"It is Captain Okewood," said the loafer, "you don't remember me,
sir?"
Desmond looked at the dirty, rather haggard face with its
unshaven chin and shook his head.
"I don't think I do," he answered, "though you seem to know my
name!"
The vagrant fumbled in his pocket for a minute and extracting a
scrap of paper, unfolded it and held it out to Desmond.
"That's me, sir!" he said, "and, oh, sir! if you would kindly
help me with a word of good advice, just for old times' sake, I'd
be very grateful!"
Desmond took the scrap of paper which the man tendered and held
it so as to catch the rays of the lamp. It was a fragment torn
from a newspaper. He had hardly set eyes on the cutting than he
stretched out his hand to the vagrant.
"Why, Gunner Barling, " he cried, "I didn't know you! How on
earth do you come to be in this state?"
The man looked shamefacedly down on the ground.
"I'm a deserter, sir!" he said in a low voice.
"Are you, by George?" replied Desmond, "and now I come to think
of it, so am I!"
CHAPTER XXV. TO MRS. MALPLAQUET'S
Clasping Barbara's wrist in a bony grip, Mrs. Malplaquet sat at
the girl's side in the back seat of the limousine whilst Bellward
placed himself on the seat opposite. The car was powerfully
engined; and, once the cart track up to the inn was passed and
the main road reached, Strangwise opened her out.
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