Chapter 6

A CAPTIVE

"Have you heard that Maltravers is missing, Hallett?" Sinclair asked Arthur one morning as he came out of his quarters.

"Missing? No; how is he missing?"

"That is what nobody seems to know. He was on duty last night, and went along the line a certain distance, and then he seems to have disappeared. An enquiry is being made among the men on duty, but so far there does not seem to be any explanation. He certainly was not shot, for there are no signs of his body. One idea was that he might have been taken suddenly ill, and turned off to come into the town to report himself. I believe a search is being made now on the ground that he would cross, to see if he has fallen there. Of course no one thinks that he could have deserted."

"I should think not," Arthur said. "There are men who grumble so continuously that one would hardly be surprised to hear that they had taken other service, but that was not at all Maltravers' way; he always made the best of everything."

"Well, it is very strange."

The most exhaustive search failed to bring anything to light respecting the missing officer. The sentry at the last post he had visited had observed nothing singular in his manner. The next post was three hundred yards away, but, although it was a dark night, the officer could not have missed his way. There was a sharp drop in the ground beyond the line that he would traverse, and as the route was the same that had been used for many months, it was scarcely possible that anyone could miss it. The idea that Carlists could have come down from their entrenchments, the nearest of which was four hundred yards away, and captured him, without the sound of a struggle reaching the ears of the sentries to the right or left, seemed hardly possible. Some suggested that he might have gone suddenly out of his mind, and wandered down into the town or to the bank of the Urumea, and there fallen in, but this seemed to all to be wildly improbable.

The officer's letters and papers were examined, but nothing whatever was found that could in the slightest support the idea that he had committed suicide. There was nothing to do but to enter his name upon the list of missing, and hope that he would yet turn up some day and explain the mystery.

"It is your turn for the night duty, Hallett," Sinclair said to him three days after the strange disappearance of Maltravers.

"Yes, I know that my turn for duty begins this evening."

"Well, keep a sharp look-out, old fellow; we don't want any more mysterious disappearances in the regiment."

"No; one is more than sufficient. I have been over the ground half a dozen times during the past three days in the hopes of finding some sort of clue, but without the least success. Perhaps as I go round to-night some bright idea may strike me. Of one thing," he said with a laugh, "you may be perfectly sure: that is, that if I don't turn up in the morning it will be neither desertion, suicide, nor insanity."

"No," Sinclair said; "I should certainly never suspect you of any one of the three."

The others laughed. "You certainly did your best to save your life on board that boat, so we will put suicide out of the question. As to desertion and lunacy, I think they may be equally barred. If you are missing, I shall say that the pixies have carried you off."

"Yes; I think you can safely put it down to that."

After mess was over, Arthur took his pistols and sword and started to the house that was used as the rendezvous of the officers on duty for the night, made his usual visit to the outlying posts along a portion of the line some three-quarters of a mile in extent, and returned. A few minutes before twelve he again started on the same tramp, his companion on duty going in the other direction. Nothing unusual happened until he was half-way along; then, as he passed a ruined hut, he suddenly fell, stunned by a heavy blow from behind. He knew nothing for some time, then he felt dimly conscious that he was being carried along. Reviving consciousness showed him that there were two men at his arms and two at his legs, and that a cloak or some other woollen garment was wrapped round and round his head, and something thrust into his mouth. All this was taken in little by little, for his head buzzed and ached from the blow that had fallen upon it.

It was some time before his brain began to work in earnest. Then he gradually came to understand that he was in the hands of the Carlists. These four men must have stolen quietly down from their entrenchments and hidden among the ruins of the hut, struck him to the ground, probably with the butt-end of a musket, and were now carrying him off. Doubtless this was the manner in which Maltravers had also been captured. He knew that to struggle would be absolutely useless; and indeed, from a murmur of talk that went on around him, he judged that he was already in the Carlist lines. He could feel that he was being taken up the hill. After what seemed a very long time, his bearers came to a stop. A door was pushed open, and he was carried through and dropped on the ground. Then he heard the door close and the lock turn. He sat up, and took the muffler from his head and the gag from his mouth. His head ached as if it would split, so, knowing that there was nothing to be done, he rolled up the muffler and, using it as a pillow, dozed off after a time into a heavy sleep. When he awoke, he heard talking outside.

"This is the second five dollars each we have made, Pedro; if we go on like this we shall soon get rich."

