sions a man hasn't to put on a cavalier's wig
and look like a goat out for a holiday. Well, as I was saying, at this
particular dance _it_ happened. It was daybreak when we started to
drive home; a perfect midsummer morning, sun shining, dew on the hedges,
and the birds singing fit to split themselves. Felicia and I had a lot
to say to each other, naturally; and it occurred to us to stop the
carriage at the gates and send it on while we walked up to the house
together. We took the path leading through the Italian garden, and
there--pretty well in the same place where you saw him this afternoon--
we came on John Emmet, already out and at work: or rather he was leaning
on a hoe and staring after the carriage as it moved up the avenue behind
the limes. We came on him from behind, and, I suppose, suddenly.
Anyhow, we scared him. I never saw such a face in my life as he turned
on us! It went all white in an instant, and then slowly whiter.
No doubt our dress was unusual: but I'm not accustomed to be taken for a
ghost--'

"'Was it _you_ who frightened him?'

"'Yes, I think so. He kept his eyes on me, anyway: and at first, when
Felicia asked him to congratulate her, he didn't seem to hear. After a
bit, however, he picked up his speech and muttered something about fate,
and wishing her joy--I forget what. Felicia confessed afterwards that
his face had fairly frightened her.'

"'Look here,' I asked; 'it may seem an irrelevant question, but has the
2-th made any changes in its uniform lately?--any important changes, I
mean.'

"'No: the War Office has been obliging enough to leave us alone in that
respect: out of sight out of mind, I suppose. In point of fact we've
kept the same rig--officers and men--for something like a quarter of a
century.' He paused. 'I see what you're driving at. The man, you
think, may be an old deserter!'

"'Not so fast, please. Now here's another question. You remember the
night after the wreck of the _Nerbuddha_: the night you took a turn in
Lansulyan Church, watching the bodies? You came to me in the morning
with a story which I chose to laugh at--'

"'About the face at the window, you mean?' Dick gave a mock shudder.
'I suppose my nerves were shaken. I've been through some queer things
since: but upon my soul I'd as soon face the worst of them again as take
another spell with a line of corpses in that church of yours.'

"'But--the face?'

"'Well, at the time I'd have sworn