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“The sergeant-major saluted once more, but his face was like granite.

“‘I will take your hat and coat,’ says he; and then a thing happened which, for suddenness, has got anything I ever saw licked to a standstill; and I’ve seen some sudden doings in my day. I pulled off my overcoat and gave it to the sergeant-major. He took it kind of awkwardly; something dropped from one of the pockets and slid across the sanded floor.

“‘Don’t be so confoundedly clumsy, Kretz,’ says Campe, and he stooped and picked the thing up. But when he got it in his hands and gave it one look, he threw it from him and gave a gurgling sort of cry. Then he swung around and leaped on me like a madman, both hands digging into my throat.”

Ashton-Kirk shook the ash from the meerschaum and nodded at his visitor.

“Rather impulsive,” said he.

The big man’s hand caressed his throat; it was as though he still felt the clasp of the young fellow’s fingers.

“It was no easy job tearing him loose,” said he. “He stuck to me like a wildcat; his intention was to do for me on the spot.”