"I don't see why we shouldn't," the other said. "As long as the nights are dark, we can always be sure of making our way down unobserved. We may reckon on snatching two or three more before there is a moon, and even then we shall be able to do it when there is rain."

"I don't suppose we can catch many more that way," the other said. "When they find officers keep on disappearing they will send three or four of the men round with them, and then, of course, there will be an end of the business. Still, if we can catch half a dozen more we shall not have done so badly."

As soon as day broke, Arthur sat up and looked round. He had still a splitting headache, and there was a lump as big as an egg where the blow had fallen. His cap lay upon the ground near him, having apparently been thrown in there by the men who had carried him up. His arms had been taken away, and he had no doubt that nothing had been left behind that would leave any indication as to what had befallen him. The hut, which was about twelve feet square, had evidently been inhabited by a peasant. It contained two or three broken pieces of rough furniture, and the floor was littered with odds and ends of old garments, broken crockery, &c. Two little loopholes, about six inches square, admitted a certain amount of light when the door was closed. Looking out of these, he saw that the hut stood on level ground, evidently at the top of the hill. Numbers of Carlists lay on the ground wrapped up in their cloaks.

Two or three small huts and houses were dotted here and there on the plain, the nearest of them being about two hundred yards away. This one had a garden round it, and looked as if it was still inhabited. Like the hut in which he was confined, it was built of stone, and was roofed with slabs of the same material, but was larger and apparently had an upper story or loft.

Having seen this much, he sat down until, by the stir around, he knew that the camp was awake. It was not until, as near as he could guess, nine o'clock--for his watch had been taken away from him--that anyone came near him, though he knew by the talking that there were two sentries at the door. Then he heard the key turn in the lock, and an officer, who by his uniform, he thought, was a colonel, entered. Arthur rose to his feet.

"You are English, sir?" the colonel said.

"I am."

"Why do you fight on the side of the Christinos? We know that you are badly treated by them: you are half-starved and you get no pay. Well, sir, you are a prisoner in our hands; and I need hardly say what your fate will be if you do not accept our terms. If you will enter the service of Don Carlos, you will be well-fed, well-paid, and welcomed as a comrade. It can make no difference to you on which side you fight--Christino or Carlist. You have learned what to expect from them, neglect and suffering; with us you will have neither. We are certain to win in the long run. You will get promotion and honour--the alternative is death! I will leave you till this evening to think over the matter."

He went out, and in a quarter of an hour two soldiers entered bearing a dish of meat and beans, and a large jug of water. Arthur had no appetite; but he took a copious drink, poured some water over his cloak, which he rolled up as a pillow, and lay down on his back, with his head upon it. Its coolness eased the throbbing of his wound. As he lay he thought over his position. "The case is a very bad one," he said to himself. "Certainly I am not going to turn traitor; that needn't be thought of. I have no doubt that the threat of shooting me, if I refuse, will be carried into execution. The question is, whether it will be carried out at once on my refusal, or put off till to-morrow morning. Surely they will give me another twelve hours. If they don't, there is an end of it. There is no possibility whatever of escaping in the daylight; I don't know that there is much chance at night, but there may be a chance. At any rate, I have all day to think it over."

He lay there for some hours, sitting up occasionally to pour more water upon his pillow. The throbbing of his head subsided somewhat, and at one o'clock he sat up and forced himself to eat. "Escape or no escape," he said, "I must keep up my strength." When he had finished his meal he stood up. His head still throbbed, though the pain was much less acute. First he went to the door and examined it: the hinges were strong and rough, the lock was sunk in the woodwork; it was evident that it could not be forced.

"Now," he said to himself, "I have the option of trying to get the screws out of the hinges or cutting round the lock." He felt in his pocket for his knife, and gave an exclamation of disappointment when he found that it was gone. This was a bitter blow. He spent some time looking about the floor in the hopes of finding some piece of iron which he could use for getting out the screws, but although he searched the place most carefully, he could find nothing that would serve his purpose.

The walls of the hut were far too solid to admit of his making a way through them. It might, he thought, be just possible to burrow under them; but he quickly dismissed this idea, for there was no great depth of soil on the rock, and it was almost certain that the foundations of the wall would be carried down to it. He went to one of the little windows, and stood there gazing out vaguely. Presently he saw an old woman come out of the nearest house, cut some vegetables, and go in again. He wondered what they were, and what she was going to have for dinner, hardly knowing what current his thoughts were taking. As he roused himself and looked round, a fresh idea struck him. The walls could not be attacked, the door would defy any efforts that he could make, the floor was altogether unpromising--but there was the roof! A new hope sprung up in his breast as he looked up.

