Jerry had suddenly turned ghastly, reeled, and caught at the lamp-post close at hand.

"Hush! Quiet!" cried d.i.c.k, in an excited whisper. "Don't make a scene!"

"S'Richard!" gasped Jerry.

"Silence, man! Here, come down the next street," whispered d.i.c.k, thrusting his arm beneath the other's to lead him into a less crowded thoroughfare; but Jerry started from him violently.

"Don't--don't touch me!" he gasped.

"Quiet, man!" said d.i.c.k, gripping him tightly. "That doesn't feel like a ghost?"

"Oh, lor'!" groaned Jerry, with the great drops of cold perspiration crowding upon his brow. "But--but I see you drownd yourself before my very eyes!"

"No, you did not, or I shouldn't be standing here now!"

"But--but--oh, lor'!" groaned Jerry, with his voice growing faint and piteous, "is--is it really you S'Rich--?"

"Silence! I'm d.i.c.k Smithson, now!" cried the young man fiercely.

"But you was S'Richard," groaned Jerry, "before you come to life again!"

"What nonsense are you talking now?"

"Only the truth, sir. Why--why--oh, dear! can we get a drop o' brandy?"

"Come in here," said d.i.c.k, seeing how bad the man looked, and he led him into a tavern which, oddly enough, it being a garrison town, stood near.

The next minute they were seated alone in the parlour, and Jerry guardedly stretched out his hand to touch d.i.c.k's knee.

"Well!" said the young man, "does it feel real?"

"Yes; but I see you drownd yourself before my very eyes, S'Rich--"

"Silence, man!"

"But I did," said Jerry, plaintively; "and we sat upon you at the inquest."

"What!"

"Didn't I see you, my poor, dear lad, all stripped and torn by beating about in the river-bed with stones and old trees; and didn't I go and drop a tear or two on your coffin?"

"Jerry!"

"I did the day as you was buried, though things was that bad I had to sell my watch to pay my fare."

"Here, quick! Tell me," cried d.i.c.k, whose turn it was to be staggered now, "you--you--they--they did all this?"

"To be sure they did; and you're as dead as a door-nail, sir. I see it all myself. Oh, my lad! how could you--how could you go and drownd yourself like that?"

"I--go to drown myself! Nonsense!" cried d.i.c.k. Then, as the truth flashed upon him: "Why, Jerry, it was that poor boy with the sheep--the boy I tried to save."

"No; it was you, sir--I followed you, and got there just too late."

"You did!"

"Yes, sir, I did."

"But you don't understand, Jerry."

"No. I don't; and that's the worst of it, sir," cried Jerry, piteously.

"You was buried, for I followed yer; so how can you be here now a-talking to me?"

"But don't you see?"

"Yes, I do now. You got to know all about it, and you're an impostor; that's what you are!"

"Oh, Jerry, you always were a fool!" cried d.i.c.k, angrily. "Don't you see that it was the poor fellow they found--the drowning boy I tried to save?"

"Then you didn't try to drown yourself, sir?"

"Drown myself! Was I likely to do such a thing? Wasn't it enough that I ran away, like the cowardly fool I was?"

"Then you ain't never been dead at all, then, sir?"

"Absurd!"

"And they buried the wrong man?"

"Good Heavens! what a position, Jerry! Yes," cried d.i.c.k, startled now by the complications rising before his eyes.

"And you really are alive and hearty, and--how you've growed, and--and-- why, of course, it is! Pay you back the money--S'Richard, why I'd--oh, my lad, my lad--I--I--I--oh, what a fool I am!"

Fool or no, Jerry Brigley broke down, and sat holding on by his companion's hands sobbing for some moments before he uttered a loud gulp, and then seemed relieved.

Meanwhile d.i.c.k sat staring straight before him, almost unconscious of poor Jerry's acts. The revelation he had heard was paralysing. It was horrible to think of; and, moment by moment, he began to realise how difficult it would be to convince people of his ident.i.ty when he went back to claim his own.

He had just come to the conclusion that there must be an end to his masquerading now, when Jerry recovered himself sufficiently to demand a full account of how he had escaped from the flood.

This had to be given, and then d.i.c.k cried bitterly--

"Then my cousin did not die, after all?"

"Him? Die? Not, he, sir. He wouldn't, die a bit. He allus was a base deceiver of a fellow--beggin' your pardon, sir."

"And I frightened myself into that folly for nothing!"

"Well, he was bad, sir, certainly; and the doctors thought so, too. But he allus falls on his feet, sir. I don't. Nice mess I made of it, sir!"

"Ah! How came you to enlist, Jerry?" said d.i.c.k, forcing himself to take some interest in his old servant.