"Now can you get me a strong lantern?"
Lord Lancaster ran into the Palace, and for a minute the master sat curbing the black stallion, who danced polka movements, uneasy at the delay.
Just before Lord Lancaster came back, a window opened far up in the courtyard wall. Then a white handkerchief fluttered softly down like a snowflake. The master rode forward and caught and fastened it to the front of his helmet.
"Are you ready, sir?" cried Lancaster.
"God save the Queen," said Brand, and they rode out under the archway.
The Queen's ring passed them through the gates, and breaking into a canter side by side, the horsemen swung round the east wing out into the Mall.
The clocks were striking two as they traversed the spacious avenue, now dark and silent.
"Do you still want to shoot me, sir?" asked Brand.
"Drop that 'sir'," answered the young Prince. "It sounds absurd from you. Call me Lancaster. Forget that nonsense I talked. She trusts you. That's good enough for me."
Abreast of Marlborough House the horses shied violently passing the body of a murdered woman. She lay in her white evening dress, her fair face streaked with blood, and the jewels had been wrenched from her hair and neck.