He took his rifle and his hunting knife, which had been placed in our room, put them in a cupboard, and took out the key.
"Will you keep it?" he said; and to my great surprise he gave it to me. " I might forget it. You certainly have a better memory than I have."
"The best way not to forget your weapons would be to place them on that table near your sofa," I said.
" No. . . . Look here, to tell you the truth, I do not like to have arms by me when I am asleep, . . . This is the reason. When I was in the Grodno Hussars, I slept one night in a room with a companion, and my pistols were on the chair near me. In the night I was awakened by a report. I had a pistol in my hand; I had fired, and the bullet had passed within two inches of my comrade's head. . . . I have never been able to remember the dream I had."
I was a little disturbed by his anecdote. I was guarded against having a bullet through my head; but, when I looked at the tall figure of my companion, with his herculean shoulders and his muscular arms covered with black down, I could not help recognising that he was perfectly able to strangle me with his hands if he had
