said Polson, 'I shall take it as a favour if you'll put me
through with as little waste of time as possible, for, to tell you the
truth, I want that shilling, and the sooner I get it the nearer I shall
be to bread and cheese.'

'Oh!' said Volnay, 'I ain't curious, old chap. I'm not a bit curious;
but if you can do it, I should like you to take me into your
confidence, because I might be of some use. I'm stinking rich, you
know--disgracefully rich. And if that fact's any good to you, why you've
only to say so, and I'm your man.'

'Oh, no, it isn't money, Volnay. If it had been, I shouldn't have made
any scruple about saying so. I can't talk about it. It's likely enough
that you may hear everything in time.'

'There's no changing you?' Volnay asked. 'There's no getting you to wait
for a week?'

'There's no changing me,' Polson answered, 'and no getting me to wait.'

'Oh, very well,' said Volnay. 'Just take that and cut across to the
canteen and get some breakfast. Come back here in a quarter of an hour's
time, and I'll put you through. You needn't scruple about taking it: you
can pay me back, for there's a five-pound bounty, ready money, declared
yesterday, and you'll have it handed over to you on enlisting.'

Polson took up the proffered sovereign, with something of a lump in his
throat, and turned to go. He had scarce made a step towards the door
when it opened suddenly. This was destined to be a day of strange
encounters, for who should walk almost into his arms but that Major de
Blacquaire who was the present owner of the Droitwich salt mine from
which his father and his uncle had drawn an illicit fortune. There
are men who are born to hate each other at sight; and this Major de
Blacquaire and Polson, though they had but a slight knowledge of each
other, had found time to develop a savage dislike on either side. De
Blacquaire was a man with an exasperatingly cold and supercilious
fashion of speech. He was a band-box dandy, and went scented like a
lady. Polson had once threatened him with a horse-whip, and the Major
had withdrawn from the conflict not because he had any want of physical
courage, but solely because he was too much of a fine gentleman to
brawl. He had never forgotten or forgiven the insult, and Polson had
learned to hate him all the more because he mistook him for a coward.
The two recoiled from each other just in time to avoid collision, for De
Blacquaire had entered hastily. They regarded each ot