Johnnie sprang from his bed, upright and trembling.
"I took the letter and the flowers as you bade me. But all was sorrow and turmoil at the house. Mistress Elizabeth went out in the afternoon with Alice her maid. She was to take the air. They have not returned. Nothing is known. His Worship hath fifty men searching for her, and hath had for hours. But it avails nothing."
Johnnie suddenly became quite quiet. Hull saw his face change. The smooth, gracious contours were gone. An inner face, sharp, resolute, haggard and terribly alive, sprang out and pushed the other away.
"His Worship writ thee a letter, sir. Here 'tis."
Johnnie held out his hand. The letter was brief, the writing hurried and indistinct with alarm.
"Dear Lad,—They have taken our Lizzie, whom I know not. But I fear the worst things. I cannot find her with all my resource. An' if I cannot, one must dread exceeding. I dare say no more. But come to me on the instant, if canst. Thou—being at Court—I take it, may be able to do more than I, at the moment and in the article of our misfortune. The weight I bring to bear is heavy, but taketh time. Command me in every way as seemeth good to you. Order, and if needs be threaten in my name. All you do or say is as if I said it, and they that deny it will feel my hand heavy on them.
"But come, dear lad. Our Lady help and shield the little lamb.
"Your friend,
"Robert Cressemer,
"Alderman."
Johnnie thrust the letter into his bosom.
"John Hull, art ready to follow me to the death, as it may be and very like will?"
"Certes, master."
"Anything for her? Are you my man to do all and everything I tell thee till the end?"