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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/25136-8.txt b/25136-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6c83176 --- /dev/null +++ b/25136-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11444 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, "The Pomp of Yesterday", by Joseph Hocking + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: "The Pomp of Yesterday" + + +Author: Joseph Hocking + + + +Release Date: April 22, 2008 [eBook #25136] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK "THE POMP OF YESTERDAY"*** + + +E-text prepared by Al Haines + + + +'THE POMP OF YESTERDAY' + +by + +JOSEPH HOCKING + +Author of 'All for a Scrap of Paper,' 'Dearer than Life,' + 'The Curtain of Fire,' etc. + + + + + "Far famed our Navies melt away, + On dune and headland sinks the fire, + Lo, all the pomp of yesterday + Is one with Nineveh and Tyre. + God of the Nations, spare us yet! + Lest we forget, lest we forget." + RUDYARD KIPLING. + + + + + + + +Hodder and Stoughton +London ---- New York ---- Toronto + + + + +_JOSEPH HOCKING'S GREAT WAR STORIES_ + + ALL FOR A SCRAP OF PAPER + THE CURTAIN OF FIRE + DEARER THAN LIFE + THE PRICE OF A THRONE + THE PATH OF GLORY + 'THE POMP OF YESTERDAY' + TOMMY + TOMMY AND THE MAID OF ATHENS + + +OTHER STORIES BY JOSEPH HOCKING + + Facing Fearful Odds + O'er Moor and Fen + The Wilderness + Rosaleen O'Hara + The Soul of Dominic Wildthorne + Follow the Gleam + David Baring + The Trampled Cross + + + + +"Let us never forget in all that we do, that the measure +of our ultimate success will be governed, largely if not mainly, +by the strength with which we put our religious convictions +into our action and hold fast firmly and fearlessly to the faith +of our forefathers." + +_Extract of speech by General Sir William Robertson._ + +_March 2, 1918._ + + + + +CONTENTS + + +CHAP. + + I THE MAN WITHOUT A PAST + II SIR ROGER GRANVILLE'S SUGGESTION + III THE STRANGE BBHAVIOUR OF GEORGE ST. MABYN + IV I MEET CAPTAIN SPRINGFIELD + V HOW A MAN WORKED A MIRACLE + VI PAUL EDGECUMBE'S MEMORY + VII A CAUSE OF FAILURE + VIII I BECOME AN EAVESDROPPER + IX EDGECUMBE is MISSING + X THE STRUGGLE IN THE TRENCHES + XI EDGECUMBE'S STORY + XII THE STRUGGLE ON THE SOMME + XIII EDGECUMBE'S MADNESS + XIV EDGECUMBE'S LOGIC + XV DEVONSHIRE + XVI LORNA BOLIVICK'S HOME + XVII A NEW DEVELOPMENT + XVIII A TRAGIC HAPPINESS + XIX A MYSTERIOUS ILLNESS + XX A STRANGE NIGHT + XXI COLONEL MCCLURE'S VERDICT + XXII EDGECUMBE'S RESOLVE + XXIII SPRINGFIELD'S PROGRESS + XXIV A STRANGE LOVE-MAKING + XXV 'WHY IS VICTORY DELAYED?' + XXVI 'WHERE DOES GOD COME IN?' + XXVII SEEING LONDON + XXVIII SUNSHINE AND SHADOW + XXIX CROSS CURRENTS + XXX THE MARCH OF EVENTS + XXXI EDGECUMBE'S RETURN + XXXII THE GREAT MEETING + XXXIII THE LIFTED CURTAIN + XXXIV MEMORY + XXXV AFTERWARDS + XXXVI EDGECUMBE'S RESOLUTION + XXXVII MAURICE ST. MABYN + XXXVIII A BOMBSHELL + XXXIX SPRINGFIELD AT BAY + XL MAURICE ST. MABYN'S GENEROSITY + XLI THE NEW HOPE + XLII AN UNFINISHED STORY + + + + +FOREWORD + +It is now fast approaching four years since our country at the call of +duty, and for the world's welfare entered the great struggle which is +still convulsing the nations of the earth. What this has cost us, and +what it has meant to us, and to other countries, it is impossible to +describe. Imagination reels before the thought. Still the ghastly +struggle continues, daily comes the story of carnage, and suffering, +and loss; and still the enemy who stands for all that is basest, and +most degraded in life, stands firm, and proudly vaunts his prowess. + +Why is Victory delayed? + +That is the question which has haunted me for many months, and I have +asked myself whether we, and our Allies, have failed in those things +which are essential, not only to Victory, but to a righteous and, +therefore, lasting peace. + +In this story, while not attempting a full and complete answer to the +question, I have made certain suggestions which I am sure the Nation, +the Empire, ought to consider; for on our attitude towards them depends +much that is most vital to our welfare. + +Let it not be imagined, however, that _The Pomp of Yesterday_ is +anything in the nature of a polemic, or a treatise. It is first and +foremost a story--a romance if you like--of incident, and adventure. +But it is more than a story. It deals with vital things, and it deals +with them--however inadequately--sincerely and earnestly. The +statements, moreover, which will probably arouse a great deal of +antagonism in certain quarters, are not inventions of the Author, but +were related to him by those in a position to know. + +Neither are the descriptions of the Battle of the Somme the result of +the Author's imagination, but transcripts from the experiences of some +who passed through it. Added to this, I have, since first writing the +story, paid a Second Visit to the Front, during which I traversed the +country on which Thiepval, Goomecourt, La Boiselle, Contalmaison; and a +score of other towns and villages once stood. Because of this, while +doubtless a military authority could point out technical errors in my +descriptions, I have been able to visualize the scenes of the battle, +and correct such mistakes as I made at the time of writing. + +One other word. More than once, the chief character in the narrative +anticipates what has taken place in Russia. While I do not claim to be +a prophet, it is only fair to say that I finished writing the story in +August, 1917, when very few dreamt of the terrible chaos which now +exists in the once Great Empire on which we so largely depended. + +JOSEPH HOCKING. + +_March_, 1918. + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE MAN WITHOUT A PAST + +My first meeting with the man whose story I have set out to relate was +in Plymouth. I had been standing in the harbour, hoping that the +friends I had come to meet might yet appear, even although the chances +of their doing so had become very small. Perhaps a hundred passengers +had landed at the historic quay, and practically all of them had rushed +away to catch the London train. I had scrutinized each face eagerly, +but when the last passenger had crossed the gangway I had been +reluctantly compelled to assume that my friends, for some reason or +other, had not come. + +I was about to turn away, and go back to the town, when some one +touched my arm. 'This is Plymouth, isn't it?' + +I turned, and saw a young man. At that time I was not sure he was +young; he might have been twenty-eight, or he might have been +forty-eight. His face was marked by a thousand lines, while a look +suggestive of age was in his eyes. He spoke to me in an apologetic +sort of way, and looked at me wistfully. + +I did not answer him for a second, as his appearance startled me. The +strange admixture of youth and age gave me an eerie feeling. + +'Yes,' I replied, 'this is Plymouth. At least, this is Plymouth +Harbour.' + +He turned toward the vessel, and looked at it for some seconds, and +then heaved a sigh. + +'Have you friends on board?' I asked. + +'Oh, no,' he replied. 'I have just left it. I thought I remembered +Plymouth, and so I got off.' + +'Where have you come from?' + +'From India.' + +'Where did you come from?' + +'From Bombay. It was a long journey to Bombay, but it seemed my only +chance.' Then he shuddered. + +'Aren't you well?' I asked. + +'Oh, yes, I am very well now. But everything seems difficult to +realize; you, now, and all this,' and he cast his eyes quickly around +him, 'seem to be something which exists in the imagination, rather than +objective, tangible things.' + +He spoke perfect English, and his manner suggested education, +refinement. + +'You don't mind my speaking to you, do you?' he added somewhat +nervously. + +'Not at all,' and I scrutinized him more closely. 'If you did not +speak English so well,' I said, 'I should have thought you were an +Indian,'--and then I realized that I had been guilty of a _faux pas_, +for I saw his face flush and his lips tremble painfully. + +'You were thinking of my clothes,' was his reply. 'They were the best +I could get. When I realized that I was alive, I was half naked; I was +very weak and ill, too. I picked up these things,' and he glanced at +his motley garments, 'where and how I could. On the whole, however, +people were very kind to me. When I got to Bombay, my feeling was that +I must get to England.' + +'And where are you going now?' I asked. + +'I don't know. Luckily I have a little money; I found it inside my +vest. I suppose I must have put it there before----' and then he +became silent, while the strange, wistful look in his eyes was +intensified. + +'What is your name?' I asked. + +'I haven't the slightest idea. It's very awkward, isn't it?' and he +laughed nervously. 'Sometimes dim pictures float before my mind, and I +seem to have vague recollections of things that happened ages and ages +ago. But they pass away in a second. I am afraid you think my conduct +unpardonable, but I can hardly help myself. You see, having no memory, +I act on impulse. That was why I spoke to you.' + +'The poor fellow must be mad,' I said to myself; 'it would be a +kindness to him to take him to a police station, and ask the +authorities to take care of him.' But as I looked at him again, I was +not sure of this. In spite of his strange attire, and in spite, too, +of the wistful look in his eyes, there was no suggestion of insanity. +That he had passed through great trouble I was sure, and I had a +feeling that he must, at some time, have undergone some awful +experiences. But his eyes were not those of a madman. In some senses +they were bold and resolute, and suggested great courage; in others +they expressed gentleness and kindness. + +'Then you have no idea what you are going to do, now you have landed at +Plymouth?' + +'I'm afraid I haven't. Perhaps I ought not to have got off here at +all. But again I acted on impulse. You see, when I first saw the +harbour, I had a feeling that I had been here before, so seeing the +others landing, I followed them. My reason for speaking to you was, I +think, this,'--and he touched my tunic. 'Besides, there was something +in your eyes which made me trust you.' + +'Are you a soldier, then?' I asked. + +'I don't know. You see, I don't know anything. But I rather think I +must have been interested in the Army, because I am instinctively drawn +to any one wearing a soldier's uniform. You are a captain, I see.' + +'Yes,' I replied. 'I'm afraid my position in the Army is somewhat +anomalous, but there it is. When the war broke out, I was asked by the +War Office to do some recruiting, and thinking that I should have more +influence as a soldier, a commission was given me. I don't know much +about soldiering, although I have taken a great deal of interest in the +Army all my life.' + +He looked at me in a puzzled sort of way. 'War broke out?' he queried. +'Is England at war?' + +'Didn't you know?' + +He shook his head pathetically. 'I know nothing. All the way home I +talked to no one. I didn't feel as though I could. You see, people +looked upon me as a kind of curiosity, and I resented it somewhat. +But, England at war! By Jove, that's interesting!' + +His eyes flashed with a new light, and another tone came into his +voice. 'Who are we at war with?' he added. + +'Principally with Germany,' I replied, 'but it'll take a lot of +explaining, if you've heard nothing about it. Roughly speaking, +England, France, and Russia are at war with Germany, Austria and +Turkey.' + +'I always said it would come--always. The Germans have meant it for +years.' + +'The fellow is contradicting himself; he begins to have a memory in a +remarkable manner,' I thought. 