Jill stepped forward, tossing her head, as though to imply that there had never been any doubt about her welcome, and Jack followed closely behind, while the servant led the way down two long passages running at right angles to each other, and threw open a door at the end, announcing the visitors' names in stentorian tones. A strong whiff of cigar smoke filled the air, and there sat the General on a crimson velvet arm-chair, which was hardly redder than his own complexion. His protruding eyes looked as glassy as ever, and his grey locks were ruffled at the top until he bore a ludicrous likeness to a paroquet. He held the crumpled card in his hand, and greeted his visitors with a chuckle of amusement. "Well, sir. Well, ma'am--`kind enquiries,' eh? Come to see how the poor old man is faring after his fall?" "Yes! We wanted to know. We thought it would be polite, as we were the un--er--unwitting causers of your accident." Jill brought out the right word with fine effect, whereupon the General made great play with his outstanding tufts of eyebrow, pretending to frown, and look ferocious. "Un--witting, indeed! If that is your idea of unwitting, I should like to know how you would define deliberate intent! I'll forgive you this time, but let me catch you at any of your tricks again, and the fat will be in the fire! Sit down--sit down. It's not often an old bachelor like myself has the honour of entertaining a young lady visitor. No man has had better friends, or more of them, than Terence Digby, but there are precious few remaining nowadays. I've left them behind me in many a lonely grave, without a stick or stone to show the resting-place of some of the bravest fellows the world has ever known. It's lonely work to outlive one's best friends." "Have you been in many wars, sir?" asked Jack, quick to scent a story of adventure. He dropped his hat on the floor and wriggled back in his chair, the rebellious locks of hair which his sisters christened "Cetewayo," after the Zulu chief, sticking up rampantly at the back of his head. "Have you been in any real, proper wars?" "I should think I have, sir. Many wars, and tough and serious wars at that, though a whipper-snapper like you would not know their names, and the English newspapers sandwich the news of them in a corner--with a small headline of `Border War.' It's the Border Wars which keep the Empire together, let me tell you, sir--the Border Wars which entail the most self-sacrificing and thankless work. There's no honour and glory about them. The people you are fighting for don't even take the trouble to find out where you are, or what the trouble is about. Not that there ought to be any hardship about that to the true soldier. He fights for his King! That is enough for him!"