CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.
HOW THE "MARTHA" COMES HOME TO HER BEREAVED FRIENDS.
Pledge did well to sleep sweetly and enjoy his triumph while it lasted, for the battle which raged over the soul of George Heathcote was by no means ended yet.
"I say, Georgie," said Dick, next day, as the "Firm" took a Sunday afternoon stroll along the cliffs.

"Where on earth did you get to yesterday?
You never turned up at football practice, and skulked all the evening." Georgie coloured.

His conscience had already smitten him for detaching himself from his leader at a time of danger like the present; still more, for deserting him for a fellow like Pledge.
One result of Dick's sovereignty had been that the "Firm" had contracted a habit of telling the truth to one another on all occasions.

It was found to be the shortest cut to friendship, and a vast saving of time and trouble.
Georgie, therefore, however much his inclination, as moulded by Pledge, may have led him to prevaricate, replied, "I was in Pledge's study." Dick whistled, rather a dismayed whistle.
"I thought you were out of that," he said.
"So did I; but, I don't know, Dick.

He's got to know all about our row, and if I don't be civil to him he'll let out on us." "How does he know?
Who's told him ?" "I never did," said Coote.
"I can't fancy how he heard.