then?" cried Frank contemptuously.

"The sentence is death."

"Bah! nonsense! But let me tell you this, that the sentence really is
death for him who, being the King's servant, turns traitor. Who stands
worse to-night, you or I?--Oh!" ejaculated the boy quickly, and with a
sharp ring of horror in his tones; "look there!"

The moon was shining brightly now, full upon the grim-looking old city
gateway, and Frank Gowan stood where he had stopped short, as if
paralysed by the sight before him.

"Yes, I know," said Andrew coolly, as he looked up; "I have seen them
before. Traitors' heads."

CHAPTER NINE.

FRANK HAS A BAD NIGHT.

"I wish I had a better head," sighed Frank, as he lay in bed that night;
"it seems to get thicker and thicker, and as if every time I tried to
think out what is the best thing to do it got everything in a knot."

He turned over, and lay hot and uncomfortable for a few minutes, and
then perhaps for the hundredth time he turned over again, found his
pillow comfortless, and jumped up into a sitting position, to punch and
bang it about for some minutes, before returning it to its place, lying
down, and finding it as bad as ever.

"It's of no use," he groaned; "I shall never get a wink of sleep
to-night. I wish I could get up and dress, and go for a walk out there
in the cool by the side of the water; but as soon as I got outside I
should be challenged by the guard. I don't know the password, and I
should be arrested and marched off to the guardroom. Even if I could
get down there by the canal, I should feel no better, for I should be
thinking of nothing else but feeding the ducks."

This thought made him twist and writhe in the bed to such an extent that
the clothes refused to submit to the rough treatment, and glided off to
seek peace and quietness upon the floor. The pleasant coolness was
gratifying for a few minutes; but the boy's love of order put an end to
his lying uncovered, and he sprang out of bed, dragged the truant
clothing back, remade his bed extremely badly, and once more lay down.

The occupation relieved him for a while, and he began to hope that he
would go to sleep; but the very fact of his endeavouring to lose
consciousness made him more wakeful, and he lay with wide-open eyes,
going over the events of the evening, till he got into a passion with
Andrew Forbes, with Mr George Selby, and most of all with himself.

"How could I be such an idiot as to go? I ough