It were too much to say that his appointment, when Cai Tamblyn reported it, touched our hero's sense of humour, for he had none; but he winced under the dreadful irony of it.
"Do you know what you're asking?" he cried. "Suppose that visitors call—as they will. Would you have me show them round and point out my own relics?"
"Damme, and I thought I was givin' you a bit o' fun!" said Cai, scratching his head. "It can't be often a man finds hisself in your position; and in the old days when you got hold of a rarity you liked to make the most of it."
"Fun!" echoed the Major. "And you'd have me reel off all those reminiscences—all the sickening praise, yard by yard, out of that infernal hand-book!"
Cai Tamblyn eyed him gravely.
"You don't like that neither?" he asked.
"Like it!" the poor man echoed again, sank into a chair, and, shuddering, covered his face. "It makes my soul creep with shame."
Silence followed for a dozen long seconds.
"Master!"
The Major shuddered again, but looked up a moment later with tears in his eyes as Cai laid a hand kindly yet respectfully on his shoulder.