Chapter 34. A Stirring Encounter

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_ CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR. A STIRRING ENCOUNTER

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In this spirit he made for the house, and reached it, to find that the battered door had been replaced by a new one, which looked bright and glistening in its coats of fresh paint.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." _

Read next: Chapter 35. Frank Asks Leave To Go

Read previous: Chapter 33. Frank's Faith

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