Two hours later the boys rode in, all excitement, and Barbara watched them attack the loaded breakfast-table. Philip's friends were, of course, all devoted to this grave, sweet girl, although not bitter rivals.
"Philip dear," said Barbara swiftly, when, after breakfast, she had drawn her brother into her room and locked the door "there is in the castle at this moment a messenger from the Prince, who has come to see our father on grave business. You can guess what such business would be. He dare not follow him to London, and must leave to-night for the nearest seaport, his errand all unperformed. I sent for you and your friends because the gentleman is our guest, and must be treated with courtesy and care. He is unattended, and the countryside is alive with traitors. You and your friends will protect him to-night, will you not?"
"To the death," said Philip.
"Ah, I knew!" said his sister proudly.
"Barbara," exclaimed Philip, "it was fine of you to send for us!" And he hugged her mightily. "But where is the gentleman?"
"In hiding," she answered; "but mind, not a word of this to the others. Tell them enough to stop questions. Not a soul knows he is here save you and me. Later they must know, for one of you will have to lend him clothes. Only three of you can ride as his guard."
"But, Barbara," cried Philip in alarm, "it is not I who will stay behind? It could not be. I am his host. And what build of man is he, Barbara? Say he is not my size."
"No, Phil dear; he is taller by a hand's breadth."
"Ah," sighed Philip, with intense relief, "then it must be Rupert! Poor Rupert!"
"Now," said Barbara, "forget all about it, and have a good holiday with the boys. The evening is distant yet."