woman, "and what is done must be done quickly and in secret, for remember the Duke of York is already at work. He knows that my grandson will be the lawful heir to the throne, and if he can find the marriage contract, my poor Lucy's child will be kept out of his rights."
"You mean the new king's brother?" I asked, for I was somewhat taken back by the vehemence of the dame's speech.
"Ay, who else?" she replied. "If Charles dies, will he not claim the crown? Already it is said that he speaks of what he will do when he is crowned."
"As to that," I made answer, "are not his chances small? He is but three years younger than the king, and may not live as long. Besides, Charles may marry again."
"He will," cried the dame, "he will, but there will be no children."
"How do you know?" I asked.
"I do know, and that is enough," she replied. "Charles will never have a child which shall be heir to the throne of England save only the son of my daughter Lucy."
I took but little notice of this speech, although the dame uttered it with much warmth. I imagined that in spite of the severe measures which had been taken with witches, and those who professed to foretell the future, she had either consulted some of these people, or was perchance herself a "wise woman." Not that I paid much heed to these things, for my father, although he denied not that some had it in their power to reveal the future, had generally made light of their professions, and had taught me to treat them with scorn.
"Be that as it may," I said, "you have it that the new king married your daughter."
"Ay, I hold to that," she cried, "and poor and humble as I seem to be, I say that I am grandmother to him who should be king of England when his father dies."
"That remains to be proved," I said, for I was eager to get back to the question which had been broached by Katharine Harcomb when first we had met earlier in the evening.
"Ay, that remains," replied the dame, angrily I thought; "and it is by you, Master Roland Rashcliffe, that this is to be done."
"But why have you chosen me?" I asked, for young though I was, ay and eager to undertake any work which meant movement, and romance, I could not help asking why I among all others should be chosen for this work.
"You shall know some day Roland," said my father. "It is enough for you to know now you have a great work to do, a work which if successfully done will make you a power in England."
"But what is it?" I asked somewhat impatiently, for it seemed to me that I was asked to do something the nature of which was hidden from my eyes.
"To bring hither the marriage contract," he replied.
"Ay, but where is it?"
"It is in England," replied Katharine Harcomb, and then she looked at me with keen, searching eyes.
At this I doubt not I made an impatient gesture, for truly they seemed to regard me as a child who might not be trusted.
"Nay, be not angry," said my father, almost gently I thought. And this surprised me, for although I was a man in years he had not ceased to expect absolute and unquestioning obedience from me. In truth he held strongly that every man should be complete master in his house, and that no one should dare to dream of questioning his will.
But if I was not angry I was impatient. I had been on the tip-toe of expectation for hours, I had been told that I had a great work to do and yet I had only received hints as to how that work was to be done. For to be told that the marriage contract was in England was to tell me nothing, as any one can see. Still I held my peace and waited, wondering what was to come next.
"The marriage took place at a place called The Hague," said the old dame with downcast eyes, "away across the sea in that outlandish country called Holland. It was performed in secret by a Papist priest. The priest had to swear that he would never reveal the marriage, nevertheless my daughter Lucy, for the sake of her good name, so cajoled the priest that he drew up the contract and gave it to her, unknown to the king. For fear it should be taken from her she determined to place it in safe keeping."
At this the woman ceased speaking, while I, who had been waiting for some news which would give me something like a reason for action, felt as though she were conjuring up a story.
"This showed," she went on presently, "that my daughter was not foolish as some have said, neither was she careless of her good name."
"But to whom did she give this precious document?" I asked, "and where is it now?"
"She gave it one in whom she trusted," said the dame sourly. "But he betrayed her trust. He found out the value of the paper, and brought it to England. Since then it hath changed hands again; but Katharine Harcomb hath discovered where it is now."
"Where?" I asked eagerly.
"It is at the house of Master Elijah Pycroft, who lives within five miles of Folkestone town," said Katharine Harcomb.
"How do you know?" I asked.
"I have been told by one who knows," she replied mysteriously.
"And who is Master Elijah Pycroft?" I asked again, for the whole business seemed to be as unsubstantial as a vapour cloud.
"Ah, it is easy to tell you who he is, but difficult to say what he is," replied the woman. "But there be many stories told about him. Some