That event was the turning-point in Dick Smithson's long illness; and the words said to him by Anna Deane at her visit convinced him that there was something worth living for, even if it was only to have won the respect and friendship of the lady whom he judged now to be the lieutenant's betrothed. "I knew it," Jerry said, with a good, open smile, as he was finishing Dick's toilet. "Nobody knows till they try it what virtue there is in a shampoo." That was some few days later, when the lieutenant's servant had gone to the hospital, as usual, to see how the patient was getting on, and if anything could be done. "Rubbish!" cried Dick, who was still very weak; but there was a different look in his eyes now that was cheering, and it made Jerry rub his hands. "All right; you call it rubbish. That's the way of the world. Chap's dying; doctor gives him the right stuff, and pulls him round; and he says: `Physic? Rubbish! I should have got right by myself.'" "I wasn't talking about doctors," said Dick, "but of you and your shampooing." "All right, have it your own way; but you began to get better the morning after the guv'nor brought Miss Deane, and since I shampooed you." "Absurd!" cried Dick. "That's right, stick to it; but I say that when a man's weak and upset, if he has a good shampoo--I mean a real shampoo, given by anyone who understands it--he begins to feel better directly. There, it stands to reason. Even a watch won't go without it's properly cleaned now and then; so how can you expect it of a human being? But never mind, sir, you are better, and that's everything. Mind my coming up?" "Mind? No; I'm glad to see you, Jerry. How is Mr Lacey?" "Well, I wanted to talk to you about him, sir." "Not going back, surely?" said Dick, eagerly. "Well, he is and he isn't, if you can understand that." "But has the doctor seen him?" "Wouldn't do no good, if he did, sir. Sort of complaint no doctor couldn't cure." "Now, look here, Jerry; do you see that glass of lemonade?" "See it? Of course." "Then take warning: if you begin telling me that nothing will do Mr Lacey any good but a shampoo, I'll throw it at you." Jerry grinned. "You are getting better, Dick Smithson, and no mistake," he said; "but you can drink the stuff, for you won't have to throw it at me, because shampooing ain't no good for a bit o' gambling--whether it's horse-racing or cards." "What do you mean?" "Well, this, S'Rich--" "Hush!" _Slap_! Jerry gave himself a heavy pat on the mouth. "Forgot," he muttered. "Look here, sir--I mean Dick Smithson--has Mr Lacey got plenty of money?" "I don't know. He must be pretty well-off or he couldn't live as he does." "Oh, I don't see that. Lots o' gentry lives in good style and no money per rannum, as we calls it, at all. But you think he is pretty well-off?" "Yes; why are you talking like this?" "Because he ought to be stopped, or somebody else ought."