“Yes, I know,” said the man coolly; “but it’s a long time since you slept there.”
“And what’s that to you? Go down. You are not coming in there.”
“I have the warrant of his Majesty’s Minister to go where I please on secret service, sir,” said the man blandly; “and you, as one of the Prince’s household, dare not try to stop me.”
“Oh!” ejaculated the boy fiercely; and seizing the door knob he turned it quickly, meaning to rush in, bang the door in the fellow’s face, and lock him out.
“Let him do his worst,” thought Frank, who was now beside himself with rage; but he did not carry out his plan, for the door did not yield. It was locked, and as he rattled the knob his fingers rubbed against the handle of the key.
Perhaps it was the friction against the steel which sent a flash of intelligence to his brain; but whether or no the flash darted there, and lit up that which the moment before was very dark with something akin to despair.
He rattled the handle to and fro several times; and uttering an ejaculation full of anger, he threw himself heavily against the door, but it did not of course yield.
“Pooh!” he cried; and letting go of the door knob, he seized the handle of the key, and dragged and dragged at it, making it grate and rattle among the wards, each moment growing more excited, and ended by snatching his hand away, and stamping furiously on the floor.
“Don’t stand staring there, idiot!” he cried, with a flash of anger. “Can’t you see that key won’t turn?”
“Not if you drag at it like that,” said the man, smiling blandly. “That is good for locksmiths, not for locks;” and stepping calmly forward, he took hold of the key, turned it slowly so that the bolt shot back with a sharp snap; then, turning the knob, he opened the door, walked into the little bedroom, and stood back a little, holding it so that there was room for Frank to pass in.