"Yes, sir; this is Jack." And the keen dark eyes looked Jack all through and over. "I am very glad to make your acquaintance, my boy," he said. "I knew your father very well some twenty years ago. You have both of you a good deal of him in you." "I have to thank you, sir," said Jack, "for my share in your kindness to Jim." "Oh----?" And my lord looked mystified and awaited enlightenment. "He sent on to me the half of your very generous gift----" "Ah! he never told me that. Are you up on leave? You are at Chatham, I think." "We got three days' leave, sir. We wanted to go down to Carne." "Ah! I hope you had a good journey. How is Sir Denzil?" "He is just exactly the same as ever. He has not changed a hair since ever we can remember him." "I suppose he sticks to the old customs--shaves clean and wears a wig." "I suppose that is it, sir. He certainly never seems to get any older." Then madame's warning came, and Lord Deseret carried them off to his box and afterwards to supper. And he and Jack had much interesting conversation concerning the coming war, and armaments, and so on, to all of which Jim played the part of interested listener, though in truth his mind was busy, in its slow, heavy way, on quite other matters. "Clever boy, that," said Lord Deseret to himself, as he thought over Jack while his man was putting him to bed that night. "He will probably find his chances in this war and go far. But I'm not sure but what--yes, Jim is a right good fellow. And to think of him sending half that money to the other! I should say that was very like him, though. Now I wonder which, after all, _is_ Lady Susan's boy, and how it's all going to work out. If Jack's the man, I wouldn't at all mind providing for Jim. In fact, I rather think I'd like to provide for him. Not a patch on the other in the matter of brains, of course, but something very taking about him. A look in his eyes, I think----" CHAPTER XXXVII A HOPELESS QUEST It was about a fortnight after their visit to Carne, and Jim, after several hours' hard work outside, was bolting a hasty breakfast in his quarters one morning, when his orderly came up to say that a man was wanting to see him. "What kind of a man, Joyce?" "An elderly man, sir; looks to me like a sailor." "A sailor? And he wants me?" "Yes, sir; very important, he says, and private." "Oh well, bring him up, and, Joyce--see to my things, will you? We have an inspection at twelve. The Duke's coming down to see if we're all in order." "Right, sir!" And Joyce disappeared with a salute, and reappeared in a moment with the fag end of it, as he ushered in--old Seth Rimmer. "Why--Mr. Rimmer!" And Jim jumped up with outstretched hand. "Whatever brings you so far away from home? Nothing wrong, is there?"--for the old man's face was very grim and gray and hard-set, and he did not take Jim's hand, but stood holding his hat in both his own.