The news was all over the Palace the next morning; but before meeting
Andrew Forbes, Frank hurried to his mother's apartments, to find her
dressed, but lying down, her maid saying that she was very ill, but that
she would see Mr Gowan.
"I thought you would come, my boy," said Lady Gowan, embracing him.
"Oh, my darling, what a horrible night! Tell me again all about your
father's escape."
"You're not well enough, mother," said the boy bluntly. "It will only
agitate you more. Isn't it enough that I helped him to get safe away
without any accident?"
"Yes, yes, you are right," said Lady Gowan. "But how rash, how mad of
him to come! Frank, remember that you must not breathe a word about how
it was that I was able to warn him."
"I see," said Frank; "it would make mischief."
"And this has undone all that I was trying to do. He might have been
forgiven in time; now we shall have to wait perhaps for years."
"Then don't let's wait, mother. He says that we should have to suffer
terribly if we shared his lot with him. But who cares? I shouldn't a
bit, and I'm sure you wouldn't mind."
"I, my boy?" cried Lady Gowan passionately. "I'd gladly lead the
humblest life with him, so that we could be at peace."
"Very well, then; let's go."
Lady Gowan shook her head.
"We must respect your father's wishes, Frank," she said sadly. "No; we
must stay as we are till we are ordered to leave here, or your father
bids us come."
"There," said the boy, "I was right. You must not talk about it any
more; it only makes you cry. Never mind what happened last night. He
has got safely away."
"But if he should venture again, my boy," sobbed Lady Gowan.
"Never mind about _ifs_, mother. Of course he longed to see us, and he
ran the risk, so as to be near. I should have done the same, if I had
been like he is. There, now you lie still and read all day. He won't
run any more risks, so as not to frighten you. I must go now."
Lady Gowan clung to her son for a few minutes, and then he hurried away,
to find Andrew Forbes in the courtyard.
"Ah, I was right!" he said. "I went to your rooms, thinking I should
catch you; but you were up and off. I thought this would be where you
had come. But, I say, I thought we were friends."
"Well, so we are."
"Don't seem like it, for you to go and have a jolly night of adventures
like that, and leave me out in the cold."
"I couldn't help it, Drew," said Frank apologetically.
"Yes, you could. I smell a rat now. I thought you turned very queer
when we were by your house yesterday. Then you saw him at one of the
windows?"
Frank looked at him frowningly, and then nodded his head.
"And never told me! Well, this is being a friend! I would have trusted
you. But, I say, it was grand. I've just seen Captain Murray and the
doctor. They were together in the captain's room. They wouldn't say
so, of course, but they were delighted to hear he got away, though they
say they wouldn't wonder if you were dismissed."
"I don't care, if my mother has to leave too."
"Ah! but the Princess wouldn't let her go. I say, how do you feel now?"
"Very miserable," said Frank sadly.
"Nonsense! You mean not so precious loyal as you were."
"If you are going to begin about that business again, I am going," said
Frank coldly.
"I've done. I'm satisfied. You'll be as eager on the other side some
day, Frank; and I like you all the better for being so staunch as you
are. As my father says, it makes you the better worth winning."
"When did your father say that?" cried Frank sharply.
"Never mind. Perhaps he wrote it to me. You can't expect me to be
quite open with you if you're not with me. But, I say," cried the lad
enthusiastically, "it's grand!"
"What is?"
"For us to be both with our fathers banished. Why, Frank, it's like
making heroes of us."
"Making geese of us! What nonsense!"
"Just as you like; but I shall feel what I please. I never did see such
a fellow as you are, though. You have no more romance in you than a big
drum. But, I say, tell us all about it."
With a little pressing Frank told him all, the narrative being given, in
an undertone, and after a faithful promise of secrecy, on one of the
benches under a tree in the Park, while Andrew sat with his fingers
interlaced and nipped between his knees, flushed of face, his eyes
flashing, and his teeth set.
"Oh," he cried at last, "I wish I had been there, and it had come to a
fight."
"What good would that have done?" said Frank.
"Oh, I don't know; but what a night! It was glorious! And to think
that all the while I was moping alone over a stupid book, while you were
enjoying yourself like that."
"Enjoying myself!" cried Frank scornfully.
"Yes, enjoying yourself. There, with your sword out, defending your
beautiful mother from the Guards, after saving your father's life, and
keeping the castle--house, I mean--against the men who were battering
down the gate--door."
"Well," said Frank drily, "if I have no more romance in me than there is
in a big drum, you have."
