“Where to?” was upon the boy’s lips; but he bit the words back, and swallowed them. He would not have spoken them and humbled himself then for anything, and rising and taking his hat, he walked out and across the courtyard, wondering where he was being taken, for he had half expected that it was to the guardroom to be imprisoned more closely. But a minute showed him that the growing resentment was unnecessary, for he was not apparently to submit to that indignity; and now the blood began to flush up into his temples, for he grasped without having had to ask where his destination was to be.
In fact, the captain marched him to the foot of the great staircase, past the guard, and into the long anteroom, where he spoke to one of the attendants, who went straight to the door at the end leading into the Prince’s audience chamber.
And now for a few moments the captain’s manner changed, and he bent his head down to whisper hastily:
“The Prince has sent for you, boy, to question you himself. For Heaven’s sake speak out frankly the simple truth. I cannot tell you how much depends upon it. Recollect this: your mother’s future is at stake, and—”
The attendant reappeared, came to him, and said respectfully:
“His Royal Highness will see you at once.”
There was no time for the captain to say more—no opportunity offered for Frank to make any indignant retort concerning the truth. For the curtain was held back, the door opened, and Captain Murray led the way in, slowly followed by his prisoner, who advanced firmly enough toward where the Prince sat, his Royal Highness turning his eyes upon him at once with a most portentous frown.
“Well, sir,” he said at once, “so I find that I have fresh bad news of you. You are beginning early in life. Not content with what has passed, you have now turned traitor.”
The Prince’s looks, if correctly read, seemed to intimate that he expected the boy to drop on his knees and piteously cry for pardon; but to the surprise of both present he cried indignantly:
“It is not true, your Royal Highness.”