[CHAPTER XVII]
IN THE YEAR 1807
MORE than eighteen months had dragged past since the day when Denham Ivor had been summarily despatched to Valenciennes.
Once or twice a letter from him had reached the Barons, but it was now long since the arrival of the last. Whether Denham remained yet at Valenciennes was a matter of supposition. For aught that his friends knew to the contrary, he might have been passed on to the grim fortress, Bitche, to Sédan, or elsewhere.
One day, in the spring of 1807, Roy stood upon the ramparts, gazing eagerly towards the nearest town gate. At fifteen he was much the same as he had been at thirteen; not so much taller as might have been expected, for he had grown but slowly. He looked as boyish as ever, with the same curly brown hair, honest grey eyes, and impulsive manner. Not quite so good-looking, perhaps, as in more childish days, but attractive enough. Few guessed him to be within three or four months of his sixteenth birthday. He was often taken for only fourteen.
To some extent habit does and must mean use. Four years out of a boy's life are a goodly slice of time; and Roy had now been nearly four years a captive. He might, and not seldom did, chafe and fume. Still, he had good health and unquenchable spirits; and however impatient he was by fits and starts, no one could have described him as unhappy. He had the gift of making the best of things, and a certain breezy spirit of philosophy stood him in good stead. Hard as it had been to find himself cut off from Molly for an indefinite period, harder still to lose Denham, he managed to enjoy life, finding entertainment in everything and everybody.
"I say! Hallo! There's something going on!" he said aloud.
Roy gazed hard, trying to make out the cause of that gathering throng round about the gate. Some unusual event seemed to be taking place.
Colonel Baron had gone into a neighbouring street on business, telling Roy that he would meet him again on the ramparts. But as Roy watched, the pull became too strong. Something certainly was happening. What if Colonel Baron had forgotten all about him, and had gone in that direction to discover what was being done?
Roy could endure himself no longer. He descended to the ground, set off full tilt, and speedily reached the outskirts of the crowd, running plump against the Rev. Charles Kinsland, who received the onslaught with a "Hallo, Roy!"