THE COMMANDANT'S CONSCIENCE "The Lord Proprietor to see you, sir!" Archelaus, presenting himself at the door of the Commandant's office, with a slightly flushed but inscrutable face, drew aside and flattened himself against the door-jamb to let Sir Caesar enter. The Commandant closed the book in which he had been adding up accounts which never came right, and stood up in something of a flurry. He was dressed with more than ordinary care. The lapels and collar of his uniform-coat had been treated to a vigorous brushing. In fact, he was arrayed for action: to step down the hill in an hour's time, to call upon Mr. Fossell at the Bank and draw his pay, if any should be forthcoming. "Good morning, Major!" "Good morning, Sir Caesar." The Commandant nodded towards a chair. "I thank you." Sir Caesar set down his hat upon the edge of the writing-table, drew off his gloves, tossed them into his hat, and seated himself. "I--er--called in the first place to speak about an unfortunate--er--incident that happened on Garrison Hill here last Sunday." "Ah," said the Commandant, "so you have heard about it? I am sorry." "Sorry for what, sir?" "Sorry that anyone should have thought it worth while to carry tales to you; but also sorry for the incident itself." "It appears to me, Major Vigoureux, that the incident demands some apology." "I have made it." Sir Caesar crossed his legs and coughed to clear his throat. "I think, my dear sir," said he, in a tone at once slightly pompous and slightly nervous, "I really think it's time that you and I came to an understanding; that we--er--recognised, so to speak, the situation, and played with the cards on the table. Do you agree with me?" "I might," answered the Commandant, guardedly; "that is to say, if I understood." "I acquit you, of course, of any active share in the incident, and I am assured that Archelaus and Treacher were no worse than accomplices. It appears that the real culprit was a totally different person, and," he went on, after a glance at the Commandant's face, which betrayed nothing, "it may save time if I tell you that she has confessed to me." "Excuse me, I was not proposing to make any remark." "But who in the world is the young person?" The Commandant's eyebrows arched themselves slightly. "She is a lady," he answered, in a dry voice. "If she omitted to tell you her name, the omission was no doubt intentional, and she has carried her confession just so far as she intended it to go." "She called herself Cara; but the name tells me nothing. Who is she? I agree with you as to her address and appearance: she is in every respect--er--presentable. A relative, may I inquire?" "No." "A friend, then? You will pardon me? A delicate question to put, of course." Again the Commandant's eyebrows went up slightly. "She was my guest for a day or two," he answered. "_Was?_ Then where in the world is she staying now?"