Freake, whose back was to the new-comers, made a swift half turn, and then
he, too, settled down again as indifferently as if the interruption had
only been old Inskip with the bedward candles. Blount leaped to his feet,
livid with rage, and strode up to the officer.

"My Lord Tiverton, what does this intrusion mean?" he demanded.

"It means," was the composed reply, "that if any one of you makes the
slightest attempt to resist, he will be shot out of hand. Close up, lads,
and cover your men!"

The order was obeyed briskly and exactly. The three on the left of the
line attended to me, and I sat there, toying with a wine-glass for
appearance sake, though the three brown barrels levelled straight and
steady at my head made my heart rattle like a stone in a can. These were
none of Brocton's untrained grey-coats, but precise, disciplined veterans
in blue tunics and mitre-shaped hats, white breeches and high boots,
belted, buttoned, and bepouched. It was almost a compliment to be shot by
such tall fellows.

Seeing we were all harmless, the officer dropped his military preciseness
as if it were an ill-fitting garment. He was the daintiest, handsomest
wisp of a man I had ever set eyes on, and looked for all the world like an
exquisite figure in Dresden china come to life. He could not have had much
soldiering--the air and aroma of the London _salon_ still hung
closely around him--and he was so very self-possessed that he was
play-acting half his time, doing everything with a grace and relish that
were highly diverting. It took all my pride in my new hat out of me to see
this desirable little picture of a man.