The sentries regarded one another. “Let him go!” said the one who was a father.
The other one moved uneasily. “Our orders cover no such contingency,” he muttered. “And, besides, he will come back.” He bore a strong resemblance to the boy, who, in the riding-school, had dusted the royal hearse. “I hope to God he does not come back,” he said stonily.
Five minutes to four.
The Crown Prince hurried. The corridors were almost empty. Here and there he met servants, who stood stiff against the wall until he had passed. On the marble staircase, leading up, he met no one, nor on the upper floor. He was quite warm with running and he paused in his father’s suite to mop his face. Then he opened a window and went out on the roof. It seemed very large and empty now, and the afternoon sun, sinking low, threw shadows across it.
Also, from the balustrade, it looked extremely far to the ground.
Nevertheless, although his heart beat a trifle fast, he was still determined. A climb which Nikky with his long legs had achieved in a leap, took him up to a chimney. Below—it seemed a long way below was the gutter. There was a very considerable slant. If one sat down, like Nikky, and slid, and did not slide over the edge, one should fetch up in the gutter.
He felt a trifle dizzy. But Nikky’s theory was, that if one is afraid to do a thing, better to do it and get over being afraid.
“I was terribly afraid of a bayonet attack,” Nikky had observed, “until I was in one. The next one I rather enjoyed!”
So the Crown Prince sat down on the sloping roof behind the chimney, and gathered his legs under him for a slide.
Then he heard a door open, and footsteps. Very careful footsteps. He was quite certain Nikky had followed him. But there were cautious voices, too, and neither was Nikky’s. It occurred to Prince Ferdinand William Otto that a good many people, certainly including Miss Braithwaite, would not approve of either his situation or his position. Miss Braithwaite was particularly particular about positions.