Sam gave me a knock with his elbow. “What a confounded story!” he whispered. “Wonder what the gallant captain means, Johnny! Wonder what game he is up to?”
It was, I dare say, nearly an hour after this that I came across Tod. He was standing against the wall, laughing slightly to himself, evidently in some glee. Captain Collinson was at the piano opposite, his back to us, turning over the leaves for Caroline Parker, who was singing.
“What are you amused at, Tod?”
“At you, lad. Thinking what a muff you are.”
“I always am a muff, I know. But why am I one just now in particular?”
“For not knowing that man,” nodding towards Collinson. “I thought I recognized him as he came in; felt sure of him when I heard him speak. Men may disguise their faces almost at will; but not their voices, Johnny.”
“Why, who is he?” I asked in surprise.
“I’ll tell you when we are alone. I should have known him had we met amid the Hottentots. I thought he was over in Australia; knew he went there.”
“But—is he not Captain Collinson?”
Tod laughed. “Just as much as I am, Johnny. Of course he may have assumed the name of Collinson in place of his own: if so, nobody has a right, I take it, to say him nay. But, as to his being a captain in the Bengal Cavalry—well, I don’t think he is.”