The argument appealed to their sense of hospitality. There was something pleasantly chivalrous, too, in the idea of keeping their one little delicacy to give a savour to the meal of their preservers. There was no more talk of the caviare. “By the way, Professor,” said Mr. Patterson, “I’ve only heard to-day that this is the second time that you have been besieged in this way. I’m sure we should all be very interested to hear some details of your previous experience.” The old man’s face set very grimly. “I was in Sung-tong, in South China, in ’eighty-nine,” said he. “It’s a very extraordinary coincidence that you should twice have been in such a perilous situation,” said the missionary. “Tell us how you were relieved at Sung-tong.” The shadow deepened upon the weary face. “We were not relieved,” said he. “What! the place fell?” “Yes, it fell.” “And you came through alive?” “I am a doctor as well as an entomologist. They had many wounded; they spared me.” “And the rest?” “Assez! assez!” cried the little French priest, raising his hand in protest. He had been twenty years in China. The professor had said nothing, but there was something, some lurking horror, in his dull, grey eyes which had turned the ladies pale. “I am sorry,” said the missionary. “I can see that it is a painful subject. I should not have asked.” “No,” the Professor answered, slowly. “It is wiser not to ask. It is better not to speak about such things at all. But surely those guns are very much nearer?” There could be no doubt of it. After a silence the thud-thud had recommenced with a lively ripple of rifle-fire playing all round that deep bass master-note. It must be just at the farther side of the nearest hill. They pushed back their chairs and ran out to the ramparts. The silent-footed native servants came in and cleared the scanty remains from the table. But after they had left, the old Professor sat on there, his massive, grey-crowned head leaning upon his hands and the same pensive look of horror in his eyes. Some ghosts may be laid for years, but when they do rise it is not so easy to drive them back to their slumbers. The guns had ceased outside, but he had not observed it, lost as he was in the one supreme and terrible memory of his life. His thoughts were interrupted at last by the entrance of the Commandant. There was a complacent smile upon his broad German face. “The Kaiser will be pleased,” said he, rubbing his hands. “Yes, certainly it should mean a decoration. ‘Defence of Ichau against the Boxers by Colonel Dresler, late Major of the 114th Hanoverian Infantry. Splendid resistance of small garrison against overwhelming odds.’ It will certainly appear in the Berlin papers.” “Then you think we are saved?” said the old man, with neither emotion nor exultation in his voice. The Colonel smiled. “Why, Professor,” said he, “I have seen you more excited on the morning when you brought back _Lepidus Mercerensis_ in your collecting-box.”