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This was Major Shervinton, the provost-marshal, supreme master and autocrat of all camp-followers, whom he ruled with an iron hand. Close behind him came two sturdy assistants men who had once been drummers, and were specially selected in an army where flogging was the chief punishment for their prowess with the cat-o'-nine-tales.
They had to wait for him half-an-hour, and when he appeared there were other cases to be dealt with first. When it came to Valetta Joe's turn, he stoutly denied the charge of defrauding and ill-using the lad. "I don't know about the wages, sir," said one of the assistants, "but we caught him in the act of cuffing the boy." "What does he owe you, my lad?" asked Major Shervinton.
Her interesting but somewhat subdued manner of the previous evening seemed to have vanished. At the dinner table she dominated the conversation. She displayed an intimate acquaintance with every capital of Europe and with countless personages of importance. She exchanged personal reminiscences with Lord Shervinton, who had once been attached to the Embassy at Rome, and with Mr.
"One could apprehend and fear a great possible danger," Lord Shervinton observed, "if the Labour Party in Germany were as strong as ours, or if our own Labour, Party were entirely united. The present conditions, however, seem to me to give no cause for alarm." "That is where I think you are wrong," Hannaway Wells declared.
"Hullo, McKay!" cried Shervinton, a big, burly, pleasant-faced man, whose cheery manner was in curious contrast with his formidable functions. "What brings a swell from headquarters into this den of iniquity? Lost your servant, or looking out for one? Don't engage any one without asking me. They are an abominable lot, and deserve to be hanged, all of them."
"To be sure; I had forgotten. Well, boy, you have behaved uncommonly well. What shall we do for you?" "Nothing," she faltered out, "only save him save Mr. McKay." "Mr. McKay! Do you know him? What when ?" asked Major Shervinton, greatly surprised at the agonised accents in which Mariquita spoke, yet more, seeing that her eyes were filled with tears. "Who are you?
The Princess smiled faintly. "Catherine is so unusual," she complained. Julian held open the door, and they all filed away down the corridor, from which Lord Shervinton had long since beat a hurried retreat. He stood there until they reached the bend. Catherine, who was leaning on his father's arm, turned around. She waved her hand a little irresolutely.
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