'When did you think it would come?' I +asked. + +He looked at me in a puzzled way as if he were trying to co-ordinate +his thoughts, and then, with a sigh, gave it up as if in despair. 'It +is always that way,' he said with a sigh, 'sometimes flashes of the +past come to me, but they never remain. But what is England at war +about?' + +'I am afraid it would take too long to tell you. I say,' and I turned +to him suddenly, 'have you done anything wrong in India, that you come +home in this way?' + +I was sorry the moment I had spoken, for I knew by the look in his eyes +that my suspicion was unjust. + +'Not that I know of,' he replied. 'I am simply a fellow who can't +remember. You don't know how I have struggled to recall the past, and +what a weary business it is.' + +I must confess I felt interested in him. That he had been educated as +a gentleman was evident from every word he spoke, and in spite of his +motley garb, no one would take him for an ordinary man. I wanted to +know more about him, and to look behind the curtain which hid his past +from him. + +'I'm afraid I must be an awful nuisance to you,' he said. 'I'm taking +up a lot of your time, and doubtless you have your affairs to attend +to.' + +'No, I'm at a loose end just now. If you like, I'll help you to get +some other clothes, and then you'll feel more comfortable.' + +'It would be awfully good of you if you would.' + +Two hours later, he sat with me in the dining-room of a hotel which +faced The Hoe. His nondescript garments were discarded, and he was now +clothed in decent British attire. That he had a good upbringing, and +was accustomed to the polite forms of society, was more than ever +evidenced while we were together at the hotel. There was no suggestion +of awkwardness in his movements, and everything he did betrayed the +fact that he had been accustomed to the habits and associations of an +English gentleman. + +After dinner, we went for a walk on The Hoe. + +'It would be really ever so much easier to talk to you,' I said with a +laugh, 'if you had a name. Have you no remembrance of what you were +called?' + +'Not the slightest. In a vague way I know I am an Englishman, and +that's about all. Months ago I seemed to awake out of a deep sleep, +and I realized that I was in India. By a kind of intuition, I found my +way to Bombay, and hearing that a boat was immediately starting for +England, I came by it. It was by the merest chance that I was able to +come. I had walked a good way, and was foot-sore. I had a bathe in a +pond by the roadside, and on examining a pocket inside my vest I found +several £5 notes.' + +'And you knew their value?' I asked. + +'Oh, yes, perfectly,' he replied. + +'Did you not realize that they might not belong to you?' + +'No, I was perfectly sure that they belonged to me, and that I had put +them there before I lost my memory, I can't give you any reason for +this, but I know it was so. I have just another remembrance,' he +added, and he shuddered as he spoke. + +'What is that?' + +'That I had been with Indians. Even now I dream about them, and I wake +up in the night sometimes, seeing the glitter of their eyes, and the +flash of their knives. I think they tortured me, too. I have curious +scars on my body. Still, I don't think about that if I can help it.' + +'And you have no recollection of your father or mother?' + +He shook his head. + +'No memories of your boyhood?' + +'No.' + +'Then I must give you a name. What would you like to be called?' + +He laughed almost merrily. 'I don't know. One name is as good as +another. What a beautiful place!' and he pointed to one of the +proudest dwellings in that part of the country. 'What is it called?' + +'That is Mount Edgecumbe,' I said. + +'Mount Edgecumbe,' he repeated, 'Edgecumbe? That sounds rather nice. +Call me Edgecumbe.' + +'All right,' I laughed; 'but what about your Christian name?' + +'I don't mind what it is. What do you suggest?' + +'There was a scriptural character who had strange experiences, called +Paul.' + +'Paul Edgecumbe,--that wouldn't sound bad, would it?' + +'No, it sounds very well.' + +'For the future, then, I'll be Paul Edgecumbe, until--my memory comes +back;--if ever it does,' he added with a sigh. 'Paul Edgecumbe, Paul +Edgecumbe,--yes, I shall remember that.' + +'And what are you going to do?' I asked. 'Your little store of money +will soon be gone. Have you any idea what you are fit for?' + +'Not the slightest. Stay though----' A group of newly-made soldiers +passed by as he spoke, and each of them, according to the custom of +soldiers, saluted me. 'Strapping lot of chaps, aren't they?' he said, +like one talking to himself; 'they'll need a lot of licking into shape, +though. By Jove, that'll do.' + +'What'll do?' + +'You say England is at war, and you've been on a recruiting stunt. +That will suit me. Recruit me, will you?' + +'Do you know anything about soldiering?' + +'I don't think so. I remember nothing. Why do you ask?' + +'Because when those soldiers saluted me just now, you returned the +salute.' + +'Did I? I didn't know. Perhaps I saw you doing so and I unconsciously +followed your lead. But I don't think I do know anything about +soldiering. I remember nothing about it, anyhow.' + +This conversation took place in the early spring of 1915, just as +England began to realize that we were actually at war. The first flush +of recruiting had passed, and hundreds of thousands of our finest young +men had volunteered for the Army. But a kind of apathy had settled +upon the nation, and fellows who should have come forward willingly +hung back. + +I had been fairly successful in my recruiting campaign; nevertheless I +was often disappointed at the lack of enthusiasm manifested. I found +that young men gave all sorts of foolish excuses as reasons for not +joining; and when this stranger volunteered, as it seemed to me, +unthinkingly, and without realizing the gravity of the step he was +taking, I hesitated. + +'Of course you understand that you are doing a very important thing?' I +said. 'We are at war, and fellows who volunteer know that they are +possibly volunteering for death.' + +'Oh yes, of course.' He said this in what seemed to me such a casual +and matter-of-fact way that I could not believe he realized what war +was. + +'The casualty list is already becoming very serious,' I continued. +'You see, we are having to send out men after a very short training, +and thus it comes about that the lads who, when war broke out, never +dreamed of being soldiers, are now, many of them, either maimed and +crippled for life, or dead. You quite realize what you are doing?' + +'Certainly,' he replied, 'but then, although I have forgotten nearly +everything else, I have not forgotten that I am an Englishman, and of +course, as an Englishman, I could do no other than offer myself to my +country. Still, I'd like to know the exact nature of our quarrel with +Germany.' + +'You've not forgotten there is such a country as Germany, then?' + +'Oh, no.' And then he sighed, as if trying to recollect something. 'I +say,' he went on, 'my mind is a curious business. I know that Germany +is a country in Europe. I can even remember the German language. I +know that Berlin is the capital of the country, and I can recall the +names of many of their big towns,--Leipzig, Frankfurt, Munich, +Nuremburg; I have a sort of fancy that I have visited them; but I know +nothing of the history of Germany,--that is all a blank. Funny, isn't +it?' and then he sighed again. + +'As it happens,' I said, 'I have to speak at a recruiting meeting +to-night, here in Plymouth. Would you like to come? I am going to +deal with the reasons for the war, and to show why it is every chap's +duty to do his bit.' + +'I'd love to come. My word! what's that?' + +Away in the distance there was a sound of martial music, and as the +wind was blowing from the south-west the strains reached us clearly. +Evidently some soldiers were marching with a band. + +'It's fine, isn't it!' he cried. He threw back his shoulders, stood +perfectly erect, and his footsteps kept perfect time to the music. I +felt more than ever convinced that he had had some former association +with the Army. + +On our way to the recruiting meeting, however, he seemed to have +forgotten all about it. He was very listless, and languid, and +depressed. He was like a man who wanted to hide himself from the +crowd, and he slunk along the streets as though apologizing for his +presence. + +'That's the hall,' I said, pointing to a big building into which the +people were thronging. + +'I shall not be noticed, shall I? If you think I should, I'd rather +not go.' + +'Certainly not. Who's going to notice you? I'll get you a seat on the +platform if you like.' + +'Oh, no, no. Let me slink behind a pillar somewhere. No, please don't +bother about me, I'll go in with that crowd. I'll find you after the +meeting.' He left me as he spoke, and a minute later I had lost sight +of him. + +I am afraid I paid scanty attention to what was said to me in the +anteroom, prior to going into the hall. The man interested me more +than I can say. I found myself wondering who he was, where he came +from, and what his experiences had been. More than once, I doubted +whether I had not been the victim of an impostor. The story of his +loss of memory was very weak and did not accord with the spirit of the +men in the anteroom, who were eagerly talking about the war; or with +the purposes of the meeting. And yet I could not help trusting in him, +he was so frank and manly. In a way, he was transparent, too, and +talked like a grown-up child. + +When I entered the hall, which was by this time crowded with, perhaps, +two thousand people, I scanned the sea of faces eagerly, but could +nowhere see the man who had adopted the name of Paul Edgecumbe. I +doubted whether he was there at all, and whether I should ever see him +again. Still, I did not see what purpose he could have had in +deceiving me. He had received nothing from me, save his dinner at the +hotel, which I had persisted in paying for in spite of his protests. +The clothes he wore were paid for by his own money, and he showed not +the slightest expectation of receiving any benefits from me. + +Just as I was called upon to speak, I caught sight of him. He was +sitting only a few rows back from the platform, close to a pillar, and +his eyes, I thought, had a vacant stare. When my name was mentioned, +however, and I stood by the table on the platform, waiting for the +applause which is usual on such an occasion to die down, the vacant +look had gone. He was eager, alert, attentive. + +Usually I am not a ready speaker, but that night my work seemed easy. +After I had sketched the story of the events which led to the war, the +atmosphere became electric, and the cause I had espoused gripped me as +never before, and presently, when I came to the application of the +story I had told, and of our duty as a nation which pretended to stand +for honour and truth, and Christianity, my heart grew hot, and the +meeting became wild with enthusiasm. + +Just as I was closing, I looked toward the pillar by which Paul +Edgecumbe sat, and his face had become so changed that I scarcely knew +him. There were no evidences of the drawn, parchment-like skin; +instead, his cheeks were flushed, and looked youthful. His eyes were +no longer wistful and sad, but burned like coals of fire. He was like +a man consumed by a great passion. If he had forgotten the past, the +present, at all events, was vividly revealed to him. + +Before I sat down, I appealed for volunteers. I asked the young men, +who believed in the sacredness of promises, in the honour of life, in +the sanctity of women, to come on to the platform, and to give in their +names as soldiers of the King. + +There was no applause, a kind of hush rested on the audience; but for +more than a minute no one came forward. Then I saw Paul Edgecumbe make +his way from behind the pillar, and come towards the platform, the +people cheering as he did so. He climbed the platform steps, and +walked straight toward the chairman, who looked at him curiously. + +'Will you take me, sir?' he said, and his voice rang out clearly among +the now hushed audience. + +'You wish to join, do you?' + +'Join!' he said passionately, 'how can a man, who is a man, do anything +else?' + +What I have related describes how I first met Paul Edgecumbe, and how +he joined the Army. At least a hundred other volunteers came forward +that night, but I paid little attention to them. The man whose history +was unknown to me, and whose life-story was unknown even to himself, +had laid a strong hand upon me. + +As I look back on that night now, and as I remember what has since +taken place, I should, if power had been given me to read the future, +have been even more excited than I was. