"I know!" said Arthur that evening, coming up to Jack, who was practising skittles in an alley behind the house. He looked up slyly in Jack’s face. "You do, do you? And what do you know?" "About you." "Well, I suppose you do. I’m Jack Hardy, son of Major James Hardy, late of the East India Company’s service, and—" "Didn’t he touch you at all?" "Who? Father? Yes, he used to lay it on pretty thick when I was a young un like you." "Jan Lamiger, I mean." "Oh, that’s it, is it? And what do you know about Jan Lamiger, may I ask?" "Tony told me. He says Jan Lamiger has got two black eyes and a green nose. Oh! don’t I wish I’d seen it! Just don’t I!" "Well, my young cockchafer, you hold your tongue about it. I don’t want it all over the country that a king’s officer has been sparring with a lout like Jan Lamiger." "All right. You needn’t be stuck up about it. Did he go squash?" "Your language is not very choice, Master Bastable. Hullo! There’s Gudgeon’s chimney on fire again." "It’s always on fire." "What do you mean?" "So it is—in the winter." "Well, I s’pose he doesn’t have fires in the summer, but it isn’t winter yet." "I don’t care. I’ve seen the chimney smoking away like that often enough; sometimes twice a week." "That’s rather curious, isn’t it? Doesn’t he ever have ’em swept?" "I don’t know. I asked Bill Gudgeon about it once, and he said they can’t afford sea-coal, and burn up all their muck like that." "Just the sort of answer I should expect from him. Well, there’s your tutor coming to teach you a, b, ab, b, a, b, bab. Cut away!" "I say!" "Well, what is it now?" "I hate Frenchmen." "A very wise and proper thing for an English boy." "And I hate lessons." "Very wrong. You’ll grow up a dunce and disgrace to the name of Bastable. Cut!" "Bother!" He made a wry mouth and went slowly away. Jack smiled. "He’ll do!" he said to himself. "But I wonder why Gudgeon’s chimneys seem so uncommonly foul. I think I must pay Bill’s father a visit some day." He mentioned the matter of the chimney to Mr. Bastable when that gentleman returned later in the day, after starting the chase for the rogues who had dared to disturb the peace of law-abiding Luscombe. Mr. Bastable laughed. "Yes, Gudgeon has an uncommon quantity of muck on his farm," he said, "but some good stuff, too—some uncommonly good stuff." Jack did not regard this as a very satisfactory explanation. That night he was roused from a very heavy sleep by a touch on his arm. "Who’s that?" he cried, springing up at once. "Only me," said Arthur in a whisper. "I say, Jack, I heard some one moving about below. It seemed to be in De Fronsac’s room." "Well, he’s stumping about doing some more poetry perhaps. Go to bed." "But I believe he’s gone out." "’Tis rather a close night. Perhaps he wanted air." "I believe he knows something about that fellow who was shot. I watched his face." "Oho!"