"Then I am the hero of a fairy tale, that is all--a fairy tale in
which waste paper is changed into bank notes and private soldiers
prince palatines! Look here!" cried Traverse, desperately, thrusting
the bank checks under the nose of his friend, "do you see those
things and know what they are, and will you tell me that everything
in this castle don't go by enchantment?"
"Yes, I see what they are, and it seems to me perfectly natural that
you should have them!"
"Humph!" said Traverse, looking at Herbert with an expression that
seemed to say that he thought the wits of his friend deranged.
"Traverse," said Major Greyson, "did it never occur to you that you
must have other relatives in the world besides your mother? Well, I
suspect that those checks were sent by some relative of yours or
your mother's, who just begins to remember that he has been
neglecting you."
"Herbert, do you know this?" inquired Traverse, anxiously.
"No, I do not know it; I only suspect this to be the case," said
Herbert, evasively. "But what is that which you are forgetting."
"Oh! this--yes, I had forgotten it. Let us see what it is!" said
Traverse, examining a paper that had rested unobserved upon the
stand.
"This is an order for my discharge, signed by the Secretary of War,
and dated--ha-ha-ha--two years ago! Here I have been serving two
years illegally, and if I had been convicted of neglect of duty in
sleeping on my post, I should have been shot unlawfully, as that
man, when he prosecuted me, knew perfectly well!" exclaimed
Traverse.
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