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +SIR ROGER GRANVILLE'S SUGGESTION + +When the meeting was over, I looked around for my new acquaintance, but +he was nowhere to be found. I waited at the hall door until the last +man had departed, but could not see him. Thinking he might have gone +to the hotel where we had had dinner, I went up to The Hoe, and +inquired for him; but he had not been seen. He had vanished as +suddenly as he had appeared. + +I must confess that I was somewhat anxious about him, and wondered what +had become of him. He was alone; he knew no one but myself; he had +lost his memory; he was utterly ignorant of Plymouth, and I feared lest +something untoward should have happened to him. However, I reflected +that, as volunteers had been ordered to report themselves at the +barracks at nine o'clock on the following morning, I should find him +there. + +I went to the house I was staying at, therefore, hoping, in spite of my +misgivings, that all would be well. + +I had no opportunity of going to the barracks, however. Before I had +finished breakfast the next day a telegram arrived, ordering me to go +to Falmouth by the earliest possible train on an urgent matter. This +necessitated my leaving Plymouth almost before my breakfast was +finished. All I could do, therefore, was to scribble him a hasty line, +explaining the situation, and urging him to communicate with me at an +address I gave him in Falmouth. I also told him that on my return to +Plymouth I would look him up, and do all I could for him. + +As events turned out, however, I did not get back for more than a week, +and when I did, although I made careful inquiries, I could learn +nothing. Whether he remained in Plymouth, or not, I could not tell, +and of course, among the thousands of men who were daily enlisting, it +was difficult to discover the whereabouts of an unknown volunteer. +Moreover, there were several recruiting stations in Plymouth besides +the barracks, and thus it was easy for me to miss him. + +Months passed, and I heard nothing about Paul Edgecumbe, and if the +truth must be told, owing to the multifarious duties which pressed upon +me at that time, I almost forgot him. But not altogether. Little as I +knew of him, his personality had impressed itself upon me, while the +remembrance of that wild flash in his eyes as he came on to the +platform in Plymouth, and declared that he should join the Army, was +not easily forgotten. + +One day, about three months after our meeting, I was lunching with +Colonel Gray in Exeter, when Sir Roger Granville, who was chairman of +the meeting at which Edgecumbe had enlisted, joined us. + +'I have often thought about that fellow who joined up at Plymouth, +Luscombe,' he said. 'Have you ever heard any more about him?' + +I shook my head. 'I've tried to follow him up, too. The fellow has +had a curious history.' Whereupon I told Sir Roger what I knew about +him. + +'Quite a romance,' laughed Colonel Gray. 'It would be interesting to +know what becomes of him.' + +'I wonder who and what he is?' mused Sir Roger. + +'Anything might happen to a fellow like that. He may be a peer or a +pauper; he may be married or single, and there may be all sorts of +interesting developments.' + +He grew quite eloquent, I remember, as to the poor fellow's possible +future, and would not listen to Colonel Gray's suggestions that +probably everything would turn out in the most prosaic fashion. + +About five o'clock that evening our train arrived at a little roadside +station, where Sir Roger Granville's motor-car awaited us. It was a +beautiful day in early summer, and the whole countryside was lovely. + +'No wonder you Devonshire people are proud of your county,' I said, as +the car swept along a winding country lane. + +'Yes, you Cornishmen may well be jealous of us, although, for that +matter, I don't know whether I am a Cornishman or a Devonshire man. +There has always been a quarrel, you know, as to whether the Granvilles +belonged to Cornwall or Devon, although I believe old Sir Richard was +born on the Cornish side of the county boundary. In fact, there are +several families around here who can hardly tell the county they hail +from. You see that place over there?' and he pointed to a fine old +mansion that stood on the slopes of a wooded hill. + +'It's a lovely spot,' I ventured. + +'It is lovely, and George St. Mabyn is a lucky fellow. But _à propos_ +of our conversation, George does not know which county his family came +from originally, Cornwall or Devon. St. Mabyn, you know, is a Cornish +parish, and I suppose that some of the St. Mabyns came to Devonshire +from Cornwall three centuries ago. That reminds me, he is dining with +us to-night. If I mistake not, he is a bit gone on a lady who's +staying at my house,--fascinating girl she is, too; but whether she'll +have him or not, I have my doubts.' + +'Why?' I asked. + +'Oh, she was engaged to his elder brother, who was killed in Egypt, and +who was heir to the estate. It was awfully sad about Maurice,--fine +fellow he was. But there was a row with the Arabs up by the Nile +somewhere, and Maurice got potted.' + +'And George not only came into the estate, but may also succeed to his +brother's sweetheart?' I laughed. + +'That's so. It's years ago now since Maurice's regiment was sent to +Egypt, and the engagement, so I am informed, was fixed up the night +before he went.' + +'And is George St. Mabyn a good chap?' + +'Oh, yes. He was a captain in the Territorials before the war broke +out, and was very active in recruiting last autumn. In November he got +sent to Ypres, and had a rough time there, I suppose. He was there +until two months ago, when he was wounded. He's home on leave now. +This war's likely to drag on, isn't it? We've been at it nine months, +and there are no signs of the Germans crumbling up.' + +'From all I can hear,' I said, 'it was touch and go with us a little +while ago. If they had broken through our lines at Ypres, we should +have been in a bad way.' + +'My word, we should! Still, the way our fellows stuck it was +magnificent.' + +The car entered the drive just then which led to Sir Roger's place, and +after passing more than a mile through fine park land, we swept up to +an old, grey stone mansion. + +'You possess one of the finest specimens of an Old English home that I +know, Sir Roger,' I said. + +'Yes, I do,' and there was a touch of pride in his voice. 'I love +every stone of it,--I love every outbuilding,--I love every acre of the +old place. I suppose it's natural, too,--my people have lived here so +long. Heavens! suppose the Germans were to get here, and treat it as +they have treated the old French chateaux! Hallo, here we are!' and he +shouted to some people near the house. 'You see I have brought the +orator with me!' + +We alighted from the car, and made our way towards three ladies who sat +in a secluded nook on the lawn. One I knew immediately as Lady +Granville, the other two were strangers to me. But as they will figure +more or less prominently in this story, and were closely associated +with the events which followed, it will be necessary for me to give +some description of them. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE STRANGE BEHAVIOUR OF GEORGE ST. MABYN + +One was a tall, stylishly dressed, handsome girl, of striking +appearance. I had almost called her a woman, for although she was +still young, her appearance could not be called strictly girlish. She +might be about twenty-five years of age, and her face, though free from +lines, suggested a history. I thought, too, that there was a lack of +frankness in her face, and that she had a furtive look in her eyes. +There was nothing else in her appearance, however, which suggested +this. She gave me a pleasant greeting, and expressed the hope that we +should have a good meeting in the little town near Granitelands, which +was the name of Lord Granville's house. + +'I have heard such tremendous things about you, Captain Luscombe,' she +said, 'that I am quite excited. Report has it that you are quite an +orator.' + +'Report is a lying jade,' I replied; 'still, I suppose since the people +at the War Office think I am no use as a fighter, they must use me to +persuade others to do their bit.' + +'Of course I am going,' she laughed, 'although, personally, I don't +like the Army.' + +'Not like the Army, Norah!' It was the other girl who spoke, and who +thus drew my attention to her. + +I was not much impressed by Lorna Bolivick when I had been first +introduced to her, but a second glance showed me that she was by far +the more interesting of the two. In one sense, she looked only a +child, and I judged her to be about nineteen or twenty years of age. +She had all a child's innocence, and _naïveté_, too; I thought she +seemed as free from care as the lambs I had seen sporting in the +meadows, or the birds singing among the trees. I judged her to be just +a happy-go-lucky child of nature, who had lived among the shoals of +life, and had never realized its depths. Her brown eyes were full of +laughter and fun. Her frank, untrammelled ways suggested a creature of +impulse. + +'That girl never had a care in her life,' I reflected; 'she's just a +happy kid who, although nearly a woman in years, is not grown up.' + +I soon found myself mistaken, however. Something was said, I have +forgotten what, which evidently moved her, and her face changed as if +by magic. The look of carelessness left her in a moment, her great +brown eyes burned with a new light, her face revealed possibilities +which I had not dreamt of. I knew then that Lorna Bolivick could feel +deeply, that she was one who heard voices, and had plumbed the depths +of life which were unknown to the other. + +She was not handsome, a passing observer would not even call her +pretty, but she had a wondrous face. + +'Do you like my name, Captain Luscombe?' she asked. + +'It is one of the most musical I know,' I replied. + +'I don't like it,' she laughed. 'You see, in a way it gives me such a +lot to live up to. I suppose dad was reading Blackmore's great novel +when I was born, and so, although all the family protested, he insisted +on my being called Lorna. But I'm not a bit like her. She was gentle, +and winsome, and beautiful, and I am not a bit gentle, I am not a bit +winsome, and I am as ugly as sin,--my brothers all tell me so. +Besides, in spite of the people who talk so much about Lorna Doone, I +think she was insipid,--a sort of wax doll.' + +Just then we heard the tooting of a motor horn, and turning, saw a car +approaching the house. + +'There's George St. Mabyn,' cried Sir Roger. 