"I should think I have!" cried the lad, whose handsome, effeminate face
was scarlet with his excitement. "Why, you cold-blooded, stony-hearted
old countryman, can't you see that you were doing man's work, and having
glorious adventures?"
"No; only that it was very horrible," said Frank, with his brow all in
lines.
"Bah! I don't believe you felt like that. What a chance! What a time
to have! All the luck coming to you, and I'm obliged to lead the life
of a palace lapdog, when I want to be a soldier fighting for my king."
"Wait till you get older," said Frank. "I wanted to be a man last
night."
"Why, you were a man. It was splendid!" cried Andrew enthusiastically.
"I wasn't a man, and it wasn't splendid," said Frank sadly. "I felt all
right then; but when I woke this morning, I seemed to see myself
standing there in our drawing-room, with my sword in one hand and the
big silver candlestick in the other, and I felt that I must have looked
very ridiculous, and that the young officer and the men with him must
have laughed at me."
"Er-r-err!" growled Andrew; "I haven't patience with you, Franky.
You're too modest by half--modest as a great girl. No, you're not; no
girl could have behaved like you did. I only wish I had had the chance
to be there. Ridiculous indeed! Very ridiculous to help your father to
escape as you did, 'pon my honour. Oh yes, very ridiculous! I want to
be as ridiculous as that every day of my life; and if it isn't playing
the man--"
"Yes, that's it," said Frank gloomily,--"playing the man, when one's
only a boy."
"Bah! Hold your tongue, stupid. You don't know yet what you did do.
But, I say, that was ridiculous, if you like."
"What was?" said Frank, starting.
"Climbing up the roof to hide the rope, and stuffing it down the
next-door chimney. I say: I wonder what the people thought."
Frank smiled now.
"Well, that does seem comic."
"It was glorious. But they'll never know. They'll think the sweeps
must have left it when the chimney was last swept. But I suppose you've
heard about Lieutenant Brayley's report?"
"No, not a word. I went as soon as I was dressed to see how my mother
was."
"Oh, I heard from Murray. He reported that it was a false alarm, and
that Sir Robert could not have been there, for he had the house well
watched back and front, and all the approaches to the houses adjoining.
Oh, I do enjoy getting the better of the other side. And, I say, every
one's delighted that he escaped, if he was there; but I hope he won't
get taken. Tell him to mind, Franky, for every place swarms with spies,
and that it's next to impossible to get out of the country. Oh, I
wouldn't have him taken for all the world."
"Thank ye," said Frank warmly; "but how am I to tell him that?"
Andrew turned and gave his companion a peculiar smiling look.
"Of course," he said merrily, "how can you tell him? He did not tell
you how to write to him--oh, no; nor where to find the letters he sent
to you. Oh, no; he wouldn't do that. Not at all likely, is it?"
Frank turned white.
"How did you know that?" he said hoarsely.
"Because I'm rowing in the same boat, Franky. Why, of course he did.
Now, didn't he?"
The boy nodded.
"So did my father, of course. There, I'm going to thoroughly trust you,
if you don't me. I'd trust you with anything, because I can feel that
you couldn't go wrong. I don't want you to tell me where your father
told you to write, or what name he is going to take, or how you are to
get his letters, for of course he couldn't write to the Palace. But he
told you how to communicate with him, I do know, Frank. It was a matter
of course with your father like that. I say, what do you think of a tin
box in a hollow tree in the Park, where you can bury it in the touchwood
when you go to feed the ducks?"
"That would be a good way of course," said Frank; "but no, it isn't like
that."
"What, for you and your father? Who said it was? I meant for me and
mine."
"What! Feed the ducks! Drew!" cried Frank excitedly.
"Yes; what's the matter?"
"Feed the ducks?"
"Yes, feed the ducks!"
"You don't mean to tell me that--that--"
"Mr George Selby is my father? Of course I do."
"Oh!" ejaculated Frank in astonishment.
"Isn't it fine?" cried Andrew. "He comes and feeds the ducks--his
Majesty King George's ducks--and the precious spies stand and watch him;
and sometimes he has a chance to see me, and sometimes he hasn't, and
then he leaves a note for me in the old tree, for he says it's the only
pleasure he has in his solitary exiled life."
"Oh, Drew!" cried Frank warmly.
"Yes, poor old chap. I'm not worth thinking about so much, only I
suppose I'm something like what poor mother was, and he likes it, or he
wouldn't leave all his plots and plans for getting poor James Francis on
the throne to come risking arrest. They'd make short work of him,
Frank, if they knew--head shorter. I shall tell him I've told you. But
I know what he'll say."
