The flag of the adventure CH : 17

SUPPORTED ON BAYONETS.

"A grand joke for y', Evie!" Brian ran up the steps gleefully, forgetful for the moment of the anxious charge which—so his friends alleged—was sapping the bloom from his youthful cheek, and turning his hair prematurely grey. It was three days after the battle at Mahighar, the camp had been pitched in and about the Agency compound, and in the ruined Residency itself the Engineers had patched up two or three rooms and a verandah for Eveleen, that she might not have to face the vicissitudes of the weather in a tent.

"And I have one for you!" responded Eveleen joyously. "Yours first—you'll appreciate mine all the better for waiting for it. Don't mind Ambrose; he's far too busy to notice our nonsense." She turned slightly towards Brian, and with a wicked glance, laid one forefinger over the other close to her eye. Richard was reading ostentatiously at some little distance—but it was no more novel or interesting work than an old Addiscombe text-book, somehow washed up on this distant beach.

"Listen, then. D'ye know y'are the General's guardian angel, his talisman of success—that he won't fight until y'are there, and if he lost you he'd be a gone coon? What d'ye think of that now? It's proud y'ought to be, indeed."

"I'd be prouder if I thought he took a proper view of my importance to him," dolefully. "I'll impart to y'a horrid secret, Brian. Sometimes I could almost believe the ungrateful old gentleman regarded me as an encumbrance!"

"That's his artfulness. He don't want you to realise your value. Why, when Khair Husain Khan, wishing to show suitable respect, desired to send y'a fine present of jewels t'other day, d'ye think the old lad would let you have it? Not he! Gave him a nasty snub, I promise you!"

"Ah, then, that was it!" Eveleen's eyes danced. "I saw the creature look at me, but how would I know what he was saying? Sure Sir Harry might have had the politeness to offer me the choice whether I'd accept or not."

She glanced very slightly towards Richard, and Richard flung away his book, remarked "Psh!" very loudly, and rose and stalked towards his wife and her brother.

"Always glad to see you, Delany," he remarked, with forced geniality, "but I should be uncommonly obliged if you would help me in putting a stop to this nonsense. You can't think it's particularly gratifying for a man to know that such tales are going about the bazar with respect to his wife."

"But sure no one that matters regards 'em as anything but a joke!" said Brian in surprise.

"Ah, but Ambrose can never see a joke, don't you know?" said Eveleen plaintively.

"Perhaps not, but I can see defiance when I am treated to it——" Richard was not apt at epigram, and his return was deplorably lame. He went on to seek sympathy from Brian, who did not look encouraging: he disliked matrimonial differences which went deeper than mere surface squabbling. "I desired your sister particularly not to show herself at to-day's ceremony, yet where should I find her but on horseback within the square, close to the General—thus giving confirmation to all these foolish reports?"

"As if I'd have let anything or anybody in the whole wide world keep me away!" Eveleen broke in indignantly. "To see the colours go up on the round tower, and the guns firing, and the soldiers cheering and cheering as if they would never stop—would anything make me miss such a sight, I ask you?"

"Not my wishes, evidently. You have no regard for them."

"And why would I, when you gave me no slightest, tiniest hint of a reason? Was there any, will you tell me?"

"I had a reason, certainly, but I didn't want to alarm you. Perhaps I was foolish to be so careful."

"Will you never learn that when anything is really, truly interesting, there ain't the smallest possibility of its being alarming? Don't y'agree with me, Brian?"

"Well, now, I don't entirely." Brian was perhaps not sorry to give a helping hand to a brother-man. "It might be you'd do well to be alarmed in this case, Evie—I don't know. It's a bit of a mystery to me. By what I make out from my Khans yonder—who can be precious affable when they like—it has something to do with some piece of jewellery of yours that you gave away or sold. The thing has got into Kamal-ud-din's hands—whatever it is—and he has it to thank that he ain't a prisoner like his uncles and cousins." For with callous disregard of Colonel Bayard's assurances on his behalf, Kamal-ud-din had first promised effusively to come in and surrender on the following morning, and then employed the interval in removing himself and his forces into the desert, en route for his remote ancestral fortress of Umarganj. Possibly the messenger who conveyed the letter had conveyed also information as to the state of the British troops; at any rate, Kamal-ud-din was fully justified in his belief that pursuit was out of the question.

