"Ay, she is there," I replied. "Then let us go quickly," and although she still stooped low, she walked by my side at a good speed. A little later I led her into my father's hall, wondering at the meaning of what was happening, but little dreaming of what lay before me. CHAPTER III THE KING'S MARRIAGE CONTRACT Bidding the woman be seated, and going straight to the room we called the library, I knocked at the door. "Who is there?" asked my father. "It is I, Roland." My father opened the door, and looked at me questioningly. I saw that the woman Katharine Harcomb was standing by the chair on which she had sat during the time I had been in the room; but the hard defiant look in her eyes had gone. Rather I thought I saw fear, almost amounting to terror in them. Evidently my father had been speaking about matters which moved her mightily. She no longer bore the expression of one who would make her own terms, but rather as one who lived under the shadow of a great fear. "You are back soon Roland," said my father, "it is not an hour since you left us." "Nay," I replied, "but I met an old woman from St. Paul's Cross who was coming hither, who declared she must see Katharine Harcomb." The woman gave a start as I spoke. "Where is she?" she cried, "let me see her without delay." "Tarry a little," said my father; "tell me more of this, Roland." So without more ado I told him of my meeting with the dame, and of what had passed between us. "I would speak to her, I would speak to her alone!" cried Katharine Harcomb, like one bereft of her senses, and she made for the doorway as if to pass me. But my father closed the door quickly and seemed to be deep in thought. A moment later I saw that he had made up his mind. "Have any of the kitchen wenches seen her?" he asked. "Nay," I replied. "I myself opened the door, and she is waiting in the hall." "Then do you bring her here, Roland, and afterward do you leave us again." I have no doubt I showed my disappointment at this, for I was eager to understand the meaning of it all. My father took but little heed, however, so doing his bidding I went to the hall, where the woman was still sitting. It was at this time I called to mind that I had not heard her name, so without first telling her to follow me where my father was I said quietly, "What is your name, good dame?" "Name," she replied, "when Katharine Harcomb knows that Mistress Walters is here she will not keep me waiting." "That is well," I replied; "will you follow me?" But although I spoke quietly my heart beat quickly, for I felt sure that she was in some way connected with Lucy Walters, whose son, Katharine Harcomb said, was the next heir to the throne of England. No sooner had the library door opened than I saw the two women exchange glances, but I had no opportunity of noticing more, for my father gave me a look which told me that I must leave them alone, which I did much to my impatience.