look in at Bull’s, the exchange agency. “He
may have something that will do for me without
my going abroad. At all events there is no
harm in asking.” And so in he walked.

Mr. Bull was a pleasant spoken man, with an
official tone in his conversation that gave to his
somewhat illegal business quite a Horse Guards’
flavour.

He was surrounded by huge sets of bound
ledgers and gazettes, and looked altogether like
a military secretary in very flourishing circumstances.

On Frank mentioning his business, Mr. Bull
pulled down one of the ledgers, and ran his finger
down the page.

“Something at home, quiet and comfortable,
eh? Let me see. Military train wants eight
hundred; adjutancy of militia, one thousand
five hundred; ditto volunteers, eight hundred;
paymaster in regiment at home would
exchange even; cavalry at home, regiment
never leaves England, three thousand pounds,
and cheap, Captain Chester, cheap, I assure
you. A troop frequently goes for more.”

Frank explained his object was to get money,
not to pay it, and that he was in somewhat
urgent need of four hundred pounds.

“Then I’ve got the very thing for you,
Captain Chester! Only came in this morning!
Regiment in India, good colonel, prospect of
a run among the seniors shortly; first-rate
station; only four years more to serve; and my
client offers four hundred pounds—just what
you want—and passage. It’s the best we have
had on our books for months, sir, and really
worth your serious consideration.”

“Thank you,” said Frank, “it does seem very
fair. I’ll think it over. Good morning.”

“Perhaps you will favour me with your
address, in case I should hear of anything else
likely to suit you.”

Frank gave his regiment and address, and
went out.

“It’s an uncommonly good offer,” he thought
for the fiftieth time as he was whirling along
in the train towards home; “just the money
I want. And after all, India’s not a bad place;
Milly will have her carriage, and all that sort
of thing; I don’t see why she shouldn’t like it.
Besides, if a girl marries a soldier, she must expect
a little knocking about.”

Milly ran out and kissed her husband as was
her wont, but Frank’s kiss was a trifle colder
than usual, and he muttered something about
being tired and hot, and stumped past her, and
went up to his dressing-room, as if he wanted to
get away from her. At dinner, too, he answered
her questions very sharply, and went on eating
very grimly.

“Frank, dear, what is the matter?” asked
Milly at night when they went up-stairs.

“Oh, nothing,” growled Frank; “I’m
bothered.”

“Is it about that horrid money, dear?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Frank, mayn’t I know what it is? Perhaps
I could help you.”

It was impossible to resist the pretty, patient,
winning little creature; so Frank, denouncing
himself for a Monster, told her all about the
exchange for four hundred pounds; and she, like
a brave little woman, as she was, did not oppose
it; a fact which made Frank all the more
eager to give it up.

About a week before the “bill” would be
due Frank received a letter from Leverson,
which startled him not a little. It was as
follows:

“Dear Sir. I beg to remind you that your
promissory note for eight hundred and forty-
five pounds, of which a balance of four hundred
and forty-five pounds remains against you, will
be due on the 21st instant.

“As you have declined to make any arrangement
towards meeting it, I suppose you intend
to pay it off in full. Should you not do so, and
in the event of my not hearing from you in the
meantime, I shall have to place the note in my
solicitor’s hands.
                         “Your obedient Servant,
                                              â€œJ. LEVERSON.”

He took his hat, and went out to try and
walk off his anxiety; but the faster he went,
the more did it seem to cleave to him; the
bright fields lost their beauty; the hedgerows,
reddening in their autumn coats, seemed
like so many straight lines leading on to the
one inevitable goal awaiting him. So he turned
back, and entering the town by another road,
went into the club for a game of billiards; but
the balls ran so contrary, and he missed so
many strokes which were usually a certainty
to him, that he threw down his cue in a pet, and
went out into the streets again.

As he was passing the “Blue Stag,” he
saw a knot of men standing inside round the
bar.

“Holloa! Chester,” cried one of them,
“have you heard about poor Travers?”

“No! What about him?” cried Frank,
stopping.

“Shot himself, last night! Stockton has just
had a letter from the adjutant.”

“Poor dear Travers!” said Frank. “What
on earth made him do it?”

“Some row about money, I believe; they
say he has let in the Jews pretty considerably.”

“Well, that’s a comfort, at any rate,” growled
Frank, and strolled on towards home.

Travers had been senior lieutenant in the
regiment when Chester purchased his company
over him, and since then, not being able to keep
pace with his brother officers, had been compelled
to exchange to a West Indian regiment:
going to the bottom of a list of twenty men
long junior to himself in the service.

“Poor fellow,” thought Frank, “he is not so
far wrong, after all. No more duns where he’s
gone! It’s of no use. I must write to Bull,
and take the four hundred pounds. There’s
only a week more, and then I suppose I shall
be clapped in jail, or placed in some equally