Eveleen pointed a dramatic finger at her husband. "Put the blame where it ought to be, Brian. There's the culprit for you. 'Twas that blue pendant Uncle Tom gave me, that I showed y'at Bombay—the seal that wouldn't seal, don't you know? Well, Ambrose found the Khans set a value on it, believing 'twas the seal of King Solomon, and had been stolen from them years and years ago, so he very kindly made them a present of it, without so much as asking my leave."

"I remember it—a sort of blue cheese-plate. But it's you are joking now, Evie. D'ye ask me to believe he took your pendant and gave it away without your knowing?"

Richard growled inarticulately, and Eveleen felt obliged to furnish the explanation he disdained to supply.

"Well, not that exactly. I had pledged it, or pawned it—whatever you like to call it—to get you that money you wanted, when you were afraid you'd miss the chance of getting into the General's family, don't you know? and Ambrose was shockingly cross with me about it. So I suppose he thought he'd punish me, but 'twas he gave it to Kamal-ud-din, you see."

"Holy Moses! I come into this too, do I?" groaned Brian. "Don't betray me to my old lad, either of you, or I will get a wigging. For you see, Evie, we have spoilt his luck between us. The stone and you go together somehow—it's blue, and your eyes are blue; green, rather, I'd say if I was asked—so Khair Husain told me, and when y'are separated, the luck's split. At present we have the lady, and Kamal-ud-din has the pendant—the Belle and the Bauble, to make a pantomime title out of it. If the General had had the Bauble as well as the Belle, he'd have swept up Kamal-ud-din with the rest of the Khans, and conquered the country at one go. If Kamal-ud-din had had the Belle as well as the Bauble, the Khans would have won t'other day, and cut all our throats on the field of battle, and led the General in triumph by a gold chain through his nose. Well, there y'are, you see. Don't it strike you as a bit of a temptation to the Arabits to bring the Belle and the Bauble together again by carrying off the lady?"

"I'd like to see them try it!" declared Eveleen defiantly. "I sent a message to Kamal-ud-din by poor Tom Carthew when he had the stone first that I was ill-wishing it with all my might, but that's nothing to what I'd do if they tried to get hold of me. Besides"—with one of the sudden changes of mood her husband found so bewildering—"it's just a notion I have that Ambrose wouldn't be so ready to part with me, though he thinks he can make free as he likes with my things."

It was absolutely impossible for Richard to rearrange his thoughts quickly enough to respond adequately to this overture of peace and the glance that accompanied it, but he managed to call up some sort of smile, and to mutter, "Oh no—rayther not, I'm sure!" Brian, scenting a reconciliation, made haste to clinch the matter.

"And don't you be so nasty about that old pendant, Evie. I'm quite certain Ambrose would have given you something instead, if y'had asked him nicely."

"Ah, but Ambrose don't agree with giving his wife presents when she can't keep accounts and wastes his money for him," said Eveleen wickedly. "There! would you believe it, I was forgetting my joke that I had for you! What d'ye think of that, now?" she brought out of her pocket a handkerchief tied up in knots, and unfastening them, let a small torrent of gems tumble out upon the cane lounge where she was sitting. Richard's face darkened again angrily.

"Mrs Ambrose, where did you get those?"

"Looks as though somebody had been making you a present, if Ambrose won't," said Brian lightly, with the amiable intention of averting another dispute. "Or have you been making a little private expedition of your own after loot? In the Fort to-day—oh, fie, Mrs Ambrose, fie! Won't I set the Provost Marshal and the Prize Agents on you!"

Eveleen was bathing her hands in the jewels, without troubling to answer either man's question. "Such a pity they spoil their stones so cruelly," she said. "I wonder why will they always pierce them and they never seem to cut them so as to bring out the full beauty. And flaws, now—you'd think they didn't even notice them, as if they only cared for a stone to be as large as possible."

Richard's hand gripped her shoulder—not gently. "You acknowledge these are native stones, then—from the treasury, I suppose? How did you get them?"

"If you hurt me so, I'll cry. I know I'll have a horrid bruise for weeks. Y'are so rough, Ambrose!"

"Get on with y', Evie," said Brian curtly. "How did you get hold of these things?"

"Well, then, I found them!" Eveleen looked defiantly from one to the other, resenting their tone.

"You found them? Where, pray?"

