"Are you sure your name is Manton?"
Captain Gilbert looked keenly across the table. The light in the little room was not good, and the expression on the Captain's face was one of intense interest and bewilderment.
"Quite sure, sir—John Manton," answered the man standing at the further side of the table.
Manton was one of a number of recruits who had that day presented themselves at the Ryde Recruiting Office—a tall, well-poised man of twenty-six, dark-haired, blue-eyed, firm-lipped and vigorous-looking, despite the fact that his countenance was somewhat pale. He wore a well-brushed blue serge suit, noticeably the worse for wear. His bowler hat, too, had seen long service.
Captain Gilbert, still looking at him, drew forth a sheet of paper, and took up his pen.
"John Manton," he wrote, then his eyes lifted, and he looked once more and with a peculiar expression into the tall young recruit's face. For a moment he paused. "Manton," he said, "I should like to see you privately after the office closes."
The young man steadily returned his gaze.
"Very good, sir," he said, with an air of docility. "At what time shall I come?"
"At eight o'clock," returned Gilbert. "Wait for me outside." His eyes followed the other as he turned and left the building, but the moment the door had closed Captain Gilbert plunged once again into his work.
"Next," he called to the line of men seated on the far side of the room; and the man at the end of the line rose and advanced towards the table.