"I don't care. I must tell you who I am."
"Hurry! Hurry away!" exclaimed the man.
"Not until I tell you what I came here for. I believe you are—"
"Who's there?" called the angry voice of one of the attendants, as he caught the sound of the voices in the summer house.
"You must go," the man pleaded with Frank. "You will only make trouble for yourself and me." He spoke in a whisper, and the guard who was running on the gravel path could not hear above the sound of his own footsteps.
"Can I see you again?" asked Frank.
"Yes. Sometime. But go now."
Frank saw it would be best to leave before the attendant arrived. He slipped out of the little house on the side that was in the deepest shadow, and hurried away. A few seconds later the guard entered the place, and Frank could hear him questioning the patient.
"Who was here?"
"The king of fairyland," was the response. "He came to bring me my golden chariot."