Was not this very like a conspiracy? Did not the whole affair bear the appearance of what is commonly termed a put-up job?
Most decidedly it was so, and yet, so far as he was aware, the boy, in spite of his misfortunes, did not possess an enemy in the world.
Who, then, would be likely to go out of their way to plot against an individual so insignificant as himself?
It was at the precise moment in which Frank, propounding that question to his troubled mind, heard above the heads of the officer and himself that strange, bat-like cry.
Again the cry was repeated, his conductor advancing before him to ascertain its cause, as has already been described.
Now, such a thought as trying to escape had never once entered into Frank Mansfield's head.
Handcuffed as he stood, to attempt to run with any hope of distancing his pursuer would have been simple folly at best.
Moreover, such an action upon his part he knew perfectly well would only add to the appearance of guilt, quite strong enough against him as matters already stood.
The German policeman had advanced before him, and was peering up among the vines clustered about the top of the Trinity church-yard wall, when Frank, also looking about, perceived close by his side one of the great iron doors, of which there are several at this point set in the wall, opening to the tombs built beneath the bank which rose behind.
Now Frank had often noticed these doors, and as often had carelessly wondered what sort of looking places they might conceal.