The next minute he was out in the street, and making his way toward the High Barracks, trying to calm down his excitement and come to some decision as to how he would find out. It seemed simple enough, for what would Mark be? A lieutenant; and any corporal or sergeant would tell him whether there was a Lieutenant Frayne in the regiment. But long before Dick reached the barracks he had another shock; for, all at once, in turning a corner, he saw a well-built private sauntering along on the other side whose face was unmistakable, though how he had become a soldier was more than Dick could grasp. The man did not see him, and Dick passed on for a few yards, feeling his forehead, then his pulse, to find the latter a little accelerated, the former perfectly cool. "I'm not going mad!" he muttered, excitedly. "I may be dreaming, but--" He said no more, but turned sharply and followed the private, who was evidently taking his first walk through the town, and had become a little interested in the place. Dick did not hesitate, but followed the private till he was close behind him, and then uttered one word sharply, which brought him round on the instant, to stare hard at the speaker, but without any change of countenance. "Yes; what is it? I've got my pass." Dick could not speak again for the peculiar feeling of emotion which troubled him, and the man began to frown. "Was it me you meant when you called `Jerry'?" he said. "Yes; you are Jerry Brigley." "I'm Jeremiah Brigley," was the snappish reply, "and I tell you I've got my pass. There you are." But Dick did not even glance at it, for this was a new shock. Some day he meant to go back and claim his position--some day--but here was a man with whom he had been on most intimate terms staring at him blankly without a sign of recognition! "Mornin'!" said Jerry, shortly; and he faced round and walked on. But Dick was after him directly, recovering somewhat from the shock he had sustained, and ready to treat the position with something like forced mirth in his delight at meeting one old link with the past. "Jerry!" he cried, and the man faced round sharply. "Well, what do you want with him?" "Don't you know me, Jerry?" cried Dick. "No, and don't want to; and, if this is a try-on to get me to stand beer, it's a dead failure!" "Not quite!" said Dick, smiling, though his heart ached. "Look here, do you want a tanner?" cried Jerry, snappishly. "Well, I am short of money," said Dick, as a sudden thought came to mind; "but not a tanner. Pay me the sovereign you borrowed of me!" "What?" "I did not mean ever to ask you for it, but it would be useful now." "Well, I'm blest!" cried Jerry. "Talk about cheek! When did I borrow a sovereign of you, my whippersnapper?" "Two years ago, when you wanted to bet on some horse for the Derby." Jerry's jaw dropped. "Who--who--who--who--says?" he stuttered. "How did--? When did--? Here--who are you?--How did--? I say: who are you?"