“Hah! this is a welcome home!” cried Sir Robert cheerily. “Gentlemen, my son.”
“There’s Captain Murray at the other window,” gasped out Frank at last.
“Ah! more good news,” said Sir Robert. “Murray, my dear old fellow, this is good of you.”
The prisoner’s voice sounded husky, as he turned his head to the right in the darkness.
“I can’t shake hands even if you wished to, for we are doubly fettered now.”
“Gowan, I’m glad to meet you again,” said the captain hoarsely.
“God bless you, old friend! I know you are. I see now; you brought Frank here to meet me. Like you, old fellow. There, I cannot talk to you. But you know what I feel.”
“Yes. Talk to your boy,” cried Murray. “Quick, while you can. The order to trot will come directly.”
“Yes. Thanks,” said Sir Robert; and he turned back to his son, who clung to his hands. “Quick, Frank boy. Your mother—well?”
“Very, very ill. Heart-broken.”