“What was that you said about the advantages of the Suakim-Berber route, Colonel Ullershaw?” asked Lord Southwick, presently fixing his eyeglass upon him.
Rupert repeated his remarks.
“Hum,” commented Lord Southwick. “Wolseley thought otherwise.”
“I did not mean to set up my opinion against that of Lord Wolseley, my lord,” answered Rupert, “it was only a private view I was expressing to Miss Bonnythorne.”
“And a very sound view too, in my judgment,” said the Under-Secretary, in the precise, official manner that rarely deserted him; “indeed, events have proved it to be so. Moreover, Colonel Ullershaw, your opinion is undoubtedly entitled to respect. I know it; for after hearing that I was to meet you at dinner, I looked up your record at the War Office and read a private memorandum, which you may remember writing for the information of your superior officers, though perhaps you were not aware that it was forwarded home.”
Rupert coloured and muttered that he was not.
“I wish that it had been acted on,” continued Lord Southwick, “but it wasn’t, and there’s an end. By the way—it is rather unkind to speak of it—but did you know, Colonel Ullershaw, that you were once recommended for the V.C.—after Tamai where you were wounded?”
Rendered absolutely speechless, Rupert shook his head.
“Well, you were; and what’s more,” he went on, with a twinkle in his eye, “you would have got it if your name hadn’t happened to begin with a U. You see, the persons recommended of about equal merit or interest were put down alphabetically; and as there were only a certain number of crosses to be given, a fellow whose name began with T got one and you didn’t. It wasn’t my system, I may add, but as the man who was responsible for it is dead, and many things have happened since then, I don’t mind telling the story.”
“I am very glad,” blurted out Rupert. “I never did anything to deserve the V.C.”