As well to shut the door, Ratcliffe, though it is not a council of war." "There being nothing left to discuss, sir," returned the voice that had laughed.

"It is just a simple case of sitting tight now till Bassett comes round the corner." The Brigadier glanced up at the speaker and caught the last glow of the fading sunset reflected on his face.

It was a clean-shaven face that should have possessed a fair skin, but by reason of unfavourable circumstances it was burnt to a deep yellow-brown.

The features were pinched and wrinkled--they might have belonged to a very old man; but the eyes that smiled down into the Brigadier's were shrewd, bright, monkey-like.

They expressed a cheeriness almost grotesque.