“Major Sampayo!” I cried indignantly.
He gave a twirl to his moustaches and it looked as if he were going to quarrel in earnest. But he thought better of it. “I meant no offence, Mr. Donnington,” he muttered.
“Then I will take none.”
“But you will remember your remark that you never forget a face.”
“I did not mean that I could identify at sight every man I met in the campaign both on our side and among the Boers. Of course there would have to be something in the circumstances of the meeting which would serve as a connecting link.”
“And you do not remember me then?” he persisted.
It was awkward to answer this without a direct lie, so I turned and had another steady look at him for perhaps half a minute and then shook my head. “Can you suggest anything likely to recall your features to me?”
His eyes shifted uneasily under my scrutiny, and he vented a little sigh of relief as he replied: “Of course I cannot.”
“We both appear to be in the same difficulty, then. Now that I look fixedly at your features, there is something about them that I seem to know; but very likely it is only due to the fact that I have seen you two or three times to-night. Sampayo. Sampayo,” I repeated, as if trying to recall the name, and then shook my head again as if giving the matter up. “I suppose we must take it that we have not met,” I said.
“I can understand that,” I said with a smile.