ROY ROYLAND; or, The Young Castellan. With Eight Illustrations by W. BOUCHER 5/- DIAMOND DYKE; or, The Lone Farm on the Veldt. With Eight Illustrations by W. BOUCHER 5/- REAL GOLD: A Story of Adventure. With Eight Illustrations by W. S. STACEY 5/- NIC REVEL: A White Slave’s Adventures in Alligator Land. With Six Illustrations by W. H. C. GROOME 3/6 THE RAJAH OF DAH. With Six Illustrations by W. S. STACEY 3/6 THE DINGO BOYS; or, The Squatters of Wallaby Range. With Six Illustrations by W. S. STACEY 3/6 BEGUMBAGH: A Tale of the Indian Mutiny; and other Stories. Illust. 1/6 W. & R. CHAMBERS, LIMITED, LONDON AND EDINBURGH. BLAIR OF BALACLAVA. CHAPTER I. A SCRIMMAGE IN THE OFFICE. ‘You young brute, why don’t you mind what you’re doing, blundering about?’ ‘I couldn’t help it, Jenkins; it was quite an accident. Your foot was stuck out, and I stumbled over it.’ ‘It was nothing of the sort, you clumsy wretch; and take that to remind you that I’m _Mr_ Jenkins.’ As he spoke, the lanky, pale-faced youth rose from the table, where he had been sitting nibbling the end of a quill, and soundly boxed the ears of a small, delicate-looking boy who, while carrying an inkpot across the office, had stumbled and upset some of the black fluid upon the lavender-coloured continuations of Mr Silvester Jenkins. Not content with boxing the boy’s ears, Mr Jenkins seized him by the arm, which he twisted savagely. ‘Oh, oh--Jenkins! don’t--please don’t! You do hurt!’ ‘And I will too, you young pig!’ The scene was taking place in the close and dismal office of Messrs Phogg & Cheetham, Solicitors, House Agents, &c. The tiny windows, partly covered with a wire blind and partly with big bills, allowed but little daylight to penetrate into the office, Messrs Phogg & Cheetham seeming to prefer, in more senses than one, working in the dark. While the boy’s cries still rang out, a third person, who had been seated in the darkest corner of the office, perched up on a high stool, making entries in a book of vast dimensions, quietly descended from his seat, and in two strides stood before Mr Jenkins. This third person was a well-set-up, handsome young fellow of about sixteen, with a firm chin, clear-cut features, and honest hazel eyes. ‘Leave Mallinson alone,’ he said quietly to Mr Jenkins; ‘you’re hurting him.’ ‘And a good job too. He’s spoilt my trousers!’ ‘It was an accident, and he’s sorry. Now let him go.’ ‘I sha’n’t, and you mind your own business, John Blair, or you’ll get kicked out into the gutter.’