"On my dressing-table—wrapped up in an old dirty bit of silk embroidery. I nearly called Ketty to pick it up with a stick and throw it away, it looked so horrid. Then I saw something sticking out, and 'twas this emerald."

"Did your ayah know anything of the parcel?"

"She swore she did not, and I wouldn't think she'd tell me a direct lie."

"May have been bribed to turn her back for a moment," suggested Brian.

"More likely her attention was attracted by something going on outside," said Eveleen promptly. "Her bump of curiosity's enormous, don't you know."

"What do you make of this, Delany?" asked Richard hoarsely. "Is it some such plot on Kamal-ud-din's part as you hinted at just now?"

"To reunite the Belle and the Bauble, d'ye mean? I wouldn't think that—unless they'd imagine my sister was to be cot like a bird by spreading a trail of crumbs in front of her. No, if y'ask me, I'd say 'twas some bright scheme on the part of those Khans of mine, that have the heart worried out of me with their crooked ways. Every man of 'em is laden with stones like these. I know because they're so anxious to make me presents of 'em. But now they know if I accept anything 'twill only go to the Prize Agents, they're knocking off a bit. Possibly, now they have proved my Roman virtue, they are trying elsewhere."

"But what's the notion?"

"I ask y', indeed! Just for a sort of propitiation, maybe, to the man in charge of 'em. But then again, they may have some plan in hand, and 'twould help 'em if I went about with my eyes shut. Or it may be they want a good word said for 'em to the General. You know these fellows. Can any of us say what's in their minds?"

"You think they are plotting to escape?"

"I don't know, I tell you. The way they keep my mind on the stretch, wondering what are they after now, you'd pity me if you knew! They can't want more indulgences or luxuries, for they've got 'em all. It makes me angry to go from the General in his wretched little rowty, that barely keeps the sun off his old head, to those chaps with their great cool rooms and fountains and green stuff. It can't be more servants they want, for they couldn't get 'em in. The place is packed with big strapping fellows, that go backwards and forwards to the Fort, and can carry news, or treasure, or anything they like but arms—and I wouldn't put it past 'em to smuggle them too now and then. At least, there'll be no more treasure to be had now, for the Prize Agents have taken it over—three million pounds they talk about."

"And you'd grudge your poor sister one little handful of spoilt stones!" said Eveleen tragically.

"Precisely. Hand 'em over, Evie, and I'll leave the lot with the Prize Agents as I go back. Whatever they were put in your room for, 'twas for no good, and you know that as well as I do."

"He won't leave me so much as one little weeshy diamond! Ah, it's a cruel brother I have, and a cruel husband too! I wonder have they any hearts at all, at all?"

"It's a brother and a husband miles too good for you y'have," said Brian, tying up the stones inexorably in his handkerchief. "See here, Ambrose, I'll be getting you a receipt for these, in case there'd be any question of a trap."

"You have a head on your shoulders," said Richard heartily. "The Sahib's horse!" he called to a servant.

Presently he came back from the steps to find Eveleen pouting in her corner of the lounge. "Sure you might have let me send them to the Prize Agent," was her complaint. "What bit of a chance have I of doing the right things, when two great men seize them out of my hands and do them instead?"

"You see," with a grave face, "you are so sadly destitute of jewellery that they might have been a temptation."

"Ah now, aren't y'ashamed to turn my own words against me like that? D'ye not know a good horse is more to me than a diamond necklace any day?"

"But not more than this sort of thing, I hope, or I shall feel I have gone wrong again." He dropped a little parcel into her lap, and stood watching while she snatched it up in surprise.

"And what's this, now? Have you been wasting your money on me, Ambrose? I'm surprised at you!"

Happily the possible double meaning of her last sentence did not occur to her as she eagerly opened the case, and displayed a gold locket set with pearls—large and massive, eminently what was then called "a handsome piece of jewellery." "And did you really choose this for me?"

"Bayard chose it in Bombay—I asked him. He brought it up with him, and forgot all about it till he was packing again yesterday. Ain't you going to look inside?"

She opened it joyfully, never doubting what she was about to see, and uttered a little sound of dismay. It was Brian's cheerful eyes that smiled quizzically at her, their expression curiously natural, though the rest of the miniature showed the mannered stiffness of the native artist.