The roof was simply composed of slabs of stone, and although these had been roughly plastered, the lines where one had been laid on another showed clearly. The slabs were from an inch to an inch and a half thick, and about two feet square. The walls of the cabin were about eight feet high, and Arthur could just touch the lowest range of slabs with the tips of his fingers; but he saw at once that the materials within the hut would enable him to reach it easily. There was a rough stool some two feet high; one of its legs was gone, but by propping it against the wall it would stand. He placed it there and mounted upon it. It was a bit shaky, but it held his weight. The top of his head was now but a few inches below the slab, and he had no doubt whatever but that he could raise it. The two sentries, as far as he could tell, were both in front of the cabin, and, considering its structure, it was very improbable that there was one behind. Thus, then, if they gave him until the next morning he could well hope to make his escape.

He was so delighted at this that he hardly felt any longer the pain in his head. It would, of course, be no very easy matter to make his way down through the Carlist lines; but as he had done it before, he might well hope to do it again. "At any rate," he said to himself, "nothing can be done till night, and I may as well sleep till then."

He laid himself down again, this time going to sleep so soundly that he did not hear the guards come in and put some more food down. About six o'clock he awoke, and at once took another meal. Half an hour later the colonel again came in.

"Well, sir, what is your answer?" he said.

"I do not like to turn traitor," he said. "Certainly I have no reason to be very grateful to the Christinos, and if the offer were that I should resign the service I should certainly accept it; but I do not like to fight against my old comrades."

"You would not be called upon to do so," the colonel said; "you would be attached to one of our other armies. We have had a good many deserters from your lines, but we cannot utilize them because they understand so little Spanish and no Basque. We want an officer to lead them. There are plenty to make a strong company, and I will promise you that you shall have their command and shall not be employed here."

"Give me till to-morrow to think it over, sir. You have already taken one of our officers; may I ask what reply he gave?"

"The obstinate fool chose death," the officer said. "I was sorry; but, of course, it had to be done. I trust that you will not be so foolish. At any rate, I will give you till to-morrow morning; but unless you are by that time prepared to accept my offer, your fate will be the same as his."

So saying, he left the hut. Thankful for the respite, Arthur went to one of the little windows and looked out. Numbers of fires were burning, and the Carlist soldiers were gathered round them, some cooking their food, others smoking and talking. The hours passed slowly. Arthur waited to choose a time when the camp was growing quiet, but when there were still some sounds that might deaden any noise he might make. At last the moment arrived when he thought he could attempt to get the stone off, though he did not intend to try to escape till all were asleep. He placed the stool against the wall again, and climbed up, and then pushed with all his strength under one of the slabs. It gave a little. He tried again, and it yielded. Working very carefully, he got the upper end out from underneath the slab above it, then raised it, turned it sideways, and lowered it into the hut.

The talk of the guards outside went on uninterruptedly, and it was evident that no sound had reached their ears. Arthur sat down and waited. Hitherto he had felt no nervousness, but his anxiety now became intense. One of the guards might enter the place. There were no special grounds for fear that this would happen, as hitherto the sentries had only opened the door to bring in his meals; still, they might do so. Again, a soldier who had been chatting with his comrades at one fire might move off to sleep at another, and notice the hole caused by the removal of the slab. This was certainly very improbable on so dark a night; still the thought of the possibility of one or other of the two events taking place kept Arthur's nerves on a strain.

At last everything seemed quiet. The night was perfectly still, save that he could hear an occasional sound of talking and laughter in the trenches lower down the hill, where doubtless a considerable number of the Carlists would remain on watch. At last he felt that the moment had come for making the attempt. He again leant the stool against the wall, put his hands on the edges of the two slabs by the side of the hole, and pulled himself up. Very noiselessly he raised himself higher and higher till he could get his legs over the wall; then he turned, lowered himself by his arms, and dropped. As he did so he rolled over, and with difficulty refrained from uttering a groan. Instead of dropping, as he had expected, on even ground, one of his feet had come on a rough stone lying against the wall, and in the fall he had badly wrenched his ankle.

