roats are being cut. Look here, Orme," I
added, "didn't I tell you long ago that the one thing you must _not_ do
was to make love to the Child of Kings?"

"Did you? Really, I forget; you told me such a lot of things, Doctor,"
he answered coolly enough, only unfortunately the colour that rose in
his cheeks betrayed his lips.

At this moment, Quick, who had entered the room unobserved, gave a dry
cough, and remarked:

"Don't blame the Captain, Doctor, because he don't remember. There's
nothing like shock from an explosion for upsetting the memory. I've
seen that often in the Boer war, when, after a big shell had gone off
somewhere near them, the very bravest soldiers would clean forget that
it was their duty to stand still and not run like rabbits; indeed, it
happened to me myself."

I laughed, and Oliver said something which I could not hear, but Quick
went on imperturbably:

"Still, truth is truth, and if the Captain has forgotten, the more
reason that we should remind him. That evening at the Professor's house
in London you did warn him, sir, and he answered that you needn't bother
your head about the fascinations of a nigger woman----"

"Nigger woman," broke out Oliver; "I never used such words; I never
even thought them, and you are an impertinent fellow to put them into my
mouth. Nigger woman! Good heavens! It's desecration."

"Very sorry, Captain, now I come to think of it, I believe you said
black woman, speaking in your haste. Yes and I begged you not to brag,
seeing that if you did we might live to see you crawling after her, with
myself, Samuel Quick bringing up the rear. Well, there it is we are, and
the worst of it is that I can't blame you, being as anticipated in the
prophecy--for that's what it was though I didn't know it myself at
the time--exactly in the same state myself, though, of course, at a
distance, bringing up the rear respectfully, as said."

"You don't mean that you are in love with the Child of Kings?" said
Oliver, staring at the Sergeant's grim and battered figure.

"Begging your pardon, Captain, that is exactly what I do mean. If a cat
may look at a queen, why mayn't a man love her? Howsoever, my kind of
love ain't likely to interfere with yours. My kind means sentry-go and
perhaps a knife in my gizzard; yours--well, we saw what yours means
this afternoon, though what it will all lead to we didn't see. Still,
Captain, speaking as one who hasn't been keen on the sex heretofore,
I s