"Do you like it?" asked Richard anxiously. "I got it done here to send down after Bayard to take with him and have it put in the locket. I was afraid you would miss that calotype of your brother when I took it to the painter, but it was only two or three days in the bustle of packing up, and you happened not to think of it."

Eveleen was hardly listening to him. She lifted her eyes tragically from the locket in her lap. "And why not yours?" she demanded.

"Mine? Why, I was sure you would rather have your brother's," he replied, in all innocence.

"Major Ambrose, there are times when I'd like—I'd like—— I won't tell you what I'd like to do to you, but 'twould not be pleasant."

"Then you ain't pleased?" incredulously.

"Why in the world would you put Brian into it?"

"Well, it was bought with that first money he paid back, you remember, and it seemed suitable——"

Eveleen laughed drearily. "D'ye tell me that, now? Well then, with the last money he pays back will you let him get me a locket and put you into it? Then I'll wear you both at once."

"By all means, if you wish it. But I don't quite——"

"You would not. I'd have y'understand, Ambrose, that you never will see to your dying day! Ah, then, it's a cross wife you have, isn't it? Why don't you give me a box on the ear?"

To any one but Sir Harry Lennox, his position at this time would have inevitably recalled that of the original Austrian who caught the Tartar. With his little force hanging on gallantly to the river front of Qadirabad, he was powerless to exercise any control on the land side, and it did not need much shrewdness to guess that the Arabits defeated at Mahighar were slipping out of the city in a continuous stream to join Kamal-ud-din and strike a return blow under his leadership. But it might have been more dangerous to keep them than to let them go, and the General remained untroubled by their defection. His concern at the moment was with bricks and mortar—or rather, in this locality, earth and mud. In the course of ten strenuous days, the ramshackle old Fort was put into such a state of repair as it had not known since it was first built; an entrenched camp was constructed about the battered Residency, and a small fortification erected on the other side of the river, where the steamers lay, to protect them and the precious stores they carried. But no one knew better than Sir Harry how very inadequate was his force even to guard what he held—much more to take the field again; and he had not only ordered reinforcements up from Bab-us-Sahel and down from Sahar, but had put his pride in his pocket so far as to ask the Governor-General for the regiments from British India which he had refused earlier. Pending the arrival of relief, he sat tight, presenting a spectacle of prudent inactivity which was as surprising as it was trying to his officers, who knew that Kamal-ud-din's hopes must be rising with every messenger that reached him from Qadirabad. What could be more obvious than that the Bahadar Jang was distracted by the necessity of holding so much ground with such small numbers, that he durst not show his nose outside his fortifications, and that an attack in force on any portion of them must oblige him either to concentrate his entire strength in its defence and abandon the rest, or to hold the whole so weakly that it would fall an easy prey? Gloomy reports went round, leading to gloomier prognostications. The right bank of the river was wholly hostile. In the north the wild tribes were coming down from their hills, like vultures lured by the hope of being in at the death of the old lion. Down in the delta the wild tribes of the plains were waxing bold—interfering with the dâks, raiding the outlying houses of Bab-us-Sahel. The river itself might be considered safe wherever there was water for the steamers, but beyond the range of their guns Kamal-ud-din could do whatever he liked even on the left bank. He would know of the reinforcements marching from Sahar—of course he would swoop upon them from his desert eyrie and annihilate them by sheer weight of numbers.

"'Deed and y'are kindly welcome, as old Biddy used to say!" Eveleen greeted her brother one afternoon. "Mr Ferrers and Sir Dugald Haigh have been calling, and made me miserable entirely. Sir Dugald never says anything, but he sits and looks so solemn you'd be certain things were at their very worst. And Ferrers said any amount—that the General had lost his opportunity once for all when he let Kamal-ud-din escape and planted himself down here. But if only he was given the chance, says he, he'd engage to beat up Kamal-ud-din's headquarters and bring him back prisoner, and so end the war at one blow."

"Lieutenant Ferrers is a very great officer," said Brian sardonically, "and if 'twas only his own life, and not the lives of other men and horses, would pay the price, I'd like well to see him sent out on just that easy bit of business. But we must hope to get rid of him cheaper than that."

"Sure you may be as sarcastic as you please, but that don't give me an answer to hurl at the man. Here I am, knowing nothing but what he and the rest say, and Ambrose looking virtuous and shocked when I ask him will he tell me anything, and talking about matters of duty and official secrets. Why, I believe the common soldiers know more of the General's plans than I do! Often I see a knot of them, and in the middle his old helmet and Black Prince tossing his lovely little head, and it don't need to be a prophet to know they're asking him all sorts of questions, and he answering them as if he liked it."

