All this time he had been appraising Herbert’s value, had noted his broad shoulders, thin flanks, his seventy-two inches, and his erect bearing, as keenly as though he were a slave merchant about to turn a penny on a deal. The scrutiny was satisfactory. The medical examination confirmed it, the nearest magistrate sanctioned the enlistment, and before sundown, Herbert Larkins had joined the Duke’s Own and had sworn to serve Her Majesty and her heirs for a term of years. By a strange coincidence, within a week or two, Ernest Farrington, Sir Rupert’s only son, was gazetted to the same regiment, and the two young men presently found themselves in the same squad at recruit’s drill. CHAPTER V. A CRACK CORPS. The Duke’s Own Fusiliers had the credit of being one of the most distinguished regiments in the service of the Queen. Its colours were emblazoned with the victories in which it had shared; its mess plate was rich in gifts from the great captains and men of mark who had held commissions in its ranks. It considered itself in every respect a crack corps, and held its head high always on account of its thorough efficiency and undeniably ‘good form.’ Its claims to the latter could not be denied; but its rights to the former were sometimes questioned by keen-eyed critics and people behind the scenes. The regiment no doubt turned out smartly upon parade; it always looked well, and was fairly well-behaved. But there were flaws and short-comings in its system, hidden a little below the surface, which in the crucial test of emergency would probably be laid bare. The gulf between officers and men was a little too wide; inferiors had no great confidence in those above them, the latter were generally indifferent, taking but little interest in their business, as though soldiering was not their profession, but a chance employment to fill up their hours when not otherwise engaged.