"Yes, yes!" cried the constable, mockingly. "I know--one on yer's going to play a toon on the centre-bit while t'other sings the pop'lar and original air o' `Gentle Jemmy in the 'ouse.' Now, then, no gammon! Come on!" "Hadn't we better walk to the station with him, and explain to his officer?" said the lieutenant, mildly. "No!" cried Dick, angrily; "we'll make him understand here! Don't be absurd, constable; this is a gentleman--" "From London. I know!" "Nonsense! he lives in Ratcham. It is only meant for a pleasant little surprise." "To find the plate gone, eh!" "I tell you we were going to play a tune or two!" "Then where's your organ?" "Absurd!" "Fiddles, then?" "Fiddles--nonsense! Here are our instruments." Dick unbuttoned the loose overcoat and brought out the two flutes. As Dick unfastened the coat there was a faint, gleam of light from the constable's belt, which shone on Dick's chest. "From the barracks, eh?" said the constable, surlily. "Humph! Well, I'm sure I don't know what to say. You may be London burglars, and putting a clever flam on me." "Do people go burgling with flutes?" said Dick, angrily. "Now, look here, go back to the gate, and mind we are not interrupted! This gentleman is going to slip two half-crowns in your hand." "Well, if it's all right, and only a bit of music, I don't want to be disagreeable, gentlemen. Sarah-naying, don't you call it? Only look out: I have heered tell o' blunderbusses and revolvers about here! Thankye, sir; but, of course, that wasn't ness'ry. I've got to go 'bout half-mile! down the road, so you'd better get it over before I come back." The man went off, and the lieutenant stood panting. "I'd rather have faced the enemy's shot, Smithson!" he whispered. "But it's all right now, sir," said Dick. "Catch hold of your flute. I'd not interfere with the tuning-slide: it's quite correct." "It's impossible, Smithson; my hands are trembling terribly." "You'll forget it as soon as we begin, sir. Come along!" Dick led the way in and out among the clumps of shrubs that dotted the soft lawn till the house was reached, and the lieutenant yielded to the stronger will, following with his flute in his hand. "Which is her window, sir?" whispered Dick. "That one," replied the lieutenant, feebly, as they stood there in the darkness, with the stars glimmering overhead and the sweet fragrance of the dewy flowers rising all around. "Then one--two--three--_four_" whispered Dick. "Off!" "He regularly makes me," muttered the lieutenant, raising the flute to his lips, and the sweet, soft sounds floated out upon the night breeze, the pupil playing far better than Dick had anticipated, and keeping well up through the first verse, evidently encouraged by the successful issue of his lessons, and also by the fact that there came a sharp snap overhead, followed by the peculiar squeaking, grating sound of a window-sash being raised, while, dimly seen above, there was a figure in white.