“When you go, father?”
“Yes, I shall have to go, boy. Tell her I fought as a man should for the honour of those I love. Now say no more; I am a bit faint, and I want to think.”
The strange procession moved in toward the gates, the German officers talking angrily together, and paying little heed to their fellow-prisoners, save that one of them darted a malignant glance at Sir Robert Gowan, which made Andrew turn upon him sharply with an angry scowl, looking the officer up and down so fiercely that he moved menacingly toward the lad; but the Guardsman at his side raised his arm and stepped between them.
Just then the boys’ eyes met, and Frank, who was still supporting his father, gave his friend a grateful look.
When the guard-house was reached, it was just sunrise, upon as lovely a morning as ever broke; and it contrasted strangely with the aspect of the men who had been out for so sinister a design.
Frank felt something of the kind as the door was opened to admit his father, one accustomed to command, and now ready to enter as a prisoner; but he had very little time then for private thought, for the colonel suddenly appeared, and without a glance at Sir Robert said sharply:
“Well?”
“Too late to stop it, sir,” reported the officer in command. “Captain Sir Robert Gowan wounded in the arm.”
“Baron Steinberg?”
“The doctor is with him, sir. A litter is to be sent at once.”