“But could you not return and discover?” the general asked at length.

“Oh, as for that,” I answered, “it’s just as you choose to order.”

“It’s risky of course,” said he.

“It’s risky to be sure,” I agreed; “but if the risk comes in the day’s work I take it I shall have been in tighter corners.”

“Excuse me,” he said with a sort of deprecatory smile, “but I was not thinking of you; at least not altogether.”  And I saw by his face that he held something in reserve and was in two minds about confiding it.

“I beg that you won’t think of me,” I said simply, for I have always made it a rule to let a general speak for himself and ask no questions which his words may not fairly cover.  Outside of my own business (the limits of which are well defined) I seek no responsibility, least of all should I seek it in serving one whom I suspect of over-cleverness.

“Look here,” he said at length, “the Duke of Ragusa is a fine figure of a man.”

“Notoriously,” said I.  “All Europe knows it, and he certainly knows it himself.”

“I have heard that his troops take him at his own valuation.”

“Well,” I answered, “he sits his horse gallantly; he has courage.  At present he is only beginning to make his mistakes; and soldiers, like women, have a great idea of what a warrior ought to look like.”

“In fact,” said General Trant, “the loss of him would make an almighty difference.”

Now he had asked me to be seated and had poured me out a glass of wine from his decanter.  But at these words I leapt up suddenly, jolting the table so that the glass danced and spilled half its contents.

“What the dickens is wrong?” asked the general, snatching a map out of the way of the liquor.  “Good Lord, man!  You don’t suppose I was asking you to assassinate Marmont!”

“I beg your pardon,” said I, recovering myself.  “Of course not; but it sounded—­”

“Oh, did it?” He mopped the map with his pocket handkerchief and looked at me as who should say “Guess again.”

I cast about wildly.  “This man cannot be wanting to kidnap him!” thought I to myself.

“You tell me his divisions are scattered after supplies.  I hear that the bulk of his troops are in camp above Penamacor; that at the outside he has in Sabugal under his hand but 5,000.  Now Silveira should be here in a couple of days; that will make us roughly 12,000.”

“Ah!” said I, “a surprise?” He nodded.  “Night?” He nodded again.  “And your cavalry?” I pursued.

“I could, perhaps, force General Bacellar to spare his squadron of dragoons from Celorico.  Come, what do you think of it?”

“I do as you order,” said I, “and that I suppose is to return to Sabugal and report the lie of the land.  But since, general, you ask my opinion, and speaking without local knowledge, I should say—­”

“Yes?”

“Excuse me, but I will send you my opinion in four days’ time.”  And I rose to depart.