see him again, but I do honestly believe he will turn up some
time or other."

"I begin to hope he will," Rupert said. "At first I did not think so for
a moment; but now I have had time to look at it calmly I think that
there is a chance of his getting off some day; besides, when we are once
at Khartoum and have scattered the Mahdi's army, I have no doubt General
Gordon will send orders through the land for all Egyptian and European
slaves to be brought in. You know it is still hoped that some of Hicks'
officers may be alive, and there is such a feeling for Gordon throughout
the country that his orders will be sure to be obeyed."

"That is right, Clinton," Easton said; "that is the view I take of it
myself, and I am very glad to see that you have come to see it in that
light. And now will you tell us what there was in that letter that gave
us the news of your brother's being out here. How came the sergeant to
write to you? How did he know you were his brother? It seems an
unaccountable business all through."

"I have not looked at the letter since," Rupert said. "It would have
been very important if it had not been for Edgar's loss. As it is, it
does not seem to matter one way or the other. Still, as you say, it is
very singular altogether its coming into my hands;" and he took out the
letter. It began: "Sir, two days ago I was with the trumpeter of my
troop when you passed by with two other officers. One of them called
you Clinton, and as I had an interest in the name it attracted my
attention, and I found that it also attracted the attention of the young
fellow with me. I questioned him, and he acknowledged that he had been
to school with you and the two officers with you."

"Good heavens!" Skinner broke in; "to think that we three should have
passed close to your brother and that none of us should have recognized
him! How awfully unfortunate!"

"It is terrible to think of now," Rupert agreed, and then continued
reading the letter: "I then told Smith, which is the name the trumpeter
went by, that my interest in you consisted of the fact that for aught I
knew I was your father. He exclaimed, that in that case it was probable
that I was his father, as he had been brought up with you. He then told
me how he came to enlist, namely, that my wife, whom I have not seen
since she left India, and who was, I thought, dead long ago, had been to
him and had told him all about the change of infants, and said that she
had done