"Not I, i'faith!" I said, drily. "I am no squire of dames, to say nothing of maids!"
"But his Majesty—"
"If he has sent that message," I replied, "has yet something to learn—that I do not interest myself in maids of honour or such frailties."
The man smiled. "I do not think," he began, "that it was his Majesty—"
"Sent the message?" I said. "No, but the Queen, I suppose."
On this he gave me to understand, in the sly, secretive manner such men affect, that it was so. I asked him then what all this ferment was about. "Has Mademoiselle D'Oyley disappeared?" I said, peevishly.
"Yes, your excellency. She was with the Queen at eight o'clock. At noon her Majesty desired her services, and she was not to be found."
"What?" I exclaimed. "A maid of honour is missing for three hours in the morning, and there is all this travelling! Why, in my young days, three nights might have—"
But discerning that he was little more than a youth, and could not; restrain a smile, I broke off discreetly, and contented myself with asking if there was reason to suppose that there was more than appeared in the girl's absence.
"Her Majesty thinks so," he answered.