‘G’long; I want no more truck with you. Clear out, or you’ll be put out.’
‘What’s your colonel’s name? I want to see him.’
‘You can’t want to see him if you don’t know his name.’
‘I do, though, on business.’
‘Pretty business! A tramp like you can’t have no business here at all, much less with the colonel or any other officer of ours.’
‘Won’t you pass me in?’
‘I won’t, there, that’s flat.’
‘All right; I’ll wait till some one comes out.’
Herbert coolly seated himself a little way down upon the slope of the glacis. If the sergeant meant to dislodge him it could only be by force.
The fact was our hero was meditating a serious step. The disappointment of not finding his old friends where he had left them was great. He had perhaps overrated the assistance which Mrs. Larkins could give him in substantiating his claims, but he had looked for advice from them as to the disposal of his immediate future. How was he now, unknown and seemingly without a friend in the world, to find employment? That was the serious question he was called upon to solve, and that without unnecessary delay. His pockets were empty, his clothes—such as he had not pawned—had reached that stage of irretrievable seediness which clothes worn uninterruptedly for weeks will always assume. He might or might not be the heir of the Farringtons. What did it matter who he was or might be if he died of starvation before he could prove his case?