In Honour's Cause Part 35

"Mind, I trust to your honour, Drew."

"Of course. Then you won't come off with me?"

"No--I--will not."

Andrew laughed.

"I say, though," he said, as they went past the quarters the baron had occupied, "it was rather comic to see that cripple go. Just before he got into the carriage, he turned to thank the doctor, and he caught sight of me."

"What! did he recognise you?"

"I don't think so; but I was laughing--well no, smiling--and he smiled back, and bowed to me, thinking, I suppose, that I was there to say good-bye to him. He little knew, what I was thinking. Well, good riddance. But the doctor--"

"Eh?" said a sharp voice, and the gentleman named stepped out of one of the dark doorways they were pa.s.sing in the low colonnade.

"Want to see me, my lads?"

"N-no," stammered Andrew, thoroughly taken aback. "We--were talking about you starting the baron off."

"Oh, I see," said the doctor, smiling. "Of course, I saw you there.

Yes, he's gone. Hah! Yes! That was a very peculiar wound, young gentlemen; and I honestly believe that not one in a hundred in my profession could have saved his life. I worked very hard over his case, and he went off, without so much as giving me a little souvenir--a pin or a ring, or a trifle of that kind--seal, for instance."

"What could you expect from one of those Germans, sir?" said Andrew contemptuously.

"Yes, what indeed!" said the doctor, taking snuff, and looking curiously at Frank. "Bad habit this, young man. Don't you follow my example.

Dirty habit, eh? But, I say, young fellow," he added, turning to Andrew, "a still tongue maketh a wise head. Wise man wouldn't shout under the Palace windows such sentiments as those, holding the German nation up to contempt. There, a nod's as good as a wink to a blind horse. Here, Gowan, what's the last news?"

"I don't know of any, sir."

"Come, come! I'm a friend of his. You needn't be so close with me. I mean about your father."

"I have none, sir."

"Eh? Don't you know where he is?"

"No, sir," said Frank sadly.

"Humph! Pity!" said the doctor, taking a fresh pinch of snuff.

"Because, if you had known, you might have written to tell him that I've cured the baron, and sent him away. Yes, I worked very hard over his case. Many's the night I sat up with him, so that he shouldn't, slip through my fingers. For it would have been so much worse for your father if he had."

"Yes, horrible," said Frank.

"I say, you ought to get him back now. Have a try."

"But what can I do, sir?" cried Frank eagerly.

"Oh, I don't know. No use to ask me, boy. Politics are not in my way.

If you like to come to me with a broken bone, or a cut, or a hole in you anywhere, I'm your man, and I'll try and set you right. Or if you want a dose of good strong physic, I'll mix you up something that will make you smack your lips and shout for sugar. But that other sort of thing is quite out of my way. What do you say to our all signing a round robin, and sending it into the King? for we all want Gowan back."

"Yes, sir--capital!" cried Frank; but Andrew smiled contemptuously.

"Or look here. You're a boy--smart lad too, with plenty of brains,"

continued the doctor, who had noticed Andrew's sneer; "sensible sort of boy--not a dandy, gilded vane, like Forbes here. Ah! don't you look at me like that, sir, or next time you're sick I'll give you such a dose as shall make you smile the other way."

"Come along, Frank," said the lad angrily. "You wait a minute. I haven't done with him yet. Look here, boy," he continued, clapping Frank on the shoulder; "there's nothing a man and a father likes better than a good, natural, straightforward, manly sort of boy. I don't mean a fellow who spends half his time scenting himself, brushing his hair to make it curl, and looking at himself in the gla.s.s.--Here, hallo! what's the matter with you, Forbes? I didn't say you did. Pavement warm? Cat on hot bricks is nothing to you."

Andrew tightened his lips, and the doctor went on.

"Look here, Gowan; I tell you what I'd do if I were you. I should just wait for my chance--you'll get plenty--and then I should go right in front of the King, dump myself down on one knee, and when he asks you what you want, tell him bluntly, like a manly boy should, to forgive your father, who is as brave an officer as ever cried 'Forward!' to a company of soldiers."

"Bah!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Andrew.

"Bo!" cried the doctor. "Good-looking gander! What do you know about it?--You ask him. As the offended king, he may feel ready to say _no_; but as the man and father, he'll very likely be ready to say _yes_."

"Oh, I never thought of that!" cried Frank excitedly.

"Then think about it now, my boy. That's my prescription for a very sore case. You do it and win; and if your mother doesn't think she's got the best son in the world, I'm a Dutchman, and we've got plenty without."

"Oh, thank you, thank you, doctor!" cried Frank.

"Wish you luck, boy. Do that, and you may be as proud as a peac.o.c.k afterward--proud as Andrew Forbes here, and that's saying a deal."

The doctor nodded to them both, took a fresh pinch of snuff loudly, and went off.

"Bah!" growled Andrew, as he went off at a great rate toward the Park.

"Ridiculous! How can an English gentleman advise such a degrading course. Go down on your knees to that Dutchman, and beg!"

"I'd go down on my face to him, Drew," cried Frank excitedly.

"You won't follow out his advice?"

"I will, and when everybody is there," cried Frank. "He's right, and I believe that the King will."

Andrew was silent for some minutes, and they walked on, inadvertently going down by the water-side, and directing their steps to the clump of trees where the duel had taken place.

They pa.s.sed over the ground in silence, each picturing the scene, and then went slowly on, so as to pa.s.s round the end of the ca.n.a.l--for such it was in those days--and return by the other side.

Andrew was the first to break the silence, Frank being plunged in deep thought over the doctor's advice.

"You ought to be very proud of your father, Frank," he said.

"I am," was the laconic reply.

"My father, when I told him, said he behaved most gallantly, but that he ought to have killed his man."

"Your father!" cried Frank, staring. "Why, when did you see your father?"

"Can't people write?" said Andrew hastily; and he looked slightly confused. "I did learn how to read and write," he added, with a forced laugh.