Then he walked quietly back toward the Palace gates with his head beginning to buzz with excitement at the news he had heard.
“They’re going to rescue him to-morrow,” he thought.
“Ought I to tell Captain Murray? No; impossible. He might feel that it was his duty to warn the King. It would be giving him a task to fight against duty and friendship. I dare not even tell my mother, for fear the excitement might do her harm. No, I must keep it to myself, and I shall be there—I shall be there.”
He did not see where he was going, for in his imagination he was on horseback, looking on at a mighty, seething crowd making a bold rush at the cavalry escort round some carriages. But he was brought to himself directly after by a bluff voice saying:
“Don’t run over me, Frank, my lad. But that’s right; the walk has brought some colour into your cheeks.”
The colour deepened, as the speaker went on:
“I’ve arranged for a quiet horse to be ready with mine, my lad, and I have a good hint or two as to where we ought to go so as to be in the route. It will not be till close on dusk, though.”
“Oh, if I could tell exactly the way they will come, and the time, and let Drew know, it might mean saving my father’s life,” thought Frank. “I must tell Captain Murray then.
“No, it would not do,” he mused; “for if I did, he would not move an inch. How to get the news, and go and find Drew! But where? Ah! I might hear of him from some one at the tavern where they have that club.”
“Why, Frank lad, what are you thinking about?” said the captain. “I’ve been talking to you for ever so long, and you don’t answer.”