Flashman And The Tiger

"Irregular, I suppose," says he, shaking his fat head—but not in denial. "But, even so … well, nothing to hinder … if you’re sure, Gordon?"

"Of course I’m sure!" He always was, and not about to have his judgment questioned by a mere grandson of George the Third. He was absolutely frowning at them—the Army commander, the Foreign Secretary, and the greatest soldier of the age (who was carrying his bag for him, God love me!)[24] And they were helpless, glancing resignedly at each other and apologetically at me—because he was Gordon, you see. What he was doing wouldn’t have washed with them for a moment, if he had been any other man. But then, no other man would have done it.

Granville was raising his fine brows in a why-not fashion. "It rests with Colonel Flashman, of course." There was a silence, and then Joe Wolseley gave me a shrug and a nod. "I’d be only too glad … to explain to Lady Flashman, if you …" He left it there.

They were all looking at me … and I knew it was all up. It was appalling, and beyond belief, and no fate was too dreadful for Gordon, damn his arrogant confidence as he stood there smiling triumphantly … but I knew, as I’d known so often, what the answer must be. The Great Christian Hero had tapped my shoulder and I’d never live it down if I refused. I could have wept at the cruelty of the malign fate that had guided me to Platform Three at that hour—ten minutes later, and the blasted train would have been away, carrying Gordon to Hell or Honolulu for all I cared.

But when the cards are dealt, you must play ’em—and with style, for your reputation’s sake. Flashy has his own way of bowing t o the inevitable—and I knew dam' well it would run round Horse Guards and the clubs like wildfire in the morning …

"I say—you know Chinese Gordon’s gone to the Sudan? Fact and taken Flashman with him! Met him quite by chance at the station, told Wolseley and Cambridge he must have him along."