“If you will rest for an hour, and give my wife the pleasure of your company at luncheon, I shall have a letter ready for Lord Wellington,” replied Sir Terence. “Perhaps you’ll see to it, Tremayne,” he added, without waiting for Captain Stanhope’s answer to an invitation which amounted to a command.
Thus Stanhope was led away, and Sir Terence, all other matters forgotten for the moment, sat down to write his letter.
Later in the day, after Captain Stanhope had taken his departure, the duty fell to Tremayne of framing the general order and seeing to the dispatch of a copy to each division.
“I wonder,” he said to Sir Terence, “who will be the first to break it?”
“Why, the fool who’s most anxious to be broke himself,” answered Sir Terence.
There appeared to be reservations about it in Tremayne’s mind.
“It’s a devilish stringent regulation,” he criticised.
“But very salutary and very necessary.”
“Oh, quite.” Tremayne’s agreement was unhesitating. “But I shouldn’t care to feel the restraint of it, and I thank heaven I have no enemy thirsting for my blood.”
Sir Terence’s brow darkened. His face was turned away from his secretary. “How can a man be confident of that?” he wondered.