“And how many of the people?” said Frank bitterly.
“That will never be known, my boy. It is very horrible when orders are given to fire upon a crowd. Many fell, I’m afraid. But there, don’t look so down-hearted.”
“Have you heard who was the prisoner that escaped?”
“Yes. They have not taken him again yet; but I don’t think he will be able to get right away.”
“Not if he can reach the coast?” said Frank.
“Ah! he might then. There, Frank lad, I want to be true to my duty—don’t tell upon me—but I can’t help feeling that we had bad luck last night, or some one we know might have been the lucky man.”
Frank caught at his hand and held it. “If I were the King, I’d pack the prisoners off to France,” continued Captain Murray. “I don’t like taking revenge on conquered enemies.”
“Ah, now you make me feel as if I can speak openly to you,” cried Frank. “Tell me, do you think there is still any hope of an escape?”
“There always is, my lad. One thing is very evident, and that is that your father and his companions have plenty of friends in London who are ready to risk their lives to save them. Come, don’t be down-hearted; we must hope for the best. They have to be tried yet. A dozen things may happen. Besides, your father was not one of the leaders of the rebellion. What’s the matter with your arm?”
“My arm? Oh, I don’t know. It’s so stiff and painful I can hardly lift it. Yes, I remember now. Some one in the crowd struck me with a heavy stick. I did not feel it so much then; it was only numbed.”