'You're just in time, +George,--I was wondering if you would be in time for our early dinner.' + +Immediately afterwards, I was introduced to a young fellow about +twenty-eight years of age, who struck me as a remarkably good specimen +of the English squire class. He had, as I was afterwards told, +conducted himself with great bravery in Belgium and France, and had +been mentioned in the dispatches. I quickly saw that Sir Roger +Granville had been right when he said that George St. Mabyn was deeply +in love with Norah Blackwater. In fact, he took no trouble to hide the +fact. He flushed like a boy as he approached her, and then, as I +thought, his face looked pained as he noticed her cold greeting. They +were evidently well known to each other, however, as he called her by +her Christian name, and assumed the attitude of an old friend. + +I did not think Lorna Bolivick liked him. Her greeting was cordial +enough, and yet I thought I detected a certain reserve; but of course +it might be only my fancy. In any case, they were nothing to me. I +was simply a bird of passage, and would, in all probability, go away on +the morrow, never to see them again. + +During the informal and somewhat hurried evening meal which had been +prepared, I found myself much interested in the young squire. He had a +frank, boyish manner which charmed me, and in spite of his being still +somewhat of an invalid, his fresh, open-air way of looking at things +was very pleasant. + +'By the way, Luscombe,' said Sir Roger, as the ladies rushed away to +their rooms to prepare for their motor drive, 'tell St. Mabyn about +that fellow we were talking of to-day; he'll be interested.' + +'It's only a man I met with in Plymouth some time ago, who has lost his +memory,' I responded. + +'Lost his memory? What do you mean?' + +I gave him a brief outline of the story I have related in these pages, +and then added: 'It is not so strange after all; I have heard of +several cases since, where, through some accident, or shock, men have +been robbed of the past. In some cases their memory has returned to +them suddenly, and they have gone back to their people, who had given +them up for dead. On the other hand, I suppose there have been lots +who have never recovered.' + +'The thing that struck me,' said Sir Roger, 'was the possibility of a +very interesting _dénouement_ in this case. I was chairman of the +meeting at Plymouth, where the fellow enlisted, and he struck me as an +extraordinary chap. He had all the antiquity of Adam on his face, and +yet he might have been young. He had the look of a gentleman, too, and +from what Luscombe tells me, he is a gentleman. But there it is; he +remembers nothing, the past is a perfect blank to him. What'll happen, +if his memory comes back?' + +'Probably nothing,' said St. Mabyn; 'he may have had the most humdrum +past imaginable.' + +'Of course he may, but on the other hand there may be quite a romance +in the story. As I said to Luscombe, he may have a wife, or a +sweetheart, who has been waiting for him for years, and perhaps given +him up as dead. Think of his memory coming back, and of the meeting +which would follow! Or supposing he is an heir to some estate, and +somebody else has got it? Why, George, think if something like that +had happened to your brother Maurice! It might, in fact it _would_ +alter everything. But there are the motors at the door; we must be +off.' + +He turned toward the door as he spoke, and did not see George St. +Mabyn's face; but I did. It had become drawn and haggard, while in his +eyes was a look which suggested anguish. + +In spite of myself, a suspicion flashed across my mind. Of course the +thing was improbable, if not impossible. But, perhaps influenced by +Sir Roger's insistence upon the romantic possibilities of the story, I +could not help thinking of it. There could be no doubt, too, that +George St. Mabyn looked positively ghastly. A few minutes before, he +looked ruddy and well, but now his face was haggard, as if he were in +great pain. + +Of course it was all nonsense; nevertheless I caught myself constantly +thinking about it on my way to the meeting. In fact, so much did it +occupy my attention that Lorna Bolivick, who sat with me in the car, +laughingly suggested that I was a dull companion, and was evidently +thinking more about my speech than how to be agreeable to a lady. + +'St. Mabyn ought to be the speaker, not I,' I said. 'He has been to +the front, and knows what real fighting means.' + +'Oh, George can't speak,' she replied laughingly; 'why, even when he +addressed his tenants, after Maurice was killed, he nearly broke down.' + +'What sort of fellow was Maurice?' I asked. + +'Oh, just splendid. Everybody loved Maurice. But he ought not to have +stayed in the Army.' + +'Why?' + +'Because,--because--oh, I don't know why, but it didn't seem right. +His father was old and feeble when he went away, and as he was the heir +he ought to have stayed at home and looked after him, and the estate. +But he would go. There were rumours about trouble in Egypt, and +Maurice said he wanted to see some fighting. I suppose it was his +duty, too. After all, he was a soldier, and when his regiment was +ordered abroad, he had to go. But it seems an awful shame.' + +'What kind of a looking fellow was he?' + +'I don't think I am a judge; I was only a kiddy at the time, and people +said I made an idol of Maurice. But to me he was just splendid, just +the handsomest fellow I ever saw. He had such a way with him, too; no +one could refuse him anything.' + +'I suppose he was engaged to Miss Blackwater?' + +The girl was silent. Evidently she did not wish to talk about it. + +'Were the two brothers fond of each other?' I asked. + +'Oh, yes, awfully fond. The news of Maurice's death almost killed +George. You see, it happened not long after his father's death. You +have no idea how he was cut up; it was just horrible to see him. But +he's got over it now. It nearly broke my heart too, so I can quite +understand what George felt. But this must be very uninteresting to +you.' + +'On the other hand, it is very interesting. Did you tell me that +George St. Mabyn was engaged to Miss Blackwater?' + +'No, I didn't tell you that.' + +'Is he going to be?' + +I knew I was rather overstepping the bounds of good taste, but the +question escaped me almost before I was aware. + +'I don't know. Oh, won't it be lovely when the war is over! You think +it will be over soon, don't you?' + +'I am afraid not,' I said; 'as far as I can see, we are only at the +beginning of it.' + +'Have you reason for saying that?' + +'The gravest,' I replied; 'why do you ask?' + +'Only that I feel so ashamed of myself. Here are you going to a +meeting to-night to persuade men to join the Army, while some of us +women do practically nothing. But I'm going to; I told dad I should, +only this morning, but he laughed at me. He said I should stay at home +and stick to my knitting.' + +'What did you tell him you were going to do?' + +'Train as a nurse. But he wouldn't hear of it. He said it was not a +fit thing for a young girl to nurse wounded men. But if they are +wounded for their country, surely we women ought to stop at nothing. +But here we are at the hall. Mind you make a good speech, Captain +Luscombe; I am going to be an awfully severe critic.' + + +After the meeting, George St. Mabyn returned with us to Granitelands, +and Sir Roger, in talking about the men who had volunteered for service +that night, again referred to the meeting at Plymouth, and to the man +who had enlisted. He also again insisted upon the possible romantic +outcome of the situation. Again I thought I saw the haunted look in +George St. Mabyn's eyes, and I fancied that the cigar he held between +his fingers trembled. + +Miss Blackwater, however, showed very little interest in the story, and +seemed to be somewhat bored by its recital. Lorna Bolivick, however, +was greatly interested. + +'And do you mean to say,' she asked, 'that you don't know where he is?' + +'I have not the slightest idea.' + +'And aren't you going to find out?' + +'If I can, certainly.' + +'Why,--why,'--and she spoke in a childish, impetuous way--'I think it +is just cruel of you. If I were in your place, I wouldn't rest until I +had found him. I would hunt the whole Army through.' + +'I should have a long job,' I replied. 'Besides, he may not have +joined the Army.' + +'But he has,--of course he has. He could not help himself. It is your +duty to be with him, and to help him. I think you are responsible for +him.' + +Of course every one laughed at this. + +'But I _do_!' she insisted. 'It was not for nothing that they met like +that. Mr. Luscombe was meant to meet him, meant to help him. It was +he who persuaded him to join the Army, and now it is his bounden duty +to find him out, wherever he is. Why, think of the people who may be +grieving about him! Here he is, a gentleman, with all a gentleman's +instincts, an ordinary private; and of course having no memory he'll, +in a way, be helpless, and may be led to do all sorts of foolish +things. I mean it, Captain Luscombe; I think it's just--just awful of +you to be so careless.' + +Again there was general laughter, and yet the girl's words made me feel +uneasy. Although I could not explain it, it seemed to me that some +Power higher than our own had drawn us together, that in some way this +man's life would be linked with mine, and that I should have to take my +part in the unravelling of a mystery. + +All this time, George St. Mabyn had not spoken. He sat staring into +vacancy, and what he was thinking about it was impossible to tell. Of +course the thoughts which, in spite of myself, haunted my mind, were +absurd. If I had not seen that ashen pallor come to his face, and +caught the haunted look in his eyes, when earlier in the evening Sir +Roger Granville had almost jokingly associated the unknown man with +Maurice St. Mabyn, I do not suppose such foolish fancies would have +entered-my mind. But now, although I told myself that I was +entertaining an absurd suspicion, that suspicion would not leave me. + +I looked for a resemblance between him and Paul Edgecumbe, but could +find none. Was he, I wondered, in doubt about his brother's death? +Had he entered into possession on insufficient proof? Many strange +things happened in the East; soldiers had more than once been reported +to be dead, and then turned up in a most remarkable way. Had George +St. Mabyn, in his desire to become owner of the beautiful old house I +had seen, taken his brother's death for granted, on insufficient +grounds, and had not troubled about it since? + +'Promise me,' said Lorna Bolivick, in her impetuous way, 'that you will +never rest until you find this man again! Promise me that you will +befriend him!' and she looked eagerly into my eyes as she spoke. + +'Of course I will,' I said laughingly. + +'No, but that won't do. Promise me that you will look for him as if he +were your own brother!' + +'That's a pretty large order. But why should you be so interested in +this stranger?' + +'I never give reasons,' she laughed, 'they are so stupid. But you +_will_ promise me, won't you?' + +'Of course I will,' I replied. + +'That's a bargain, then.' + +'When are you leaving this neighbourhood?' asked George St. Mabyn, when +presently he was leaving the house. + +'To-morrow afternoon,' I replied. 'They are working me pretty hard, I +can tell you.' + +'Won't you look me up to-morrow morning?' he asked. 