Proud, obstinate old soldier. For a moment my heart leaped with anger, but it died away again almost immediately. Surely it was more his misfortune than his fault that his military training and instincts should have made him a soldier first and a father afterwards, and I thought of his long, cheerless life, and of the agony under which he had writhed because of the blot upon the name which he loved, and I pitied him.
"Will you dine with me at the Army and Navy, Hugh?" he asked, in an altered tone. "I must see as much as I can of you now."
I shook my head.
"Dine away from mess to-night? Why, not a man will do that with this glorious news to talk about! You must mess with us, sir!"
He smiled grimly.
"Glorious news, indeed! Because you're going out to cut a lot of half-naked savages to pieces! Well, well, perhaps it's a good thing it's nothing more serious. The more chance of seeing you home safe and sound. Yes, I'll mess with you if you like, and if your mess will not mind an old fogie like me."
He spoke lightly, for no one knew better than he that Colonel Devereux, V.C., would have been a welcome and an honoured guest at the table of any regiment in Great Britain.
"Give me your arm down these infernal stairs, Hugh," he said, rising and making his way to the door. "I have some commissions to do for Maud, and I want to see my lawyer, so I must be off. I'll be back before seven."
I watched him cross the square, with his head thrown back and his shoulders very slightly stooped, notwithstanding his seventy-five years. Then I returned to my rooms to think over the great news.