He firmly believed in witches, ghosts and fairies, good and bad, and was convinced that the devil himself was frequently knocking around looking for someone to transport to tropical regions. As to his religion, Mike was very devout, with one exception--he would eat meat on Fridays. "Fast, is it?" he would say. "A soldier may ate his rations." "But you are not a soldier now, Mike." "Well, and whose fault is that now? Did not I put my pride in my pocket and offer to join your blackguards, and did not that T.S.M. tell me I was too small? Bad luck to the lout! Was I not fighting in the Crimee with your honourable father before he was breeched? It's little the likes of him is fit to be T.S.M., but what can you expect when the captain ought to be at skule learning manners! It's little of an officer you'll ever make." Exit Mike, with a well-directed boot after him. It was an uphill job, but I worked and worked away at him. I even persuaded the good Father de Rohan to go for him and preach abstinence to him, and even threaten him with pains and penalties if he did not put the muzzle on. But no good. Then I began to pretend that the rooms were haunted, and that rather fetched him, but yet, though he was uncomfortable, it did not quite hit the right spot. At last Fortune played into my hands. A lieutenant who had been away on long leave rejoined and was sent up to my station. He was a very tall, thin man, very dark, with straight features, large eyebrows and moustache, and Mike had never seen him before. The first night he joined we were talking over our pipes, after dinner, when he mentioned a very swell fancy-dress ball he had been to. At once I asked him in what character he had gone. Of course he replied: "Mephistopheles." Had he brought his dress out with him? Yes, he had it in his kit. Would he do me a very great favour? Why, certainly. Then I told him about my incubus, Mike, and I earnestly requested him to put his dress on the next night and play the devil for Mike's benefit. Of course he was only too delighted to assist, and the plot was duly laid. That night I went to my quarters. There was Mike, with his usual pleasant remarks and sneer. I stopped short and said sternly: "You have been smoking." "Begorra I've not," said he. "Then you have been lighting those beastly sulphur matches." "I've not," said he. I walked over to the dressing-table, looked in the glass, then started back, and let out at him. "Have done with your fooling tricks. How dare you grin over my shoulder like that?" "I did not," he replied. "If it was not you it must have been the devil then," I said sternly. "And I don't wonder at it, when such a cross-grained ugly beggar as you sits in my quarters alone at this time of night. Take care, Mike," I said impressively; "take care. Remember what Father de Rohan told you. If you will eat meat on Friday, and will quarrel and insult everyone, the devil will be after you in earnest.