'There's a man +staying with me whom you'd like to know. I tried to persuade him to +come to the meeting to-night, but he did not feel up to it. He is +convalescing at my place; he's had a baddish time. He could tell you +some good stories, too, that would help you in this recruiting stunt.' + +'By all means,' said Sir Roger, to whom I looked, as St. Mabyn spoke. +'I can send you over in the car.' + + +The next day, about eleven o'clock, I started to pay my promised visit, +and passed through the same beautiful countryside which had so appealed +to me before. I found that St. Mabyn's house was not quite so large as +Granitelands, but it was a place to rejoice in nevertheless. It was +approached by a long avenue of trees, which skirted park lands where +deer disported themselves. Giant oaks studded the park, and the house, +I judged, was built in the Elizabethan period. An air of comfort and +homeliness was everywhere; the grey walls were lichen-covered, and the +diamond-paned, stone-mullioned windows seemed to suggest security and +peace. + +'I wonder why he wanted me to come here?' I reflected, as the car drew +up at the old, ivy-covered porch. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +I MEET CAPTAIN SPRINGFIELD + +I stood at the window of the room into which I had been shown, looking +over the flower-beds towards the beautiful landscape. Devonshire has +been called the Queen of the English counties, perhaps not without +reason. Even my beloved Cornwall could provide no fairer sight than +that which spread itself before me. For a coast scenery, Cornwall is +unrivalled in the whole of England, but for sweet, rustic loveliness, I +had to confess that we had nothing to surpass what I saw that day. + +Mile after mile of field, and woodland, in undulating beauty, spread +themselves out before me, while away in the distance was a fringe of +rocky tors and wild moor-land. + +At the bottom of the hill on the side of which the house stood ran a +clear, sparkling river, which wound itself away down the valley like a +ribbon of silver, hidden only here and there by trees and brushwood. + +So enamoured was I that I stood like one entranced, and did not notice +the two men who had entered, until St. Mabyn spoke. + +Captain Horace Springfield was a tall, dark, lean man from thirty to +thirty-five years of age, and from what I learnt afterwards, had spent +a great deal of time abroad. Although still young, his intensely black +hair was becoming tinged with grey, and his deeply-lined cheeks, and +somewhat sunken eyes made him look older than he really was. Although +he was home on sick leave, he showed no sign of weakness; his every +movement suggested strength and decision. + +'Glad to know you,' he said; 'it's a degrading sort of business to go +round the country persuading men to do their duty, but since there are +so many shirkers in the country, some one's obliged to do it. We shall +need all the strength of England, and of the Empire, before we've done, +if this job is to be finished satisfactorily; the Germans will need a +lot of licking.' + +'Still, our chaps are doing very well,' I ventured. + +'Oh, yes, they are all right. But naturally these new fellows haven't +the staying power of the men in the old Army. They, poor chaps, were +nearly all done for in the early days of the war. Still, the +Territorials saved the situation.' + +'You've seen service in the East?' I ventured. + +'Yes, Egypt and India.' + +'It was in Egypt that Captain Springfield knew my brother Maurice,' and +George St. Mabyn glanced quickly at him as he spoke. + +'The country lost a fine soldier in Maurice St. Mabyn,' said +Springfield. 'If he had lived, he'd have been colonel by now; in fact, +there is no knowing what he mightn't have become. He had a big mind, +and was able to take a broad grasp of things. I'd like to have seen +him at the General Headquarters in France. What Maurice St. Mabyn +didn't know about soldiering wasn't worth knowing. Still, he's dead, +poor chap.' + +'Were you with him when he died?' I asked. + +'Yes, I was,--that is I was in the show when he was killed. It was one +of those affairs which make it hard to forgive Providence. You see, it +was only a small skirmish; some mad mullah of a fellow became a paid +agitator among the natives. He stirred up a good deal of religious +feeling, and quite a number of poor fools joined him. By some means, +too, he obtained arms for them. St. Mabyn was ordered to put down what +the English press called "a native rebellion." He was able to do it +easily for although he hadn't many men, he planned our attack so +perfectly that we blew them into smithereens in a few hours.' + +'And you were in it?' I asked. + +'Yes,' and then in a few words he described how Maurice St. Mabyn was +killed. + +'It's jolly hard when a friend dies like that,' I said awkwardly. + +'Yes,' was Springfield's reply, 'it is. Of course it is one of the +risks of the Army, and I am sure that Maurice would have gone into it, +even if he had known what would take place. He was that sort. In a +way, too, it was a glorious death. By his pluck and foresight he made +the whole job easy, and put down what might have been a big rebellion. +But that isn't quite how I look at it. I lost a pal, the best pal a +man ever had. His death bowled me over, too, and I wasn't fit for +anything for months. Poor old Maurice!' + +I must confess that I was moved by the man's evident feeling. He had +not struck me as an emotional man,--rather, at first, he gave me the +impression of being somewhat hard and callous. His deep-set eyes, high +cheek-bones, and tall gaunt form, suggested one of those men who was as +hard as nails, and who could see his own mother die without a quiver of +his lips. + +'Forgive me, Luscombe,' he said, 'I'm not a sloppy kind of chap as a +rule, and sentiment isn't my strong point. I have seen as much hard +service as few men, and death has not been a rare thing to me. I have +been in one or two little affairs out in India, and seen men die fast. +It is no make-belief over in France, either, although I have seen no +big engagement there. But to lose a pal is---- I say, shall we change +the subject?' + +After this, we went out into the grounds, and talked of anything rather +than war or soldiering, and I must confess that Springfield talked +well. There was a kind of rough strength about him which impressed me. +That he was on good terms with George St. Mabyn was evident, for they +called each other by their Christian names, and I judged that their +friendship was of long standing. + +After I had been there a little over an hour, and was on the point of +telling the chauffeur to take me back to Granitelands, George St. Mabyn +informed me that he and Springfield were going there to lunch. I was +rather surprised at this, as no mention of it had been made before, and +I wondered why, if they had arranged to be at Granitelands, I should +have been asked to visit them that morning. Still, I did not give the +matter a second thought, and before one o'clock St. Mabyn appeared in +the seventh heaven of delight, for he was walking around the grounds of +Granitelands with Norah Blackwater by his side. + +I left soon after lunch, but before I went I had a few minutes' chat +with Lorna Bolivick. + +'You will remember your promise, won't you?' and she looked eagerly +into my face as she spoke. + +'What promise?' + +'You know. The promise, you made about that man, Paul Edgecumbe. I +want you to promise something else, too.' + +'What is that?' + +'I want you to let me know when you have found him.' + +'What possible interest can you have in him, Miss Bolivick?' + +'I only know that I _am_ interested in him; I couldn't sleep last night +for thinking about him. It's--it's just awful, isn't it? Do you like +Captain Springfield?' + +'I neither like nor dislike him. I only met him an hour or two ago, +and in all probability I shall never see him again.' + +'Oh, but you will. You are a friend of Sir Roger Granville's, aren't +you?' + +'Scarcely. I happen to have been brought into contact with him because +of this work I am doing, and he has been very kind to me. That is all. +I have never been here before, and probably I shall never come again.' + +'Oh, yes, you will. Sir Roger likes you, so does Lady Granville; they +said so last night after you went to bed. I am sure you will come here +again.' + +'I shall be awfully glad if I do, especially if it will lead to my +seeing you.' + +'Don't be silly,' and she spoke with all the freedom of a child; 'all +the same, I'd like you to meet my father. He'd like to know you, too. +We only live about five miles away. Ours is a dear old house; it is +close by the village of South Petherwin. Can you remember that?' + +'If I have to write you about Paul Edgecumbe, will that find you?' + +'Yes. You needn't put Bolivick, which is the name of the house, +because every one who is called Bolivick lives at Bolivick, don't you +see? I shall expect to hear from you directly you find him. You are +sure you won't forget?' + +I laughed at the girl's insistence. 'To make it impossible,' I said, +'I will put it down in my diary. Here we are. May 29,--you see there +is a good big space for writing. "I give my promise, that as soon as I +have found the man, Paul Edgecumbe, I will write Miss Lorna Bolivick +and acquaint her of the fact."' + +'That's right. Now then, sign your name.' + +I laughingly did as she desired. + +'I am going to witness it,' she said, and there was quite a serious +tone in her voice. She took my pencil, and wrote in a somewhat crude, +schoolgirl hand,--'Witnessed by Lorna Bolivick, Bolivick, South +Petherwin.' 'You can't get rid of it now,' she said. + +While she was writing, I happened to look up, and saw Norah Blackwater, +who was accompanied by George St. Mabyn and Captain Springfield. + +'What deep plot are you engaged in?' asked Norah Blackwater. + +'It's only some private business Mr. Luscombe and I are transacting,' +she replied, whereupon the others laughed and passed on. + +'Do you know what that Captain Springfield makes me think of?' she +asked. + +'No,' I replied. + +'Snakes,' she said. + +As I watched the captain's retreating form, I shook my head. + +'I can't help it. Have you noticed his eyes? There now, put your +diary in your pocket, and don't forget what you've promised.' + + +'One thing is certain,' I said to myself, as I was driven along to the +station that afternoon, 'my suspicions about George St. Mabyn are +groundless. What a fool a man is when he lets his imagination run away +with him! Here was I, building up all sorts of mad theories, and then +I meet a man who knows nothing about my thoughts, but who destroys my +theories in half a dozen sentences. Whoever Paul Edgecumbe is, it is +certain he is not Maurice St. Mabyn.' + + +Several months passed, and still I heard nothing of Paul Edgecumbe. I +made all sorts of inquiries, and did my best to find him, all without +success, until I came to the conclusion that the man had not joined the +Army at all. Then, suddenly, I ceased thinking about him. My +recruiting work came to an end, and I was pitchforked into the active +work of the Army. As I have said, I knew practically nothing about +soldiering, and the little I had learnt was wellnigh useless, because, +being merely an officer in the old Volunteers, my knowledge was largely +out of date. Still, there it was. New schemes for obtaining soldiers +were on foot, and as a commission had been given to me, and there being +no need for me at the University, I became a soldier, not only in name, +but in actuality. I suppose I was not altogether a failure as a +battalion officer; indeed, I was told I picked up my duties with +remarkable ease. Anyhow, I worked very hard. And then, before I had +time to realize what had happened to me, I was ordered to the front. + +Some one has described life at the front as two weeks of monotony and +one week of hell. I do not say it is quite like that, although it +certainly gives a hint of the truth. When one is in the trenches, it +is often a very ghastly business, so ghastly that I will not attempt to +describe it. On