That night, after the mess dinner, Jerry, when seeing about the coffee
for his master, had a note given to him to take into the room, and this
he handed to the lieutenant, who flushed a little as he recognised the
hand, and, disregarding the smiles of those nearest to him, he read,
hastily written:--
"Pray come at once! Aunt and I were out driving, and we found poor
Smithson. We brought him here. He is wounded, and dying. I know no
more."
"Anna."
The lieutenant sprang up excitedly, and strode to the colonel's side,
giving him the note to read.
"Poor boy!" cried the colonel. "Then he did not desert. I'm glad of
that. Doctor, Smithson is found. He is, it seems, badly hurt."
"Bless my soul!" cried the doctor.
"Yes. Will you go on with Lacey at once, and--My good fellow, are you
mad?"
"Yes, sir, a'most," cried Jerry, whose appearance and action justified
the colonel's question, for he had suddenly seized the old officer's arm
and made a snatch at the note.
"Stand back, sir! Leave the room at once! Here, turn this scoundrel
out."
"Keep off, or I'll do you a mischief," roared Jerry, as two of the men
sprang at him, and they shrank from his menacing gesture. "Here, Mr
Lacey, Colonel, I want to know--I will know--if S'Richard's hurt--"
"Sir Richard! The man's drunk," cried the colonel.
"No, I ain't; but it's enough to make me," roared Jerry. "I am drunk
now with what you gents call indignation. If S'Richard's hurt, it's
foul play, and it's that black-hearted, cheating, gambling hound as done
it. Keep back!--d'yer hear? It's all over now. It's the cat out of
the bag, and no mistake!"
"One moment, colonel," cried Lacey firmly. "Brigley never drinks.--Look
here, my man, you said foul play. Do you know who was likely to injure
Smithson?"
"Smithson!" cried Jerry in contemptuous tones. "I don't care; I will
speak now. Smithson--do I know? Yes, sir, I do; and I ought to have
spoke before, when he was missing first."
"Then speak out," said Lacey, and the angry frown upon the colonel's
face began to change to a look of interest. "Who is the scoundrel that
had a grudge against Smithson?"
"Tell you he ain't no Smithson!" roared Jerry, bringing his fist down
upon the table and making the glasses jump and one fall to the floor
with a crash. "He made me swear I wouldn't speak; but I will now. He's
no Smithson. He's Sir Richard Frayne, Baronet, and the man as hurt him
is his black-hearted cousin Mark, as calls himself `Sir.' Him of the
310th."
"Stop, my man," cried the colonel. "This is a terribly serious charge
to make against an officer and a gentleman."
"Officer!" cried Jerry, who was boiling over with hysterical excitement;
"he deserves to have his uniform stripped off his back. Gentleman! as
borrowed money on bills, and forged Sir Richard's name; said he didn't;
and made the poor feller go off, leave everything, and come here and
'list."
"You are too excited, my man," said the colonel. "If all this is
true--"
"True, sir? Bring me face to face with him--no: don't; for if he's
killed that poor dear lad, I shall be hung for him as sure as I'm a
man."
"Brigley," said the colonel, "you will be brought face to face with Sir
Mark--"
"Mark--no _Sir_," cried Jerry hotly.
"Silence, man. You will be brought face to face with the officer you
accuse. Meanwhile, you do not leave the barracks. You are under
arrest."
"No, sir; pray, sir--Colonel, don't say that. Let me go and see him,"
cried Jerry, with the tears now streaming down his cheeks. "Mr Lacey,
sir, say a word for me to the colonel. I must go to Sir Richard. If
you shut me up--I can't help it, even if you shoot me for it--I shall
desert."
"Silence, sir!"
"I beg pardon, sir," said Lacey; "the man is over-excited. I will be
answerable for him, if you will let him come with me."
The colonel nodded his consent.
"What he says is true," continued Lacey, flushing now. "It must be.
There have been so many things to prove that Smithson--"
"S'Richard, sir," cried Jerry.
"Well, that the young man we are going to see is a gentleman. I believe
it all, Colonel; for, to my sorrow, I know Mark Frayne is little better
than a sharper and a cheat."
"Mind what you are saying, Mr Lacey," cried the colonel sternly.
"I can prove my words, sir," said Lacey firmly.
"Go on, and see what is the matter," said the colonel. "Gentlemen, will
you excuse me? Major, will you come to my quarters? I should like a
word."
Lacey, the doctor, and Jerry went off at once, and ten minutes later
they were at the bedside of Richard Frayne, who was slowly recovering
after the young doctor's bandaging, and was talking wildly, but with
sufficient coherence about the scene among the hops to let his hearers
grasp the fact that this was no attempt at suicide, but a would-be
murderer's deed.
The colonel and major left the barracks some time later, and were driven
up to the quarters of the colonel of the 310th, who looked surprised at
the visit, but said _en passant_--
"I have just heard that your missing bandsman has been found. Suicide,
I suppose?"
"Or attempted murder!" said the colonel gravely. "We have come about
that."
He related what had taken place, and the colonel of the 310th smiled.
"I have heard of romances," he said quietly. "Excuse me."