In Honour's Cause: A Tale of the Days of George the First

by George Manville Fenn

Chapter Twenty Five.

Frank boils over.

There seemed to be a good deal of excitement about the court one day; people were whispering together, and twice over, as Frank was approaching, he noted that they either ceased talking or turned their backs upon him and walked away. But he took no further notice of it then, for his mind was very full of his father, of whom he had not heard for some time.

His mother had seemed terribly troubled and anxious when he had met her, but he shrank from asking her the cause, feeling that his father’s long silence was telling upon her; and in the hope of getting news he went again and again to the house in Queen Anne Street, ascended to the drawing-room, and opened the picture-panelled closet door.

But it was for nothing. The housekeeper had told him that Sir Robert had not been; but thinking that his father could have let himself in unknown to the old servant, Frank clung to the hope that he might have been, deposited a letter, and gone again, possibly in the night. In every visit, though, he was disappointed, but contented himself by thinking that his father had acted wisely, and felt that it was not safe to come for fear that he might be watched.

It was nearly a week since he had been to the house, and he was longing for an opportunity to go again, but opportunity had not served, and he came to the conclusion that he would slip off that very afternoon, after exacting a promise from Andrew Forbes that he would keep in the anteroom ready to attend to any little duty which might require the presence of one of the pages.

To his surprise, though, Andrew was nowhere to be seen. To have inquired after him would only have served to draw attention to his absence, so he contented himself with waiting patiently, but minute by minute he grew more anxious, feeling convinced that something must have occurred.

“Whatever has happened?” he said to himself at last, as he saw officers begin to arrive and be ushered into the Prince’s room; but why, there was no chance for him to know, as there was no one to whom he could apply for information, and at last he sat alone in the great blank saloon, fidgeting as if he were upon thorns, and inventing all manner of absurd reasons to account for his companion’s absence.

“I know,” he said to himself at last; “he has noticed that there is something on the way, and gone out to try and pick up news. He’ll be here directly.”