the other hand, life behind the lines is dreadfully +monotonous, especially in the winter months, when the whole of our +battle-line is a sea of mud and the quintessence of discomfort. Still, +I did not fare badly. I was engaged in two small skirmishes, from +which my battalion came out well, and although, during the winter of +1915-1916, things could not be described as lively, a great deal of +useful work was done. + +Then something took place which bade fair to put an end to my +activities for the duration of the war, and which calamity was averted +in what I cannot help describing now as a miraculous way. I need not +go into the matter at length; it was a little affair as far as I was +concerned, but was intended as a preliminary to something far more +serious, but of which I had no knowledge. It was on a dark night, I +remember, and my work was to raid a bit of the Boches' trenches, and do +all the damage possible. Preparations had been carefully made, and as +far as we could gather, everything promised success. I had twenty men +under my command, and early in the morning, about an hour before +daylight, we set out to do it. Everything seemed favourable to our +enterprise. The German searchlights were not at work, and the bit of +No Man's Land which we had to cross did not seem to be under enemy +observation. + +I was given to understand that my little stunt was only one of several +others which was to take place, and so, although naturally our nerves +were a bit strung up when we crawled over the parapets, we did not +anticipate a difficult job. + +As a matter of fact, however, the Boches had evidently been warned of +our intentions, and had made their plans accordingly. We were allowed +to cross the No Man's Land, which at this spot was about three hundred +yards wide, and were nearing the place from which we could commence +operations, when, without warning, a number of the enemy attacked us. +The odds were against us at the very start; they had double our +numbers, and were able to take advantage of a situation strongly in +their favour. + +Evidently some one on our side had either conveyed information to them, +or their Intelligence Department was better served than we imagined. +Anyhow, there it was. Instead of entering their trenches, and taking a +number of prisoners, we had the worst of it. Still, we made a good +fight, and I imagine their losses were greater than ours, in spite of +their superiority of numbers. Most of our fellows managed to get away, +but I was not so fortunate. Just at the first streak of dawn, I found +myself a prisoner; while four of the men whom I had brought suffered a +similar fate. + +It was no use my trying to do anything, they out-numbered us several +times over, and I was led away to what I suppose they regarded as a +place of safety, until reports could be made concerning us. + +I knew German fairly well, although I spoke it badly, and I tried to +get some information as to the plans concerning me; but I could get no +definite reply. It was bitterly cold, and in spite of all the Boches +had done to make their condition comfortable, it was no picnic. Mud +and slush abounded, and I heard the German soldiers complain one to +another that it was ten hours since they had tasted any food. + +Then, suddenly, there was a tremendous boom, followed by a terrific +explosion, and although I was not wounded, I was wellnigh stunned. A +British shell had fallen close to where we were, and, as far as I could +judge, several Boches had been accounted for. A few seconds later, +there was a regular tornado. + +As I have said our work that night was intended to be preparatory to a +big bombardment, and I had the misfortune to learn from the German +trenches what a British bombardment meant. + +'_Gott in Himmel!_' said one of my captors, 'let's get away from this.' +Whereupon I was hurried on to what I supposed to be a safer place. A +few minutes later, I was descending what seemed to me a concrete +stairway, until I came to what struck me as a great cave, capable of +holding two or three hundred men. + +As I entered, a German officer looked up from some papers he had been +examining, and saw us. + +'What have you here?' he asked. + +'English prisoners, sir.' + +'Prisoners! what use have we for prisoners? Better put a bullet into +their brains. They will mean only so many more mouths to feed.' + +'One is an officer, sir,' and the soldier nodded toward me. + +'Ah well, he may be useful. But I have no time to deal with him now. +_Himmel!_ what's that?' + +It was the noise of a tremendous explosion, and the whole place shook +as though there were an earthquake. + +The captain gave some rapid instructions which I did not hear, and then +hurried away. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +HOW A MAN WORKED A MIRACLE + +Since then, I have been under some terrific bombardments, but up to +that time I had never experienced anything so terrible. Evidently our +big guns were turned on, and they had located the German trenches to a +nicety. Moreover, I judged that something serious was on hand, for it +continued hour after hour. Before long all lights went out, and I knew +by the hoarse cries which the Germans were making that they were in a +state of panic. + +The bombardment had lasted perhaps an hour, when part of the roof of +the cave fell in with a tremendous crash, and I imagined that several +men were buried. + +'We'll get out of this,' said the lieutenant who had been left in +charge; 'there's a safer place further down.' + +'Yes, sir,' replied the soldier, evidently glad of the order, 'but what +about the prisoners?' + +The young officer seemed in doubt about us, and then grumbled something +about his captain's orders. + +'Our numbers are up, sergeant,' I said, for Sergeant Smith and I were +the only two who were left alive. 'Either we shall be killed by our +own guns, or else we shall suffer worse than death at the hands of +these fellows.' + +'Never say die, sir,' replied Sergeant Smith, who was noted for his +optimistic temperament; 'anyhow, these chaps are all in a blue funk.' + +'There can be no doubt about that,' was my reply. 'If we live through +it, and if this bombardment is but the preliminary to an attack, +there's a sporting chance that we may get away.' + +'About a hundred to one, sir.' + +After this, I have no clear recollection as to what took place. I +remember that we moved along a tunnel until we came to another +dug-out,--after that everything became a blank to me. Either I had +been stunned by my captors, or I had been hurt by falling _débris_. + +When I came to my senses again, the guns were still booming, although +they seemed at a greater distance, and I judged that our captors +regarded us as in a safer place. Then, suddenly, I heard a voice which +set my nerves tingling. It was an English voice, too, although he +spoke in German. + +'You chaps are in an awful hole,' I heard some one say, in quiet +matter-of-fact tones, as though the situation were of a most ordinary +nature. 'Do you know what I think of you? You are a lot of idiots.' + +'We're better off than you, anyhow,' and this time it was a German who +spoke. 'If we come alive out of this, we shall be all right; but you +are our prisoners.' + +'Prisoners if you like, my dear fellow, but what's the good of that to +you?' + +'Every English prisoner taken is one step nearer to German victory,' +replied the soldier sententiously. + +'Nonsense! There'll never be a German victory, and you know it. +You've never been behind the British lines, have you? Why, man, there +are mountains of guns and ammunition--every day is adding to the stock, +and soon, mark you, very soon, all these places of yours will become so +many death-traps.' + +The German laughed incredulously. + +'Do you know what'll happen soon?' went on the English voice, 'there +will be bombing parties along here; you may be safe for the moment, but +you can't get out,--not one of you dare try. If you did, it would be +all up with you.' + +'What are you getting at?' snarled the German. 'You are our prisoner, +anyhow, and if we are killed, so will you be!' + +'Just so. But then I don't want to get killed, neither do you.' + +'I know it's a beastly business,' said the German, 'and I wish this +cursed war would come to an end.' + +'Yes, you see you were mistaken now, don't you?' and the Englishman +with the quiet voice laughed. 'You were told it was all going to be +over in a few weeks, and that it was going to be a picnic. "Bah!" you +said, "what can the English do?" But, my dear fellow, the English have +only just begun. You are just ramming your heads against a stone wall. +You won't hurt the wall, but your heads will get mightily battered. Oh +yes, we are your prisoners, there are just three of us left alive, and +you are thirty. But what is the good of it?' + +'What are you getting at, Tommy?' asked another, 'and why are you +talking all this humbug?' + +'Because I can get you out of this.' + +'Get us out of it! How?' + +'Ah, that is my secret, but I can.' + +'What! Every one of us, unhurt?' + +'Every one of you, unhurt.' + +There was a general laugh of incredulity. + +'You don't believe me, I know. But I swear to you I can do it.' + +'How?' + +'By taking you as prisoners to the British lines. I know a way by +which it can be done.' + +As may be imagined, I was not an uninterested listener to this +conversation. Evidently another man had been taken prisoner; who I had +no knowledge, but we had somehow been brought together. But it was not +altogether the quiet confidence of the speaker which interested me, it +was the sound of his voice. While it was not familiar to me, I felt +sure I had heard it before. The light was so dim, that I could see +neither his face nor any marks whereby I could discover his rank; but +he spoke German so well that I judged him to be an officer. The +Germans laughed aloud at his last remark. + +'Your prisoners!' they shouted, 'and we ten to your one!' + +'Why not,' he asked, 'if I take you to safety? Now just think, suppose +you all get out of this, and we are lodged in one of your German prison +camps; you remain here at the front, and be fodder for cannon. How +many of you will come through this war alive, think you? Perhaps one +out of ten. And the end of it will be that your country will be +beaten. I am as sure of that as I am that the sun will rise to-morrow. +Now supposing you adopt my plan, suppose you go with me as prisoners of +war; I will take you to the British lines unhurt, and then you will be +sent to the Isle of Wight, or some such place; you will be well housed, +well clothed, well fed, until the war's over. Don't you think you are +silly asses to stay here and play a losing game, amidst all this misery +and suffering, when you can get away unhurt and enjoy yourselves?' + +In spite of the madness of the proposal, he spoke in such a convincing +way that he impressed them in spite of themselves. Indeed I, who am +relating the conversation as nearly word for word as I can remember, +cannot give anything like an idea of the subtle persuasion which +accompanied his words. It might seem as though he were master of the +situation, and they had to do his will; in fact, he seemed to hypnotize +them by the persuasiveness of his voice, and by some magnetic charm of +his presence. + +'You may be safe here for the moment,' he went on, 'but I can tell you +what'll happen. By this time your trenches are nearly level with the +ground,--not a man in them will be alive. Your machine-gun +emplacements will be all blown into smithereens, for this is no +ordinary bombardment; it is tremendous, man, tremendous! In less than +two hours from now, either the outlets of these dug-outs of yours will +be stopped up, and you will die of foul air or starvation, or bombing +parties will come, and then it'll be all up with you. I tell you, I +know what I am talking about.' + +'Yes, but if we are killed, so will you be!' + +'And if we are, what good'll that do to any of us? We are young, we +want to live.' + +Just then we heard a terrific explosion, louder even than any which had +preceded it. The ground shook; it seemed as though hell were let loose. + +'Do you hear that?' he went on, when there was a moment's quiet. +'That's just a foretaste of what's coming. That's one of the big new +guns, and there are hundreds of them, hundreds. Well, if you won't, +you won't.' + +'What do you want us to do?' and one of the Germans spoke excitedly. + +'I tell you I know a way by which I can lead you out of this. I know +the country round here, inch by inch; I have made it my business to +study it; and I give you my word I will take you back to the British +lines unhurt. And then your life as an English prisoner will be just a +picnic.' + +'Your word!' said one of them scornfully, 'what is it worth? You are +only a Tommy.' + +'Yes, my word,' and he spoke it in such a way that they felt him to be +their master. It was one of those cases where one personality +dominated thirty. + +'Are you an officer?' said one of the Germans after a pause. 