Dick unbuttoned the loose overcoat and brought out the two flutes.
As Dick unfastened the coat there was a faint, gleam of light from the constable’s belt, which shone on Dick’s chest.
“From the barracks, eh?” said the constable, surlily. “Humph! Well, I’m sure I don’t know what to say. You may be London burglars, and putting a clever flam on me.”
“Do people go burgling with flutes?” said Dick, angrily. “Now, look here, go back to the gate, and mind we are not interrupted! This gentleman is going to slip two half-crowns in your hand.”
“Well, if it’s all right, and only a bit of music, I don’t want to be disagreeable, gentlemen. Sarah-naying, don’t you call it? Only look out: I have heered tell o’ blunderbusses and revolvers about here! Thankye, sir; but, of course, that wasn’t ness’ry. I’ve got to go ’bout half-mile! down the road, so you’d better get it over before I come back.”
The man went off, and the lieutenant stood panting.
“I’d rather have faced the enemy’s shot, Smithson!” he whispered.
“But it’s all right now, sir,” said Dick. “Catch hold of your flute. I’d not interfere with the tuning-slide: it’s quite correct.”
“It’s impossible, Smithson; my hands are trembling terribly.”
“You’ll forget it as soon as we begin, sir. Come along!”