But Ida Mara was not to be suspected; and, if a shade of doubt or apprehension had crossed Sir Harry's mind, which it did not, the beaming satisfaction which lighted up her face the moment she saw him, would have dispelled it at once.
"Oh, I am so glad to see you, Sir Harry!" she cried; "I was coming to seek you after I had been here. I have much to tell you; and if you will wait one moment, I will be down directly."
"But where are you going to, my dear child?" asked the old Knight. "Are you aware that this is not the most reputable part of London?"
"I did not know it," answered the girl, simply; "but at all events I must go; for it is about our dear Lady's business, and I am to see a person called Grey."
"I am going to visit the same man," replied Sir Harry, "so I will go with you, if you have not any private conversation for his ear, my fair Ida."
"Oh, no!" exclaimed the girl; "you may hear it all; for I have just the same tidings to carry to you; and perhaps it may be better that you should hear them together, for then you may devise some means of remedying the new disasters which have befallen us."
"Stay a minute, Ida," said Sir Harry, seeing her about to mount the stairs; "do you know the man you are about to visit? Do you really know who he is?"
"He has carried several letters," replied Ida Mara, dropping her voice, "from my lady to her husband, and from him to her. I know, too," she added, in a still lower tone, "that his name is not Grey."
"That is enough--that is enough!" said Sir Harry. "Go on, my dear."
The girl then ascended the steps, and knocked at a door on the first landing. Markham instantly opened it himself and admitted them--somewhat surprised, indeed, to see Sir Harry with the fair Italian--into a small, low-roofed chamber, scantily furnished, but strewed in all parts with various anomalous pieces of dress, from those of a high-bred cavalier to those of an inferior artizan. Swords, daggers, one or two curious articles of virtù, ten or fifteen volumes of books in rich old bindings, two masks, a pair of fencing foils, and the head-piece and breast-plate of a horse-arquebusier, gave it the air of a second-hand warehouse, and left scarcely a chair vacant for the knight and his beautiful companion to rest themselves upon.