s　on　the　last　syllable　that　somehow　marked　him　out　as　a　martinet；　military；　literary　and　social。　He　had　a　large　head　streaked　with　black　and　grey；　and　an　abrupt　black　moustache；　which　gave　him　a　look　of　fierceness　which　was　contradicted　by　his　sad　sea…blue　eyes。
  Basil　immediately　said　to　me；　〃Let　us　come　into　the　next　room；　Gully；〃　and　was　moving　towards　the　door；　but　the　stranger　said：
  〃Not　at　all。　Friends　remain。　Assistance　possibly。〃
  The　moment　I　heard　him　speak　I　remembered　who　he　was；　a　certain　Major　Brown　I　had　met　years　before　in　Basil's　society。　I　had　forgotten　altogether　the　black　dandified　figure　and　the　large　solemn　head；　but　I　remembered　the　peculiar　speech；　which　consisted　of　only　saying　about　a　quarter　of　each　sentence；　and　that　sharply；　like　the　crack　of　a　gun。　I　do　not　know；　it　may　have　come　from　giving　orders　to　troops。
  Major　Brown　was　a　V。C。；　and　an　able　and　distinguished　soldier；　but　he　was　anything　but　a　warlike　person。　Like　many　among　the　iron　men　who　recovered　British　India；　he　was　a　man　with　the　natural　beliefs　and　tastes　of　an　old　maid。　In　his　dress　he　was　dapper　and　yet　demure；　in　his　habits　he　was　precise　to　the　point　of　the　exact　adjustment　of　a　tea…cup。　One　enthusiasm　he　had；　which　was　of　the　nature　of　a　religionthe　cultivation　of　pansies。　And　when　he　talked　about　his　collection；　his　blue　eyes　glittered　like　a　child's　at　a　new　toy；　the　eyes　that　had　remained　untroubled　when　the　troops　were　roaring　victory　round　Roberts　at　Candahar。
  〃Well；　Major；〃　said　Rupert　Grant；　with　a　lordly　heartiness；　flinging　himself　into　a　chair；　〃what　is　the　matter　with　you？〃
  〃Yellow　pansies。　Coal…cellar。　P。　G。　Northover；〃　said　the　Major；　with　righteous　indignation。
  We　glanced　at　each　other　with　inquisitiveness。　Basil；　who　had　his　eyes　shut　in　his　abstracted　way；　said　simply：
  〃I　beg　your　pardon。〃
  〃Fact　is。　Street；　you　know；　man；　pansies。　On　wall。　Death　to　me。　Something。　Preposterous。〃
  We　shook　our　heads　gently。　Bit　by　bit；　and　mainly　by　the　seemingly　sleepy　assistance　of　Basil　Grant；　we　pieced　together　the　Major's　fragmentary；　but　excited　narration。　It　would　be　infamous　to　submit　the　reader　to　what　we　endured；　therefore　I　will　tell　the　story　of　Major　Brown　in　my　own　words。　But　the　reader　must　imagine　the　scene。　The　eyes　of　Basil　closed　as　in　a　trance；　after　his　habit；　and　the　eyes　of　Rupert　and　myself　getting　rounder　and　rounder　as　we　listened　to　one　of　the　most　astounding　stories　in　the　world；　from　the　lips　of　the　little　man　in　black；　sitting　bolt　upright　in　his　chair　and　talking　like　a　telegram。
  Major　Brown　was；　I　have　said；　a　successful　soldier；　but　by　no　means　an　enthusiastic　one。　So　far　from　regretting　his　retirement　on　half…pay；　it　was　with　delight　that　he　took　a　small　neat　villa；　very　like　a　doll's　house；　and　devoted　the　rest　of　his　life　to　pansies　and　weak　tea。　The　thought　that　battles　were　over　when　he　had　once　hung　up　his　sword　in　the　little　front　hall　（along　with　two　patent　stew…pots　and　a　bad　water…colour）；　and　betaken　himself　instead　to　wielding　the　rake　in　his　little　sunlit　garden；　was　to　him　like　having　come　into　a　harbour　in　heaven。　