The old soldier had not treated them with absolute neglect. After
having the first two or three duly translated to him, and making
himself familiar with the tenor of this kind of document, he had
prepared a concise form of reply: regretting that any of his Majesty's
soldiers should be guilty of any act of violence, depredation or
impropriety in the country of their friends and allies, and proposing
that the accusers should come forward and prove the charges before a
court-martial, according to British laws. A copy of this stereotyped
answer, turned into good Portuguese, was always at hand to be
dispatched in reply to each new complaint, as soon as it reached
headquarters. Thus the correspondence cost little trouble there, for
Lord Strathern had an easy-going philosophy, which, like an ambling
pad, carried him smoothly over the rough and intricate path of
diplomacy, policy, and military exigencies. He knew it was impossible
to give perfect satisfaction to the Portuguese, and unlike his
commander, he eschewed all such attempts to make ropes out of
sea-sand.

L'Isle's entrance roused Lord Strathern from a pleasant reverie over
his cigar.

"Why, L'Isle! are you back again? You certainly have the gift of
appearing just when you are wanted. Is not that the case with a
character called Mephistophiles?"

"Yes, my lord; but he is a devil," said L'Isle, drily.

"I beg your pardon. I did not mean to make an unsavory comparison. But
here is another billetdoux from Sir Rowland awaiting you."