Hector's announcement came to him as a surprise—whether agreeable or otherwise it was still too early to determine. Sergeant-Major Bland was also surprised. But he maintained the utterly impassive expression proper to Sergeant-Majors on such occasions, said "Yes, sir," saluted and marched the escort out.
"Shall I go, too, sir?" asked the Adjutant.
"Yes, please."
The Marquis was now alone before his omnipotent judge. The keen eyes searched his face. Anticipating an unprecedented bursting of the vials of wrath, the Marquis braced his cringing soul to endure the storm.
But the storm came not ... only, after a time, Hector's voice, more sorrowful than angry:
"Humphries, why did you do it?"
The Marquis could not believe his ears.
"Pardon, sir?"
"I say—why did you do it?"
A flicker of a smile flashed across the Marquis' mobile face, at the memory of his 'rippin' rag' but was quickly suppressed.