an old pipe on the mantel-shelf, dived in the
tobacco jar for a few dry crumbs, filled, and lit and stamped out a
spark that had dropped on the hearth-rug.

"It isn't a creditable story," said he, puffing slowly, and blinking at
the flash of jewels below her white throat. "In fact, I behaved like a
brute."

"Tell me about it," she repeated.

So he told her; and found himself smoking and watching her, while she
laughed softly, leaning forward to the fire, and gazing into the heart
of it.

CHAPTER IX

THE SALVING OF S.S. MILO

Major Vigoreux awoke at daybreak with a vague sense that something
important had happened or was going to happen--a feeling he had not
known for years. It was so strange that he sat up wondering, rubbing
the back of his head.

Then he remembered, and called out to Sergeant Archelaus.

Sergeant Archelaus appeared, a moment later, ready dressed, and on more
than usually good terms with himself. He had indued his master's
trousers, and, save for an unfashionable bagginess at the hips, they
fitted him surprisingly well.

"Good morning, Archelaus. Did you happen to hear, last night, at what
time the _Milo_ weighs anchor?"

"I heard the captain, sir, tell the pilots to be aboard at
half-after-seven. But with a vessel of her size you may count on their
waiting till high-water or thereabouts."

"In any case"--the Commandant consulted his watch--"we have not too
much time. Where is Treacher?"

"Downstairs, sir, along with his missus, stoking the kitchen fire, with
mattresses built up before it like a sandbag battery. Seems to me the
woman's been spending half the night airing one thing and another. She
says the place is like a vault. Not," added Archelaus, magnanimously,
"that I mind her talk."

"Quite right, Archelaus. I particularly hope you won't quarrel with
Mrs. Treacher while she is here waiting on Miss--er--on the lady."

"If," said Archelaus, darkly, "as how I wanted to quarrel with a
female, I should have taken and married one long ago. As 'tis, when the
woman's tongue becomes afflicting, I turns round and pities Treacher.
There's more ways of doing that than in so many words, and you'd be
astonished how they both dislikes it."

"At any rate," said the Commandant, mildly, "they have saved you the
trouble of being late with the fire this morning. So you may fetch me
my shaving-water at once, please."

He sprang out of bed and reached for his dressing-gown, astonished at