It was not until the fourth day after I had come back to London that I heard it declared that Master Leslie's daughter had escaped from prison, and that in spite of every endeavour to discover her hiding-place, she had not been found. It was said, moreover, that her escape had been brought around by a friend of Master Leslie's, who had succeeded in putting a sleeping potion in the drink of the gaolers, and had thus succeeded in his plans. As may be imagined, this news caused me great satisfaction, most because Mistress Constance was still at liberty, but also because no shadow of suspicion rested upon me. The latter conviction was, however, rudely shaken when at the end of a week I was told that two men had been at the _Virgin Queen_ inquiring after me. "What were they like?" I asked of Caleb Bullen, who I knew was my faithful friend. "They were gaily attired, Master Roland. They wore swords by their sides, and long feathers in their caps." "And you took them to be men of quality?" "Ay, I should judge so," replied Caleb thoughtfully. "They swore much, talked much, laughed much, and drank much wine, so I judged they were of gentle blood. They mentioned great names with much freedom, and seemed to know of all that was going on at Court." "But what did they say?" "They asked whether Master Roland Rashcliffe was living at the _Virgin Queen_; whereupon I answered that you did, and that you were a good customer, seeing you ate your victuals, drank your ale, and paid your count without grumbling. Then they asked how long you had been staying here, and I told them since the day of the coming of the king. Upon that they said they would call again this evening at six by the clock, and would I tell you that they would deem it polite of you not to go out at that hour, as they would come on an affair of importance?" This, as may be imagined, set me to pondering gravely, but after careful consideration, and asking Caleb Bullen many questions, I came to the conclusion that they could have nought to do with the folks at Bedford. I determined, therefore, that I would be in the inn at the time mentioned, wondering all the time what they wanted of me. The clock at St. Paul's Cross had scarcely chimed six when I saw two young men, dressed with much richness, and carrying themselves with a jaunty air, enter the hall of the inn. "Hath Master Rashcliffe yet arrived?" one asked of Caleb Bullen. "Ay," replied mine host, pointing to me, whereupon with a great show of ceremony they came to me. "Master Roland Rashcliffe," said the older of the two. "I am Roland Rashcliffe," I replied, looking at them closely, for I was not yet free from fears that they had heard something of my doings at Bedford. "We bring you greeting, Master Rashcliffe, and if it would cause you no trouble we would see you alone in a place where we can speak without interruption."