'You +speak like a gentleman, but your uniform is that of a Tommy.' + +'No matter what I am, I give you my promise, and I never broke my +promise yet.' + +Again it was not the words which affected them, it was the manner in +which he spoke them. He might have been a king speaking to his +subjects. + +'Now then, which shall it be?' he went on; 'if we stay here, in all +probability we shall every one of us be killed. Listen to that! +There! there! don't you feel it?--the whole earth is trembling, I tell +you, and all these fortifications of yours will be nothing but so much +cardboard! And our men have mountains of munitions, man, mountains! I +have seen them. It will be rather a horrible death, too, won't it? +Whether we are buried alive, or blown up by bombs, it won't be +pleasant. It seems such a pity, too, when in ten minutes from now we +can be in safety.' + +The man was working a miracle; he was accomplishing that which, +according to every canon of common sense, was impossible. He was a +prisoner in the power of thirty men, and yet he was persuading them to +become his prisoners. Even Sergeant Smith, who could not understand a +word of what was being said, knew it. He knew it by the tense +atmosphere of the place, by the look on the faces of the German +soldiers. + +We had become so interested, that neither of us dared to move; we just +sat and listened while the unknown man, with quiet, persuasive words, +was working his will on them. + +As I said, I could not see his face. For one thing, the light was dim, +and for another his features were turned away from me; but I could hear +every word he said. Even above the roar of the artillery, which +sounded like distant thunder, and in spite of the trembling earth, +every tone reached me, and I knew that his every word was sapping the +Germans' resistance, just as a strong current of water frets away a +foundation of sand. What at first I had felt like laughing at, became +to me first a possibility, then a probability, then almost a certainty. +So excited did I become that, more than once, I longed with an intense +longing to join my persuasions to that of the stranger. But when I +tried to speak, no words came. It might have been as though some +magician were at work, or some powerful mesmerist, who mesmerized his +hearers into obedience. + +'I say, you fellows,' said one of the Germans to his companions, 'what +do you say? Our life here is one prolonged hell,--what is the use of +it? Our officers tell us to hold on, hold on. And why should we hold +on? Just to become fodder for cannon? I had four brothers, and every +one of them is killed. Who's to look after my mother, if I am dead?' + +Three minutes later he had accomplished the impossible. He was leading +the way out of the dug-out towards the open. Sergeant Smith and I went +with him like men in a dream. + +When we came out in the open air, the night had again fallen. More +than twelve hours had elapsed since I had been taken prisoner; most +likely I had been unconscious a great part of the time. I did not know +where we were going. The guns were still booming, while the heavens +were every now and then illuminated as if by some tremendous fireworks. + +'Sergeant,' I whispered, 'the man's a magician.' + +'Never heard of such a thing in my life, sir. I'm like a man dreaming. +Who is he? He's got a Tommy's togs on, but he might be a field +marshal.' + +All this time I had not once caught sight of our deliverer's face, but +the tones of his voice still haunted me like some half-forgotten dream. +I had almost forgotten the wonder of our freedom in the excitement +wrought by the way it was given to us. + +When at length we entered the British trenches, and the German +prisoners had been taken care of, I saw the face of the man who had +wrought the miracle, and I recognized him as the stranger whom I had +met at Plymouth Harbour many months before, and who had adopted the +name of Paul Edgecumbe.[1] + + + +[1] The incident related above is not an invention on the part of the +author. It was told me by a British officer, and it took place as +nearly as possible as I have described it. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +PAUL EDGECUMBE'S MEMORY + +'You!' I exclaimed. + +He stood like a soldier on parade, and saluted me. + +'Yes, Captain Luscombe. I hope you are well, sir.' + +He spoke as though nothing out of the ordinary had taken place. + +'But--but--this is great!' I gasped. 'Tell me, how did you do it?' + +But he had no time to answer the question, as at that moment orders +came for us to report ourselves. + +Never had I seen a man so excited as the colonel was when the story was +told to him. First of all he stared at us as though we were madmen, +then laughter overcame his astonishment, and he fairly roared with +merriment. + +'The brigadier and the divisional general must hear of it at once!' he +cried. 'Why, it is the greatest thing since the war began! And you +did nothing, Luscombe?' + +'Nothing,' I said; 'this man did it all.' And I enlarged upon the +difficulties of the situation, and the way Paul Edgecumbe had overcome +them. + +'Well, Edgecumbe,' I said, when at length I had an opportunity of +speaking to him alone, 'give me an account of yourself. Where have you +been? what have you been doing? and how have things been going with +you?' + +'All right, sir. As to where I have been, and what I have been doing, +it's not worth telling about.' + +'You don't mind my asking you awkward questions, do you?' + +'Not a bit. Ask what you like, sir.' + +'Has your memory come back?' + +A shadow passed over his face, and a suggestion of the old yearning +look came into his eyes. + +'No,--no, nothing. Strange, isn't it? Ever since that day when I +found myself a good many miles away from Bombay, and realized that I +was alive, everything stands out plainly in my memory; but before +that,--nothing. I could describe to you in detail almost everything +that has taken place since then. But there seems to be a great, black +wall which hides everything that took place before. I shudder at it +sometimes because it looks so impenetrable. Now and then I have +dreams, the same old dreams of black, evil faces, and flashing knives, +and cries of agony; but they are only dreams,--I remember nothing.' + +'During the time you were in England training,' I said, 'you went to +various parts of the country?' + +'Yes, I was in Exeter, Swindon, Bramshott, Salisbury Plain.' + +'And you recognized none of them, you'd no feeling that you had seen +those places before?' + +'No.' + +'Faces, now,' I urged; 'do you ever see faces which suggest people you +have known in the past?' + +He was silent for two or three seconds. + +'Yes, and no,' he replied. 'I see faces sometimes which, while they +don't cause me to remember, give me strange fancies and +incomprehensible longings. Sometimes I hear names which have the same +effect upon me.' + +'And your memory has been good for ordinary things?' + +He laughed gaily. 'I think that whatever I went through has increased +my powers of memory,--that is, those things that took place since I +woke up. If you will ask the sub., or the drill sergeant who gave me +my training, they will tell you that there was never any need to tell +me anything twice. I forget nothing, I never have to make an effort to +remember. When I hear a thing, or see a man's face, I never forget it. +I worked hard, too. I have read a good deal. I found that I knew +nothing of mathematics, and that my knowledge of German and French was +very hazy. It is not so now. Things like _that_ have come to me in a +miraculous way.' + +'Have you tried for a commission?' + +'No. I have been offered one, but I wouldn't have it. Something, I +don't know what, told me not to. I wouldn't even have a corporal's +stripe.' + +'And you have no more idea of who you really are than you had when I +saw you first?' + +'No, not a bit.' + +'Let me see if I can help your memory,' I said. 'Devonshire, think of +that word, now, and what it represents,--does it bring back anything to +you?' + +'Nothing, except that yearning. I have a feeling that I know something +about it,--a great longing to--to--I hardly know what.' + +I tried him a little farther. 'Granitelands,--does that mean anything +to you?' + +Again he hesitated. 'No, nothing.' + +'Can you ever recall any remembrance of, or has the name of Maurice St. +Mabyn any interest for you?' + +I asked this because, even in spite of what Captain Springfield had +told me, vague fancies had come to me that perhaps there might be some +mistake, and--and----but I dared not bring my thoughts to a conclusion. + +'Maurice St. Mabyn,' he repeated, 'Maurice St. Mabyn. It might be a +name I heard when I was a kiddy, but--no.' + +'Norah Blackwater.' I uttered the name suddenly, impressively, and I +thought I saw his lips tremble, and certainly his eyes had a far-away +look. He was like a man trying to see in a great darkness, trying to +outline objects which were invisible to the natural eye. + +'That seems like a dream name. Who is she? Why do you ask about her?' + +'I am trying to help you,' I said. 'She is a lady I met at the house +of Sir Roger Granville. She must be about twenty-five, perhaps not +quite so old, a tall, stylish-looking girl. I expect by this time she +is engaged to a fellow called George St. Mabyn. He is a brother to +Maurice, who was killed in Egypt.' + +'Maurice killed in Egypt!' he repeated. + +'Yes. I think Maurice had a friend called Springfield.' + +'I remember that,--Springfield. Springfield,--Springfield.' + +For a moment there was a change in his voice, a change, too, in the +look of his eyes. At least I thought so. I could fancy I detected +anger, contempt; but perhaps it was only fancy, and it was only for a +moment. + +'A tall, dark fellow. He has rather a receding forehead, black hair +streaked with grey, a thin, somewhat cadaverous-looking face, deep-set +eyes, a scar on his cheek, just below his right temple.' + +He laughed again. 