ound of martial music, and as the
wind was blowing from the south-west the strains reached us clearly.
Evidently some soldiers were marching with a band.

'It's fine, isn't it!' he cried. He threw back his shoulders, stood
perfectly erect, and his footsteps kept perfect time to the music. I
felt more than ever convinced that he had had some former association
with the Army.

On our way to the recruiting meeting, however, he seemed to have
forgotten all about it. He was very listless, and languid, and
depressed. He was like a man who wanted to hide himself from the
crowd, and he slunk along the streets as though apologizing for his
presence.

'That's the hall,' I said, pointing to a big building into which the
people were thronging.

'I shall not be noticed, shall I? If you think I should, I'd rather
not go.'

'Certainly not. Who's going to notice you? I'll get you a seat on the
platform if you like.'

'Oh, no, no. Let me slink behind a pillar somewhere. No, please don't
bother about me, I'll go in with that crowd. I'll find you after the
meeting.' He left me as he spoke, and a minute later I had lost sight
of him.

I am afraid I paid scanty attention to what was said to me in the
anteroom, prior to going into the hall. The man interested me more
than I can say. I found myself wondering who he was, where he came
from, and what his experiences had been. More than once, I doubted
whether I had not been the victim of an impostor. The story of his
loss of memory was very weak and did not accord with the spirit of the
men in the anteroom, who were eagerly talking about the war; or with
the purposes of the meeting. And yet I could not help trusting in him,
he was so frank and manly. In a way, he was transparent, too, and
talked like a grown-up child.

When I entered the hall, which was by this time crowded with, perhaps,
two thousand people, I scanned the sea of faces eagerly, but could
nowhere see the man who had adopted the name of Paul Edgecumbe. I
doubted whether he was there at all, and whether I should ever see him
again. Still, I did not see what purpose he could have had in
deceiving me. He had received nothing from me, save his dinner at the
hotel, which I had persisted in paying for in spite of his protests.
The clothes he wore were paid for by his own money, and he showed not
the slightest expectation of receiving any benefits from me.

Just as I was called upon to speak, I caught si