Dick had hardly uttered the words before the barrack clock chimed twice.
“Surely that’s not half-past ten,” cried the lieutenant excitedly, as he snatched out his watch. “Dear me, no! I’m an hour out in my calculations. Yes; let’s try over the piece.”
The flutes were produced, and the duet was whispered through, as it were; and at the end Dick applauded softly.
“Yes, that’s very kind of you,” said Lacey; “but I don’t feel satisfied. By the way, Smithson, you must not go like that. Your red jacket will be so conspicuous.”
“What can I do, sir?”
“Would you mind wearing one of my light overcoats, Smithson? It will be rather large for you, but so effectual in hiding your military character.”
“I shall not mind it,” said Dick, though he could not help wincing a little at the idea; and soon after, with his scarlet jacket hidden by the lieutenant’s long, loose garment, which also well concealed the musical instruments, they walked together through the gates.
Fifty yards farther on, Dick felt his shoulder suddenly seized, and he was thrust through a swing-door into the gas-lit glare of a public-house bar.