"He has--to his long home, worse luck; he broke his neck fooling over a
log jump."

On this fresh October morning the _Blankshire_ lay moored at her usual
berth in Marseilles harbour, and the overland passengers were streaming
aboard in great numbers.

Hoskins and Shafto, leaning over the bulwarks, watched the long
procession of travellers, followed by porters, bearing their light
baggage.

"There are a good few, you see," remarked Hoskins; "this is a popular
ship and date. We won't have an empty berth--anyway as far as the Canal.
Most of this crowd," waving a hand, "these with maids and valets, are
bound for Egypt; there will be a big contingent for Colombo and Southern
India. I'm a bit curious to see our own little lot.--Ah! here comes one
of them!"

He indicated a stout imposing person, who was majestically ascending the
gangway.

"That's Lady Puffle, the consort of one of our big wigs; very official
and dignified, keeps old Fluffy in grand order. The next, the tall
handsome woman, is Mrs. Pomeroy, wife of the Judicial Commissioner, a
real lady, and--hullo! she has brought out a daughter! Not, as far as I
can see, up to her mother's sample; too much nose and too much bone. And
next, we have Mrs. Flint, of Flint and Co., a big house. She gives the
best dinners in Rangoon. The little fair lady with the small dog is Mrs.
Maitland, wife of the General Commanding in Burma, and the one with her
must be her sister, or sister-in-law. Here comes the great Otto