hen the
time comes.

Next to myself, I condemned those wretched girls for leaving Brandon
to perish--Brandon, to whom they both owed so much. Their selfishness
turned me against all womankind.

I did not dally this time. I trusted to no Lady Jane nor Lady Mary. I
determined to go to the king at once and tell him all. I did not care
if the wretched Mary and Jane both had to marry the French king, or
the devil himself. I did not care if they and all the host of their
perfidious sisterhood went to the nether side of the universe, there
to remain forever. I would retrieve my fault, in so far as it was
retrievable, and save Brandon, who was worth them all put together. I
would tell Mary and Jane what I thought of them, and that should end
matters between us. I felt as I did toward them not only because of
their treatment of Brandon, but because they had made me guilty of a
grievous fault, for which I should never, so long as I lived, forgive
myself. I determined to go to the king, and go I did within five
minutes of the time I heard that Brandon was yet in prison.

I found the king sitting alone at public dinner, and, of course, was
denied speech with him. I was in no humor to be balked, so I thrust
aside the guards, and, much to everybody's fright, for I was wild with
grief, rage and despair, and showed it in every feature, rushed to the
king and fell upon my knees at his feet.

"Justice, O king!" I cried, and all the courtiers heard. "Justice, O
king! for the worst used man and the bravest, truest soul that ever
lived and suffered." Here the tears began to stream down my face and
my voice choked in my throat. "Charles Brandon, your majesty's
one-time friend, lies in a loathsome, rayless dungeon, condemned to
death, as your majesty may know, for the killing of two men in
Billingsgate Ward. I will tell you all: I should be thrust out from
the society of decent men for not having told you before I left for
France, but I trusted it to another who has proved false. I will tell
you all. Your sister, the Lady Mary, and Lady Jane Bolingbroke were
returning alone, after dark, from a visit to the soothsayer Grouche,
of whom your majesty has heard. I had been notified of the Lady Mary's
intended visit to him, although she had enjoined absolute secrecy upon
my informant. I could not go, being detained upon your majesty's
service--it was the night of the ball to the ambassadors--and I asked
Brandon to follow them, which he did, wi