So, in unavailing complaints, midnight drew on, and we heard the sound of my brother's horse.
He soon entered the room. We saw at a glance that he had laboured in vain, and spent his strength for nought.
"No one has seen him," he said.
"Have you asked many people?" we inquired.
"Yes, scores. The sheriff, the bishop, the watchmen, the tradesfolk--no one has seen or heard aught. I will go again tomorrow."
"Meanwhile, do the people know what passed at the banquet last night?"
"No; it has all been kept quiet," was the reply.
We could do no more, and all retired to rest. I have sat up to say my mattins and finish this diary. It is now nearly the third hour of the morn, and--
Monday Night, 23d Nov. 1006.--
I had written as far as the word "and," when I was alarmed by a loud cry from the chamber next my own, which was occupied by the Etheling. I rose, and knocked at the door, but, receiving no answer, opened it and went in.