He did not attempt to move for a time. The chance of passing down through the Carlist lines was at an end. For fully ten minutes he lay there; then his mind was made up, and, turning over on to his face, he began to drag himself along towards the house he had been looking at during the day. It was his only chance. If he could conceal himself there he might be safe. When his escape was discovered in the morning it would be supposed that he had made his way down through the lines, or had gone out through the rear of the camp and taken to the mountains until he could work his way back to the town. There would certainly be no search for him close to his prison.

It took him nearly half an hour at that slow rate of progression to make his way to the house. When he reached it, he raised himself on to his sound foot, noiselessly lifted the latch, and went in. He closed the door behind him, and sat down against it. Knowing nothing of the interior arrangements, he dared not move for fear of waking the inmates. He therefore remained there motionless, dozing occasionally, until the first dawn of day enabled him to obtain an idea of his surroundings. The room in which he was was unoccupied, but an open door at the back showed where the old woman and whoever might live with her were sleeping. A rough ladder in the opposite corner of the room led up to an open trap-door leading evidently to a loft. This was what he had hoped for, and making his way across to it he pulled himself up the ladder, and found, as he expected, that he was in a low loft. It was half-filled with hay and faggots, and, climbing over these, he laid himself down behind them and lay listening.

In an hour he heard cries of alarm, followed by a great hubbub in the camp, and had no doubt that his escape had been discovered. Presently he heard a stir below, and, listening, made out two voices--one, which was, he had no doubt, that of the old woman whom he had seen, and the other apparently that of an old man, probably her husband. He had taken a long draught of water the last thing before leaving the hut, and had put the remains of the food in his pocket. He now bandaged his ankle as well as he could, and then slept the greater part of the day. Beyond the quiet voices below he heard nothing, which showed that no suspicion existed that he was hidden so close. He was troubled only by the heat during the day, but suffered a good deal from this.

At daybreak the next morning he made his way to the trap-door and looked down. On the table a large jug of water and half a loaf were standing. He crawled down the ladder, took them both, and returned to his hiding-place. An hour later he heard angry talk below. He did not understand Basque, one of the most difficult languages to acquire, but he guessed that the owners were railing over the loss of the jug and bread, and doubtless putting it down to some soldier who had entered after they had gone to sleep, and stolen them. The loss could not have been a heavy one, but the old couple did not get over it all day, but continued to grumble at intervals. To him the proceeds of his theft were invaluable. He was able to keep the bandage round his ankle bathed with cold water, and he calculated that the bread would, with care, last him three days, and that the water would hold out as long.

This proved to be the case. The old man came up once during that time with a large bowl, which he filled out of a sack containing lentils; otherwise, Arthur was altogether undisturbed. At the end of that time the pain in his ankle had abated, but he could feel that it was still very weak, and that he dared not yet attempt to walk on it.

That night he went down and refilled his jug from a pail and carried off a loaf of bread from a cupboard. After possessing himself of these things, he very carefully drew back a bolt of the door. When the old couple awoke he heard them engaged in a furious quarrel. They had missed the bread, and, finding the door unbolted, the old woman had charged her husband with neglecting to fasten it, while he was stoutly maintaining that he had done so, and that she saw him do it. The quarrel lasted with more or less acerbity the whole day. Had Arthur possessed any money he would have placed a copper coin or two on the table to pay for the bread he had taken; but both pockets had been turned inside out by his captors, and he was absolutely penniless.

The loaf lasted for four days, and when it was finished he determined that, although his ankle was still very weak, he would attempt to get away. He was very reluctant to again help himself from the old people's store. It might be at least three days before he could enter the town, although he hoped to be able to accomplish it in one. Still, if his foot should give him trouble he might have to lie up in shelter. However, he contented himself with only taking half a loaf, and at eleven o'clock at night, when everything was quiet, he opened the door and went cautiously out. His object was to get down to the Urumea, which was but a mile and a half off, so, going back from the brow of the hill, to avoid falling in with any sleeping Carlists, he started.

He had gone but a short way when he felt his foot beginning to pain him badly. At first he tried hopping, but he found that the jar of each jump hurt him as much as if he were using the foot, and as he had no knife he could not cut himself a stick. He therefore sat down, and swung himself along on his hands. This was a slow method of progression, and he had to stop frequently to rest his arms and wrists. He soon gave up all idea of being able, as he had hoped, to reach the river and to swim down past the Carlist lines before morning. He kept on, however, till the dawn had begun to break. By this time he could not be more than a quarter of a mile from the river. Crawling into a thick clump of bushes he lay down, and being thoroughly tired out with his exertions he slept till mid-day. When he awoke he ate a large hunch of bread, and then waited until it became dark enough for him to make another move. As soon as night fell he set off. It took him nearly an hour to cross the quarter-mile of broken ground; but at length, to his satisfaction, the bushes ceased and he saw the river twenty yards in front of him.

