More sentries were about the Palace, and the guardroom was full of
soldiers, but no one interfered with the Prince's page, who went
straight to the gates, and without the slightest attempt at concealment
walked across to the banks of the canal, along by its edge to the end,
passed round, and made for his father's house.
Twice over he saw men whom his ready imagination suggested as belonging
to the corps of spies who kept the comers and goers from the Palace
under observation, but he would not notice them.
"Let them watch if they like. I'm doing something I'm proud of, and not
ashamed."
In this spirit he made for the house, and reached it, to find that the
battered door had been replaced by a new one, which looked bright and
glistening in its coats of fresh paint.
He knocked and rang boldly, and as he waited he glanced carelessly to
right and left, to see that one of the men he had passed in the Park had
followed, and was sauntering slowly along in his direction.
"How miserably ashamed of himself a fellow like that must feel!" he
thought.
At that moment there was the rattling of a chain inside, and the door
was opened as far as the links would allow.
"Oh, it's you, Master Francis," said the housekeeper, whose scared and
troubled face began to beam with a smile; and directly after he was
admitted, and the door closed and fastened once more.
Frank confined his words to friendly inquiries as to the old servant's
health, and she hesitated after replying, as if expecting that he would
begin to question her; but he went on upstairs, and shut himself in the
gloomy-looking room overlooking the Park. Then, obeying his first
impulse, he walked to the window to throw back the shutters.
"No. Wouldn't do," he said to himself. "There is sure to be some one
watching the house from the back, and it would show them that I came
straight here for some particular reason. I can manage in the dark."
It was not quite dark to one who well knew the place; and with beating
heart he went across to the picture, and, familiar now with the
ingenious mechanism, he pressed the fastening, and then stood still,
with the picture turned so that the closet stood open before him.
He hesitated, for though he was so full of hope that he felt quite
certain that there would be some communication from his father, he did
not like to put it to the test for fear of disappointment. That he
felt--after his brave defence of his father, and his belief that he
would be able to find a letter which would sweep away all doubt and
prove to his mother that she was wrong--would be almost unbearable, and
so he waited for quite two minutes.
"Oh, what a coward I am," he muttered at last; and running his hand
along the bottom shelf, he felt for the letter he hoped to find.
His heart sank, for there was nothing there, and he hesitated once more,
feeling that half his chance was gone. But there was the upper shelf,
and once more with beating heart he began to pass his hand over it very
slowly, and the next moment he touched a packet, which began to glide
along the shelf. Then he started back, thrust to the canvas-covered
panel and fastened it almost in one movement, turning as he did so to
face the door, which was slowly opened, and a dimly seen figure stepped
forward, to stand gazing in.
"Why didn't I lock the door after me?" thought the boy, who was half
wild now with excitement and dread, as he tried to make out by the few
rays which struck across from the shutters who the man could be.
That was too hard; but it seemed from the attitude that his back was
half turned to him, and that he was trying to see what was going on in
the room.
The next moment he had proof that he was right, for the dimly seen
figure softly turned and gazed straight at where he stood.
"He must see me," thought the boy; and in his excitement he felt that he
must take the aggressive, and began the attack.
"Who are you? What are you doing here?" he cried sharply. "A thief?"
"Oh no, young gentleman," said a voice. "What are you doing here?"
For answer Frank stepped quickly to the window and threw open one of the
shutters, the light flashing in and showing him the face of the man he
had passed in the Park, the man who had followed him into the street,
and seen him enter the house.
"Oh, I see," said Frank contemptuously,--"a spy."
"A gentleman in the King's service, boy, holding his Majesty's warrant,
and doing his duty. Why have you come here?"
"Why have I come to my own house? Go back out of here directly. How
came the housekeeper to let you in?"
"She did not, my good boy," said the man quietly; "and she did not put
up the chain."
"Then how did you get in, sir?"
"With my key of course--into _your_ house."
"Oh, this is insufferable!" panted Frank. "While my father is away it
is my house. I am his representative, and I don't believe his Majesty
would warrant a miserable spy to use false keys to get into people's
homes."
"You have a sharp tongue for a boy," said the man coolly; "but I must
know why you have come, all the same."
"Watch and spy, and find out then, you miserable, contemptible hound!"
cried Frank in a rage--with the man for coming, and with himself for not
having taken better precautions. For it was maddening. There was the
letter waiting for him; he had touched it; and now he could not get at
it for this man, who would not let him quit his sight, and perhaps after
he was gone would search until he found it.
