Brandon of the Engineers

After a time, the Adjutant sent for him and held out a large, sealed

envelope.

"These are the plans I showed you," he said. "Colonel Farquhar is driving

to Newcastle, and will stop at Storeton Grange for supper at midnight.

The plans must be delivered to him there. You have a motorcycle, I

think?"

"Yes."

"Very well; it is not a long ride, but I'll release you from duty now.

Don't be late at Storeton, take care of the papers, and get Colonel

Farquhar's receipt."

There was a manufacturing town not far off, and Dick decided to go there

and spend the evening with a cousin of his. They might go to a theater,

or if not, Lance would find some means of amusing him. As a rule, Dick

did not need amusing, but he felt that he must celebrate the building of

the bridge.

Lance Brandon was becoming known as an architect, and he had a good deal

of constructive talent. The physical likeness between him and Dick was

rather marked, but he was older and they differed in other respects.

Lance knew how to handle men as well as material, and perhaps he owed as

much to this as to his artistic skill. His plans for a new church and the

remodeling of some public buildings had gained him recognition; but he

already was popular at country houses in the neighborhood and was courted

by the leading inhabitants of the town.

Dick and he dined at the best hotel and Lance listened sympathetically to

the description of the bridge. He was not robust enough for the army, but

he hinted that he envied Dick; and Dick felt flattered. He sometimes

bantered Lance about his social gifts and ambitions, but he had never

resented the favors his father had shown his cousin. Lance had been left

an orphan at an early age and the elder Brandon--a man of means and

standing--had brought him up with his son. They had been good friends and

Dick was pleased when his father undertook to give Lance a fair start at

the profession he chose. He imagined that now Lance was beginning to make

his mark, his allowance had stopped, but this was not his business. Lance

was a very good sort, although he was clever in ways that Dick was not

and indeed rather despised.

"What shall we do next?" Dick asked when they had lounged for a time in

the smoking-room.

Lance made a gesture of resignation as he stretched himself in a big

chair. He was dressed with quiet taste, his face was handsome but rather

colorless, and his movements were languid.