"And how do you like London?" I enquired, after the usual polite salutations had passed between us. "I think I understood you to say, on the occasion of our crossing from Paris, that this was your first visit?" "I like it very much," he replied, "but, to be candid, not so much as Paris. I trust that is not a rude thing to say in London?" "Every one is entitled to express his own opinion," I answered, somewhat coldly, for I had taken an instinctive dislike to this young fellow. "You must remember that you are seeing England at her worst just now. The times are too anxious for us to be very gay." "You refer to the war, I suppose?" he answered. Then he added with what I could not help thinking was intended for a sneer: "The war is the sensation of the moment." "It naturally would be," I replied. "Though proverbially phlegmatic, we still have sufficient feeling left to be patriotic; but perhaps your sympathies are with the other side?" "One can scarcely help feeling some sympathy----" "My dear Conrad," said the Countess, who had come upon us unperceived, "I really cannot let you talk politics in my ball-room. Go away and find your partner at once. Prove to her that you have learned to valse in Vienna." She tapped him playfully on the arm with her fan, but for my own part I could not help thinking that her words were not meant to be taken as lightly as she had spoken them. At any rate, the young man muttered something under his breath and left us. "Conrad is a foolish but a warm-hearted boy," said the Countess, looking after him. "Because Messieurs les Boers don't wear uniforms, and are not nice to look at, he calls them patriots fighting for their country, and honours them as such." "I fear there are many like him," I replied. "I trust, however, Countess, that we have the good fortune to possess your sympathy?" "Could any one help sympathising with the handsome British officers?" she answered. "I have no doubt----" At that moment a sudden buzz of excitement ran through the room, and she stopped without completing her sentence. It began near the door, and quickly spread from group to group. Whatever the news was, it caused a look of consternation to appear on every face. "What can be the matter?" asked the Countess. "I wonder what they are all talking about?" As she finished speaking the Colonial Secretary came up to us. "I hope that you are not the bearer of evil tidings," said my companion to him. At the same moment I noticed that her face was very white, and that there was a frightened look in her eyes. "We have just received terrible intelligence," he replied. "The steamer, _Sultan of Sedang_, with Sir Grey-Mortimer, his staff, and the first Midlandshire Regiment on board, has been blown up at Madeira, and only three men saved." The shock was so terrible, that for a moment I stood as if tongue-tied. "And Grey-Mortimer?" I asked, when I could speak. "Killed," was the reply.