"And you never asked a question in your life, and the old lad wouldn't like it if you did!"

"That he would not—or at any rate, I'm on my best behaviour, and trying not to tease him. Besides, wouldn't I seem to be reflecting on the state of his mind if I asked him did ever any General before lay out a beautiful camp, and then move all his soldiers out of it into the desert, and only leave the hospitals and the baggage and headquarters and the prisoners and Ambrose and me inside?"

"You can't say you have no neighbours!" laughed Brian. "But see here, Evie, there's no reason why you wouldn't know what he's after. Now then, let me think how can I wrap up the truth in an Oriental apologue, so that any unauthorised listeners may be puzzled to find it? Listen, now; will you think y'are an old lady, poor and proud, like our cousin Gracia, living out Donnybrook way on her little bit of an annuity?" Eveleen looked mystified, but nodded. "Well, then, she has prosperous relatives living in Merrion Square—Counsellor Sullivan and his lady,—and she likes greatly to keep up the family feeling. But she has no money for coach-hire, and how would she walk all that way, even if she wasn't terrified her little house would be robbed while she was gone? Will you tell me what she'd do?"

"I'd say she'd ask them would they come and see her," entering into the spirit of the fable.

"Just so. And you wouldn't be surprised if she'd put forward what attractions she could offer—to make it clear the favour was on her side, and the Counsellor and his lady would be well repaid for their long drive? The roses in her little bit of a garden would be at their best, and she could give 'em such eggs as they'd never buy in Dublin, and fresh cream from the farm over the way. Can't you see the old lady in her old worn satin gown and her cap with the smuggled lace, and how she be worrying the girl she has, the way she wouldn't know what she'd be doing? 'I'd have you recollect, Rose Ann, there's nothing so wonderful about Merrion Square. In my young days, 'twas company from the Cass'le, no less, we'd be entertaining—the Lord and Lady Lieutenant, and the grand ones they'd bring with 'em. Not that I have anything to say against my cousin the Counsellor—I have the highest respect for him and Mrs Sullivan,—but go out of my way to make any difference for them is a thing I'd never do. They must take us as we are, and just put up with what we are accustomed to,' and she looks so majestically at the girl she'd never dare remember all the polishing up of the old silver, and the eggs and cream ordered, and the saffron cakes bought at the shop. D'ye see then how old Gracia, because she can't get to Merrion Square herself, will make the Sullivans come out to Donnybrook, and bear the fatigue and expense—such as it is? and how she'll make her preparations to entertain 'em in good time, while pretending she's doing nothing of the kind? and how she'll cry 'em down as very good sort of people and praise 'em up because they are relatives of hers, all in the same breath?"

"I do, I do!" cried Eveleen delightedly. "And Rose Ann understands perfectly that though the Sullivans are no very great things, yet she'll bring eternal disgrace upon herself if she don't treat them as though they were. But your beloved charges, Brian—how will you bring them in?"

"My 'interesting' charges, as the General calls 'em?" said Brian thoughtfully. "Well now, wouldn't they be the jealous neighbours that would be always on the look-out to drop hints to the Sullivans that the creature fed every day on stirabout and potatoes, the same as Rose Ann? and if they could make a mistake in the day, or manage to arrive an hour too early, they'd catch her going about the house in her old patched petticoat and print bed-gown? Then if the Sullivans were the malicious sort of people that like to spring disagreeable surprises on their friends—why, they'd do it."

"They would," with conviction. "Ah, don't you hope somebody of the sort has been listening to us talking? There's not much they could make out of our tales of home. But I suppose I may ask you whether your interesting charges have been more agreeable this two or three days? It's no secret to any one the way they behave."

"I believe you—except to us," said Brian, with unusual bitterness. "The fellows are worse than ever, I tell you—so cock-a-hoop their bearing would show they were in correspondence with Kamal-ud-din and counting on his success if there was nothing else. Tell you what, Evie, that fellow Bayard—I know he's your friend and Ambrose's, but I can't help saying it—the fellow's a fool. It's a blessing he's left us to ourselves in despair, but I had a letter from him to-day from Bab-us-Sahel, begging me for his sake to leave nothing undone that could conduce to the comfort and honour of the Khans. And already they have so much liberty they're a danger as well as a nuisance."

