half-way to France.

"The point is," observed the Doctor, "that you play the cornet."

"It is certain that I do so, monsieur; but how that can be the
point--"

"And instruct in music?"

"Decidedly!"

"Do you know the Dead March?"

M. Trinquier was unfeignedly bewildered.

Said Captain Pond: "Listen while I explain. You are my prisoner,
and it becomes my duty to send you back to Dartmoor under escort.
But you are exhausted; and notwithstanding my detestation of that
infernal tyrant, your master, I am a humane man. At all events, I'm
not going to expose two of my Die-hards to the risks of a tramp to
Dartmoor just now--I wouldn't turn out a dog in such weather.
It remains a question what I am to do with you in the meanwhile.
I propose that you give me your parole that you will make no attempt
to escape, let us say, for a month: and on receiving it I will at
once escort you to my house, and see that you are suitably clothed,
fed, and entertained."

"I give it willingly, M. le Capitaine. But how am I to thank you?"

"By playing the Dead March upon the _cornet-a-piston_ and teaching