man laughed a little hoarsely, spat, and again went on. "The palace they call the Little Detached Palace will soon be picked clean--clean as any dog's bone, with the Frenchies only fifteen feet off, and you'll get nothing more from there. Sometimes the Frenchies suspect and want to march right in on us, but our corporals are waiting, and are ready for them, and our bayonets stop them short. Twice it's happened that their officers march a guard right up to the gates of the Little Detached, and want to stay there all night with our fellows crawling about inside. They suspected. But we bluffed them away every time, and now that all the good things are gone we are carrying away the big ones--vases, small tables, carvings, jars, bowls--everything. We wrap them up in a bundle of great-coats and feed-bags in the morning, and carry them away; no one's ever the wiser. All round the Palace they are doing the same. The Yankees, the Russians, and all of them are in the same boat. All night they climb the walls to get the swag. Give them another six months and there will be nothing left." Thus spoke the spokesman of the party. It was organised plundering, and everybody winked at it. After they had gone I sat long and reflected. This was the retribution and the vengeance. We were all tarred with the same brush; we were returning to primitive methods. Yet, what could be done--what steps could be taken? It was rather a hopeless tangle, and once more I gave it up. IX DRIFTING September, 1900. * * * * *