In Honour's Cause Part 45

"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 hoa.r.s.ely.

"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!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed 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 ca.n.a.l, and back along the opposite side toward Westminster, pa.s.sing 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 pa.s.s 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 b.u.mpkin 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 pa.s.sed 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.