Hugh put his arm under his to steady him. The boy's nerve had gone, he was trembling like a man stricken with the ague. There was no cab or taxi to be got in this outlying district. They had to walk back to the barracks. Hugh planted him in an easy-chair in his own quarters, and mixed him a stiff peg. Even Dutch courage was better than nothing. Pom-fret drank it in two big gulps. Then he pulled himself together. "I have been an infernal fool, old man," he gasped, "an infernal fool." Hugh spoke soothingly. "Of course you have. But the folly is over. You now know Norah Burton and her rascally brother for what they are, a pair of criminals and adventurers." "But you don't know all," groaned the unfortunate Jack. "Norah Burton is my wife. I married her secretly the other day, by special licence, while I was up in London." Hugh leapt to his feet in astonishment. He had his own ideas of that visit to London, coupled with Norah's absence. But that Pom-fret, weak and impressionable as he was, should have made such a fool of himself, was beyond the limits of his comprehension. In a moment he pulled himself together. The poor lad was in a big mess enough, it was no time to rub it in. "Tell me all about it, old chap," he said quietly. And Pomfret told him. He made it clear, perfect gentleman as he was, that Norah had been the least to blame in the matter, that the suggestion had come from himself, that Norah had insisted upon consulting her brother before yielding to his wishes. Yes, of course, Hugh could understand all that. They had known just the kind of man they were dealing with. They had hooked and landed their fish well. To a woman in her uncertain state, a husband with some prospects was better than her insecure position with a scoundrel like George Burton. Hugh filled a big pipe full up with a very strong and potent tobacco. He thought better when he was smoking, and this was a situation that demanded a good deal of thought. After a while he spoke. "Well, Jack, let us look facts in the face. What is done can't be undone. You have married this woman, and as long as she lives she is entitled to call herself Mrs. Pomfret, and you will have to keep her. There is no getting over that." The unhappy Jack groaned. There was no getting over that. This attractive, charming young woman, sister or confederate, or whatever relationship she stood in to this wretched criminal, was his legal wife, and, if she chose, she could make things very uncomfortable for him. "Well, old man, you have made a hash of your life at the very beginning of it. As I say, that can't be undone. You've got to make the best of it. I suppose you have entered into some financial arrangements with her." "Seven hundred a year till I come into my aunt's money. After that, of course, our marriage was to be acknowledged, and we would live together."