He had, soon after starting from the cottage, taken the boot off his injured foot and tied it to his waist. He now took off the other and fastened it by its fellow; then he stepped into the river, and found to his satisfaction that the tide was running out. Had it not been so, he must have sat down and waited until the ebb began. After wading for some little distance, he struck out for the centre of the river; then he turned on his back and let himself drift, turning occasionally on to his breast and striking out carefully for a time, so as to get a change of position. Luckily the water was quite warm. Presently he heard the sound of talking, and perceived a glow of light on the stream. He swam across close to the other shore, and saw, as he floated down, the fires of the Carlists stretching in zigzag lines along their entrenchments, rising one above another.

He was confident that, plainly as he could see everything there, the sharpest eye could not discover him so far beyond the circle of light. Still, he did not attempt to swim until he was well beyond the fires; then in a quarter of an hour he knew that he must be within the lines of the Legion. He thought, however, that it would save trouble if he were to land abreast of the town, so he swam on until he reached the bridge that had been thrown across the river. Then he went ashore, having been about two hours in the water. The water appeared to have benefited his ankle, for he found that he could now limp along slowly. Making his way to his quarters he went quietly up to his room and opened his door. A candle was burning there, and Roper was sitting at the table with his head in his hands. He looked up as Arthur entered, and then sprang to his feet with a shout of joy.

"Thank God, you are back! Thank God! I have never quite given you up, sir, although everyone else has. Every evening when I have been off duty I have come and sat here, as I knew that when you came back it would be after dark."

"I am glad indeed to see you, Roper! I have had a very narrow squeak this time--I never want to have as narrow. I will tell you all about it presently."

"Your clothes are all wet, sir."

"Yes. I must change them at once. When I have done that, you must go up to the colonel and report my return. I sprained one of my ankles, and can only just hobble along, and I don't want to put any more strain on it than I can help; so, when I am undressed I will turn in. By the way, I think, before you go off you might cook me something, if there is anything to be had."

"There is nothing here, sir."

"While I am undressing, you might run out and buy me something; cold meat of any sort will do. I have had nothing but bread since I went away, and not much of that."

Arthur was in bed by the time Roper returned.

"I have got some cold meat, bread, and a bottle of wine, sir."

"Thank you, Roper! Put them on that table and draw it to the side of the bed. When you have done that, please go and report my return, and explain why I can't come and do it myself."

He had scarcely finished the meal when the colonel came in.

"Welcome back a thousand times, Hallett! We have all been in a terrible way about you. I hoped for the first two or three days, and insisted that whatever had happened to you, you would get out of it, if there was but the remotest possibility of escape. Now let us know all about it. I supposed you were carried off, as Maltravers was. How it happened we could not find out, but since that time every officer has made his rounds with four men with him, and as a consequence we have had no more disappearances. Now, please tell me all about it."

Arthur told the story at length.

"By Jove, you have done wonderfully well!" the colonel said. "It has been one of the narrowest touches I ever heard of; and if you hadn't sprained your foot you would have been back among us within twenty-four hours of your capture. It was lucky, indeed, that you had particularly noticed that cottage and its occupants during the day, and that the thought struck you to shelter in it. Well, I won't say anything more now; it is ten o'clock, and I am sure you must want a good night's sleep."

"I shall be glad, sir, if, the first thing in the morning, you will send the surgeon round to me. My ankle is not nearly as swollen as it was, and I have no doubt that the few hours I spent in the water did me a lot of good. At the same time, I shall be very glad to have it bandaged, and don't want to be kept in bed by it. Of course I shall be able to ride, but that would be no good for my company work."

"You must leave your company work alone for a week or so. I shall be glad, if you find that you can ride, if you will come round to my quarters at ten o'clock, and I will take you to the general."

The next morning Arthur lay in bed until the surgeon came. While the latter was bandaging his ankle he had to give him a short account of his adventure.

"Well, you got through it well," the surgeon said, "but I should not advise you to try that sort of thing again; you may not be so lucky next time. You have given your ankle a very awkward wrench. I should advise you to avoid any attempt to walk for at least a week or ten days. If you do, you may have to lie up for six weeks."

