ugged and hypnotised by Boer spies. And--I will
overlook it upon the present occasion, but in War-time, Mr. Brooker, men
have been shot for less. I think I need not detain you further. Your rifle
has been sent to your headquarters--with my card and an explanation. One
word more, Mr. Brooker----"

Brooker, grey, streaky, and desperately wretched, was blind to the
laughter brimming the keen hazel eyes.

"I am entrusted by the Imperial Government with the preservation of Public
Morality in Gueldersdorp, as well as with the maintenance of the Public
Safety--and I should be glad of an assurance from you that Mrs. Brooker's
Christian name is really Annie?"

"I--I swear it, Colonel!"

Brooker fled, leaving the preserver of public morality to have his laugh
out before he rejoined the Staff, glancing at the Waterbury on the short
steel chain. Half-past ten. Would the Dop Doctor turn up to appointment,
or had the battle with habit and the deadly craving born of indulgence
ended in defeat? As his eyes moved from the dial, they lighted upon the
man:

"_Clothed and in his right mind...._"

His own words of the night before recurred to memory as he came forwards
with his long, light step, greeting the new-comer with the easy, cordial
grace of high-breeding.

"Ah, Dr. Saxham, obliged to you for being punctual. Let me introduce you
to Major Lord Henry Leighbury, D.S.O., Grenadier Guards, our D.A.A.G. Dr.
Saxham, Colonel Ware, Baraland Rifles, and Sir George Wendysh, Wessex
Regiment, commanding the Irregular Horse; Captain Bingham Wrynche, Royal
Bay Dragoons, my senior aide-de-camp, and his junior, Lieutenant Lord
Beauvayse, of the Grey Hussars. And Dr. Saxham, Major Taggart, R.A.M.C.,
our Chief Medical Officer."

He watched the man keenly as he made the introductions, saying to himself
that this was better than he had hoped. The ragged black moustache had
been shaved away; the frayed but spotless suit of white drill fitted the
heavy-shouldered, thin-flanked, muscular figure perfectly; the faded blue
flannel shirt, with the white double collar and narrow black tie; the
shabby black kamarband about his waist, the black-ribboned Panama,
maintaining respectability in extremest old age, as that expensive but
lasting headgear is wont to do, possessed, as worn by the Dop Doctor, a
certain _cachet_ of style. His slight, curt, almost frowning salutations
displayed a well-graduated recognition of the official status of each
individual