The man looked hard at him for a few moments, but not menacingly. It
was in the fashion of a man who was accustomed to be snubbed, bullied,
and otherwise insulted, but did not mind these things in the least, so
long as he could achieve his ends. He made Frank turn cold, though,
with dread, for he began to look round the room, noticing everything in
turn in search of the reason for the boy's visit, for naturally he felt
certain that there was some special reason, and he meant to find it out.
Frank stood watching him for a while, and then, as the man did not walk
straight at the picture, and begin to try if he could find anything
behind, the boy began to pluck up courage, and, drawing a long breath by
way of preparation, he said, as he stepped forward:
"Now, sir, I don't feel disposed to leave you here while I go upstairs
to my old room, so have the goodness to leave."
"When you do, Mr Gowan--not before."
"What!" cried Frank fiercely; and he clapped his hand to where his sword
should hang, but it had not been returned to him by the officer who
arrested him, and he coloured with rage and annoyance.
"Ah, you have no sword," said the man coolly. "Just as well, for you
would not be able to use it. At the least attempt at violence, one call
from this whistle would bring help to the back and front of the house,
and you would be arrested. I presume you do not want to be in prison
again?"
"What do you know about my being arrested?"
"There is not much that I do not know," said the man, with a laugh. "It
is of no use to kick, my good sir. I only wish you to understand that
violence will do no good."
"Bah!" ejaculated Frank angrily; and he walked straight out of the room
on to the landing, trying to bang the door behind him; but the man
caught it, and came out quickly and quietly after him.
"What shall I do?" thought Frank; and for a moment he was disposed to
descend and leave the house, but he felt that he could not without first
gaining possession of the letter. It would be impossible to bear the
strain, especially with the accompaniment of the dread of its being
discovered and placing information which might prove disastrous to his
father in the hands of a spy.
The next minute his mind was made up. He determined to weary out the
man if he could, while he on his part went up to his own old bedroom,
which he used to occupy when he came home from school while his father
and mother were in town. He would go up to it, and sit down and read if
he could. The man should not come in there, of that he was determined;
and he felt that he must risk the fellow's searching the place they had
left.
"For if he has a key, he could come in at any time, and hunt about the
place. But how did he get a key to fit the door?"
Frank thought for a few moments, and then it was plain enough: he had
obtained it from the people who made the new door to the house.
"I must get the letter before I go," thought the boy now, "so as to send
word to father that he must not venture to come again, because the place
is so closely watched; and I must tell him of this piece of miserable
intrusion."
He took a few steps down, and the man followed; but before the landing
was reached, he turned sharply round, and began to ascend rapidly.
The man still followed close to his elbow, and in this way the second
floor was reached, where the door of Frank's bedroom lay a little to the
right.
The last time he was up there he was in company with his father in the
dark, on the night of the escape, and a faint thrill of excitement ran
through him as he recalled all that had passed.
He turned sharply to the spy, and said indignantly:
"Look here, fellow, this is my bedroom;" and he pointed to the door.
"Yes, I know," said the man coolly; "but it's a long time since you
slept there."
"And what's that to you? Go down. You are not coming in there."
"I have the warrant of his Majesty's Minister to go where I please on
secret service, sir," said the man blandly; "and you, as one of the
Prince's household, dare not try to stop me."
"Oh!" ejaculated the boy fiercely; and seizing the door knob he turned
it quickly, meaning to rush in, bang the door in the fellow's face, and
lock him out.
"Let him do his worst," thought Frank, who was now beside himself with
rage; but he did not carry out his plan, for the door did not yield. It
was locked, and as he rattled the knob his fingers rubbed against the
handle of the key.
Perhaps it was the friction against the steel which sent a flash of
intelligence to his brain; but whether or no the flash darted there, and
lit up that which the moment before was very dark with something akin to
despair.
He rattled the handle to and fro several times; and uttering an
ejaculation full of anger, he threw himself heavily against the door,
but it did not of course yield.
"Pooh!" he cried; and letting go of the door knob, he seized the handle
of the key, and dragged and dragged at it, making it grate and rattle
among the wards, each moment growing more excited, and ended by
snatching his hand away, and stamping furiously on the floor.
"Don't stand staring there, idiot!" he cried, with a flash of anger.
"Can't you see that key won't turn?"
"Not if you drag at it like that," said the man, smiling blandly. "That
is good for locksmiths, not for locks;" and stepping calmly forward, he
took hold of the key, turned it slowly so that the bolt shot back with a
sharp snap; then, turning the knob, he opened the door, walked into the
little bedroom, and stood back a little, holding it so that there was
room for Frank to pass in.
