"What do you?" replied Jerry.

"That it looks as if he meant to come back."

"Yes," said Jerry, mysteriously; "it do look like that. Are they trying to find him?"

"Of course, they are trying their best. They won't stop till they have."

"But ain't it making a deal o' fuss about one chap, and him not a reg'lar fighting man?"

"'Tisn't that," said the sergeant; "it's the principle of the thing.

They wouldn't care about losing one man or a dozen; it's keeping up the discipline. Young Smithson 'll be caught, and he'll be pretty severely punished, poor lad. I rather liked Smithson."

"Liked him!" said Jerry, acidly; "why, of course, you did. Why, I like him--even me, who don't make many friends--I can tell you. You think, then, they might ketch him?"

"I do," said the sergeant, "sooner or later. They're sure to. Well, I must be off. I've got my own troubles to think about without his."

"Good-bye, sergeant," said Jerry, with a friendly nod, and Brumpton went on, while Jerry's whole expression changed. His eyes glittered, the colour came in his face, and he thrust his hands in his pockets as far down as he could get them.

"He wouldn't have gone off without telling me, pore chap! I'm sure of it. It was master and man between us, and full confidence, as you may say. He wouldn't desert--he's too much the gentleman--and he wouldn't go to see lawyers without speaking first. As to his going away, that settles it. He wouldn't leave them flutes if he were making a bolt.

Why, he didn't when he ran away before. That settles it, and no mistake. Jerry Brigley, my lad, there's something wrong."

What was to be done?

That was a question Jerry could not answer, and he went about the barracks talking with the men, asking who had seen d.i.c.k last, and gleaning all about his leave, and that one of the band had seen him going down the High Street that same afternoon.

Waiting till Wilkins was away, Jerry made his way to the band-room, where he obtained confirmation of the sergeant's remarks about the flute-case, and here he began to drop dark hints of the vaguest nature.

These, however, fell upon fertile soil, and struck root, and shot up into plants at a very rapid rate. In other words, Jerry's hints became solid, and from the band-room went forth the rumour that d.i.c.k Smithson had gone down the town, been persuaded to enter one of the low-cla.s.s public-houses, and had there been robbed and ill-used.

Then a private in Lacey's company announced that he had had a similar experience down by the docks, and said that if he had not fought like a savage he would have lost his life.

News flies fast in a regiment where the men have so little out of the routine to attract their attention, and, consequently, it was soon the common talk of the barracks that d.i.c.k Smithson, of the band, had been "done to death" somewhere in the lower part of the city.

That night the rumour reached the mess-room. One of the officers had heard it, and in a few minutes it was the sole topic of conversation.

Men talked of the first time they had seen d.i.c.k Smithson, and reminded one another of his playing and the strange way in which he had joined the regiment.

At last, as the band finished one of the pieces in the evening's programme, the colonel, after a few words with the doctor, sent his servant to tell Wilkins to come to the table; and, upon the bandmaster appearing, the doctor addressed him in a serious tone, but with a humorous twinkle of the eye.

"Is this true, Wilkins?" he said.

"I beg pardon, sir, is what true?"

"That in a fit of jealousy you have tried to pitch young Smithson into the river, to be carried out to sea or to one of Her Majesty's ships, to form the nucleus of a new band?"

"Not a word of truth in it, sir, I a.s.sure you. Really I--"

"Stop a moment, man! You were exceedingly jealous of him."

"Really no, sir. I only did what I thought was right to keep the boy from growing too conceited."

"Well, of course, pitching him into the river would have that effect; but it strikes me that it will get you into difficulties."

"Really, sir--I a.s.sure you, sir, if it was the last word I had to utter, sir--I didn't do anything of the kind."

"Of course not, Wilkins," said the colonel, quietly; "the doctor is only quizzing you. I cannot believe that you would be guilty of such a dastardly act. But do you think anything of the kind has happened?"

"No, sir; I don't think such a thing could have taken place."

"I hope not; but you have heard the rumour?"

"Yes, sir; the men are talking about nothing else."

"One moment," cried the colonel; "you have seen a great deal of the young man. Do you think he was likely to get into bad company?"

"That he wasn't, sir!" cried someone excitedly; and Jerry advanced from where he had been waiting upon his master, and now stood close to the colonel, gesticulating with an empty claret bottle in his hand.

"Silence, sir!" cried the colonel; "how dare you speak!"

"Beg pardon, sir; I felt abound to speak because I know d.i.c.k Smithson isn't at all likely to go to any low places."

The colonel frowned; but he said no more, and Jerry was allowed to go back to his place.

That night the superintendent of police was summoned to the barracks, and had a long talk with the colonel and major.

"No, gentlemen, I don't think it is at all likely. They get down to the rougher houses, and drink and stay a day or two; but the landlords get rid of them as soon as they have spent all their money. But, as you've sent for me, I'll set a couple of our sharpest men to go from house to house, and then report to you."

The superintendent left to perform his mission, and orders were given to the military provosts; but another day pa.s.sed away, and neither civil nor military police had anything to report. No one had seen the young bandsman on his way to some distant railway station, and men began to shake their heads, while Jerry's face looked hollow from anxiety. At the same time, though, he felt a kind of pride in the fact that he was constantly being questioned by those who knew that he and d.i.c.k had been on friendly terms, this culminating in his being stopped one day in the street by a couple of ladies.

"You are Mr Lacey's servant, are you not?" said the younger.

"Yes, ma'am--oh, I beg your pardon, miss. I didn't know you behind your veil."

"Has anything been heard of Smithson?"

"No, ma'am. I'm sorry to say that--"

There was a sigh, and the lady turned away, followed by her companion.

"Well," said Jerry, "she might have stopped to hear all I had to say.

My word, now people have got to like him! Even her. Well, he saved her life. What can have come to him? I daren't go and say all I think, for, after all, it mayn't be true. I know: I'll wait a week, and then, right or wrong, I'll speak; for I can't keep his secret longer than that."

CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN.

THE COWARD'S BLOW.

Fully determined that there must be no scandal, d.i.c.k resolved to await his opportunity, and then confront his cousin, to demand of him that he should quickly vacate his position; and, to this end, he watched for a chance to meet him somewhere quite alone. But he very soon became aware of the fact that not only had Mark recognised, but avoided, him, till one day, when idling along about a couple of miles from the town, there was Mark ahead, going on in front, as if inviting him to follow, and leading him on right away.