He　was　Dutch…like　and　precise　in　his　taste　in　gardening；　and　had；　perhaps；　some　tendency　to　drill　his　flowers　like　soldiers。　He　was　one　of　those　men　who　are　capable　of　putting　four　umbrellas　in　the　stand　rather　than　three；　so　that　two　may　lean　one　way　and　two　another；　he　saw　life　like　a　pattern　in　a　freehand　drawing…book。　And　assuredly　he　would　not　have　believed；　or　even　understood；　any　one　who　had　told　him　that　within　a　few　yards　of　his　brick　paradise　he　was　destined　to　be　caught　in　a　whirlpool　of　incredible　adventure；　such　as　he　had　never　seen　or　dreamed　of　in　the　horrible　jungle；　or　the　heat　of　battle。
  One　certain　bright　and　windy　afternoon；　the　Major；　attired　in　his　usual　faultless　manner；　had　set　out　for　his　usual　constitutional。　In　crossing　from　one　great　residential　thoroughfare　to　another；　he　happened　to　pass　along　one　of　those　aimless…looking　lanes　which　lie　along　the　back…garden　walls　of　a　row　of　mansions；　and　which　in　their　empty　and　discoloured　appearance　give　one　an　odd　sensation　as　of　being　behind　the　scenes　of　a　theatre。　But　mean　and　sulky　as　the　scene　might　be　in　the　eyes　of　most　of　us；　it　was　not　altogether　so　in　the　Major's；　for　along　the　coarse　gravel　footway　was　coming　a　thing　which　was　to　him　what　the　passing　of　a　religious　procession　is　to　a　devout　person。　A　large；　heavy　man；　with　fish…blue　eyes　and　a　ring　of　irradiating　red　beard；　was　pushing　before　him　a　barrow；　which　was　ablaze　with　incomparable　flowers。　There　were　splendid　specimens　of　almost　every　order；　but　the　Major's　own　favourite　pansies　predominated。　The　Major　stopped　and　fell　into　conversation；　and　then　into　bargaining。　He　treated　the　man　after　the　manner　of　collectors　and　other　mad　men；　that　is　to　say；　he　carefully　and　with　a　sort　of　anguish　selected　the　best　roots　from　the　less　excellent；　praised　some；　disparaged　others；　made　a　subtle　scale　ranging　from　a　thrilling　worth　and　rarity　to　a　degraded　insignificance；　and　then　bought　them　all。　The　man　was　just　pushing　off　his　barrow　when　he　stopped　and　came　close　to　the　Major。
  〃I'll　tell　you　what；　sir；〃　he　said。　〃If　you're　interested　in　them　things；　you　just　get　on　to　that　wall。〃
  〃On　the　wall！〃　cried　the　scandalised　Major；　whose　conventional　soul　quailed　within　him　at　the　thought　of　such　fantastic　trespass。
  〃Finest　show　of　yellow　pansies　in　England　in　that　there　garden；　sir；〃　hissed　the　tempter。　〃I'll　help　you　up；　sir。〃
  How　it　happened　no　one　will　ever　know　but　that　positive　enthusiasm　of　the　Major's　life　triumphed　over　all　its　negative　traditions；　and　with　an　easy　leap　and　swing　that　showed　that　he　was　in　no　need　of　physical　assistance；　he　stood　on　the　wall　at　the　end　of　the　strange　garden。　The　second　after；　the　flapping　of　the　frock…coat　at　his　knees　made　him　feel　inexpressibly　a　fool。　But　the　next　instant　all　such　trifling　sentiments　were　swallowed　up　by　the　most　appalling　shock　of　surprise　the　old　soldier　had　ever　felt　in　all　his　bold　and　wandering　existence。　His　eyes　fell　upon　the　garden；　and　there　across　a　large　bed　in　the　centre　of　the　lawn　was　a　vast　pattern　of　pansies；　they　were　splendid　flowers；　but　for　once　it　was　not　their　horticultural　aspects　that　Major　Brown　beheld；　for　the　pansies　were　arranged　in　gigantic　capital　letters　so　as　to　form　the　sentence：