"Bah!" ejaculated Frank savagely; and he stepped in, raising his right
hand, and making a quick menacing gesture, as if to strike the man a
heavy blow across the face.
Taken thoroughly by surprise by Frank's feint, the spy made a step back,
when, quick as thought, the boy seized the handle, drew it to him,
banging the door and turning the key, and stood panting outside, his
enemy shut safely within.
"Here, open this door!" cried the man; and he began to thump heavily
upon the panels. "Quick! before I break it down."
"Break it down," cried the boy tauntingly. "How clever for a spy to
walk into a trap like that."
There was a moment's silence, and then--as if long coming--something
which resembled the echo of Frank's angry stamp on the floor was heard,
followed by a heavy bump. The man had thrown himself against the door.
"He won't break out in a hurry," muttered the boy; and he ran to the
staircase, and in familiar old fashion seized the rail, threw himself
half over, and let himself slide down the polished mahogany to the first
floor, where he rushed in, closed and locked the door of the room,
hurried excitedly to the picture door of the closet, the portrait of his
ancestor seeming to his excited fancy to smile approval, and, as he
applied his hand to the fastening, he heard faintly a noise overhead.
The next moment a chill ran through him, for the window of his bedroom
had evidently been thrown open, and a clear, shrill whistle twice
repeated rang out.
"That means help," thought Frank, and he hesitated; but it was now or
never, he felt, and opening the closet, he snatched the desired letter
from the shelf, thrust it into his breast, and closed the closet once
more.
The whistle was sounded again, and a fresh thought assailed the boy.
"They'll seize me, search me, and take the letter away. What shall I
do?"
He ran to the window in time to see a strange man climb the rails, and
drop into the garden, run toward the house, stoop down, and pick up
something.
"The key that opens the front door," cried Frank in despair. "He must
have thrown it out."
For a moment or two he stood helpless, unable to move; then, recalling
the fact that the man would have to run round to the front door, he
darted out of the room, bounded down the staircase, reached the hall
door, and with hands trembling from the great excitement in which he
was, he slipped the top and bottom bolts.
"Hah!" he ejaculated; "the key won't open them."
Then, darting to the top of the stairs leading down to the housekeeper's
room, he ran almost into the old servant's arms.
"Oh, Master Frank, was that you whistling, sir?" she cried.
"No; that man upstairs."
"What man upstairs, my dear?"
"Hush! Don't stop me. Have you a fire there?"
"Yes, my dear; it is very chilly down in that stone-floored room, that I
am obliged to have one lit."
"That's right. Go away; I want to be there alone. And listen, Berry; I
have bolted the front door. If any one knocks, don't go."
"Oh, my dear, don't say people are coming to break it down again!"
"Never you mind if they are. Get out of my way."
There was the rattling of a key faintly heard, and then _bang, bang,
bang_, and the ringing of the bell.
"They've come," said Frank. "But never mind; I'll let them in before
they break it."
There was a faint squeal from the kitchen just then.
"Oh!" cried the housekeeper wildly, "that girl will be going into fits
again."
"Let her," said Frank. "Stop! Is the area door fastened?"
"Oh yes, my dear. I always keep that locked."
Frank stopped to hear no more, but ran into the housekeeper's room,
whose window, well-barred, looked up a green slope toward the Park.
There was a folding screen standing near the fire, a luxury affected by
the old housekeeper, who used it to ward off draughts, which came
through the window sashes, and the boy opened this a little to make sure
that he was not seen by any one who might come and stare in. Then,
standing in its shelter, he tore the letter from his breast pocket,
broke the seal, opened it with trembling fingers, and began to read,
with eyes beginning to dilate and a choking sensation rising in his
breast.
For it was true, then--the charge was correct. Andrew Forbes's words
had not been an insult, the Prince had told the simple fact.
"Oh, the shame of it!" panted the boy, as he read and re-read the words
couched in the most affectionate strain, telling him not to think ill of
the father who loved him dearly, and begged of him to remember that
father's position, hopeless of being able to return from his exile,
knowing that his life was forfeit, treated as if he were an enemy. So
that in despair he had yielded to the pressure put upon him by old
friends, and joined them in the bold attempt to place the crown upon the
head of the rightful heir.
"Whatever happens, my boy, I leave your mother to you as your care."
Frank's hands were cold and his forehead wet as he read these last
words, and the affectionate, loving way in which his father concluded
his letter, the last information being that he was in England, and had
gone north to join friends who would shortly be marching on London.
