"Est ce que vous avez votre billet, Monsieur?"
"Non."
"Alors je ne puis pas vous admettre."
Jack explained it was of the utmost importance that he should see the Duke of Wellington, and at length he was ushered up the staircase into an ante-room, while an attendant went in search of the Duke.
Jack had a full view of the ballroom as he waited. As in a kaleidoscope he saw the gleam of many uniforms, fair faces, white shoulders, slender graceful forms—alternate flashes of scarlet and white—as couple after couple whirled by in the mazy waltz. Presently from out the maze came one martial figure which Jack knew well. There could be no mistaking that stern, immobile face, the tightly pressed lips, the prominent Roman nose. It was the Iron Duke!
"Well, sir, you wish to see me?" was his laconic greeting.
"Yes, General, on a matter of life and death. Read that."
He handed the Duke the document he had received from the Frenchman. His searching eyes had grasped its contents in a moment; yet he betrayed no excitement or astonishment.
"Where did you get this?" he calmly asked.
Jack briefly explained the circumstances under which he had obtained possession of the document. The Duke turned to his aide-de-camp.