could dispense with his services.  He had been spending the whole afternoon in perusing the long list of “wanteds” in the Daily Telegraph, and his ink-stained forefinger showed the perseverance with which he had been answering every advertisement that could possibly apply to him.  A pile of addressed envelopes lay upon the table, and it was only the uncertainty of his finances and the fact that the humble penny stamp mounts into shillings when frequently employed, that prevented him from increasing the number of his applications.  He looked up and uttered a word of guttural greeting as his companion came striding in.

“Get out of this,” the major said abruptly.  “Get away into the bedroom.”

“Potztausand!  Vot is it then?” cried the astonished Teuton.

“Out with you!  I want this room to meself.”

Von Baumser shrugged his shoulders and lumbered off like a good-natured plantigrade, closing the door behind him.

When his companion had disappeared the major proceeded to lay out all his notes upon the table, overlapping each other, but still so arranged that every separate one was visible.  He then built in the centre ten little golden columns in a circle, each consisting of ten sovereigns, until the whole presented the appearance of a metallic Stonehenge upon a plain of bank notes.  This done, he cocked his head on one side, like a fat and very ruddy turkey, and contemplated his little arrangement with much pride and satisfaction.

Solitary delight soon becomes wearisome, however, so the veteran summoned his companion.  The Teuton was so dumbfounded by this display of wealth, that he was bereft for a time of all faculty of speech, and could only stare open-mouthed at the table.  At last he extended a fore-finger and thumb and rubbed a five pound note between them, as though to convince himself of its reality, after which he began to gyrate round the table in a sort of war dance, never taking his eyes from the heap of influence in front of him.  “Mein Gott!” he exclaimed, “Gnadiger Vater!  Ach Himmel!  Was fur eine Schatze!  Donnerwetter!” und a thousand other cacophonous expressions of satisfaction and amazement.

When the old soldier had sufficiently enjoyed the lively emotion which showed itself on every feature of the German’s countenance, he picked up the notes and locked them in his desk together with half the gold.  The other fifty pounds he returned into his pocket.

“Come on!” he said to his companion abruptly.

“Come vere?  Vat is it?”

“Come on!” roared the major irascibly.  “What d’ye want to stand asking questions for?  Put on your hat and come.”

The major had retained the cab at the door, and the two jumped into it. 
“Drive to Verdi’s Restaurant,” he said to the driver.

When they arrived at that aristocratic and expensive establishment, the soldier ordered the best dinner for two that money could procure.  “Have it riddy in two hours sharp,” he said to the manager.  “None of your half-and-half wines, mind!  We want the rale thing, and, be ged! we can tell the difference!”