Then for the first time it occurred to Maisie that she did not know whether her husband would be found at the guard-house of the palace, or at that by the city port, where was the main entrance to the camp. She decided to try the palace first. With throbbing heart the young wife ran along the rain-swept streets. She had thrown her husband's cloak over her arm as she came out, with the idea of making him put it on when she found him. But she was glad enough, before she had ventured a hundred paces into the dark, roaring night, to drawn it closely over her own head and wrap herself from head to foot in it. As she turned out upon the wide spaces of the Dam of Amersfort, into which Zaandpoort Street opened, she almost ran into the arms of the watch. An officer, who went first with a lantern, stopped her. "Whither away so fast and so late, maiden?" he said; "an thou give not a fitting answer we must have thee to the spinning-house." "I am the wife of a Scottish officer," said Maisie, nothing daunted. "And he being, as I think, taken suddenly ill, has sent for me by a messenger, whom in the darkness I have missed." "Your husband's name and regiment?" demanded the leader of the watch, abruptly, yet not unkindly. "He is called William Gordon," she said, "and commands to-night at the guard-house. He is a captain in the Scots regiment, called that of the Covenant." The officer turned to his band. "What regiments are on guard to-night?" "The Scots psalm-singers at the palace--Van Marck's Frisians at the port of the camp," said a voice out of the dark. "And if it please you, I know the lady. She is a main brave one, and her husband is a good man. He carried the banner at Ayrsmoss, a battle in Scotland where many were slain, and after which he was the only man of the hill folk left alive." "Go with her, thou, then," commanded the officer, "and bring her in safety to her husband. It is not fitting, madam, that you should be on the streets of the city at midnight and alone. Good-night and good speed to you, lady. Men of the city guard, forward!" And with that the watch swung briskly up the street, the light of their leader's lantern flashing this way and that across the darkling road, as it dangled in his hand or was swayed by the fitful wind. It seemed but a few minutes before Maisie's companion was challenging the soldiers of the guard at the palace. "Captain William Gordon? Yea, he bides within," said a stern-visaged sergeant, in the gusty outer port. "Who might want him at this time of night?" "His wife," said the soldier of the watch, indicating Maisie with his hand. The sergeant bent his brows, as if he thought within him that this was neither hour nor place for the domesticities. Nevertheless, he opened an inner door, saluted upon the threshold, spoke a few words, and waited.