rt with
clean hands. You'll be licked before you start.

"Of course, you're for the Allies. Well, all the Germans at home will
fear that; and when you want to lecture on your 'Fifteen Months at the
British Front,' they'll look up your record; and what will they do to
you? This is what they'll do to you. When you've shown 'em your moving
pictures and say, 'Does any gentleman in the audience want to ask a
question?' a German agent will get up and say, 'Yes, I want to ask a
question. Is it true that you deserted from the British army, and that
if you return to it, they will shoot you?'"

I was scared. I expected the lean and muscular Mr. Hamlin to fall on
Billy, and fling him where he had flung the soggy uniform. But instead
he remained motionless, his arms pressed across his chest. His eyes,
filled with anger and distress, returned to the Adriaticus.

"I'm sorry," muttered the Kid.

John rose and motioned to the door, and guiltily and only too gladly we
escaped. John followed us into the hall. "Let me talk to him," he
whispered. "The boat sails in an hour. Please don't come back until
she's gone."

We went to the moving picture palace next door, but I doubt if the
thoughts of any of us were on the pictures. For after an hour, when
from across the quay there came the long-drawn warning of a steamer's
whistle, we nudged each other and rose and went out.

Not a hundred yards from us the propeller blades of the Adriaticus were
slowly churning, and the rowboats were falling away from her sides.

"Good-bye, Mr. Hamlin," called Billy. "You had everything and you
chucked it away. I can spell your finish. It's 'check' for yours."

But when we entered our room, in the centre of it, under the bunch of
electric lights, stood the deserter. He wore the water-logged uniform.
The sun helmet was on his head.

"Good man!" shouted Billy.

He advanced, eagerly holding out his hand.

Mr. Hamlin brushed past him. At the door he turned and glared at us,
even at John. He was not a good loser. "I hope you're satisfied," he
snarled. He pointed at the four beds in a row. I felt guiltily
conscious of them. At the moment they appeared so unnecessarily clean
and warm and soft. The silk coverlets at the foot of each struck me as
being disgracefully effeminate. They made me ashamed.

"I hope," said Mr. Hamlin, speaking slowly and picking his words, "when
you turn into those beds to-night you'll think of me in the mud