"Can I have a word or two with you?" "Certainly, my dear fellow," Bagot replied, putting down his paper. "What kind of a boy was I at school?" "What kind of a ... what the deuce do you mean?" asked the astonished colonel. "I want you to tell me what kind of a boy I was," said Sir Hildebrand gravely. "Just an ordinary chap." "Would you have called me modest, generous, and kind?" "What in God's name are you driving at?" asked the Colonel, twisting himself round on his chair. "At your opinion of me. Was I modest, generous, and kind? It's a vital question." "It's a damned embarrassing one to put to a man during the process of digestion. Well, you know, Oates, you always were a queer beggar. If I had had the summing up of you I should have said: 'Free from vice.'" "Negative." "Well, yes--in a way--but----" "You've answered me. Now another. Do you think I treated my children badly?" "Really, Oates--oh, confound it!" Angrily he dusted himself free from the long ash that had fallen from his cigar. "I don't see why I should be asked such a question." "I do. You've known me all your life. I want you to answer it frankly." Colonel Bagot was stout, red, and choleric. Sir Hildebrand irritated him. If he was looking for trouble, he should have it. "I think you treated them abominably--there!" said he. "Thank you," said Sir Hildebrand. "What?" gasped Bagot. "I said 'thank you.' And lastly--you have had many opportunities of judging--do you think I did all in my power to make my wife happy?" At first Bagot made a gesture of impatience. His position was both grotesque and intolerable. Was Oates going mad? Answering the surmise, Sir Hildebrand said: "I'm aware my question is extraordinary, perhaps outrageous; but I am quite sane. Did she look crushed, down-trodden, as though she were not allowed to have a will of her own?" It was impossible not to see that the man was in a dry agony of earnestness. Irritation and annoyance fell like garments from Bagot's shoulders. "You really want to get at the exact truth, as far as I can give it you?" "From the depth of my soul," said Sir Hildebrand. "Then," answered Bagot, quite simply, "I'm sorry to say unpleasant things. But I think Lady Oates led a dog's life--and so does everybody." "That's just what I wanted to be sure of," said Sir Hildebrand, rising. He bent his head courteously. "Good night, Bagot," and he went away with dreary dignity. VI