“I thought so,” whispered Frank. “But prisoners?”
“Oh yes; ye saw the gyards.”
“Where is Mr Murray?”
“Shut up at home wid sax or eight min to take care of him.”
“Go and tell my father I’m here. No; take me up to them at once.”
“Oh, murther! no, Masther Frank! Don’t think of it, boy. Iv ye go up, the ladies’ll all shquale out, and yer mother go wild wid sterricks. Sure an’ Masther Bang-gong’s just been to say the owld chap’s coming to see the ladies to-night.”
“Oh!” ejaculated Frank.
“But where have ye been, lad?”
“Go quite quietly, and tell my father or the doctor I’m here.”
“Yis.”