“It wasn't me, I say again, my Lord King!”—Frankl trampled a little backward, then stooped over-poised to his finger-tips: “with what motive? Oh, that's hard—to be accused. They have already given me a month—my God! a month! And only because I am a Jew. But it wasn't me—that I'll swear to God—”
Hogarth rose to his height, descended, put his hand upon Frankl's shoulder. “Well, leave that. But—my sister!”
His hand felt the shoulder beneath it start like fits.
“Your sister!” Frankl screamed with a face of scare: “Why, what of her now?”
“Frankl, you are frightened: you know, Frankl, where she is!”
“Me? O, my Good God, what is this! Me, poor sinner, know where your sister is, my Lord King? Why, spare me! spare me, God of Hosts! Why, you've only got to ask yourself the question—”
“Listen to me, Frankl”, said Hogarth, bending his blazing brow low over the Jew: “I have searched for that woman through the world, and have not found her. All the time, mind you, I felt convinced that you know where she is; and you may wonder why—years ago—I did not have you seized. I will tell you why: it was because I had a sort of instinct that God, whom I serve continually with tears and prayers, would not fail in His day to show me her face: and to-day you are here. Do you suppose, Frankl, that you will go away without telling me where she is? And in order to hurry you, listen to what I say to your warders—”
He touched a button in the balustrade, and to the warders said: “If at any time this man should demand pencil and paper, supply them, and take to your Admiral what he writes. To-day his food shall be fare from your own table; to-morrow three loaves and water; from the third day one loaf and water; till further orders”.
Up shot Frankl's shivering arms, while Hogarth, training his ermines and purples, paced away.
That was on the day following the Manifesto.