In Honour's Cause Part 71

"What!" exclaimed Frank wildly.

"Don't you know me, Frank?"

"Drew!"

"Then the disguise is as right as can be. Keep still. Nonsense! Don't try to shake hands. Stand at a distance. There's no knowing who may be watching you. Give me another biscuit. I am hungry, really. There, go on feeding the ducks. How useful they are. Sort of co-conspirators, innocent as they look. I'll sit down behind you as if watching you, and I can talk when there's no one near."

Frank obeyed with his face working, and Drew Forbes threw himself on the gra.s.s once more.

"Drew, old fellow, you make me feel sick."

"What, because I look such a dirty wretch?"

"No, no. I'm ill and faint, and it's horrible to see you like this."

"Yes; not much of a macaroni now."

"We--we were afraid you were dead."

"No; but I had a narrow squeak for my life. I and two more officers escaped and rode for London. I only got here yesterday, dressed like this, hoping to see you; but you did not come out."

"No; this is the first time I have been here since you left. How is the wound?"

"Oh, pooh! that's well enough. Bit stiff, that's all. I say, is it all real?"

"What?"

"Me being here dressed like this."

"Oh, it's horrible."

"Not it. Better than being chopped short, or hung. I am glad you've come. I want to talk to you about your father and mine. They'll be in town to-morrow, I should say."

"Yes, I know. Tell me, what are you going to do?"

"Do? We're going to raise the mob, have a big riot, and rescue them. I want to know what you can do to help."

"We are trying to help in another way," said Frank excitedly.

"How?"

"Pet.i.tioning the King through the Prince."

"No good," said Drew shortly. "There's no mercy to be had. Our way is the best."

"But tell me: you are in a terrible state--you want money."

"No. We've plenty, and plenty of friends in town here. Don't think we're beaten, my good fellow."

Frank's supply of biscuit came to an end, and to keep up appearances he began to delude the ducks by throwing in pebbles.

"There's one of those spy fellows coming, Frank," said Drew suddenly.

"Don't look round, or take any notice."

Frank's heart began to beat, as he thrust his hand into his pocket, for his fingers to come in contact with one little fragment of biscuit pa.s.sed over before, and, waiting till he heard steps close behind him, he threw the piece out some distance, and stood watching the rush made by the water-fowl, one conveying the bit off in triumph.

Frank searched in vain for more, and he was regretting that he had been so liberal in his use of the provender, and racking his brains for a means of keeping up the conversation without risk to his companion, when about half a biscuit fell at his feet, and he seized it eagerly.

"He's pretty well out of hearing, Frank; but speak low. I don't want to be taken. You'd better move on a bit, and stop again. I'll go off the other way after that spy, and work round and come back. You go and sit down a little way from the bushes yonder, and I'll creep in behind, and lie there, so as to talk to you. Got a book?"

"No," said Frank sadly.

"Haven't you a pocket-book?"

"Oh yes."

"Well, that will do. Take it out after you've sat down, and pretend to make a sketch of the trees across the water."

"Ah, I shouldn't have thought of that."

"You would if you had been hunted as I have. There, don't look round.

I'm off."

"But if we don't meet again, Drew? I want to do something to help you."

"Then do as I have told you," said the lad sharply; and he shuffled away, limping slightly, while, after standing as if watching the water-fowl for about ten minutes, and wondering the while whether he was being watched, Frank strolled on very slowly in the opposite direction, making for a clump of trees and bushes about a couple of hundred yards away, feeling that this must be right, and upon reaching the end, going on about half its length, and then carelessly seating himself on the gra.s.s about ten feet from the nearest bush.

After a short time, pa.s.sed in wondering whether Drew would be able to get hidden behind him unseen, he took out his pocket-book and pencil, and with trembling fingers began to sketch. Fortunately he had taken lessons at the big Hampshire school, and often received help from his mother, who was clever with her pencil, so that to give colour to his position there he went on drawing, a tiny reproduction of the landscape across the water slowly growing up beneath his pencil-point. But it was done almost unconsciously, for he was trembling with dread lest his object there should be divined and result in Andrew being captured, now that a stricter watch than ever was kept about the surroundings of the Palace.

One moment he felt strong in the belief that no one could penetrate his old companion's disguise; the next he was shuddering in dread of what the consequences would be, and wishing that Drew had not come. At the same time he was touched to the heart at the lad running such a risk when he had escaped to safety among his London friends. For Drew had evidently a.s.sumed this pitiful disguise on purpose to come and see him.

There could be no other object than that of trying to see his friend.

Would he be able to speak to him again?

"I say, they're keeping a sharp look-out, Franky," came from behind in a sharp whisper, making him start violently.

"Don't do that. Go on sketching," whispered Drew; and Frank devoted himself at once to his book. "That fellow went on, and began talking to another. I saw him, but I don't think he saw me. I say, I shall have to go soon."

"Yes, yes; I want you to stay, Drew, but pray, pray escape!"

"Why?"

"Because I wouldn't for worlds have you taken."

There was a few moments' pause, and then Drew spoke huskily.

"Thank ye," he said. "I was obliged to come and see you again. I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry I didn't shake hands with you, Frank."

"Ah!--I'll slip back to where you are and shake hands now," cried the boy excitedly.