“My dear sir,” quoth Sir John, “not being an army man myself, I am consequently a little at a loss, and should be glad to know precisely what evolution, manœuvre or exercise you and your comrades are engaged upon?”
The officer blinked, stared about him dazedly, and scowled upon Sir John blacker than ever.
“Sir,” said he, having somewhat recovered his breath, “I am Panter o’ the Third! Captain Panter, sir, and am here in pursuit o’ the notorious smuggler, George Potter, who entered this doorway not two minutes ago.”
“Amazing!” murmured Sir John, shaking his head. “Hector, you hear what Captain Panter says?”
“Aye, I hear,” answered Sir Hector, staring at the Captain and shaking his head also. “’Tis fair astonishin’, John!”
“Why, what d’ye mean, sir?” demanded the Captain angrily. “What the devil d’ye mean? I’ve got eyes, and I saw our man run through this doorway, damme!”
“Mebbe ’tis the sun, Johnnie?” Sir Hector suggested. “An’ sunstroke’s an awfu’ thing, y’ ken, ’tis bad as strong drink tae mak’ a man see visions——”
“Visions, sir!” cried Captain Panter, “to the devil with your visions, sir! You, Ensign Page, did we see our man run in here or no?”
“Most certainly we did, sir!”