At eleven precisely he was summoned to her ladyship's presence. She
received him with stately graciousness, and waved him to a chair a yard
or two away. She was dressed for the day in one of her stiff brocaded
silks, and sat as upright as a dart, manipulating a small fan. Miss Hope
stood close at the back of her chair.
"So, my good man, I understand that you were acquainted with my son, the
late Captain Chillington, who died in India twenty years ago?"
"I was his body-servant for two years previous to his death."
"Were you with him when he died?"
"I was, your ladyship. These fingers closed his eyes."
The hand that held the fan began to tremble again. She remained silent
for a few moments, and by a strong effort overmastered her agitation.
"You have some communication which you wish to make to me respecting my
dead son?"
"I have, your ladyship. A communication of a very singular kind."
"Why has it not been made before now?"
"That your ladyship will learn in the course of what I have to say. But
perhaps you will kindly allow me to tell my story my own way."
"By all means. Pray begin: I am all attention."
The Sergeant touched his forelock, gave a preliminary cough, fixed his
clear grey eye on Lady Chillington, and began his narrative as under:--
"Your ladyship and miss: I, John Nicholas, a Staffordshire man born and
bred, went out to India twenty-three years ago as lance corporal in the
hundred-and-first regiment of foot.
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