n
discovered by his comrades, and now, for the honour of the Royal
Blankshire, those standing near him insisted that he should sing.
Before he knew it, he was pushed forward, and hoisted on to the
platform. There was no chance of retreat. He glanced round the sea of
faces glowing brightly in the firelight, and after a moment's thought
as to what would be likely to go down best, he struck up his old song,
"The Mermaid."

"Oh! 'twas in the broad Atlantic, 'mid the equinoctial gales,
That a gay young tar fell overboard, among the sharks and whales."

The great crowd of listeners burst out into the "Rule, Britannia!"
chorus with a mighty roar. But our hero heeded them not; his thoughts
had suddenly gone back to the little parlour at the back of "Duster's"
shop; his eyes wandered anxiously over the faces of the officers who
were grouped together in front of the stage, but Valentine did not
appear to be among them.

An uproarious repetition of the last "Rule, Britannia!" was still in
progress as Jack rejoined the Blankshire contingent, and submitted his
back to a number of congratulatory slaps.

These signs of approval were still being showered down upon him, when
Sergeant Sparks touched his elbow.

"Here's an officer wants to speak to you, Fenleigh. There he is,
standing over by that tree."

With his heart in his mouth, the singer stepped out of the crush, and
approached the figure standing by itself under the heavy shadow of the
palm.

"Jack!"

The private soldier made no reply, but raised his hand in the customary
salute. The action was simple enough, and yet full of meaning, showing
the altered relationship between the two old friends.

"Why, man, didn't you tell us where you were? and what had become of
you?"

"There was no need; and, besides, I didn't wish you to know, sir?"

"Surely you are not still offended over what happened that summer at
Brenlands? You must have known that we, none of us, suspected you for
a moment of having stolen that watch. It was only a cad like Raymond
Fosberton would ever have thought of suggesting such a thing."

"Appearances were very much against me, sir--and--well, it's all past
and done with now."

Valentine was silent. That "sir," so familiar to his ear, and yet
seemingly so incongruous in the present instance, baffled him
completely. In the first moment of his discovery he had intended,
figuratively speaking, to fall upon the prodigal's neck, and convers