t little morocco case. Then, as a weak sob once more
struggled for utterance, his breast swelled suddenly more and more, till
there was a long, hard lump down the left side beneath the
closely-buttoned jacket.

For, quick as lightning, the little case had been transferred to his
breast-pocket. It was his father's. He could not part from that.

The rest of the favourite objects lying around were quickly touched; and
then, there, in the middle of the room, the lad stood, feeling old and
careworn, opposite two relics which he felt would be honourably removed
from where they hung and sent away.

He could not see them--and yet he could, inwardly, in his mind's eye--
the gilded metal helmet and the sabre.

Then, as if performing some solemn act, the lad took a couple of steps
towards the wall, gently and reverently lifted down the helmet, pressed
his lips to the front, and put it back, to take down the sword and hold
the blade and scabbard to his breast as he kissed the hilt.

Saddened visions came trooping before his closed eyes in that darkness--
of himself: a man, a soldier, as his father had been, an officer leading
men against the enemies of his country; and at that, in his despair, he
uttered a low, piteous sigh, and hung the sword in its place.

He drew back then, uttering a sound like a moan, and opened his eyes
with a start; for a pale, bluish light was slowly filling the room--a
light that seemed ghastly to him and unreal.

But it was the dawn of another day, the most eventful of his life, and
he knew it was time to act.

There was one more thing to be done, and his action in this was
accompanied by a shudder.

But he was quite firm and determined now, for his mind was fully made
up. He had that to do first, and he would do it.

He was already at the door, hat in hand, when he recalled another little
thing, and, turning quickly back to the table, he sat down and wrote the
few lines to Jerry, folded them, and laid them near the loaf, from which
earlier in the night he had broken off a few fragments to allay the
gnawing hunger he had felt.

Now that was all, and, turning to the door once more, he paused for a
final look round at the shadowy room, where the only thing which stood
out clearly was the helmet, and this, seen in profile, seemed to assume
a stern and threatening aspect.

The next minute he was outside in the dark passage, listening; and then,
as all was still, he walked, firmly and quietly