“Yes, but they don’t.”

“That’s their want of manners; so much the worse for them.  Besides, I am quite sure Mr. Wilders didn’t mean it; he is far too good an officer—­always civil-spoken, too, and considerate to the men.”

“I object to saluting him more than any one else.”

“Why, McKay! what’s the matter with you?  What particular fault have you to find with Mr. Wilders?”

“I am just as good as he is.”

“In your own opinion, perhaps; not in that of this garrison—­certainly not under the Mutiny Act and Articles of War.”

“I am just as good.  I am his cousin—­”

Sergeant McKay stopped suddenly, bit his lip, and flushed very red.

“So you have let the cat out of the bag at last, my young friend,” said Sergeant Hyde, quietly.  “I always thought this—­that you were a gentleman—­”

“Superior to my station, in fact.”

“By no means, Sergeant McKay.  I should be sorry to admit that any man, however highly born, had lost his right to be deemed a gentleman because he is a sergeant in the Royal Picts.”

“You, Hyde, are a gentleman too.  I am sure of that.”

“I am a sergeant in the Royal Picts.  That is enough for me and for you.”

“Why did you enlist?”

Hyde shook his head gravely.

“There are pages in every man’s life,” he said, “which he does not care to lift again when they are once turned down.  I have not asked you for your secret; respect mine.”

“But I have nothing to conceal,” said McKay, quickly.  “I am ready enough to tell you why I enlisted.”

“As you please; but, mind, I have not asked you.”

There was little encouragement in this speech; but McKay ignored it, and went on—­

“I enlisted because I could not enter the army in any other way.  My friends could not afford to purchase me a commission.”

“Why were you so wild to become a soldier?”

“It was my father’s profession.  He was a captain in—­”

“That should have given you a claim for an ensigncy, as an officer’s son.”

“But my father was not in the English service.  He was only half an Englishman, really.”

“Indeed!  How so?”

“Although Scotch by extraction, as our name will tell you, my father was born in Poland.  He was a Russian subject, and as such was compelled to serve in the Russian army.”

“For long?”

“Until he was mixed in an unfortunate national movement, and only escaped execution by flight.  He lived afterwards at Geneva.  It was there he met my mother.”

“Is it through him or her that you are related to the Wilders?”

“Through my mother.  She was daughter of the Honourable Anastasius, son of the twelfth earl.”

“And what might be the distinguishing numeral of the present Essendine potentate?”

“He is fourteenth earl.”

“Then he and your mother are first cousins?”