"Rather a flimsy argument," observed the major. "For surely that is better than having it always full of bad wine." "Anyhow," the doctor replied, "women who exhibit more surely than us the underlying instincts of mankind are far from bearing out your theory; I know very few who make a point of marrying a good-looking man." "Well, do you know the story about Frazer?" said the major. "Which Frazer?" said the colonel. "G.R. of the 60th?" "No, no. A.K. of the 5th Gurkhas—the one who played polo for the regiment in 1900, an awfully good-looking fellow, the finest chin in the army." "Oh, I know him," said the colonel, "the son of old Sir Thomas. His father sold me a damned good pony, when I was a subaltern, and I only paid 200 rupees for it. Well, what is his story?" "At the beginning of 1915," said the major, "Frazer, who was crossing London on his way home on leave, went to the theatre one evening alone. Towards the end of the first act, he felt vaguely that some one was staring at him. He looked up and saw a woman in a box looking at him. But, owing to the darkness of the theatre, he could not distinguish her features. "In the interval, he tried to see her, but she had withdrawn to the back of her box. During the next two acts she looked at him fixedly. Frazer, decidedly intrigued, was waiting at the exit of the theatre, when a magnificent footman approached him, saying, ’A lady wishes to speak to you, sir,’ and led him to the door of a carriage which had stopped in a side street. "’You do not know me, Captain Frazer,’ said a very pretty voice, ’but I know you; have you anything to do this evening or will you come to supper with me?’ Frazer did what we should all have done." "He ran away?" said the padre. "He got into the carriage," said Parker. "He was asked to allow himself to be blindfolded. When the bandage was taken off he found himself in a charming room, alone with the fair unknown, who was _decolletèe_ and wearing a mask, and who had the most beautiful shoulders in the world?" "Is this by Dumas _père_ or R. L. Stevenson?" asked Aurelle. "It is a story of what actually happened in January, 1915, and was told me by a man who never lies," said Major Parker. "The house was in silence. No servant appeared, but Frazer, delighted, was offered by the unknown herself what you French call, I believe, _bon souper, bon gîte et le reste_. "At break of day, she bandaged his eyes again. He told her how much he had enjoyed himself and asked her when he could see her again. ’Never,’ she replied, ’and I take it that I have your word of honour as a gentleman and a soldier that you will never try to find me again. But in one year from now, to the day, go back to the same theatre where we met, and there will, perhaps, be a letter for you.’ Then she saw him into the carriage again, and asked him to keep his eyes blindfolded for ten minutes: when he took off the bandage, he was in Trafalgar Square.