"By Jove, Powell," said the former, "I got the biggest fright of my life yesterday."
"How's that?" said the other. "Didn't know that you ever got frightened."
"Well, I'll acknowledge that I'm not strong on getting scared, unless there's a woman in the case. Then I run every time."
"Perhaps! But that has not enlightened me as to what gave you the fright yesterday."
"It was this way. When we came to anchor we found ourselves right alongside of the French transport Canton, with troops for Formosa. She had a battalion of the Légion Étrangère. I had heard of them at Singapore, and knew that there was an old schoolmate of mine on board—Du Marais, captain commanding the first company. We chummed together when I was studying French and drill at Saint Cyr. So before coming ashore I went aboard the Canton to look him up. Du Marais was there all right, brown, black rather, but fit as a fiddle after campaigns in Algiers. But it wasn't Du Marais who gave me the scare."
"What was it?"
"You remember MacAllister of the —th Dragoon Guards?"
"Who shot Standish after Tel-el-Kebir?"
"Yes."
"Of course I do. His father and mother and sister are in Hong-Kong now."