It was in the hospital by the invalid's side.
"Don't you look like that!" said Jerry. "I know how it is! You're
getting better, and are able to think more. When you were ten times as
bad, you never used to look so down and say you would never get right
again!"
Jerry looked at Brumpton as he delivered himself of this oracular
speech, and the fat sergeant declared that he was right; but Dick did
not believe either of them.
"I've got some news for you, too."
"Look here," said Brumpton. "I must be off. Stop with him as long as
you can, Jerry Brigley.--I say, why don't you have your flute, and
practise a bit?"
Dick looked up from the easy-chair in which he lay back, and his eyes
brightened; but they turned dull again, and he shook his head.
As soon as the sergeant had gone, Dick spoke.
"What is your news?" he said, feebly.
"Shan't tell you, if you don't pluck up a bit! You ought to be well by
now. Why, it is a whole blessed month since that unlucky night, and
here have you been bad ever since with burning and fever; and it's been
a wonder to me as nobody understood what you were talking about. You
let the cat out of the bag lots of times, but I was the only one as
understood the connundydrum."
"Tell me your news," said Dick, wearily.
Jerry picked up a bouquet standing in water, sniffed it, and set it down
again, watching the patient furtively as he went on ignoring the
question.
"Here was Mr Lacey knocked up for a few days after his singeing, and
gets right again, though his head of 'air is still orful to be'old; and
it's on'y by cutting the other side so short as to make something like a
match to the singed-off side where he was burnt that I made him able to
go out when he got better. Soldiers do wear their hair pretty close,
but his head looked quite indecent; and, as for his starshers, they're
like a bit o' black toothbrush worn stumpy."
"You said that you had some news," said Dick, angrily.
"And then there's him as ought to ha' been the worst of all you three.
He got burnt a deal, but it was mostly about the clothes. The padding
in his uniform seemed to save him. I say--what are you going to do with
yourself to-day?"
"Nothing."
"Let me give you a shampoo and a touch up."
Dick shook his head impatiently, and lay back, a shadow of his former
self.
"You'd better!"
"Don't worry me, Jerry! You said you had some news."
"It's a letter," said the man, looking at him curiously.
"A letter?" cried Dick, starting; but the interest he took was only
momentary, and his eyes half-closed again.
"Yes, a letter. I've had it two days, and didn't like to give it to you
before."
"Why not?"
Jerry took a note from his breast, and held it so that the invalid could
see first that it was not addressed, the envelope being blank; and then,
slowly turning it round, so that Dick could see a crest stamped in
colours upon the back.
That had its effect, for a flush came into the invalid's hollow cheeks,
and he glared at Jerry.
"Where did you get that?" he cried.
"He give it me."
"Well?"
"To give to you. I see him the day before yesterday, and he told me to
come to his rooms, and asked me about the bandsman whom the fellows said
saved three people, and what your name might be. Then he asked if it
was you who pulled him out, and I said it was, feeling quite queer the
while; for it seemed so strange that you should have saved his life
after all as took place. Then he set down at his table, looking not a
bit the worse, asked how you spell your name, and I told him Richard
Smithson, and he wrote this and sent it by me."
"Do you know what's in it?"
Jerry nodded.
"Then he recognised me?"
"No--he don't even know that he ever see you."
"But he seemed to know me at the ball."
"Oh, no! he didn't know you. He thinks you're dead as dead."
"But you say you know what is in that note?"
"Oh, yes!"
"You've read it?"
"Not that."
"What do you mean?"
Jerry took a closely-folded newspaper from his pocket.
"_Ratcham, Dolchester, and Froude Magnet_, sir--Richard Smithson," he
read, and then doubling it closely, held it out, pointing to a
paragraph.
"My eyes swim. I don't understand what you mean, Jerry."
"Shall I read it, sir?"
"Yes."