"That you were much to blame," said Frank eagerly.
"Not he. He'll trust you, as I do. He likes you, Frank. He told me he
liked you all the better for being so true to your principles, and that
he was very glad to find that I had made friends with you. There, now
you can tell me as much as you like. Nothing at all, if you think
proper; but I shall trust you as much as you'll let me, my lad. There,
it's time to go in. I want to hear more about what they're doing. As
they know that your father has been seen, they'll be more strict than
ever. But let's go round by your old house."
"No, no," said Frank, with a shudder.
"Better go.--Come, don't shiver like that. You were a man last night;
be one now."
"Come along then," said Frank firmly; and they walked sharply round by
the end of the canal, and back along the opposite side toward
Westminster, passing several people on the way, early as the hour was.
"Don't seem to notice any one," said Andrew; "and walk carelessly and
openly, just as if you were going--as we are--to look at your old house
where the adventure was."
"Why?"
"Because several of the people we pass will be spies. I don't want to
put you all in a fidget; but neither you nor your mother will be able to
stir now without being watched."
"Do you think so?" said Frank, who felt startled.
"Sure of it. There, that's doing just what I told you not to do,
opening your mouth like a bumpkin for the flies to jump down your
throat, and making your eyes look dark all round like two burnt holes in
a blanket. Come along. You mustn't mind anything now. I don't: I'm
used to it. Let 'em see that you don't care a rush, and that they may
watch you as much as they please. Now don't say anything to me, only
walk by me, and we'll go by the Park front of your place. I want to
have a quiet stare at the tops of the houses and at the corner where
your father slipped down the rope."
Frank obeyed his companion, and they walked on, seeing no one in
particular, save an elderly man with a very bad cough, who stopped from
time to time to rest upon his crutch-handled stick, and indulge in a
long burst of coughing, interspersing it with a great many "Oh dears!"
and groans. They left him behind, as they passed the last tall house,
where Frank shuddered as he saw the upright leaden stack, the hole in
the parapet, where the rope was tied, and the garden beneath.
The boy turned hot as he went over the whole adventure again and thought
the same thoughts. Then he glanced sharply through the iron railings in
search of footmarks, but saw none, for Andrew uttered a warning "Take
care," and he looked straight before him again as he went out by the
Park gate, and turned back and through the streets till they reached the
front of the house, where men were nailing up boards, and a couple of
soldiers stood on duty, marching up and down, as if some royal personage
were within.
Frank glanced at the workmen, and would have increased his pace, but
Andrew had hold of his arm and kept him back.
"Don't hurry," he said quietly; and then lightly to one of the sentries,
"Got some prisoners inside, my man?"
The sentry grinned, and gave his head a side wise nod toward Frank.
"Ask this young gentleman, sir; he knows."
Frank flushed scarlet, as he turned sharply to the man, whom he now
recognised as one of the Guards who entered the drawing-room with the
officer.
"Ah, to be sure," said Andrew coolly; and nodding carelessly, he went on
and out by the gate into the Park at the end of the street, where the
old man they had previously seen was holding on by the railings coughing
violently.
"Poor old gentleman!" said Andrew sarcastically, but loud enough for him
to hear; "he seems to be suffering a good deal from that cough."
The man bent his head lower till his brow rested on the hand which held
on by the railings, and coughed more than ever.
"You needn't have made remarks about him," whispered Frank. "I'm afraid
he heard what you said."
"I meant him to hear," said Andrew loudly; and he stopped and looked
back directly. "A miserable, contemptible impostor. I could cure his
wretched cough in two minutes with that stick he leans on."
The man started as if he had received a blow, and raised his head to
glare fiercely at the youth, who was looking him superciliously up and
down.
"Look at him, Frank," continued Andrew; "did you ever see such a
miserable, hangdog-looking cur?"
Frank felt in agony, and gripped his companion by the arm.
"Did you mean that to insult me, boy?" said the man angrily.
"Done it without the stick," said Andrew, not appearing to notice the
man's words. "You see a good lash from the tongue was enough. Now, can
you imagine it possible that any one could sink so low as to earn his
living by watching his fellow-creatures, spying their every act, and
then betraying them for the sake of a few dirty shillings, to send them
to prison or to the gibbet? There can be nothing on earth so base as a
thing like this. Why, a footpad is a nobleman compared to him."
"You insolent young puppy!" cried the man; and entirely forgetful of his
infirmity, he took three or four paces toward them, with his stick
raised to strike.
