It was like a mockery to him in his agony to see the sentry, who recognised him, draw himself up, and present arms to his old captain’s son, and it checked the question he would have asked the man as to when Captain Murray had passed, for he could not speak.
“I must see if he is here,” he thought, as he ran up the stairs to the room which had been his prison; and turning the handle of the door, he rushed in and uttered a groan, for the room was, as he had anticipated, empty. But the bedroom door was closed, and he darted to that and flung it open.
“Gone! gone! gone!” he groaned. “What shall I do? Will they take him to the Tower?”
He knew that there was no saying what might be the destination of the prisoners; but he rushed back to the staircase, meaning to go straight to the Tower by some means, and then he stopped short and uttered a half hysterical cry, for there was Captain Murray ascending the stairs.
“Not gone?” he cried.
“No; but I am just off. I wish you could have gone with me, Frank. It would have done your poor father good.”
“I am going. She wishes it, and sends me.”
“Hah! Quick, then. Back to your room.”
“Oh, I’m ready,” cried the boy.
“Nonsense! We are going to ride. Your boots and sword, boy. I’ll lend you a military cloak.”