‘Most decidedly, sir!’ the General answered, with sudden heat. ‘He has the instincts of a gentleman, and the sense of honour of a gentleman. He has had the education of a gentleman, and has lived among gentlemen. If these are not the facts to warrant the use of the word, I have no judgment in the matter.’ ‘I beg your pardon, sir,’ said De Blac-quaire, ‘I am possibly prejudiced; but I thought the fellow a sort of unlicked cub.’ The General said no more, but his shoulders straightened, and both hands went up to the big grey moustache. It was in his mind to offer a retort, but he remembered his own dignity in time, and contented himself by saying, ‘I shall recommend him most strongly to Colonel Stacey’s best consideration. And you, Major de Blacquaire, I understand, are leaving the regiment?’ ‘I have received a Staff appointment, sir, and I leave to-morrow. These are the Colonel’s quarters.’ Both men had grown extremely frigid, but Colonel Stacey’s welcome to his old campaigning comrade smoothed the General’s ruffled mind. He was a bluff, grizzled man of sixty, with a scarlet countenance and a white head so closely cropped that it looked like a bottle-brush. He had seen service in every quarter of the world, and his manly chest was covered with well-won medals. He listened to the General’s story sympathetically, but he gave his judgment with a twinkle of the eye. ‘The same old Quixote, eh, George? De Blacquaire’s right, of course--absolutely right. And as for you, my boy, you haven’t got a leg to stand on. Of course you’re going to join forces with your fellow sufferer, and it’s quite monstrous to suggest that the money should come out of the pocket of an innocent man. If the case were anybody’s but your own you’d look at it like a sensible man. And if you were advising me, you would tell me precisely what I’m telling you. Here, where’s that rascal of mine?’ He opened the door and shouted, and in came a bronzed dragoon in civilian costume. ‘Get a bottle of champagne and bring glasses. I’ve been longing for an excuse for self-indulgence all the morning, and I’m much obliged to you for giving it.’ ‘I mustn’t join you,’ said the General. ‘Oh, by gad,’ said the Colonel, ‘but you must and you shall. I’m expecting to get my marching orders any hour, and those chaps mean to fight, mind you, and it’s an open problem as to whether old Bob Stacey will come back again. Come on, George! You’re not going to shirk a last liquor with a comrade of forty years’ standing!’ The General yielded, the wine was served, De Blacquaire at the Colonel’s command emptied his glass and withdrew, leaving the old friends together. The General seized the moment to speak a word for Polson. He told the lad’s story, and the Colonel nodded his white head with curt approval. ‘Is he a smart fellow?’ he asked.