For Dear Life.
“Now, Frank, my boy,” said Sir Robert, as the door closed on Lady Gowan, “they have us in front, and they have us in the rear. A fox, they say, always has two holes to the earth. A man is obliged to have a third way of escape if his enemies are too many for him, and I don’t want to fight with the King’s men for other reasons than that they belong to my old regiment.”
“Shall I light the candle again, father?”
“No, it will take too long, and I can do what I want in the dark. I’ve a rope here.”
Frank heard his father unlock a cabinet, and his heart beat hopefully, when the next minute his father bade him “take hold,” and he felt a thin, soft coil of rope passed into his hands.
He needed no telling what was to follow, for he grasped the idea at once, and followed his father out of the room without a word.
They paused on the staircase for a few moments, and heard the shivering of the glass and the stern summons for the door to be opened; and then Sir Robert laid his hand upon his son’s shoulder.
“Seems cowardly, Frank, to try to escape, and leave a woman to bear the brunt of the encounter; but I must play the fugitive now. I can’t afford to surrender; the risks are too great. Come on. Your mother must not be disappointed after what she has done, and have to see me marched off.”
Frank was astounded at his father’s coolness, but he said nothing, and followed him quickly to the top of the house to where there was a trap-door in the ceiling over the passage leading to one of the attics.
Without telling, Frank bent down and raised the light steps which were on one side of the passage, passed his arm through the coil of rope, went up the steps, and pushed open the trap-door, which fell back, leaving an opening for him to pass through into the false roof.