ve you have got some rough treatment already;" and he
looked at the armless sleeve of his jacket.

"Yes," said Conway, laughing, "a piece of Russian politeness!"

Few as were the words, the tone and manner of the speaker struck Dunn
with astonishment, and he said,--

"Have you been long in the service?"

"Some years," was the short reply.

"It's very strange," said Dunn, regarding him fixedly, "but your
features are quite familiar to me. You are very like a young officer
who cut such a dash here formerly,--a spendthrift fellow, in a Lancer
regiment."

"Pray don't involve yourself in any difficulty," said Conway, "for,
perhaps--indeed, I 'm convinced--you are describing myself."

"Conway, of the Twelfth?"

"The same, at your service,--at least, in so far as being ruined and
one-armed means the same with the fellow who had a good fortune, and two
hands to scatter it."

"I must go. I 'm impatient to be away," said Sybella, eagerly.

"Then there is the carriage at the door," said Dunn. "This time I have
resolved to have my way;" and he gave her his arm courteously to conduct
her.

"Could you call upon me to-morrow--could you breakfast with me, Mr.
Conway?" said Dunn, as he gave him his hand at parting; "my request is
connected with a subject of great importance to yourself."

"I 'm your man," said Conway, as he followed Sybella into the carriage.
And away they drove.

CHAPTER XXIII. A BREAKFAST-TABLE

When, punctual to the appointed time, Charles Conway presented himself
at Mr. Dunn's door, he learned to his astonishment that that gentleman
had gone out an hour before to breakfast with the Chief Secretary in the
Park.

"But I came by invitation to breakfast with your master," said he.

"Possibly so," said Clowes, scanning the simply clad soldier before him.
"He never mentioned it to me; that's all I know."

Conway stood for a moment, half uncertain what to say; then, with
a quiet smile, he said, "Pray tell him that I was here,--my name is
Conway."

"As to the breakfast part of the matter," said Clowes, who felt "rather
struck" by something in the soldier's manner, as he afterwards expressed
it, "I 'm just about to take mine; you might as well join me."

Conway looked him full in the face,--such a stare was it as a man gives
when he questions the accuracy of his own senses; a slight flush then
rose to his cheek, and his lip curled, and then, with a saucy laugh that
seemed to combat the passing