"Shot as a spy," thought Alan. "I wonder if it has been made public in England. If so, what a terrible shock to Eve and all my friends." He suppressed his feelings and gave an account of how he fulfilled his mission. "You must see King Albert at once," said the chief. "It was a blow to him when he heard you were shot." The news of Captain Chesney's return was soon noised abroad, and on all sides he was congratulated. He hunted up Skane's letter and found the date of the Trent Park Grand Steeplechase would give him ample time to get home and ride Bandmaster over the course two or three times. He must see about his leave at once. He supposed his safe arrival would be at once reported at home and that Eve would see it and others. There was a budget of letters for him some six weeks old. One of the last he opened came from his trainer. The date of the Steeplechase had been altered because the troops camped in the Park had left earlier than was expected. Alan was uncertain about the date. He asked, and found he had just a couple of days to spare to get there in time. Then came another thought which made him gasp. Had Bandmaster been struck out when he was reported shot? Every minute was precious. He wired to Skane at once, imposing secrecy, and asking it Bandmaster was still in the race. If so he would be home to ride. "Not a word about this." Fred Skane had not scratched Bandmaster. He would not believe Alan Chesney had been shot, and this firm conviction cheered Eve Berkeley wonderfully. Then came the news that Captain Chesney had returned to headquarters after many hairbreadth escapes and that he was severely wounded. The reaction set in at Trent Park, The Forest, and Little Trent. Gloom turned to joy; everybody was gay and festive. Captain Chesney was safe, he would soon recover from a few wounds, these were trifles to a brave strong man. "There you are," said Fred Skane. "What did I tell you, Miss Berkeley. I knew he was not shot--not likely. Supposing I'd scratched Bandmaster--there'd have been a row and no mistake. 'Scratch the horse out of respect,' says Abel Head. 'Memory,' says I, 'what memory? He's alive. There's no memory about Captain Chesney yet, I'll bet, or I'm a Dutchman.'" Eve laughed. "Splendid, Fred, splendid! You were right; we were all wrong. But he was reported shot." "Reported be----" said Fred, checking himself. "Who believes reports? Not me! We get too much or too little, and it came from a German source; not good enough, says I, not half good enough for this child." When the trainer received Alan's telegram he chuckled, then laughed heartily. "By Jove, this is grand! Won't there be a double distilled surprise for 'em all. If he can get home--if? He must!--and ride, wounds or no wounds--and he'll win, I can see him doing it--what a day it will be! Not a word, not me; I wouldn't miss the shock of his appearance on the course, in an unexpected way, not for a thousand."