Therefore she was unprepared for the news Anne Turner brought her. As soon as she saw Anne’s face she knew that something important was wrong and her heart began to pound with terror.

Anne looked over her shoulder to make sure they were alone.

“No one can overhear,” said Frances.

“A most distressing rumor. Winwood is investigating Overbury’s death.”

Frances stared at Anne for the moment, unable to speak, so great was her horror.

“My maid was chattering about it.”

“Maids’ gossip.”

“Her lover serves Winwood. I do not think we can afford to ignore this, even if it is only gossip.”

“But why … in God’s name why … now … after all this time?”

Anne shook her head. “We must act quickly … I think.”

“How?”

“It is certain that Weston will be interrogated. He was his jailer at the time.”

Frances nodded. “You must see him, Anne. You must make sure that he will know exactly what to say, or I fear he will betray us all.”

“Thank God you have good friends.”

Good friends!—thought Frances. Northampton dead. Robert in ignorance of the plot in which he was involved—and Sir George Villiers standing by, ready to snatch his power.

“Go, Anne,” she said urgently. “Go at once and see Weston. Warn him. It is always better to be warned.”

In a tavern some miles from London a lady in a cloak, the hood of which partly concealed her face, impatiently waited in the room which the innkeeper had set aside for her to receive her guest.