en in the Government
Heavy Ordnance Department. But I'll speak to him tonight. I'll talk him
round. See if I don't. And you must speak to your own governor. Robert
here will back you up. And here are the ports and the dates that we are
due at each. Mind that you have a letter waiting for me at every one."

He took a slip of paper from the side pocket of his coat, but, instead
of handing it to the young lady, he remained staring at it with the
utmost astonishment upon his face.

"Well, I never!" he exclaimed. "Look here, Robert; what do you call
this?"

"Hold it to the light. Why, it's a fifty-pound Bank of England note.
Nothing remarkable about it that I can see."

"On the contrary. It's the queerest thing that ever happened to me. I
can't make head or tail of it."

"Come, then, Hector," cried Miss McIntyre with a challenge in her eyes.
"Something very queer happened to me also to-day. I'll bet a pair of
gloves that my adventure was more out of the common than yours, though I
have nothing so nice to show at the end of it."

"Come, I'll take that, and Robert here shall be the judge."

"State your cases." The young artist shut up his sketch-book, and rested
his head upon his hands with a face of mock solemnity. "Ladies first! Go
along Laura, though I think I know something of your adventure already."

"It was this morning, Hector," she said. "Oh, by the way, the story will
make you wild. I had forgotten that. However, you mustn't mind, because,
really, the poor fellow was perfectly mad."

"What on earth was it?" asked the young officer, his eyes travelling
from the bank-note to his _fiancee_.

"Oh, it was harmless enough, and yet you will confess it was very queer.
I had gone out for a walk, but as the snow began to fall I took shelter
under the shed which the workmen have built at the near end of the great
new house. The men have gone, you know, and the owner is supposed to be
coming to-morrow, but the shed is still standing. I was sitting there
upon a packing-case when a man came down the road and stopped under the
same shelter. He was a quiet, pale-faced man, very tall and thin, not
much more than thirty, I should think, poorly dressed, but with the look
and bearing of a gentleman. He asked me one or two questions about the
village and the people, which, of course, I answered, until at last we
found ourselves chatting away in the pleasantest and easiest fashion
about all sorts of things. The time passed so q