He struggled so furiously that he freed himself and was rushing at Mellersh, when the door was thrown open and the grey-headed old Colonel of the regiment entered.
“What is this?” said the Colonel sternly. “Major Rockley, are you mad? I have business, sir, at once, with you.”
Rockley stared from one to the other, and seemed to be sobered on the instant.
“Business with me?” he said quickly. “Well, what is it? Payne, I leave myself in your hands. Now, Colonel, what is it?”
The old Colonel drew aside and pointed to the door.
“Go to my quarters, sir,” he said sternly. “But you should have some one with you beside me. Sir Harry Payne, you are Major Rockley’s greatest intimate. Go with him.”
Sir Harry was, after Mellersh, the most sober of the party, his wound having necessitated his being abstemious, and he turned to the Colonel.
“He was very drunk,” he said. “We’ll get him to bed. I’ll talk to Mellersh when he is gone, and nothing shall come of it.”
“You have misunderstood my meaning, Payne,” said the Colonel sternly. “I am not interfering about a card quarrel, sir, or a contemptible brawl about some profligate woman. This is an affair dealing with the honour of our regiment, as well as Major Rockley’s liberty.”
A spasm seemed to have seized Rockley, but he was calm the next moment, and walked steadily to the Colonel’s quarters, not a word being spoken till the old officer threw open the door of his study, and they were in the presence of Lord Carboro’, Barclay, Morton Denville, and the Chief Constable.