“What!” he said, “were you there?”
“I had the honour, sir,” said the Colonel grandiloquently, “of playing my little part in that Homeric contest.”
“Whose division, hey?”
“Picton’s—Pack’s brigade. You are a little—you will excuse my saying it—particular.”
“Certainly I will, my boy. Wounded—hey?”
A distinct flush suffused the Colonel’s cheek.
“Wounded—yes,” he replied shortly.
The old fellow nudged him confidentially.
“Tell me,” he said—“how?”
“Look here—you must forgive me, you know,” exploded the Colonel; “but I must point out that we are strangers. Still—as a fellow-campaigner—if that is the case—may I ask, sir, if you were at Waterloo?”