d
silks, and sat as upright as a dart, manipulating a small fan. Miss Hope
stood close at the back of her chair.

"So, my good man, I understand that you were acquainted with my son, the
late Captain Chillington, who died in India twenty years ago?"

"I was his body-servant for two years previous to his death."

"Were you with him when he died?"

"I was, your ladyship. These fingers closed his eyes."

The hand that held the fan began to tremble again. She remained silent
for a few moments, and by a strong effort overmastered her agitation.

"You have some communication which you wish to make to me respecting my
dead son?"

"I have, your ladyship. A communication of a very singular kind."

"Why has it not been made before now?"

"That your ladyship will learn in the course of what I have to say. But
perhaps you will kindly allow me to tell my story my own way."

"By all means. Pray begin: I am all attention."

The Sergeant touched his forelock, gave a preliminary cough, fixed his
clear grey eye on Lady Chillington, and began his narrative as under:--

"Your ladyship and miss: I, John Nicholas, a Staffordshire man born and
bred, went out to India twenty-three years ago as lance corporal in the
hundred-and-first regiment of foot. After I had been in India a few
months, I got drunk and misbehaved myself, and was reduced to the ranks.
Well, ma'am, Captain Chillington took a fancy to me, thought I was not
such a bad dog after all, and got me appointed as his servant. And a
better master no man need ever wish to have--kind, generous, and a
perfect gentleman from top to toe. I loved him, and would have gone
through fire and water to serve him."

Her ladyship's fan was trembling again. "Oblige me with my salts, Miss
Hope," she said. She pressed them to her nose, and motioned to the
Sergeant to proceed.

"When I had been with the Captain a few months," resumed the old
soldier, "he got leave of absence for several weeks, and everybody knew
that it was his intention to spend his holiday in a shooting excursion
among the hills. I was to go with him, of course, and the usual troop of
native servants; but besides himself there was only one European
gentleman in the party, and he was not an Englishman. He was a Russian,
and his name was Platzoff. He was a gentleman of fortune, and was
travelling in India at the time, and had come to my master with letters
of introduction. Well, Captain Chillington just took wonderfully