"Two--third class--for Ealing," he said, putting down the money. But the
agent only smiled, having seen their uniforms.
"On the public service?" he questioned.
"Yes," said Harry, rather proudly.
"Then you don't need tickets," said the agent. "Got my orders this morning.
No one in uniform has to pay. Go right through, and ride first-class, if
you like. You'll find plenty of officers riding that way."
"That's fine!" said Dick. "It makes it seem as if we were really of some
use, doesn't it, Harry?"
"Yes," answered Harry. "But, Dick, I've been thinking of what you said to
Graves. What did you mean when you told him you knew more about me than you
did about him? Hasn't he lived here a long time?"
"No, and there's a little mystery about him. Don't you know it?"
"Never heard of such a thing, Dick. You see, I haven't been here so very
long and he was in the patrol when I joined."
"Oh, yes, so he was! Well, I'll tell you, then. You know he's studying to
be an engineer, at the Polytechnic. And he lives at a boarding house, all
by himself. Not a regular boarding house, exactly. He boards with Mrs.
Johnson, you know. Her husband died a year or two ago, and didn't leave her
very much money. He hasn't any father or mother, but he always seems to
have plenty of money. And he can play all sorts of games, but he won't do
them up right.
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