He was a tall man, with dark hair and eyes, a black moustache shading his lip, and his hand fell from the hilt of the sword as he took an uncertain step toward me.
"Drop that gun-play, Sergeant," he exclaimed sharply.

"This man _is_ all right; I know him." Too astounded myself for speech, I could only stare back into the captain's face, seeking vainly to recall ever having seen the fellow before.

Not the slightest recollection came to me, but Le Gaire blundered on, blinded by his discovery.
"Didn't know you had gone into this sort of thing," he exclaimed cordially, holding out his hand.

"Last I heard your regiment was in New Orleans.

Don't remember me, do you ?" I shook my head, so completely puzzled by this unexpected turn of affairs that speech became dangerous.