arn the dear
old dad. No, that wouldn't do, because he would at once settle that it
was your doing, and then--well, I should have signed your death-warrant,
Franky. It would be all over with us both, and pretty soon. You first,
though, for our people wouldn't stop for a trial. I say: feel afraid?
Somehow I don't. Perhaps that will come later on. Sure to, I suppose;
for it must be very horrible to have to die when one is so young, and
with so many things to do. Going?"

"Yes," said Frank gravely, as he turned away.

"Good-bye, then. Perhaps we shan't see each other again."

A peculiar thrill ran through Frank, and his heart gave one great throb.
But he did not turn round. He went out of the room, to go somewhere to
be alone--to try to think quietly out what he ought to do, and to solve
the problem which would have been a hard one for a much older head,
though at that moment it seemed to the boy as if he had suddenly grown
very old, and that the present was separated from his happy boyish days
by a tremendous space.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

ANOTHER INVITATION.

Several days passed, and at each fresh meeting Andrew Forbes looked at
his fellow-page inquiringly, as if asking whether he had spoken out yet;
but the lad's manner was sufficient to show that he had not, though
Frank was very cool and distant when they were alone.

Then Andrew began to banter his companion.

"Head's all right yet," he said one morning, laughing; and he gave it a
slow twirl round like a ball in a socket. "Feels a bit loose sometimes;
not at all a pleasant sensation. You're all right still, I see. Felt a
bit nervous about you, though, once or twice."

Frank frowned slightly; but Andrew went on.

"I noticed one of us trying the point of his sword; and twice over after
dark I saw men watching this window, and that made me think that you
must have spoken, especially as I saw Lady--well, never mind names--
examining something she had drawn out of the bosom of her dress. She
slipped it back as soon as she saw me, but I feel certain that it was a
sort of bodkin or stiletto. `That's meant for poor Frank,' I said to
myself; for, you know, in history women have often done work of that
kind. But, there, you don't seem to have any holes in you; so I suppose
you are all right for the present."

"How can you joke about so serious a matter?" cried Frank.

"Because I want to put an end to this miserable pique between us," cried
Andrew wa