The party of labourers followed till they had passed the little roadside inn, where they stopped and stood watching till chaise and waggonette had passed a corner of the road. Then Joey turned to his companions, and opened his hand to count over the coins. "There's four-and-twenty, Smiler," he said. "And there's eight on us," said Smiler. "And eight into twenty-four goes three times," said the man who left school last, amidst a murmur of satisfaction. "Eight shillin's apiece," said Smiler. "Get along with you," cried Joey. "Three shillin's apiece. Hands out, boys." Seven hard palms were extended to him instantly, the coins counted into them, and Joey looked round. "Before we can get to work again, boys, it'll be nigh time to leave off." "Ay," was chorussed. "There's a drop of yale nigh at hand, we're all dry and we've yearned it, so I says let's have one drink and then talk about it as we goes back." "And so says all you," cried Smiler. But they did not in words, only in acts; so that the aphides left on the hops enjoyed a few more leaves of life. CHAPTER FORTY. JERRY LETS OUT THE CAT. That night, after the mess dinner, Jerry, when seeing about the coffee for his master, had a note given to him to take into the room, and this he handed to the lieutenant, who flushed a little as he recognised the hand, and, disregarding the smiles of those nearest to him, he read, hastily written:-- "Pray come at once! Aunt and I were out driving, and we found poor Smithson. We brought him here. He is wounded, and dying. I know no more." "Anna." The lieutenant sprang up excitedly, and strode to the colonel's side, giving him the note to read. "Poor boy!" cried the colonel. "Then he did not desert. I'm glad of that. Doctor, Smithson is found. He is, it seems, badly hurt." "Bless my soul!" cried the doctor. "Yes. Will you go on with Lacey at once, and--My good fellow, are you mad?" "Yes, sir, a'most," cried Jerry, whose appearance and action justified the colonel's question, for he had suddenly seized the old officer's arm and made a snatch at the note. "Stand back, sir! Leave the room at once! Here, turn this scoundrel out." "Keep off, or I'll do you a mischief," roared Jerry, as two of the men sprang at him, and they shrank from his menacing gesture. "Here, Mr Lacey, Colonel, I want to know--I will know--if S'Richard's hurt--" "Sir Richard! The man's drunk," cried the colonel. "No, I ain't; but it's enough to make me," roared Jerry. "I am drunk now with what you gents call indignation. If S'Richard's hurt, it's foul play, and it's that black-hearted, cheating, gambling hound as done it. Keep back!--d'yer hear? It's all over now. It's the cat out of the bag, and no mistake!" "One moment, colonel," cried Lacey firmly. "Brigley never drinks.--Look here, my man, you said foul play. Do you know who was likely to injure Smithson?"