In Honour's Cause Part 62

"No; conspiracies are not for women to know anything about," said the boy, talking grandly. "But I did tell my father."

"Yes; and what did he say?"

"Almost nothing. I forget now, mother. Treated it with contempt.

There, I must go now."

"Back under arrest?"

"Arrest? No, dear. I am the Prince's page, and he knows now that I am no rebel. I am to go back to my duties as if nothing had happened."

Lady Gowan uttered a sigh full of relief.

"But I'm going to prove first of all how terribly wrong you have been, mother, in believing this miserable scandal. It is because my poor father is down, and everybody is ready to trample upon him. But we'll show them yet. You must be brave, mother, and look and speak as if now you did not believe a word about the story. Do as I will do: go back to your place with the Princess, and hold up your head proudly."

"No, no, no, my boy; I have been praying the Princess to let us both go away from the court, for that our position here was horrible."

"Ah! and what did she say?" cried Frank excitedly.

"That it was impossible; that we were not to blame, and that I was more her friend than ever."

"Oh, I do love the Princess!" cried the boy enthusiastically. "There, you see, she does not at heart believe the miserable tale. No, you shall not go away, mother; it would be like owning that it was true. Be brave and good and full of faith. Father said I was to defend you while he was away, and I'm going to--against yourself while you are weak and ill. Oh, what lots of things you've taught me about trying to be brave and upright and true; now I'm going to try and show you that I will. We cannot leave the court; it would be dishonouring father. Good-bye till to-morrow. Oh, mother, how old all this makes me feel."

"My own boy!"

"Yes, but I don't feel a bit like a boy now, mother. It's just as if I had been here for years. There, once more kiss me--good-bye!"

"My darling! But what are you going to do?"

"Something to show you that father has been slandered. Good-bye!

To-morrow I shall make you laugh for joy."

And tearing himself away from his mother's clinging arms, the boy hurried out, down the stairs, and out into the courtyard, full of the plan now in his mind.

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 ca.n.a.l, along by its edge to the end, pa.s.sed 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 pa.s.sed 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 pa.s.s 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 att.i.tude 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 flas.h.i.+ng in and showing him the face of the man he had pa.s.sed 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.