One lesson which I have learned in my roaming life, my friends, is never to call anything a misfortune until you have seen the end of it. Is not every hour a fresh point of view? (pg 76)
I did not care much for The White Company or Sir Nigel, so as far as I was concerned, Arthur Conan Doyle was wrong when it came to estimating his historical fiction works as better than his adventures with Sherlock Holmes. Then I read The Exploits of Brigadier Gerard. While there is no doubt that history has proved Holmes to be the masterpiece—however begrudging—of Sir Arthur, I must admit I enjoyed these much lesser-known short stories immensely.
These stories, which follow the French brigadier through his missions and misadventures on behalf of France and Emperor Napoleon, are the sort of thing one expects from Victorian action-adventure penny dreadfuls. Swashbuckling, honor, secret missions, patriotism, are all part of the fun. The heroes are brave and undaunted, the villains are dastardly cowards, and the safety of the nation and the values they uphold hang in the balance.