  DEATH　TO　MAJOR　BROWN
  A　kindly　looking　old　man；　with　white　whiskers；　was　watering　them。　Brown　looked　sharply　back　at　the　road　behind　him；　the　man　with　the　barrow　had　suddenly　vanished。　Then　he　looked　again　at　the　lawn　with　its　incredible　inscription。　Another　man　might　have　thought　he　had　gone　mad；　but　Brown　did　not。　When　romantic　ladies　gushed　over　his　V。C。　and　his　military　exploits；　he　sometimes　felt　himself　to　be　a　painfully　prosaic　person；　but　by　the　same　token　he　knew　he　was　incurably　sane。　Another　man；　again；　might　have　thought　himself　a　victim　of　a　passing　practical　joke；　but　Brown　could　not　easily　believe　this。　He　knew　from　his　own　quaint　learning　that　the　garden　arrangement　was　an　elaborate　and　expensive　one；　he　thought　it　extravagantly　improbable　that　any　one　would　pour　out　money　like　water　for　a　joke　against　him。　Having　no　explanation　whatever　to　offer；　he　admitted　the　fact　to　himself；　like　a　clear…headed　man；　and　waited　as　he　would　have　done　in　the　presence　of　a　man　with　six　legs。
  At　this　moment　the　stout　old　man　with　white　whiskers　looked　up；　and　the　watering　can　fell　from　his　hand；　shooting　a　swirl　of　water　down　the　gravel　path。
  〃Who　on　earth　are　you？〃　he　gasped；　trembling　violently。
  〃I　am　Major　Brown；〃　said　that　individual；　who　was　always　cool　in　the　hour　of　action。
  The　old　man　gaped　helplessly　like　some　monstrous　fish。　At　last　he　stammered　wildly；　〃Come　downcome　down　here！〃
  〃At　your　service；〃　said　the　Major；　and　alighted　at　a　bound　on　the　grass　beside　him；　without　disarranging　his　silk　hat。
  The　old　man　turned　his　broad　back　and　set　off　at　a　sort　of　waddling　run　towards　the　house；　followed　with　swift　steps　by　the　Major。　His　guide　led　him　through　the　back　passages　of　a　gloomy；　but　gorgeously　appointed　house；　until　they　reached　the　door　of　the　front　room。　Then　the　old　man　turned　with　a　face　of　apoplectic　terror　dimly　showing　in　the　twilight。
  〃For　heaven's　sake；〃　he　said；　〃don't　mention　jackals。〃
  Then　he　threw　open　the　door；　releasing　a　burst　of　red　lamplight；　and　ran　downstairs　with　a　clatter。
  The　Major　stepped　into　a　rich；　glowing　room；　full　of　red　copper；　and　peacock　and　purple　hangings；　hat　in　hand。　He　had　the　finest　manners　in　the　world；　and；　though　mystified；　was　not　in　the　least　embarrassed　to　see　that　the　only　occupant　was　a　lady；　sitting　by　the　window；　looking　out。
  〃Madam；〃　he　said；　bowing　simply；　〃I　am　Major　Brown。〃
  〃Sit　down；〃　said　the　lady；　but　she　did　not　turn　her　head。
  She　was　a　graceful；　green…clad　figure；　with　fiery　red　hair　and　a　flavour　of　Bedford　Park。　〃You　have　come；　I　suppose；〃　she　said　mournfully；　〃to　tax　me　about　the　hateful　title…deeds。〃
  〃I　have　come；　madam；〃　he　said；　〃to　know　what　is　the　matter。　To　know　why　my　name　is　written　across　your　garden。　Not　amicably　either。〃
  He　spoke　grimly；　for　the　thing　had　hit　him。　It　is　impossible　to　describe　the　effect　produced　on　the　mind　by　t