Meanwhile there was dire dismay at the Manor House when Lady Chauncy entered the Cedar Room and found it empty. She could not for a long time bring herself to believe her own eyes, and when at last she was compelled to do so, she wrung her hands and behaved almost like a frenzied creature. Both she and her husband had believed the room to be the securest place in the house, since the walls were of stone all round. That that one square of stone had been cut out behind the panel with goddess Minerva on it, nobody, in fact, had known for more than a hundred years, when the Lord of the Manor House of that time perished fighting for the White Rose, and the secret of the moving panel had perished with him. That the young Prince could have got out by the window was too terrible to think of. It seemed impossible, moreover, for the lattice was barred, leaving but quite narrow spaces between. Nevertheless, Lady Chauncy caused the moat to be dragged, but happily, of course, to no purpose.
It all seemed like some dreadful conjuring trick. Lady Chauncy did not know whether she was more glad or sorry that her husband had not returned. About a fortnight hence he was to be back, and the King with him, to fetch Charles away from the Manor House. Meanwhile she hesitated to send information to his Majesty of what had happened, because that would be spreading news which the Roundhead party against the King would take advantage of, and try to get the boy into their hands in order to drive a bargain with King Charles. Could it be they, she asked herself in her perplexity, who had spirited him away?
This was the terrible state of things Wynkin found when next afternoon he returned to the Manor. He was the more troubled by the thought that Lady Chauncy might imagine him to have been untrue to his trust after so many years of faithful service.
“But what do you advise, Wynkin?” said her ladyship, impatiently tapping the floor with the point of her silken slipper. “Do say something,” she added, as Wynkin maintained a thoughtful silence.
“Well, then, speaking what I think,” replied Wynkin, “it is that I would advise your ladyship to get a good night’s rest.”
“Rest, forsooth. What next?”
“It is too late to be doing anything to-day.”
“And meanwhile?” cried Lady Chauncy despairingly.