“A false alarm, Smithson,” said the lieutenant, with a forced laugh, as he dabbed his forehead. “I caught a glimpse of them lower down; I thought it was the major and the doctor. How absurd it all seemed. You don’t think those two fellows will talk about it?”
“Well, sir, I can’t help thinking they will,” replied Dick.
“That will be awkward,” said the lieutenant in dismay. “They ought to have been in barracks; and they may excuse themselves by saying that I was treating them at a public-house.”
“Yes, sir, it will be awkward,” said Dick, who felt annoyed and yet amused.
“It will look so ungentlemanly. You see, they were both men belonging to my company. Whatever shall I do?”
“Nothing, I should say, sir. I don’t see what you can do.”
“No,” said the lieutenant, shaking his head sadly. “What a pity it is that things will go so crookedly!” And he walked on in silence down into the main street, looking sharply from side to side.
“Anyone would think that we were going to commit a burglary,” muttered Dick. As they went on for some time, “Is it here, sir?” he ventured to say at last.
“Only about five hundred yards more, Smithson; but, really, that contretemps has so upset me that I think you had better play a solo. I shall never get through a duet.”
“But that would be of no use, sir,” cried Dick. “It would be only my music then. It ought to be your serenade.”