"King," suggested the schoolmaster.
"King," repeated William, wondering why he had found it so difficult to say country, as he had intended. "I would die to save my brother's life, I think most honestly," went on the young Lieutenant. "I would that he was free, but I cannot, any more than you, connive at the escape of a prisoner who might bear important news to the enemy. There is nothing wrong in feigning to know naught of his existence, but to aid in his escape I could not. Therefore I told you, and left the matter in your hands, knowing your interest. You think not harshly of me? Pray think how you would feel were you in my position. I feel sometime as if I were not young at all, as if the separation from the brother who is in my heart had aged me far beyond my years, so deeply do I feel it."
"You said that you could trust me with his welfare. Now, prithee, what has brought the subject up in this new light?" asked Schoolmaster Anderson. "Remember that should it be known who he was, and the authorities should find out what a dangerous person had been amongst them, his life would not be worth the dregs in that wine-glass."
William shuddered. "There's a plot to aid in his escape."
"That I know well," returned the schoolmaster. "If it were frustrated and he kept safe, you would rejoice—hey?"
"'Twould be my duty," returned William.
"Have you aught against the calling of a spy?" inquired Schoolmaster Anderson.
William reflected. "If it were base to be one," he replied, "my brother George would have been far from it, that I promise you. A spy risks his life to serve his king—"
"Or country," put in Mr. Anderson. "Ay, he is usually a brave, fearless man, and should not be condemned. He can harm no one but his enemy."
"The stake he plays for is his life," continued William.