"He's such a faithful friend, don't you know? He'll never give them up, however bad they are."

"Despite their 'fatal step of taking up arms against the British power,' as he says. Well, we'll all bear witness he did his best that the step would be fatal to us instead! You know he persuaded the General to allow 'em have their crowds of servants going freely in and out—spies, of course, every man of 'em. 'Twas so impossible to keep 'em in any sort of control, that after remonstrating with their masters in vain, at last I complained to the General, and he came to point out they had no shadow of reason for entertaining such a crew. Give you my word there were two hundred Arabits at least in the very tent where we sat talking to the Khans—all pressing close upon us and looking by no means pleasant. I confess it struck me that if they chose to fall on us we'd have a mighty poor chance. And what d'ye think Khair Husain had the impudence to say with a straight face? 'Our people? But we have only a few Hindus—not enough to cook our victuals. Not an Arabit ever enters this garden.' Now what could be the object of telling a silly lie like that? If y'ask me, I'd say 'twas simply impudence, and it riled the General. He said pretty sharply, 'I won't kill you as you'd have killed the English, but any further complaints, and I'll clap y'all in irons and send y'on board a steamer!' I wish he'd do it, too; I ain't cut out for a jailer. They know now they can't bribe me, but that's about all, and one of our spies tells the General they please themselves with promising to cut me into little bits, beginning with my fingers and toes, when Kamal-ud-din comes. They're a sweet lot, I tell you—able for anything. Why, when the General got up in a rage, as I said just now, and went out, who would come catching at his coat and whining to him for protection but old Gul Ali? The poor old beggar's baggage was all lost at Mahighar, and he came to prison destitute, and destitute he remains. There he stood out in the sun, while the rest sat in their silken tent. They won't give him food or clothes or money to buy 'em, and he swears they mean him to starve to death. Of course he got protection promised him—against his own brothers and nephews,—and the General sent him in a tent and some things. That's what the fellows are—with jewels dropping from 'em whenever they move!"

"Ah, those jewels! Did y'ever find out whether they put that bundle on my dressing-table?"

"I did. Ambrose thought I'd better nip any further attempts in the bud by showing 'em this one had not come to anything, so one day when Khair Husain seemed inclined to be confidential I broke the truth to him. He was a good deal chagrined, but not a bit ashamed."

"But did he say what they had hoped I'd do?"

"'Twas to secure your intercession with the General on behalf of their zenanas, so he said. But can you believe a word they'd say?"

"But I thought they had their zenanas with them?"

"Their wives and mothers and aunts and daughters and sisters—every conceivable sort of female relative—but not the slave-girls. The place wouldn't hold 'em."

"And they are allowed go back to their friends? That was one of the things made Ferrers angry. He said the General let the women stay in the Fort for days after the surrender, and there were hundreds of armed men there as well, and they plundered nearly all the treasure."

"Well, what would y'have the poor old boy do? The armed men were there to guard the zenana, and Bayard and all the old Indians were dinning it into his ears that at the first sign of an attempt to expel 'em, they'd cut all the women's throats and fight their way out of the city. They had to be got out of the Fort somehow, or there would have been no room for a garrison; and besides, it was not safe to leave 'em there uncontrolled. So he gave 'em three days, while he was collecting camels and palanquins to carry the women to the other palaces outside the city. He knew the ladies would get their fingers into the treasury, but he thought 'twas only fair they would have something to support themselves, as the Khans ain't likely to be able to keep up such an establishment in future, and what d'ye think we find now they have walked off with? Two millions out of the three the Prize Agents saw in the treasury the first day!"

"No wonder the Khans are well off!" said Eveleen.

"Ah, it's not all got to them, by any manner of means. Case of finding and keeping, I'd say. But it did sicken me to hear Bayard, when he was starting off down the river after the hoisting of the flag on the Fort, saying to the General, 'Remember the Khans' honour is bound up in their womenfolk. Indulge their prejudices, I entreat you. Their wives and daughters are as dear to them as yours to you.' Half the army believes that Bayard was bribed by the Khans, I may tell you, because of all the delays he brought about. Of course we know that's great nonsense, but if I'd been the General I'd have knocked him in the river for daring to mention those females in the same breath with little Sally and her sister!"