d.i.c.k was silent for a few moments, and then said between his teeth--

"No, Jerry. Mr Lacey--if my cousin is a scoundrel--must find it out for himself."

"But that seems hard," said Jerry.

"It will be hard for Mark Frayne if there's anything wrong. Mr Lacey is not such a--"

"Fool as he looks? that was what you was going to say. Well, I'm glad o' that."

And Jerry soon after took his leave, telling d.i.c.k not to be downhearted, for things would come right.

"Yes," muttered Jerry, "and the guv'nor jolly soon will find out about Mr Mark. If I was him, I'd lock up my money--and my young lady, too."

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.

d.i.c.k PIPES--HIS COUSIN DANCES.

A loud cough, the twinkling of Mr Wilkins' spectacles, and a peculiar clearing of the voice, which made Sergeant Brumpton, who had been hard at work making ominous sounds on the bombardon, turn his head and smile at d.i.c.k--then standing in his place waiting to begin--and making him lower his head to examine the music; for, if he had smiled there, just in front of the bandmaster, it must have been seen, and taken as an insult.

"I have just received a communication from the colonel," said Mr Wilkins. "We are to have a ball at the mess-room, and the 310th are coming. I shall have a few picked men from their band to make up, but, of course, ours will take the lead. Let me see: Granger, you'll get out your double-ba.s.s; Robson and Dean, violins; Boston, cornet--you lead clarionet and hautboy; Brown, ba.s.soon. I suppose we must have you, Smithson--one flute will be enough. The 310th will furnish two violins and a 'cello. That ought to make a strong band."

The men who did not play stringed instruments, or such as were suitable for a ball-room, looked disappointed; and Sergeant Brumpton, as he sat with his huge instrument between his legs, looked down into its great bra.s.s bell-mouth and sighed.

That was news which set d.i.c.k's heart beating. The officers of the 310th would be there; he would be in the orchestra, and his cousin would be constantly coming close by where he was playing.

And d.i.c.k thought about their last meeting and the contemptuous, haughty way in which Mark had gazed in his eyes.

"Could he have recognised me," thought d.i.c.k; "or was it his manner only?"

There was a strange fascination in the idea of meeting Mark that was almost magnetic; but, at the same time, it was accompanied by a feeling akin to shrinking, which for the moment d.i.c.k cast aside as best he could.

He had no occasion to fear the encounter, he told himself; and from that moment he waited patiently for the evening.

There was plenty to do previously, for Wilkins insisted upon several band practices of the dance-music, greatly to the disgust of the better musicians, who were ready to play the pieces at sight.

Then the evening came. The mess-man had done his best; a tent-maker had come down from town to build a canvas hall, draped red and white; and a local man had fitted the marquee with gas and floor complete for a supper-room. Tempting refreshments were provided, and a nurseryman had contrived a natural garden here and there, not forgetting to make a cosy nest for the band. The officers of the two regiments meant to do the thing well, cost what it might, and the invitations had been looked upon as prizes for miles round.

There was an hour to wait before the first guests were likely to arrive, and d.i.c.k sat in the band-room low-spirited and dreamy; for the festivity seemed a trouble now, and he would have given anything to have been able to keep away.

Naturally, his princ.i.p.al thought was his cousin, but he more than once asked himself why he should trouble about Mark; for, possibly, he might not come, and, even if he did, they were not in the least likely to come face to face.

Still, the idea would return; and he was at his moodiest when the door opened and a familiar voice said:

"Ah! there you are."

"Jerry!"

"Jerry it is, d.i.c.k Smithson. I say, do go and have a look at him."

"At him?"

"Yes, the lieutenant; I've made a picture of him. New uniform fresh from the tailor's; I've shampooed him and brushed him, and scented him till he smells like a bed of flowers, and he's all in a nervous flutter as he sits there, afraid to smoke or do anything before the company come. Can't you go up and have a look?"

"No, Jerry; I should be disposed to laugh."

"That you would. I had hard work to keep from it myself; but he isn't to be laughed at either, for, without any gammon, he's the finest fellow I ever saw, and a real gentleman as well."

"Yes; I like him," said d.i.c.k, quietly.

"Three pairs of white kid gloves in his pockets and three scented handkerchiefs. He's got a b.u.t.tonhole on; and I've got three more in water, to have ready for him during the evening. I'm to be waiting for him when he wants a fresh one. I say, d.i.c.k Smithson, there's going to be a special lady here to-night, I know."

"Very likely, Jerry. Such a man as he is will, of course, have someone he admires."

"Then you won't go and see him?"

d.i.c.k shook his head.

"He'd like it. He didn't say so; but he told me to be sure that you had plenty of refreshment. I'm to look after you. He said you'd have lots of work; so that you ought to be looked after."

"It's very kind of him," said d.i.c.k, with his eyes brightening at the idea of his having made a friend.

"And I shan't forget to attend to his orders. I say, go over to his quarters."

"What for? I've no excuse for going."

"Oh, yes; you have. He's on the committee. Go and ask him if he has any orders to give about the music."

"I am not the bandmaster, Jerry; but I will go. There's just time before going to the ball-room."

"That's right; I like pleasing anyone who behaves well to you."

There was none too much time, but d.i.c.k had only to walk into the orchestra with his flute-case under his arm; so, hurrying away, he ran across the barrack yard, entered the officers' quarters unquestioned, and made his way to the first floor.

"Come in!" came, in a gruff voice, in answer to a modest tap. "That you, Brigley?"

"No, sir; I came to see if you wished to send any message to Mr Wilkins about the music."

"Bother Wilkins!" growled the lieutenant. "I believe he'll make a muddle of it all. Can't you conduct, Smithson?"

"I, sir? Oh, no. I think it will go all right."

"I'm doubtful; but, look here--I want the music to be well-marked, and, if it's going wrong, you get the other fellows to help you. Keep it all well going."

"I will, sir."

"I've told Brigley to see that you chaps have plenty of supper and what you want to drink. I say, Smithson--"