“Eric, Eric,” cried Johnny, in agony of terror, “they can’t send us to prison. We haven’t done anything. We didn’t know the money was there, or the ring. O, what shall we do? Send for papa!”
Eric’s face was very white, and his hand trembled visibly, as he wrote his uncle’s address on a card, and requested the landlord to send for him.
Count D’Orsay wished them to be at once conducted to prison: but this the landlord would not allow, and the officer declared was unnecessarily severe. They might remain in their room, with a guard, and the landlord would be responsible for their remaining.
As soon as the detestable Frenchman had gone, Johnny threw himself at full length upon the floor, crying violently. Eric could not comfort him, but sat at the window, with a proud, defiant face and swelling heart.
Presently the kind landlord came again to them.
He had sent word by telegraph to Johnny’s father, and received a return message. Mr. Van Rasseulger would be with them by night.
This was comforting. And gradually the boys thought less and less of their trouble, and became quite interested in making conjectures with the landlord as to when and how the money and jewels came into their room, and if Froll’s disappearance could be owing to the same cause, or in any way connected with it, and if she would probably return at night.
“It’s an ill wind that blows nobody good,” said Eric; “and perhaps, by being detained here, we shall find her.”
Eric and the French Count.—Page 143.