“Forward! march!” said the officer; and then, to Frank’s annoyance, as well as that of Andrew, he saw that the officer was laughing at them, and that the men were having hard work to keep their countenances.
Five minutes later they had been marched down the staircase, across the courtyard, to the entrance of the guardroom, where, to Frank’s great mortification, the first person he saw was Captain Murray.
“Hallo! what’s this?” he cried. “Prisoners? What have you lads been about?”
“Fighting,” said Frank sullenly, Andrew compressing his lips and staring haughtily before him, as if he felt proud, of his position.
“Fighting! With fists?” cried Captain Murray.
“Oh no,” said the officer of the guard; “quite correctly. Here are their skewers.”
“But surely not anywhere here?”
“Oh yes,” said the officer mirthfully; “up in the anteroom, right under the Prince’s nose.”
“Tut—tut—tut!” ejaculated Captain Murray, half angry, half amused.
“The Prince came between them, and the tall cock nearly sent his spur through him,” continued the officer. “I s’pose this means the Tower and the block, doesn’t it, Murray? or shall we have the job to shoot ’em before breakfast to-morrow morning?”