“Shall I read it, sir?”
“Yes.”
Jerry coughed and then began:—
“The Late Fire at the Barracks.—We understand that Lieutenant Sir Mark Frayne, of the 310th, has presented Smithson, the gallant young bandsman of the 205th Fusiliers,
with a handsome cheque as a memento of his prowess daring the catastrophe after the military ball was nearly over. Smithson, we are glad to say, is convalescent.”
Dick’s eyes contracted, and he stared hard at Jerry.
“That’s the way some folks do it. That’s what they call advertising. Proper way. Never give anything till people’s looking on, and if they won’t see, put it in the paper, and then they’ll read.”
“Open that envelope,” said Dick, sharply, and Jerry obeyed, taking out slowly a sheet of paper, from which fell a cheque.
“Shall I read, sir?” asked Jerry.