"What were you thinking?"

"Why, if I had half your chance of getting on in life, you would never
have found me here."

"What do you mean? Are you ashamed of your comrades?"

"No, no, not me," said Martin; "but I should be if I was you. You're a
swell, and it's an awful drop for you. I'm only a poor devil--a nobody,
and it's a rise in life for me to join your honorable company; give us
your hand."

And then, before he could say yea or nay, the new recruit seized
Hunston by the hand and wrung it with real or affected warmth.

Hunston strode moodily away, hanging his head.

This singular individual, Geoffrey Martin, appeared greatly interested
in the fate of the unfortunate boys, young Jack and Harry Girdwood, and
he got Boulgaris to take him to the spot where the crosses had been
erected over the graves by the pious hand of Theodora, the girl who had
unwittingly lured them to the fatal trap.

"So here you have buried them?" said Geoffrey Martin.

"Yes, poor boys," said Boulgaris.

"Poor boys," echoed Martin in surprise, "poor boys."

"Yes, I see no reason for butchering two children, for they were little