All such matters were easily arranged; and when Seymour entered the boat that night to go down the Thames to Greenwich, it was with the bright hope of carrying Arabella, during the succeeding night, to a place of security, where all apprehensions of separation would be at an end. He reached the landing-place, walked up to the palace, and knocked as usual at Arabella's chamber, without anything causing him to suspect that he was watched. Ida Mara came to give him admission as usual with a light; but just at that moment somebody came down vehemently from above, and, as if by accident, ran against him dexterously--for it was done on purpose--knocking his hat off, and exposing his face to the light. The man was a famous sword-player, who had come down from London to Greenwich, to amuse the Prince and the Court; and catching Seymour by both arms, as if to steady himself, and avoid falling headlong down the narrow stair-case, he begged him a thousand pardons, assuring him that he knew not any one was there. Seymour was upon his guard, however; and after saying in a calm tone that there was no need of apology, he turned, and with an air of indifference told Ida Mara to inform the Lady Arabella that Sir Harry West would have the honour of waiting upon her the next day at noon. The girl understood his object in an instant, and saying, "Very well, sir, I will tell her," shut the door. Seymour then followed the sword-player down the stairs, and proceeded to call at the lodging of one of the young lords of the Court with whom he was acquainted; but after having ascertained the spy had quitted that part of the building, he returned to the apartment of his wife, and was instantly admitted. In the meanwhile the sword-player hurried on; and passing through various passages and courts, directed his course straight to the lodgings of Sir Thomas Overbury, who was waiting impatiently for his arrival. "Now," cried the Knight; "now, have you discovered him?" "I have discovered him," replied the sword-player, who dabbled in the conceits of the day; "for I knocked his hat off, while a pretty waiting gentlewoman from within held a light." "And who was it, who was it?" demanded Overbury, with the rapid iteration of impatience. "It was and is," answered the sword-player, "the second son of a noble Lord, the grandson of a noble Earl. His family is Hertford; his name is William Seymour." "That is enough, that is enough," cried Overbury; "you can swear that it was he?" "As surely as I can swear that I am myself," said the sword-player. "But mark ye, most worshipful knight, my evidence will do you little good, for the gentleman did but deliver a simple message, and came away; after which he went to my Lord Ancram's." "A trick, a trick," exclaimed Sir Thomas Overbury; "stay--tell me. Was it before or after you knocked his hat of, that he gave this message?" "After, most worshipful," replied his informant.