Charlie, who was making tracks in the same direction, turned sharply away when he saw it, and went off to the billiard-room where several of the rest were collected playing pool.  He was in uproarious spirits, and the whole gathering was speedily infected thereby.

The evening ended in a boisterous abandonment to childish games, and the party broke up at midnight, exhausted but still merry.  Charlie, after an animated sponge-fight with half-a-dozen other sportsmen, finally effaced himself by bolting into Fisher’s bedroom and locking himself in.

To Fisher, who was smoking peacefully by the fire, he made hurried apology, to which Fisher gruffly responded by requesting him to get out.

But Charlie, after listening to the babel dying away down the corridor, turned round with a smile and established himself at comfortable length on Fisher’s bed.

“I want to talk to you, dear old fellow,” he tenderly remarked.  “Can you spare me a few moments of your valuable time?”

“Two minutes,” said Fisher with brevity.

“By Jove!  What generosity!” ejaculated Charlie, his hands clasped behind his head, his eyes on the ceiling.  “It’s rather a delicate matter.  However, here goes!  Do you seriously mean business, or don’t you?  Are you in sober earnest, or aren’t you?  Are you badly smitten, or are you only just beginning to hover round the candle?  Pardon my mixture of similes!  The meaning remains intact.”

Silence followed his somewhat involved speech.  After a pause Captain Fisher got up slowly, and turned round to face the boy on his bed.

“Whatever your meaning may be, I don’t fathom it,” he said curtly.

Charlie rolled on to his side to look at him.

“Dense as a London fog,” he murmured.

“You’d better go,” said Fisher, dropping his cigarette into the fire and beginning to undress.

Charlie sat up and watched him with an air of interest.  Fisher took no more notice of him.  There was no waste of ceremony between these two.

Charlie got up at last and laid sudden hands on his friend’s square shoulders.

“I think it wouldn’t hurt you to give me a straight answer, old boy,” he said, a flicker of something that was not mischief in his eyes.

Fisher faced him instantly.

“What is it you want to know?” he inquired bluntly.

“This only,” Charlie said, with perfect steadiness.  “Are you going in for Miss Erle in solid earnest or are you not?  I want to know your intentions, that’s all.”

“I can’t enlighten you, then,” returned Fisher.

Charlie laughed without effort.

“Cautious old duffer!” he said.  “Well, tell me this!  I’ve no right to ask it.  Only somehow I’ve got to know.  You care for her, don’t you?”

Fisher looked at him keenly for a moment.  “Why do you ask?” he said.

“Oh, it’s infernal impertinence, of course.  I admit that,” said Charlie, his tanned face growing suddenly red.  “I suspected it, you see, ages ago—­on board ship, in fact.  Is it true, then?”