Bernard Treves's Boots: A Novel of the Secret Service

"Are you sure your name is Manton?"

Captain Gilbert looked keenly across the table. The light in the little room was not good, and the expression on the Captain's face was one of intense interest and bewilderment.

"Quite sure, sir--John Manton," answered the man standing at the further side of the table.

Manton was one of a number of recruits who had that day presented themselves at the Ryde Recruiting Office--a tall, well-poised man of twenty-six, dark-haired, blue-eyed, firm-lipped and vigorous-looking, despite the fact that his countenance was somewhat pale. He wore a well-brushed blue serge suit, noticeably the worse for wear. His bowler hat, too, had seen long service.

Captain Gilbert, still looking at him, drew forth a sheet of paper, and took up his pen.

"John Manton," he wrote, then his eyes lifted, and he looked once more and with a peculiar expression into the tall young recruit's face. For a moment he paused. "Manton," he said, "I should like to see you privately after the office closes."

The young man steadily returned his gaze.

"Very good, sir," he said, with an air of docility. "At what time shall I come?"

"At eight o'clock," returned Gilbert. "Wait for me outside." His eyes followed the other as he turned and left the building, but the moment the door had closed Captain Gilbert plunged once again into his work.

"Next," he called to the line of men seated on the far side of the room; and the man at the end of the line rose and advanced towards the table.

Manton in the meantime paced the streets until eight o'clock, then turned his steps towards the recruiting office.

"I wonder what he wants," thought the young man.

Possibly Gilbert guessed he had been in the army before, and wished to question him upon that point.

"Whatever he wants," thought Manton, somewhat wearily, "does not much matter. If he refuses to take me, and manages to find out everything, I can enlist somewhere else."

As the clock struck eight Captain Gilbert, with an air of haste, closed his desk, left the office and came striding along the street.

"Ah!" exclaimed the Captain, catching sight of Manton, "we'll come up here to the left; it's quieter."

He led the way as he spoke towards a deserted side street. It was already almost dark, and the dimmed street lamps had been lit. They had proceeded some distance together in silence, when Gilbert halted suddenly, and laid his hand on Manton's shoulder.

"Treves," he said, "so you had the grit to do it, after all?"

Manton turned and stared in wonderment.

"Do what, sir?" But he suddenly felt his fingers seized in a cordial grip.

"Gad," went on Gilbert, "that'll make a man of you--eh?"

"I'm afraid I don't understand a word of what you are saying, sir!"

"You don't understand a word! Why, of course you don't! I like you for it--and I'll be frank, I thought I never could like you. Somehow," he went on, looking into Manton's face, "you are the same and yet different, but I'd know you anywhere, despite this shabby old suit and your battered bowler. You knew me, too, when you came into the office."

Manton, still bewildered beyond measure, shook his head slowly.

"I have never seen you in my life before, sir!"

"No, of course not," laughed Gilbert, who was jovial and good-natured. He slipped his arm through Manton's. "Come along now, and we'll talk about it!" Something in the situation of the moment seemed to exhilarate him. "So you've decided to make good after all? Well, all I can say is--I'm delighted. For your own sake, for the old Colonel's sake, for everybody's sake!"

Again he paused and looked into his companion's face.

"I'll admit, Treves, I didn't think you had it in you. I thought----"

Manton freed his arm from the other's grasp.

"I am sorry, sir," he said, "but you are evidently making a grievous mistake. My name is Manton----"

"I don't care what your name is," retorted Gilbert, irritated a little by what he believed to be the other's unnecessary reserve. "You can get rid of your name and call yourself Manton or Jones or Smith or Robinson or anything you like for all I care! But I know you to be Bernard Treves, and----"

But this time a note of firmness appeared in Manton's voice.

"My name is not Treves, sir!"

Gilbert shrugged his shoulders.

"You needn't keep up that note with me," he said. "I'm delighted to find you have the grit to try to make some sort of reparation."

Manton moistened his lips.

"I still don't understand you," he said slowly. "But all I can do is to assure you I am not Treves. If you know some one who resembles me and whose name is Treves, perhaps you would look at me again. To my knowledge, sir, I have never met you in my life before."

As he spoke he took off his hat and turned his face fully towards the Captain.

For a moment there was silence.

"In this half-darkness," said Gilbert, "you look absolutely like Bernard Treves to me. You looked like him in the office. I could see that you had been in the army the minute you stood at my table." He paused, and for the first time a slight doubt crept over him. "The only thing that seems changed to me," he went on, "is your manner. Come, now, Treves, you know me well enough to confide in me; that's why I asked you to speak to me out of the office. Anything you care to say will go no further. I will accept it as unofficial, and if you intend to make good I'm prepared to be a good friend to you. But in the first place admit that you are Treves; it will make matters much easier."