window Geoffrey could see the red, white, and green tricolor in the
Tower yard. He inclined to think the King was dead.

Geoffrey had never been by conviction a Legitimist; hardly even had he
been one by affection. Dacre's magnetism, Dacre's nobility of purpose
had overcome his earlier judgment; for the one effort he had lent his
life to his friend, to stake on a cast of the die. Now that they had
fairly thrown and lost, he returned to his former judgment. But with the
cause that they had lost had gone his own future.

He did not care so much for this, since that last scene with Margaret
Windsor. What future was there for him now? Stone walls do not a prison
make; he might as well be here as penned up, useless, in his four acres
about the lodge at Ripon House. His friends--what friends had he? Dacre,
Sydney, Featherstone--they were walled up with him. And Geoffrey,
walking in the Tower yard, would look up to the scattered windows, and
wonder which of them was his friend's; and if he noticed a dull red
stain on the stones at the base of the wall, he thought it was some old
mark, dating from Cromwell or the Roses. Still, Geoffrey was a young
man, too young to have wholly learned to be a fatalist; but the more he
thought of escape, the more hopeless it seemed. With a confederate, a
friend outside, it might perhaps be possible. But what friend had he
left in the wide world? Geoffrey racked his memory to think of one.
There were some two hundred men he knew at his club in the West End--but
which one of these, who had not been at Aldershot, would leave his snug
rubber at whist for the Tower? There was Jawkins--if Jawkins could be
brought to think it worth his while. Mr. Windsor--the shrewd American
was with his daughter in America; and the daughter deemed him false, and
had forgotten him. False! There was Eleanor Carey; she had loved him;
would she not seek to save him? The woman whose maidenhood he had loved?
He had not heard of her since the night before Aldershot; but this was
rather a hopeful sign than otherwise. The more Geoffrey thought, the
more he felt assured that here was the one person in the world that
might be trusted to remember him.

So, when Geoffrey had been in prison some three weeks, and one day the
turnkey came and said that some one wished to see him, Geoffrey thought
of Mrs. Carey at once. His heart beat high with hope as he followed his
guide through a labyrinth of stairs and passages. He even forgot