The day, with its cricket match--in which Comethup covered himself, for the last time, with glory--came to an end, and the captain and the boy were free to depart. A fly was at the gate; Comethup's boxes were piled upon it, and a crowd of younger boys had gathered about to see him go and to give him a final cheer. In the pride of the hour he had determined to drive the captain the whole of the way home, in order to save the trouble of the short train journey; the captain had expostulated, but Comethup had laughingly had his way. As the fly started, the eldest boy, who would be captain next term in Comethup's place, cried lustily, "Three cheers for Willis!" and Captain Garraway-Kyle stood up in the vehicle, snatched off his hat and waved it, and responded heartily. As he sat down again, and the fly, turning the corner of the road, left the familiar faces behind, he said in a gratified tone: "That's music, boy; that's the best of all music. When it comes from the throats of those who love you, it's the finest orchestra in the world; sometimes it comes falsely, and means nothing; and then, if you have but the right ears to hear, the music is all jangled horribly, and means nothing but lies, and fawnings, and hypocrisy. But that's the right music, boys--the music that comes from those who love us." They drove on for some time in silence, and then the captain said abruptly: "I had a visitor this morning, in a state of great excitement; he hasn't been near me since you went to London. Can you guess?" Comethup looked at him inquiringly and shook his head. "No," he said. "Who was it?" "Your uncle, Robert Carlaw. Said he'd had a great shock; that Brian had left him suddenly, without giving the slightest warning of where he was going or what his intentions were; he had merely left a curt note--I saw the note, and it was really very rude--a curt note saying he was going away, and did not intend to return or to trouble his father again. I suppose that mad fellow, your uncle, was fond of the boy in his way; at all events, he ramped and raved about the place, and talked of ingratitude, and serpents' teeth, and thankless children, and what not, until I was quite glad to get rid of him. I wonder where the boy has gone?" "I saw him yesterday," said Comethup. "He came here--to the school, you know--to see me. He told me he was going to London to make his fortune; that he'd quarrelled with his father, and didn't mean to go back to him. I was awfully surprised to see him." "But what's he going to do in London, without friends and without money?" Then, as Comethup sat silent, looking before him, the captain dropped a hand on the boy's arm. "Comethup, he didn't come to you merely to say good-bye, after seeing nothing of you for eight years. I suppose you----"