A dense cloud of smoke filled the card-room, and through it might be discerned a number of officers in red shell-jackets reposing after the labors of the day, and wisely absolving nature from other efforts, in order that she might give her exclusive care to the digestion of that substantial repast which had lately been concluded in the mess-room. There was a party of whist-players in a corner, and the rattle of billiard-balls came through an open door.
Captain Eureton's servant came in and said that there was an innkeeper from Whittlecup who desired to speak to the Adjutant. The Captain left the card-room, and the officers scarcely noticed his departure, but when he came back their attention was drawn to him by an exclamation of the Colonel's. "Why, Eureton, what's the matter now? how grave you look!"
The Adjutant came to the hearth-rug where John Stanburne was standing, and said, "Is not Captain Stanburne a relation of yours, Colonel?"
"Cousin about nine times removed. But what's the matter? He's not ill, I hope."
"Very ill, very ill indeed," said Eureton, with an expression which implied that he had not yet told the whole truth. "There's no near relation or friend of Captain Stanburne in the regiment, is there, Colonel?"
"None whatever; out with it, Eureton—you're making me very anxious;" and the Colonel nervously pottered with the end of a new cigar.
"The truth is, gentlemen," said Eureton, addressing himself to the room, for every one was listening intently, "a great crime has been committed this evening. Captain Stanburne has been murdered—or if it's not a case of murder it's a case of manslaughter. He has been killed, it appears, whilst visiting a billet, by a man in his company."
The Colonel rang the bell violently. Fyser appeared—he was at the door, expecting to be called for.
"Harness the tandem immediately."
"The tandem is at the door, sir, or will be by the time you get downstairs. I knew you would be wantin' it as soon as I 'eard the bad news."