"Burn this, the last letter I shall be able to leave for you, unless we
triumph. Then we shall meet again."
"`Burn this,'" said Frank, in a strange, husky whisper. "Yes, I meant
to burn this;" and in a curious, unemotional way, looking white and wan
the while, he dropped the letter in the fire, and stood watching it as
it blazed up till the flame drew near the great red wax seal bearing his
father's crest. This melted till the crest was blurred out, the wax ran
and blazed, and in a few moments there was only a black, crumpled patch
of tinder, over and about which a host of tiny sparks seemed to be
chasing each other till all was soft and grey.
"I needn't have burned it," said the boy, in a low, pained voice. "What
does it matter now?"
He stood looking old and strange as he spoke. It did not seem a boy's
face turned to the fire, but that of an effeminate young man in some
great suffering, as he said again, in a voice which startled him and
made him shiver:
"What does it matter now?"
He turned his head and listened then, before stooping to take up the
poker and scatter the grey patch of ashes that still showed letters and
words; for he appeared to have suddenly awakened to the fact that the
thundering of the knocker was still going on and the bell pealing.
"Hah!" he sighed; "I must go back and tell her I was wrong. Poor
mother, what she must feel!"
He moved slowly toward the door of the room, and then encountered the
housekeeper standing at the foot of the stairs.
"Oh, my dear, my dear!" she moaned; "what shall we do? I heard them
send for hammers to break in again."
"They will not, Berry," he said quietly. "I will go up and let them
in."
"Oh, my dear!" cried the woman, forgetting the noise at the front door.
"Don't speak like that. What is the matter? You're white as ashes."
"Matter?" he said, looking at the old woman wistfully. "Matter--ashes--
yes, ashes. I can't tell you, Berry. I'm ill. I feel as if--as if--"
He did not finish the sentence aloud, but to himself, and he said:
"As if my father I loved so were dead." He walked quietly upstairs now
into the hall, where there was the buzzing of voices coming in from the
street, where people were collecting, and he distinctly heard some one
say:
"Here they come."
It did not seem to him to matter who was coming; and he walked quietly
to the door, shot back the bolts, and threw it open, for half a dozen
men to make a dash forward to enter; but the boy stood firmly in the
opening, with his face flushing once more, and looking more like his old
self. "Well," he cried haughtily. "What is it?"
"Mr Bagot--Mr Bagot! Where is he?"
"Bagot? Do you mean the spy who insulted me?" At the word "spy" there
was an angry groan from the gathering crowd, and the men began to press
forward.
"The fellow insulted me," said Frank loudly, "and I locked him in one of
the upstairs rooms."
"Hooray!" came from the crowd. "Well done, youngster!" And then there
was a menacing hooting. "Go and fetch him down," continued Frank.
"Yah! Spies!" came from the mob, and the men on the step gladly obeyed
the order to go upstairs, and rushed into the house.
"Shall we fetch 'em out, sir," cried a big, burly-looking fellow, "and
take and pitch 'em in the river?"
"No; leave the miserable wretches alone," said the boy haughtily.
"Don't touch them, if they go quietly away."
"Hooray!" shouted the crowd; and then all waited till Bagot came
hurriedly down, white with anger, followed by his men, and seized Frank
by the shoulder.
"You're my prisoner, sir."
"Stand off!" cried the lad fiercely; and he wrenched himself free, just
as the mob, headed by the burly man, dashed forward.
"You put a finger on him again, and we'll hang the lot of you to the
nearest lamps!" roared the man fiercely; and the party crowded together,
while Frank seized the opportunity to close the door.
"Look here, fellow," he said haughtily. "I am going back to the Palace.
You can follow, and ask if you are to arrest me there." Then turning
to the crowd:
"Thank you, all of you; but they will not dare to touch me, and if you
wish me well don't hurt these men."
"Ur-r-ur!" growled the crowd.
"Look here, you," cried Frank, turning to the leader of the little riot.
"I ask you to see that no harm is done to them."
"Then they had better run for it, squire," cried the man. "If they're
here in a minute, I won't answer for what happens."
"Then let your lads see me safely back to my quarters," said the boy, as
a happy thought; and starting off, the crowd followed him cheering to
the Palace gates, where they were stopped by the sentries; and they
cheered him loudly once more as he walked slowly by the soldiery.
"Arrested again!" said Frank softly. "Well, if I can only go and see
her first, it does not matter now."