The Queen's Scarlet Part 44

"Yes, Smithson," said the colonel.

"G.o.d bless him!" cried the lieutenant in a low voice full of emotion.

"Amen!" said the colonel. "He saved the lives of that sweet girl--Miss Deane, yours, and then Sir Mark Frayne's."

Lacey began to move towards the door; and the doctor rose, gave the colonel a significant nod, and followed.

"Going, Lacey?" said the colonel kindly.

"Yes, sir. I'm going to see and thank that brave lad."

"No, no; not to-night--I mean this morning," said the doctor. For the grey light was stealing in, and making the tall, blackened figure of the lieutenant look ghastly.

"Why not?"

"Because," said the doctor, "the poor fellow is in such a state that I cannot answer for his life."

"Then I'll go and sit by him till he's better!" said the lieutenant, resolutely.

The colonel followed him to the door, and laid his hand on the young man's shoulder.

"Lacey, my boy," he half-whispered, "take the doctor's advice and mine-- you are not yourself now."

"He saved our lives, sir," said the young officer. "One can't do too much for a man like that."

"No, my dear boy, one cannot; but you heard you are better away."

Lacey looked at him inquiringly.

"You'll oblige me by not going," said the colonel quickly, "and as much by going to your room and letting Lester see to you a bit."

"You wish it, colonel?"

"I do, Lacey."

"Will you come up with me to my quarters, Lester?" said the young man, quietly.

"Of course, my dear boy--of course," said the doctor, and they went out together, to be closely followed by Jerry, who reached the staircase first, and sprung up to light candles, though they were hardly necessary then.

"Why, colonel, he was like a lamb with you," said the major. "Who'd have thought it of Adonis!"

"Yes, he was like a lamb with me, and I always thought it of him," said the colonel, quietly. "We all laugh at and chaff him, but I should not like to be the man who had done him a wrong."

"Nor the fellow who had tried to bayonet him when his blood was up?"

"No," said the colonel quickly. "Now, gentlemen, bed for me. I don't think this old town will ever forget our ball."

He nodded, and left the mess-room, to go across the yard.

"Why, that's not the way to his quarters," said one of the officers, as he followed his chief with his eyes toward the shadowy building in which a faint light or two could be seen burning.

"No," said another. "I know: he's gone across to the infirmary."

"Is Frayne there?"

"No," said the major, "he's at Lindon's quarters. Chief's gone to see how little Smithson is. Let's--no, we'll drink his health after dinner this evening. Gentlemen, I'm for bed, or the sun will be up first."

Ten minutes later the mess-room looked grey and dismal--a pitiful contrast to its appearance a few hours before, but the sun rose before long as bright and glorious as ever, to come in at the infirmary window upon d.i.c.k Smithson's scorched brow, while, in company with the hospital attendant, the fat sergeant sat watching with a careworn expression upon his broad, good-humoured face.

"What did he say?" whispered the attendant, after d.i.c.k had hurriedly babbled a few words.

"Marks," said the sergeant; "Marks--he's thinking about the scars that there'll be upon his face."

CHAPTER THIRTY ONE.

DOWN IN THE DUMPS.

It was in the hospital by the invalid's side.

"Don't you look like that!" said Jerry. "I know how it is! You're getting better, and are able to think more. When you were ten times as bad, you never used to look so down and say you would never get right again!"

Jerry looked at Brumpton as he delivered himself of this oracular speech, and the fat sergeant declared that he was right; but d.i.c.k did not believe either of them.

"I've got some news for you, too."

"Look here," said Brumpton. "I must be off. Stop with him as long as you can, Jerry Brigley.--I say, why don't you have your flute, and practise a bit?"

d.i.c.k looked up from the easy-chair in which he lay back, and his eyes brightened; but they turned dull again, and he shook his head.

As soon as the sergeant had gone, d.i.c.k spoke.

"What is your news?" he said, feebly.

"Shan't tell you, if you don't pluck up a bit! You ought to be well by now. Why, it is a whole blessed month since that unlucky night, and here have you been bad ever since with burning and fever; and it's been a wonder to me as n.o.body understood what you were talking about. You let the cat out of the bag lots of times, but I was the only one as understood the connundydrum."

"Tell me your news," said d.i.c.k, wearily.

Jerry picked up a bouquet standing in water, sniffed it, and set it down again, watching the patient furtively as he went on ignoring the question.

"Here was Mr Lacey knocked up for a few days after his singeing, and gets right again, though his head of 'air is still orful to be'old; and it's on'y by cutting the other side so short as to make something like a match to the singed-off side where he was burnt that I made him able to go out when he got better. Soldiers do wear their hair pretty close, but his head looked quite indecent; and, as for his starshers, they're like a bit o' black toothbrush worn stumpy."

"You said that you had some news," said d.i.c.k, angrily.

"And then there's him as ought to ha' been the worst of all you three.

He got burnt a deal, but it was mostly about the clothes. The padding in his uniform seemed to save him. I say--what are you going to do with yourself to-day?"

"Nothing."