In one of these rooms, towards evening, our friend Stevenson was engaged, at the request of the Superintendent, in relating to a number of earnest-minded men a brief account of the wonderful experiences that he and his comrades had recently had in the Soudan, and Jack Molloy sat near him, emphasising with a nod of his shaggy head, or a "Right you are, messmate," or a slap on his thigh, all the marine's points, especially those in which his friend, passing over second causes, referred all their blessings and deliverances direct to his loving God and Father. In another room a Bible-reading was going on, accompanied by prayer and praise. In the larger rooms, tea, coffee, etcetera, were being consumed to an extent that "no fellow can understand," except those who did it! Games and newspapers and illustrated magazines, etcetera, were rife elsewhere, while a continuous roar, rather the conventional "buzz," of conversation was going on everywhere. But, apparently, not a single oath in the midst of it all! The moral atmosphere of the place was so pure that even bad men respected--perhaps approved--it. Just before the hour of the concert our friends, the five invalids, sat grouped round a table near the door. They were drinking tea, and most of them talking with tremendous animation--for not one of them had been wounded in the tongue! Indeed it did not appear that any of them had been very seriously wounded anywhere. While they were yet in the midst of their talk two lady-workers came down the long room, followed by two other ladies in deep mourning, the younger of whom suddenly sprang towards our quintet, and, clasping her hands, stood speechless before them, staring particularly at Jack Molloy, who returned the gaze with interest. "Beg pard'n, Miss Drew," exclaimed the sailor, starting up in confusion, and pulling his forelock, "but you've hove me all aback!" "Mr Molloy!" gasped Marion, grasping his hand and looking furtively round, "is it possible? Have you _all_ escaped? Is--is--" "Yes, Miss, we've all escaped, thank God, an' we're all here--'cept John Miles, in coorse, for he's bin invalided home--" "He's no more invalided home than yourself, Jack," said a seaman, who was enjoying his coffee at a neighbouring table; "leastwise I seed John Miles myself yesterday in hospital wi' my own two eyes, as isn't apt to deceive me." "Are ye sure o' that, mate?" cried Molloy, turning in excitement to the man, and totally forgetting Marion. "Mother, let us go out!" whispered the latter, leaning heavily on Mrs Drew's arm. They passed out to the verandah--scarcely observed, owing to the excitement of the quintet at the sailor's news--and there she would have fallen down if she had not been caught in the arms of a soldier who was advancing towards the door. "Mr Miles!" exclaimed Mrs Drew, as she looked up in amazement at the scarred and worn face.