“Bloodshed?” said the king, as he opened the note; and then in a low tone, he read,
“Ellen Harmer, my daughter, has been stolen from her father’s roof. Colonel Blood is suspected; will you say if you think him guilty or not?”
“Hem!” said the king, “a grave charge this—very, very grave. It is well not to fill all our gossips with such a matter.”
“It is, sire, and therefore was it that I wrote these lines for the miller,” said Sir Richard, “and took his case in hand.”
“You have done well, quite well. Let me think; I hardly know it I ought to do this that you ask of me, but I promise you that I will do all I can to find the lady. I will myself take steps to do so.”
“You are ever gracious, sire,” said Ned Warbeck, sternly; “but if Colonel Blood shrinks from the pledge required he will have to meet me in arms this day, for I shall else make the atmosphere of honour unfit for him to breathe.”
“No, no—no fighting,” said the king with a toss of the head. “Simon, where are you?”
“Here, sire,” the cunning page replied.
“Search out Colonel Blood, and tell him to meet us in the wainscot chamber in an hour from now. Will that content you?”
“Yes, sire, if you will promise to take steps to avenge my child.”