dry, serious figure, in an English straw hat. His red "Baedeker"
gleamed under his arm, and in one hand he held a little paper of notes,
as if it were a brief. He took Miss Sadie by one arm and her aunt by
the other as they toiled up the bank, and the young girl's laughter rang
frank and clear in the morning air as "Baedeker" came fluttering down at
their feet. Mr. Belmont and Colonel Cochrane followed, the brims of
their sun-hats touching as they discussed the relative advantages of the
Mauser, the Lebel, and the Lee-Metford. Behind them walked Cecil Brown,
listless, cynical, self-contained. The fat clergyman puffed slowly up
the bank, with many gasping witticisms at his own defects. "I'm one of
those men who carry everything before them," said he, glancing ruefully
at his rotundity, and chuckling wheezily at his own little joke.
Last of all came Headingly, slight and tall, with the student stoop
about his shoulders, and Fardet, the good-natured, fussy, argumentative
Parisian.

"You see we have an escort to-day," he whispered to his companion.

"So I observed."

"Pah!" cried the Frenchman, throwing out his arms in derision; "as well
have an escort from Paris to Versailles. This is all part of the play,
Monsieur Headingly. It deceives no one, but it is part of the play.
_Pourquoi ces droles de militaires, dragoman, hein?_"

It was the dragoman's _role_ to be all things to all men, so he looked
cautiously round before he answered, to make sure that the English were
mounted and out of earshot.

"_C'est ridicule, monsieur!_" said he, shrugging his fat shoulders.