"'Thank ye!'" cried the lieutenant, irritably; "what do you mean by that?"

"I mean, sir, that's what he is."

"Oh, pooh! he has not deserted."

"I don't know, sir," said Jerry, dubiously.

"Look here, Brigley: I don't often use bad language, but if you talk like that, confound you! I shall swear at you."

"I wish you would, sir," said Jerry.

"What?"

"I say I wish you would, sir. It would seem to do me good like, for I'm reg'larly upset about Smithson, sir."

"There, I beg your pardon, Brigley. I'm sorry I spoke so roughly."

"Oh, don't do that, sir. It don't matter. I don't want to think he's gone, sir, because it's 'ard--because he seemed to trust me a bit, and I don't like for him to have gone off without saying a word."

"Look here: you knew him before he joined?"

"Oh, yes, sir; I knew him."

"You were friends?"

"No, sir--not exactly friends, but I knew him."

"And--There! I don't want to pump you, Brigley, but I suppose he was in quite a different station of life, and got into some trouble, which made him leave home?"

"Beg pardon, sir; d.i.c.k Smithson made me swear as I'd keep my mouth shut about him, and I give him my word; and, all respeck to you, sir, I'm going to keep it; but I can't contradict what you said, sir, all the same."

"Well, it would be confoundedly ungentlemanly of me to be prying into anyone's affairs, Brigley, and I won't ask questions about him. I hope, though, he hasn't done anything so foolish as to desert, because, even if he is in the band, he is a soldier, and--I have heard nothing. Has it been reported?"

"Yes, sir; and Mr Wilkins is making a big stir about it. Never had a civil word for him, and used to sneer at his playing; but, now d.i.c.k's gone, he's going on as if he couldn't spare him at no price."

"How do you know--who told you?"

"The bombardon, sir."

"The what? Why don't you say the big drum?"

"Beg pardon, sir, I meant Sergeant Brumpton, the fa--stout musician, sir, as is practising for the band."

"Then they must be sending out notices to the police all over the place.

Tut--tut--tut! This is a great pity. I must ask you one thing, Brigley: has there anything happened that would make him likely to go?"

Jerry nodded his head over and over again.

"I'm sorry--very sorry; but perhaps we are making a stir about nothing, and he'll be back soon."

"Yes, sir, perhaps he will."

"But you don't expect to see him, eh?"

Jerry shook his head--this time violently--and no more was said, for the lieutenant had to finish dressing and go on parade.

A couple of hours later the young bandsman's disappearance was the talk of the barracks, and numerous were the reasons a.s.signed for it; while the customary notification was given, to the annoyance of d.i.c.k's friends and the gratification of his enemies, these consisting of the men who wished to be on good terms with the bandmaster.

But Jerry had his business to attend to; for, though Lieutenant Lacey was annoyed, he had invited friends for that evening, and the orders given had to be attended to. So the man went off into the town and bought the playing-cards, shaking his head as he walked back. "Don't seem much now for a pack of cards," he muttered, "but I'll be bound to say they'll cost the guv'nor a pretty penny. Wonder what he'd say to me if I told him the best thing he could do would be never to make another bet and never to touch a card again. I know--he'd kick me."

"Who would?" said someone at his elbow.

"Hallo! You! Mr Brumpton? Was I talking aloud?"

"Yes, quite aloud."

"Then it's a bad habit, sir. I say, has young Smithson come back?"

"No; I'm afraid he's gone, Brigley. There always was a bit of mystery about that young fellow. You had no idea that he was going off?"

"Not I, or I should have let out at him. I say, they won't call it desertion, will they, Mr Brumpton?"

"That's what they do call it; and, the worst of it is, he'll be punished."

"Won't the colonel let him off easy as--as he's a musician?"

"How can they let him off easy? Why, if they did, half the roughs of the regiment would be off at once."

"Ah! I didn't think of that," said Jerry, sadly. "But s'pose he comes back of himself?"

"He'll be punished, but not so severely."

"And s'pose he don't come back?"

"Don't suppose any confounded nonsense," said the fat sergeant, wiping his moist forehead. "I'd have given anything--sooner than it should have happened. There's that twopenny-fife of a man, Wilkins, squeaking about it all over the place. Hang him! I should like to punch his miserable little head, only my hands are so fat they'd feel like boxing-gloves to him. What do you think he said just now?"

"As he was glad Smithson had gone?"

"No; I'd have believed him for that. He never liked the lad, and it would only have been the honest truth. He said that it was a painful thing; but, under the circ.u.mstances, he should advise every man to examine his kit, and see that his instruments were all right."

"What did he mean by that?" cried Jerry.

"Mean! Why, for the men to see that the poor lad hadn't carried off anything that didn't belong to him."

"Well!" cried Jerry, fiercely, "of all! Here! I can't stand that!"

"Hold hard!" cried the fat sergeant, catching his arm. "Where are you going?"