"Oh—ah—er, I beg pardon," said the little blue-coated man, slewing about in his saddle. "I am Paymaster-General, and—er—the fact is——"
"Paymaster-General?" echoed Paget in a soft and musing tone, as if deliberately searching his memory.
"Assistant," the little man corrected.
"Get down from your horse, Sir."
"I beg pardon——"
"Get down from your horse."
"GET DOWN FROM YOUR HORSE, SIR."