Roper came in to help Arthur to dress, and to make his breakfast for him. Arthur's servant had been killed in the last fight, and since that time Roper had, whenever he was off duty, installed himself in his place. After breakfast he brought Arthur's horse round, and the latter mounted and rode to the colonel's quarters. That officer's horse was at the door, and he came out at once before Arthur had dismounted.

"Don't get off, Hallett," he said. "Dr. Spendlow has been round here since he left you, and said that you must on no account use your leg for another ten days. He said that if you would obey his orders you might be fit for duty in a fortnight, while if you did not do so, you might be laid up for a long time."

They rode to the general's quarters, which were a quarter of a mile away.

"You must walk in here," the colonel said; "but lean on my arm, and I will take the weight off that foot."

On the colonel sending in his name he was at once admitted. "General," he said, "we are stronger by one officer than I thought we were. Mr. Hallett has returned."

"I am indeed glad to hear it," the general said warmly, and, coming up, he shook Arthur heartily by the hand.

"He must sit down, sir," the colonel said; "at present he has only one available leg."

"Now, Mr. Hallett," the general said when Arthur was comfortably seated, "please give me a full account of what has happened; it may throw light not only upon your disappearance, but on that of Captain Maltravers. Before you begin your story, I should like to ask whether you have seen or heard anything of him'!"

"Yes, sir. I am sorry to say that I did not see him, for he was murdered by the Carlists. The choice was given him to desert to their side or to be killed, and he nobly chose the latter alternative."

"I am sorry indeed," the general said. "He was a fine young fellow, and he died a hero's death. What a terrible war this is--a war to the knife! Indeed, it seems to me more cruel and pitiless every month, in spite of the efforts Colonel Wylde, the British commissioner, is making to persuade both parties to desist from these atrocities. I am afraid that one side is almost as bad as the other. Both declare that they commit these murders by way of reprisals, and I am bound to say that in the early stages of the war the Christinos were nearly as bad, if not as bad, as the Carlists. Since then, however, they have been somewhat better, and have really tried, I think, to keep the Convention, to respect the rules of war and to spare prisoners. They have, it is true, shot a great many, but it has been by way of reprisals for the brutality of the Carlists, and especially of those of Cabrera, who has several times shot women as well as men.

"And now for your story, Mr. Hallett."

Arthur again told his story at length.

"I compliment you highly on your quick-wittedness, Mr. Hallett; it certainly saved your life. And in such a cell as you describe, with two armed guards at the door, it is not one man in fifty who would have thought of escaping through the roof. Not less sharp was it to take at once, crippled as you were, to the only place that offered you shelter. Altogether, it was a remarkably well-planned and well-carried-out affair; and be assured that if any opportunity should occur, I shall take advantage of it to utilize your services. Now, I hope you will obey the doctor's orders and go back to your quarters, and stay there till your ankle is quite well."

This Arthur did; and for the next three or four days held a sort of levee in his quarters, almost all the officers of the Legion coming in to see him and to hear his story, which he became perfectly tired of telling long before the visits were over. His companions in the adventures in the boat were especially pleased to see him, and came in every day to have a chat with him.

"You seem fated to get into adventures, Hallett," Sinclair, said, when he first heard the story. "You get nearly caught as a spy, and manage to make your way through the enemy's lines with a lot of valuable information; you get blown out to sea, and you save us and yourself; and now you get carried off, and threatened with death in twenty-four hours, but make your escape and rejoin. My dear fellow, I am afraid you will at last come to a bad end. It is evident that neither water nor bullet has power over you, and that your exit from this world will be hastened by a collar of hemp."

"I hope not, Sinclair; I shall do my best to avoid it. Hanging seems to be an uncomfortable sort of death, to say nothing of its being strictly unfashionable."

"Well, we shall see," Sinclair said; "but I cannot help thinking that that is what will happen to you. Now, what is your next adventure going to be?"

Arthur laughed. "I must leave that to fate. Two out of my three adventures were certainly not brought on by myself. I was blown out to sea owing to your obstinacy in refusing to turn back when I wanted to. I was certainly carried off this time by no will of my own. So that only what you call the spy business was of my own choosing. I can assure you that I have had enough of adventures, and shall not get into another if I can manage to avoid it."

Ten days later Arthur was reported fit for duty, and was very glad to resume his regular work.