And Jim spent the rest of the night on three chairs in the guard-room, brooding gloomily most of the time on the disastrous results of "seeing the fun" of the Ovens, and full of fears as to the end of it all. In the morning his keeper came for him, and Jim, for the first time, took the opportunity of looking at him. He had been too busy with other matters the night before. He was a young fellow of about his own age, dark-haired, and of a thin sallow face, bright-eyed, pleasant-looking. Under other circumstances Jim thought they might have become friendly. He had certainly, treated him well. "How is my brother?" asked Jim anxiously. "We will see as we go. Have you eaten? No?" And he took him away to a mess-room just alongside, where a number of officers were drinking coffee from bowls, and smoking and talking. They saluted Jim politely, and stared at him without restraint while he ate a chunk of very good white bread and drank his coffee, which was excellent, and meanwhile they plied his friend with questions. And one, after much observation of Jim's uniform, suddenly made some remark which carried all eyes to him and made him extremely uncomfortable at so much observation. "He is saying that your regiment was in that mad charge outside Balaclava," said his particular officer. "Yes; I was in it," said Jim quietly. And at that, to his immense surprise, every man in the room sprang to his feet and gravely saluted him again. "And you got through whole?" was the next question. "No. I had a lance wound and three bullets into me, but I've been a voyage to Constantinople since then, to brace up, you know." And they crowded round him, and pressed cigars on him, and showed themselves right good fellows. Then his new friend took him along to the hospital, and they learned that Jack had come to himself and was sleeping, and so they went on across the bridge of boats, and through the public gardens, and past the cathedral, to Head-quarters. After waiting some time, they were conducted down many long passages to a room where a tall fair man, of high face and autocratic bearing, sat at a table piled with papers and plans. Another stood looking out of the window, with his back turned to them, and a white English terrier, standing by his side on its hind legs, was trying hard to make out what he was looking at. Jim's keeper saluted deferentially and made his statement to the tall man at the table. "I understand you are prepared to give your parole not to attempt to escape, or to hold any communication with the outside?" said he, somewhat brusquely, first in French and then in understandable English. "I am," bowed Jim. And at the sound of his voice the white dog came dancing across to him as though he were an old friend, and accepted his caresses with delight. "And your brother is also a prisoner, in hospital, and you wish to attend on him." "I do." "What is your name and standing?"