Sir Francis looked at me for a moment, half sadly, with an expression on his face which I scarcely understood. Then he sighed. "I have brought you news, Hugh," he said slowly. "News!" I repeated; and then a sudden light flashed in upon me. "Tell me quick," I cried. "You have been with Lord Cannington?" My grandfather nodded. "I left him only a quarter of an hour ago, at Whitehall, and came down here as fast as a hansom could bring me. The 17th, 19th, and 21st are ordered out. 'Twill be in to-night's Gazette." I could have shouted, done any mad thing, in my great joy. But I sat quite still in my chair, grasping its sides, and struggling to conceal my excitement. "Thank God!" I murmured fervently, "this is what I have prayed for. I am sick of playing at being a soldier, of lounging about here, whilst he--others--were in such mortal peril." He sat looking at me, nodding his head slowly. "He! others! Ah, well. But I have more news for you, Hugh. Who do you think is appointed to the colonelcy of the 18th?" "Utterson? Haigh?" He shook his head. "Your Uncle Rupert." I was not surprised, for I had heard rumours that it might be so. But it seemed very strange when I thought it over. Were we three to meet again? I wondered. "Yes," my grandfather went on with a shade of sadness in his tone, "I am to be left quite alone again, you see." "Miss Devereux will be with you, I suppose?" "Maud! Oh, yes, Maud will be with me. What's come to her I don't know. She's refused Lord Annerley and Captain Bryant, and I don't know how many others, and seems settling down into an old maid. Hugh, I'm getting a nervous old man, I think, but I shall have no peace till you get back again. When I think that if anything happened to you--which God forbid--that dissipated, low young cub of a nephew of mine would be my heir, it makes me feel sick. I'd burn Devereux Court above my head rather than that should be." "It is not likely that anything will happen to me, grandfather," I said, bitterly. "There is one who should be dearer to you than I, who stands in greater peril." He shook his head sadly. "He is nothing to me--nothing. He is your father, Hugh, and I have never blamed you for----" "And he is your son," I interrupted. Sir Francis looked at me sternly. "He is nothing to me. I disowned him." "Ay, disowned him! I know that. You disowned him. You believed that accursed lie against your own son's words." "I believed in the decision of the court-martial," he said, with all his old severity of tone and manner. "And if the same thing were to happen over again with you, Hugh, I should do exactly the same. I would never look upon your face again." "I am in no danger," I answered bitterly. "I have no younger brother who would gain a fortune by my ruin." "What do you mean, sir?"