"You
escape from Lille, just on the frontier, what on earth were you
doing down at Blois, a hundred miles south of Paris?"
Rupert paused again.
"I really cannot explain it, colonel. I shall make a point of
telling the duke, and if he considers that I acted wrongly, I must
bear his displeasure; but the matter is of no real importance, and
does not greatly concern my adventures. Forgive me, if I do not
feel justified in telling it. All the rest is plain sailing."
Again the narrative went on, and the surprise at hearing that
Rupert had been confined at Loches, well known as a prison for
dangerous political offenders, was only exceeded by that occasioned
by the incidents of his escape therefrom. Rupert carried on his
story to the point of the escape from the French, which they had
just witnessed.
There was a chorus of congratulations at his having gone safely
through such great dangers; and Dillon remarked:
"It appears to me that you have been wasting your time and your
gifts most amazingly. Here have you been absent just two years, and
with the exception of a paltry marauder you do not seem to have
slain a single Frenchman, till you broke that officer's skull
today.
"I think, my friends, that the least we can do is to pass a formal
vote of censure upon our comrade for such a grievous waste of his
natural advantages. The only thing in his favour is, that he seems
to have been giving up his whole attention to growing, and he has
got so prodigiously broad and big that now he has again joined us
he will be able to make up for the otherwise sinful loss of time.
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