The two were walking together alone as they dropped down, an hour before sunset, on to the upper end of Barham.  They were both glowing with the splendid air and exercise, and were just in that state of weariness that is almost unmixed physical pleasure to an imaginative thinker who contemplates a hot bath, a quantity of tea, and a long evening in a deep chair.  Frank still preserved his impassive kind of attitude towards things in general, but Jack noticed with gentle delight that he seemed more off his guard, and that he even walked with something more of an alert swing than he had on that first evening when they trudged up the drive together.

Their road led them past the gate of the old churchyard, and as they approached it, dropping their feet faster and faster down the steep slope, Jack noticed two figures sitting on the road-side, with their feet in the ditch—­a man and a girl.  He was going past them, just observing that the man had rather an unpleasant face, with a ragged mustache, and that the girl was sunburned, fair-haired and rather pretty, when he became aware that Frank had slipped behind him.  The next instant he saw that Frank was speaking to them, and his heart dropped to zero.

“All right,” he heard Frank say, “I was expecting you.  This evening, then....  I say, Jack!”

Jack turned.

“Jack, this is Major and Mrs. Trustcott, I told you of.  This is my friend, Mr.—­er—­Mr. Jack.”

Jack bowed vaguely, overwhelmed with disgust.

“Very happy to make your acquaintance, sir,” said the Major, straightening himself in a military manner.  “My good lady and I were resting here.  Very pleasant neighborhood.”

“I’m glad you like it,” said Jack.

“Then, this evening,” said Frank again.  “Can you wait an hour or two?”

“Certainly, my boy,” said the Major.  “Time’s no consideration with us, as you know.”

(Jack perceived that this was being said at him, to show the familiarity this man enjoyed with his friend.)

“Would nine o’clock be too late?”

“Nine o’clock it shall be,” said the Major.

“And here?”

“Here.”

“So long, then,” said Frank.  “Oh, by the way—­” He moved a little closer to this appalling pair, and Jack stood off, to hear the sound of a sentence or two, and then the chink of money.

“So long, then,” said Frank again.  “Come along, Jack; we must make haste.”

“Good-evening, sir,” cried the Major, but Jack made no answer.

* * * * *

“Frank, you don’t mean to tell me that those are the people?”

“That’s the Major and Gertie—­yes.”

“And what was all that about this evening?”

“I must go, Jack.  I’m sorry; but I told you it couldn’t be more than a few days at the outside.”

Jack was silent, but it was a hard struggle.

“By the way, how shall we arrange?” went on the other.  “I can’t take these clothes, you know; and I can’t very well be seen leaving the house in my own.”