“If Colonel Baron does not return before we start—and he will not—would you, if possible, find him, and beg him to come at once to the citadel? Then, Mrs. Baron——”
Ivor’s set features yielded slightly; for the thought of Roy’s mother without her boy was hard to face. Lucille watched him with grieved eyes.
“I will tell her, but not everything—not yet as to Bitche, for that may be averted. I will stay with her—comfort her—do all that I am able. Is this what you would ask?”
“God bless you!” he said huskily, and she hurried away.
“Den, must I go with those fellows really?” asked Roy, beginning to understand what he had brought upon himself. “I never thought of that. Can’t you manage to get me off? Won’t they let me wait—till my father comes back?”
“They will consent to no delay. He will follow us soon. And, Roy, I must urge you to be careful what you say. Any word that you may let slip without thinking will be used against you. I hoped that you had learnt that lesson.”
A listener, overhearing Denham with the gendarmes, might have questioned whether he had learnt it himself; but Roy was in no condition of mind to be critical. Dismay grew in his face.
“And if you can’t get me off—— If I am sent to Bitche——” with widening gaze.
“If you are”—with much more of an effort than Roy could imagine—“then you will meet it like a man. Whatever comes, you must be brave and true through all. Keep up heart, and remember that it is only for a time. And, my boy, never let yourself say or do what you would be ashamed to tell your father.”
“Or—you”—with a catch of his breath.