Frank's hand darted to his sword, but Andrew did not stir. He stood
with his lids half closed and his lips compressed, staring firmly at his
would-be assailant, never flinching for a moment, nor removing his eyes
from those which literally glowed with anger.
"The cough's gone, Frank, and the disguise might as well go with it. He
is not an invalid, but one of the vile, treacherous ruffians in the pay
of the Government. Let your blade alone; he daren't strike, for fear of
having a sword through his miserable carcass. He was dressed as a
sailor the other day, and he looked as if he had never had a foot at
sea. He has been hanging about the Park for the past month. Pah! look
at the contemptible worm."
The miserable spy and informer, who had remained with his stick raised,
turned white with passion, as he stood listening to the lad's scathing
words, and had either of the boys flinched he might have struck at them.
As it was, he uttered a fierce imprecation, let the point of his stick
drop to the ground, and turned away to hobble for a few steps, and, as
if from habit, began to cough; but Andrew burst into a bitter laugh, and
with a fierce oath the man turned again and shook his stick at him
before ceasing his cough and walking sharply away, erect and vigorous as
any.
"Well," said Andrew, "do you think I insulted him too much?"
"Why, he is an impostor!"
"Pah! London swarms with his kind. They have sent many a good, true,
and innocent man to Tyburn for the sake of blood-money--men whose only
fault was that they believed James Francis to be our rightful king.
Frank," cried the lad passionately, "I can't tell you how I loathe the
reptiles. I knew that wretch directly; my father pointed him out to me
as one to beware of. If he knew what we do, he would send my dear,
brave father to the scaffold, and he is trying hard to send yours.
Where's your pity for the poor invalid now?"
"Oh!" ejaculated Frank excitedly, "can such things be true?"
"True? Why was he dogging us this morning? I can't be sure, of course;
but as likely as not it was upon his information that your poor father
was almost taken last night, and your mother nearly broken-hearted this
morning. Why, Frank, I never saw you look so fierce before. It's all
nonsense about my being two years older than you. You've overtaken and
passed me, lad. I'm getting quite afraid of you."
"Oh, don't banter me now, Drew. I can't bear it."
"It's only my spiteful tongue, Frank. I don't banter you at heart. I'm
in earnest. Only a short time ago I used to think I was as old as a
man, and it was trouble about my father made me so. Now I can't help
seeing how trouble is altering you too. Don't mind what I say, but I
must say it. Some day you'll begin to think that I am not so much to
blame for talking as I do about our royal master."
Frank drew a long, deep breath, and felt as if it might after all be
possible.
"There, that's enough for one morning," cried Andrew merrily. "We're
only boys after all, even if I am such a queer fish. Let's be boys
again now. What do you say? I'll race you round the end of the canal,
and see who can get in first to breakfast."
"No," said Frank; "I want to walk back quietly and think."
"And I don't mean to let you. There, we've had trouble enough before
breakfast. Let's put it aside, and if we can get away go and see the
Horse Guards parade, and then listen to the band and see some of the
drilling. I want to learn all I can about an officer's duty, so as not
to be like a raw recruit when I get my commission, if I ever do. I say:
hungry?"
"I? No."
"Then you must be. Make a good breakfast, lad. Sir Robert's safe
enough by now, and he'll be more cautious in future about coming amongst
his Majesty's springes and mantraps. Look yonder; there's Captain
Murray. Who's that with him?"
"The doctor."
"So it is. Let's go and talk to them."
"No; let them go by before we start for the gate. I feel as if every
one will be knowing about last night, and want to question me. I wish I
could go away till it has all blown over."
"But you can't, Frank; and you must face it out like a man. I say--"
"Well?"
"You're not likely to see the King, and if you did it's a chance if he'd
know who you are; but you're sure to see the Prince, and I am a bit
anxious to know whether he'll take any notice about what his page did
last night, and if he does, what he'll say."
"I'm pretty well sure to see him this afternoon," said Frank gloomily;
"and if he questions me I can't tell him a lie. What shall I say?"
"I'll tell you," said Andrew merrily.
"Yes? What?"
"Say nothing. He can't make you speak."
"Then he'll be angry, and it will be fresh trouble for my mother."
"I don't believe he will be," said Andrew. "Well, don't spoil your
breakfast about something which may never happen. Wait and see. The
worst he could do would be to have you dismissed; and if he does he'll
dismiss me too, for I shan't stop here, Frank, unless my father says I
must."