"Yes, I know," the Queen said sympathetically. "You're upset. But you
didn't give Miss Francis the notebook, and she didn't find it after
you'd lost it."
"Then--" Malone stared. "She stole it. She stole it from me."
"I imagine she took it right from your jacket pocket," the Queen said.
"Now, if you'd only wear proper clothing, and a proper pouch at your
belt--"
"I'd be stared at," Malone said. "In court clothing."
"No one in New York would stare at you," the Queen said. "They'd think
it was what they call an advertising stunt."
"Anyhow," Malone said, "I wasn't wearing court clothing. So that made
it easy for her to steal the notebook. But why, for God's sake? Why?"
"Because," the Queen said, "she needed it."
_"Needed it?"_ Malone shrieked.
"Please, Sir Kenneth," the Queen said. "Don't talk to your Sovereign
in that manner. And I do wish you'd stop thinking of that girl as
Dorothy Francis. She isn't at all, you know."
"No," Malone said. "I don't know. If she isn't Dorothy Francis, who in
hell is she?"
"Don't swear, Sir Kenneth," the Queen said. "She's Dorothea Francisca
Fueyo, if you want to know."