The river's mood was so in keeping with his own that Selwyn's senses experienced a numbing pleasure; the ghostly mariners of the night, the motionless ships at their moorings, the eerie hissing of the sleet upon the water, combined to form a drug that left his eyelids heavy with drowsy contentment. How long he had remained there he could not have stated, when from the steps beneath him, leading towards the water, he heard a man's slovenly voice. 'Are you going to stay the night here?' As apparently the remark was intended for him, Selwyn leaned forward and peered in the direction from which the voice had come. At the foot of the dripping steps he could just make out a huddled figure. 'If you're putting up here,' went on the speaker, 'we had better pool resources. I've got a cape, and if you have a coat we can make a decent shift of it. Two sleep warmer than one on a night like this.' In spite of the sluggish manner of speech, Selwyn could detect a faint intonation which bespoke a man of breeding. He tried to discern the features, but they were completely hidden beneath the pall of night. 'Well,' said the voice, 'are you deaf?' 'I am not staying here for the night,' answered Selwyn. 'Then why the devil didn't you say that before?' For a moment the fellow's voice was energised by a touch of brusqueness, but before the last words were finished it had lapsed into the dull heaviness of physical lethargy. 'Tell me,' said the stranger, after a silence of several minutes, 'how is the war going on?' 'You probably know as much as I.' 'Not likely. I've been beating back from China for three months in a more or less derelict tramp. Chased into every blessed little port, losing our way, and cruising for days without water--we were a fine family of blackguards, and no mistake. Grog could be had for the asking, and a scrap for less than that; but I'd as lief not ship on the _Nancy Hawkins_ again.' Selwyn leaned back against the obelisk and speculated idly on the strange personality hidden in the dark recess of the descending stairs. It was not difficult to tell that, though he spoke of himself as a sailor, sailoring was not his calling. There was a subtle cadence of refinement in his voice, an arresting lilt on certain words, that remained on the air after the words had ended. 'Did the Germans get to Paris?' 'No,' said Selwyn; 'though they were very near it.' 'Good! How did our chaps do?' 'I believe they fought very bravely, but were pretty well wiped out.' 'I suppose so,' said the other quietly--'wiped out, eh? Tell me--did the Colonies throw in their lot with us?' 'All of them,' said Selwyn, 'even including South Africa.' 'What about Canada?' 'She has over thirty thousand men in England now, ready to cross.'