“Why risk passing them?” said Frank.
“Because, if we intercept the escort on the great north road somewhere beyond Highgate, you will be able to ride back near the carriage in which your father is, and, even if you cannot speak to him, you will see him, and be seen.”
“But it will be horrible; I shall look like one of the soldiers guarding him to his cell.”
“Never mind what you look like, so long as your father sees that he is not forgotten by those who love him.”
The captain ceased speaking, and their horses picked their way over the stones, their hoofs clattering loudly, and making the people they passed turn to stare after the two military-looking cavaliers in cocked hat and horseman’s cloak, and with the lower parts of their scabbards seen below to show that they were well armed.
Saint Martin’s Church clock pointed to seven as they rode by; and then, well acquainted with the way, the captain made for the north-east, breaking into a trot as they reached the open street where the traffic was small, Frank’s well-trained horse keeping step with its stable companion; and by the shortest cuts that could be made they reached Islington without seeing a sign of any unusual excitement, so well had the secret been kept of the coming of the prisoners that night.
“Not much sign of a crowd to meet them, Frank,” said the captain, as they went now at a steady trot along the upper road. “Pretty good proof that we are in time.”
“Why, what is a good sign?” asked Frank.
“So few people about. If the prisoners and their escort had passed, half Islington would have been out gossiping at their doors.”
“Suppose they have come some other way?”