The most interesting senior captain was Captain Coronet. A splendid fellow, but annoyingly clean. He washed himself six times per day. His shirts were spotless, and his clothes were aided by corsets. Captain Coronet had the waist-line of a lady, and the smooth creamed complexion of a girl. His features were regularly massaged, and he always prided himself on his pinky-coloured nails. Through the ages his family had fought like devils for God and Duty. Their tombs could be found in Flanders, Egypt, and burning Hindostan. Naturally he was rich. Tons of gold lay to hand, and he lavishly sent it round. An awfully good fellow, as an Oxford grad. would say. Soldiering was his game. He cursed the passing of the Feudal System and the rise of commerce. Killing was the family job. Leading was his special prerogative. Naturally he scorned the man in trade, and only had time for men of his caste. Haughty as a Prussian to all who would ape his own, yet as generous as a monk to the poor beggars in the ranks. He loved good deeds, and did them without offence. When he gave a thousand guineas he did not inform the Press. A civilian would sum him up as a snob; a soldier would call him a man, and would follow him to the gates of death. True, Captain Coronet had the little faults of his kind, but these were mainly affected and superficial—simply a pose, which hid a real white man. When you scratch the skin of such a type you will find a courage and grit which simply staggers. If you know the Army you will understand. He was called the chocolate soldier for many a day, till once a man was drowning in a tidal river before the eyes of the whole regiment. No one ventured to the rescue except Coronet. He plunged in, rescued his man after a thrilling struggle, and calmly brought him up to the bank. All he ever said about it was that "it was beastly wet."