"My lord, Mistress Penwick hath deserted her chamber, and I know not
where to find her, nor can think of where she may be gone." Lord
Cedric stood before her still and white as marble, his face glistened
with the cold sweat of fear.
"By God, Janet, thy tale doth take from me all strength!" Even as he
spoke he sunk down upon his chair. Janet brought from a stool hard by
a posset-pot and pressed it to his lips. He drank gurglingly, as if
his throat was paralyzed.
"Janet," he breathed forth, "call the lackeys." He had somewhat
recovered, and stood upright while his valet buckled on his sword. He
took from the table a polished dagger and placed it in his belt; he
called for candles and bade the lackeys lead on. Janet was well-nigh
distraught at this awful cloud of anger that was about to break forth
in the thunder of his tongue and stroke of sword. The steward of the
household was aroused, and keys were brought to unfasten Mistress
Penwick's door, that they might ascertain if she had fled afar.
Her hoods and hats were all in place upon the shelves of the
dressing-closet, but there was gone a white camelot cloak.
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