Quentin entered with a flush on his cheek and a painful beating in his heart. He bowed low to General Paget, whom he knew by sight, and to Cosmo, who responded by a quiet stare, and who, before he was addressed, said sharply—
"I generally have my eye on you, sir, and I thought that you were with the outlying picquets in front of the town?"
"I was, Colonel Crawford; but——"
"Was—and how does it come to pass that you are relieved, or here at this time?" asked Cosmo, loftily.
"Because, sir, I am now Lieutenant Kennedy, of the 7th Fusiliers, serving on the personal staff of Sir John Moore."
On hearing this Paget raised his eyebrows and smiled; but Cosmo hastily thrust his gold glass into his right eye, and glared at Quentin through it as he wheeled his chair half round, and surveyed him with cool insolence from head to foot.
"Are you mad, fellow?" he asked, quietly but earnestly.
"Less so than you, Colonel Crawford," replied Quentin, with suppressed passion; "I have here to show you a note from the general."
"To show me?"
"Yes, sir; because it goes from you direct to the adjutant-general for insertion in orders."