zest in the small
social amusements of Garland Town, the capital of the Islands. He shone
at picnics and water-parties. He played a fair hand at whist. His
manner towards ladies was deferential; towards men, dignified without a
trace of patronage or self-conceit. All voted him a good fellow. At
first, indeed--for he practised small economies, and his linen, though
clean, was frayed--they suspected him of stinginess, until by accident
the Vicar discovered that a great part of his pay went to support his
dead brother's family--a widow and two girls who lived at Notting Hill,
London, in far from affluent circumstances.

In spite of this the Commandant's lot might fairly have been called
enviable until the day which terminated the ninety-nine years' lease
upon which the Duke held the Islands. Everyone took it for granted that
he would apply, as his predecessors had twice applied, for a renewal.
But, no; like a bolt from the blue came news that the Duke, an old man,
had waived his application in favour of an unknown purchaser--unknown,
that is to say, in the Islands--a London banker, recently created a
baronet, by name Sir Caesar Hutchins.

In general, all Garland Town relied for information about persons of
rank and title upon Miss Elizabeth Gabriel, a well-to-do spinster lady,
daughter of a former agent of the Duke's. But Miss Gabriel's copy of
"The Peerage and Baronetage of Great Britain and Ireland" dated from
1845, and Sir Caesar's title being of more recent--or, as she put it, of
mushroom--creation, the curious had to wait until a newer volume
arrived from the mainland. Meanwhile, at their whist parties twice a
week, the gentry of Garland Town indulged in a hundred brisk surmises,
but without alarm--"unconscious of their doom, the little victims
played." It was agreed, of course, that the new Lord Proprietor would
not take up his abode in the Islands. For where was a suitable
residence? On the whole the Commandant had little doubt that things
would go on as before, but he felt some uneasiness for Mr. Pope, the
Duke's agent.

Within a fortnight, however, came two fresh announcements, of which the
first--a letter from Sir Caesar, continuing Mr. Pope in his
office--gratified everyone. But the second was terrible indeed. The War
Office had decided to disband the garrison and remove its guns!

Major Vigoureux' face had whitened as he read that letter, five years
ago. It whitened yet at the remembrance of it. As for his