She pulled her chair with a mild creak and marched towards the stair. “I don’t know much about the technique of music,” he said at last, with his eyes upon her. It was plain that a man of his age could only be interested for one reason alone, yet she felt compelled to at know him a little before the main event. It appeared from what he said that he had been captured when asleep,—that his liquor had been drugged,—otherwise, he would never have allowed himself to be taken alive. This was the reason he had raised his little independent Company of Light Infantry and joined the West Kent Militia. Her face expressed nothing.
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