The company consisted, for the most part, of reckless young subalterns flushed with wine. They listened out of respect to his rank, but they winked and grinned behind his back; until, half conscious of ridicule, he grew angry. On ordinary occasions Flixton would have been the worst offender. But he had the grace to remember that the Colonel was his guest, and he sought to turn the subject. “Come, come!” he cried, hammering the table and pushing the bottle. “Let the Colonel alone. For Heaven’s sake shelve the cursed Bill! I’m sick of it! It’s the death of all fun and jollity. I’ll give you a sentiment: ‘The Fair when they are Kind, and the Kind when they are Fair.’ Fill up! Fill up, all, and drink it!” They echoed the toast in various tones, sober or fuddled. And some began to grow excited. A glass was shattered and flung noisily into the fire. A new one was called for, also noisily. “Now, Bill,” Flixton continued to his right-hand neighbour, “it’s your turn! Give us something spicy!” And he hammered the table. “Captain Codrington’s sentiment.” “Let’s have a minute!” pleaded the gentleman assailed. “Not a minute,” boisterously. “See, the table’s waiting for you! Captain Codrington’s sentiment!” Men of small genius kept a written list, and committed some lines to memory before dinner. The Captain was one of these. But the call on him was sudden, and he sought, with an agonised mind, for one which would seem in the least degree novel. At last, with a sigh of relief, “_Maids and Missuses!_” he cried. “Ay, ay, Maids and Missuses!” the Honourable Bob echoed, raising his glass. “And especially,” he whispered, calling his neighbour’s attention to Vaughan by a shove, “schoolmissuses! Schoolmissuses, my lad! Here, Vaughan,” he continued aloud, “you must drink this, and no heeltaps!” Vaughan caught his name and awoke from a reverie. “Very good,” he said, raising his glass. “What is it?” “Maids and Missuses!” the Honourable Bob replied, with a wink at his neighbour. And then, incited by the fumes of the wine he had taken, he rose to his feet and raised his glass. “Gentlemen,” he said, “gentlemen!” “Silence,” they cried. “Silence! Silence for Bob’s speech.” “Gentlemen,” he resumed, a spark of malice in his eyes, “I’ve a piece of news to give you! It’s news that—that’s been mighty slyly kept by a gentleman here present. Devilish close he’s kept it, I’ll say that for him! But he’s a neat hand that can bamboozle Bob Flixton, and I’ve run him to earth, run him to earth this morning and got it out of him.” “Hear! Hear! Bob! Go on, Bob; what is it?” from the company.