The major took the paper, and read a short report of the proceedings at the Liverpool Police-Court.
“You didn’t read it through, you say,” observed he, when he had finished; “you saw he was let off?”
“Yes, but I’m afraid—well, it’s very sad for them all.”
“Of course it is,” blurted out the soldier, “especially when none of their old friends seem to care anything about them. Excuse me, Mrs Osborn,” added he, seeing that the lady coloured. “I wasn’t meaning you, but myself. Cruden was on old comrade, who did me more than one good turn. I must certainly take a day in town on my way back and find them out. As for the boy, I don’t believe he’s got it in him to be a blackleg.”
The major was as good as his word. He sacrificed a day of his loved pastime to look for his old friend’s widow in London.
After a good deal of hunting he discovered her address, and presented himself, with not a little wonderment at the shabbiness of her quarters, at Dull Street.
Barely convalescent, and still in the agony of suspense as to Reginald’s fate, Mrs Cruden was able to see no one. But the major was not thus to be baulked of his friendly intentions. Before he left the house he wrote a letter, which in due time lay in the widow’s hands and brought tears to her eyes.
“Dear Mrs Cruden,—I am on my way back to Malta, and sorry not to see you. We all have our troubles, but you seem to have had more than your share; and what I should have liked would be to see whether there was anything an old friend of your husband could do to serve you. I trust you will not resent the liberty I take when I say I have instructed my agent, whose address is enclosed, to put himself at your disposal in any emergency when you may need either advice or any other sort of aid. He is a good fellow, and understands any service you may require (and emergencies often do arise) is to be rendered on my account. As to your eldest son, about whom I read a paragraph in the papers the other day, nothing will make me believe he is anything but his honest father’s honest son. My brother-in-law, whom you will remember, is likely shortly to have an opportunity of introducing a young fellow into an East India house in the City. I may mention this because, should you think well to tell Reginald of it, I believe there would not be much difficulty in his getting the post. But you will hear about this from my brother-in-law, whom I have asked to write to you. I don’t expect to get leave again, for eighteen months; but I hope then to find you all well.
“Believe me, dear Mrs Cruden,—
“Yours truly,—