And in imagination Frank built up what would in all probability be done. Small parties of the Jacobites would form in different places, and with arms hidden gradually converge upon some chosen spot which the prisoners with their escort must pass. Then at a given signal an attack would be made. The escort would be of course very strong; but the Jacobites would be stronger, and in all probability the mob, always ready for a disturbance, would feel sympathy with the unfortunate prisoners, and help the attacking party, or at least join in checking the Guards, resenting their forcing their horses through the crowd which would have gathered; so that the prospects looked very bright in that direction, and the boy felt more and more hopeful.
Twice over the servant came to the door to tell the watcher that first breakfast, and then lunch, was waiting for him in the room below; but he would not leave the bedside, taking from sheer necessity what was brought to him, and then resuming his watch.
The physician came at the end of three hours as he had promised, but stayed only a few minutes.
“Exactly what I wished,” he said. “Go on watching and keeping her quiet, and don’t be alarmed if she sleeps for many hours yet. I will come in again this afternoon.”
Frank resumed his seat by the bed, and then hastily pencilled a few lines to Captain Murray, telling him that it would be impossible to leave the bedside, and sent the note across by the servant, who brought a reply back.
It was very curt and abrupt.
“Of course. I see your position. Sorry, for I should have liked him to see you.”
The note stung Frank to the quick.
“He thinks I am trying to excuse myself, when I would give the world to go with him,” he muttered.
A glance at the pale face upon the pillow took off some of the bitterness, though, and he resumed his watch while the hours glided by.