'By Jove, sir,' he said, 'you might be describing a +man I know. I seem to see his face as plainly as I see yours. I don't +think I like him, either, but--but--no, it has gone, gone! Have you +any suspicions about me? Have _you_ found out anything?' + +'No,' I said, 'I have found out nothing. But I have a hundred +suspicions. You see, you interested me tremendously when I saw you +first, and I wondered greatly about you. I was awfully disappointed +when I could not find you.' + +'Why should you want to find me?' he asked. + +'Because I told some one about you, and she got tremendously +interested. She got angry with me because I had lost sight of you.' + +'Who was she, sir?' + +'Her name is Lorna Bolivick, and, I say,--I have something to show +you.' And I searched in my tunic until I had found the previous year's +diary in which I had written the promise. + +'There,' I said, and opened the diary at May 29. + +'And this girl was interested in me, was she?' + +Our conversation suddenly terminated at that moment, as an urgent +message reached me that my colonel wanted to see me. A few minutes +later I learnt that little short of a calamity had befallen us; that +the Germans had broken into some trenches which had lately been taken, +and that there was imminent danger of some of our best positions +falling into their hands. + +Twelve hours later, the danger was averted; but it was at a frightful +cost. It was reported to me that a battalion was largely decimated, +and the positions which we ought to have gained remained in the hands +of the enemy. + +I saw that the colonel looked very perturbed; indeed his face, which +was usually ruddy and hopeful, was haggard and drawn. + +'Anything serious the matter?' I asked. + +'Serious!' he replied, 'it is calamitous!' + +'But we've cleared them out, haven't we?' + +'Cleared them out! Why, man!' and he walked to and fro like one +demented. 'There's sure to be an inquiry,' he said at length, 'and +there'll be no end of a row; there ought to be, too. But what could +one do?' + +'What is the trouble, then?' for the look in his eyes had made me very +anxious. + +He made no reply, but I could see that his mind was busily at work. + +'You remember that chap who got you out of that hole the day before +yesterday?' he asked. + +'What, Edgecumbe? I should think I do!' + +'I hear he is missing.' + +'Edgecumbe missing? Taken prisoner, you mean?' + +'I don't know. I have not heard particulars yet. I should not have +heard anything about him at all, but for the way he brought himself +into prominence over that affair. But it seems he was last seen +fighting with two Huns, so I expect he is done for. Terrible pity, +isn't it? I was going to recommend him for decoration, and--and other +things.' + +In a way I could not understand, my heart grew heavy; I felt as though +I were responsible for it, and that I had failed in my duty. And I had +a sort of feverish desire to know what had become of him. + +'Good night, colonel,' I said suddenly, and I hurried away into the +darkness. I felt that at all costs I must find out the truth about +Paul Edgecumbe. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +A CAUSE OF FAILURE + +In spite of all my inquiries that night, I could discover nothing of a +satisfactory nature. The reports I obtained were conflicting. One man +had it that he was wounded badly, and left dying on No Man's Land; +another told me he had seen him taken prisoner by two Germans; another, +still, that he was seen to break away from them. But everything was +confused and contradictory. The truth was, that there was a great deal +of hand-to-hand fighting, and when that is the case it is ofttimes +difficult to tell what becomes of a single individual. The fact +remained, however, that he was missing, and no one knew anything +definite about him. + +As a battalion officer, moreover, I had many duties to perform, and in +spite of my desires, I had to give up my inquiries about him, and +attend to my work. + +The following day I was sitting in my quarters, and was on the point of +writing a letter to Lorna Bolivick, telling her what had taken place, +when my orderly informed me that a soldier wished to see me. + +'He gave me this, sir,' added Jenkins, handing me a slip of paper. + +No sooner did I see it than, starting to my feet, I rushed to the door, +and saw Paul Edgecumbe, pale and wan, but standing erect nevertheless. + +I quickly got him into the room of the cottage where I was billeted, +and then took a second look at him. + +'You are ill--wounded, man! You ought not to be here,' I said, +scarcely realizing what I was saying. + +'The wound's nothing, sir. I lost a little blood, that's all; and I +got the M.O.'s consent to come and see you. I shall be right as ever +in two or three days.' + +'You are sure of that?' I asked eagerly. + +'Certain, sir.' + +I laughed aloud, I was so much relieved. I need not send my letter to +Lorna Bolivick after-all. + +'I've wasted a lot of good sentiment over you, Edgecumbe,' I said. +'I've heard all sorts of things about you.' + +'I did have a curious experience,' he replied, 'and at one time I +thought my number was up; still I got out of it.' + +'Tell me about it,' I said. + +'It's very difficult, sir. As I told you, my memory has been specially +good since the time when----but you know. In these skirmishes, +however, it's difficult to carry anything definite in your mind, things +get mixed up so. You are fighting for your life, and that's all you +know. Two German chaps did get hold of me, and then, I don't know how +it was, but we found ourselves in No Man's Land. The Huns were two +big, strong chaps, too, but I managed to get away from them.' + +'How did you do it?' + +'You see they were drugged,' he replied. + +'Drugged?' + +'Yes, drugged with ether, or something of that sort, and although they +fought as though they were possessed with devils, their minds were not +clear, they acted like men dazed. So I watched for my opportunity, and +got it. I spent the whole day in a shell hole,--it wasn't pleasant, I +can tell you. Still, it offered very good cover, and if my arm hadn't +been bleeding, and if I wasn't so beastly faint and hungry, I shouldn't +have minded. However, I tied up my arm as well as I could, and made up +my mind to stay there. I got back under the cover of night, and--here +I am.' + +'I saw nothing of the affair,' I said. 'I had a job to do farther +back, and so was out of it. I wish I had been in it.' + +'I wish you had, sir.' There was a change in his voice, and he looked +at me almost pathetically. + +'What's the matter?' + +'Of course I have no right to say anything,' he said. 'Discipline is +discipline, and I am only a private soldier. Are you busy, sir? If +you are, I will go away. But, owing to this scratch, I am at a loose +end, and--and--I'd like a chat with you, sir, if you don't mind.' + +'Say what you want to say.' + +He was silent for a little while, and seemed to be in doubt how to +express what he had in his mind. I saw the old, yearning, wistful look +in his eyes, too, the look I had noticed when we were walking on The +Hoe at Plymouth. + +'Has your memory come back?' I asked eagerly. 'Has it anything to do +with that?' + +'No,' he replied, 'my memory has not come back. The old black wall +stands still, and yet I think it has something to do with it. I am +afraid I forget myself sometimes, sir, forget that you are an officer, +and I am a private.' + +'Never mind about that now. Tell me what you have to say.' + +'This war has shaken me up a bit, it has made me think. I don't know +what kind of a man I was before I lost my memory; but I have an idea +that I look at things without prejudice. You see, I have no +preconceived notions. I am a full-grown man starting life with a clean +page, that's why I can't understand.' + +'Understand what?' + +'I don't think I am a religious man,' he went on, without seeming to +heed me. 'When we were in England I went to Church parade and all that +sort of thing, but it had no effect upon me; it seemed to mean nothing. +Perhaps it will some day, I don't know. At present I look at things +from the outside; I judge by face values. Forgive me if I am talking a +great deal about myself, sir, and pardon me if I seem egotistical, I +don't mean to be. But you are the only officer with whom I am +friendly, and I was led to look upon you as a man of influence in +England. The truth is, I am mystified, confused, bewildered. Either I +am wrong, mad; or else we are waging this war in a wrong way.' + +'Yes, how?' + +'While I was in the training camps, I was so much influenced by that +speech which you gave in Plymouth, that I determined to study the +causes of this war carefully. I did so. I gave months to it. I read +the whole German case from their own standpoint. I thought out the +whole thing as clearly as I was able, and certainly I had no +prejudices.' + +'Well?' I asked. + +'If ever a country ought to have gone to war, we ought. If ever a +country had a righteous cause, we had, and have; if ever a Power needed +crushing, it was German power. Prussianism is the devil. I tell you, +I have been physically sick as I have read the story of what they did +in Belgium and France. I have gone, as far as I have been able, to the +tap-roots of the whole business. I have got at the philosophy of the +German position. I have studied the resources of our country; I have +tried to realize what we stand for. I fancy I must have been a fairly +intelligent man before I lost my memory. Perhaps I was tolerably well +educated, too. Anyhow, I think I have got a grasp of the whole +position.' + +I did not speak, but waited for him to proceed. + +'I am saying this, sir, that you may see that I am not talking wildly, +and my conviction is that Germany ought to have been beaten before now; +but it's nowhere like beaten, the devil stalks about undaunted.' + +'You forget that Germany is a great country,' I answered, 'and that she +is supported by Austria, and Turkey, and Bulgaria. You forget, too, +that she had all the advantages at the start, and that she had been +preparing for this for forty years. You forget that she had the finest +trained fighting machine in the world, the biggest and best-equipped +army ever known. You forget, too, that she took the world practically +unawares, and that all her successes, especially in the West, were +gained at the beginning.' + +'No, I do not forget,' he replied, and there was passion in his voice; +'I have gone through all that; I made allowance for it. All the same, +they ought to have been beaten before now. Anyhow, their backs ought +to have been broken, and we ought to be within sight of the end.' + +'I am afraid I don't understand. The whole resources of the country +have been strained to the utmost. Besides, see what we have done; see +the army we have made; think of all the preparations in big guns and +munitions!' + +'Yes, yes,' he cried, 'but man-power is the final court of appeal, and +we have been wasting our man-power, wasting it,--wasting it!' + +'What do you mean by that? A finer lot of men never put on uniform +than we had.' + +'In a way you are right. No one could admire the heroism of our +fellows more than I do. You have to get farther back.' + +'How can we get farther back?' + +'You have to get back to the Government. Look here, Luscombe,' and +evidently he had forgotten the difference in our ranks, 'let me put the +case into a nutshell. I was sent over here, to France, in a hurry. +Never mind how I found out what I am going to tell you,--it is a fact. +Two battalions of ours were urgently ordered here; our men here were +hardly pressed, the Germans outnumbered us. Our chaps hadn't enough +rest, and the slaughter was ghastly. So we were ordered over to +relieve them, and the command was that we were to travel night and day, +so urgent was the necessity. + +'What happened? The boat by which I came was held up in the harbour +for twenty-four hours. Why? I am not talking without my book,--I +know, I have made investigations, and I will tell you why. The firemen +were in public-houses, and would not come away. And the Government +allowed those public-houses to be open; the Government allowed those +firemen to drink until they were in an unfit condition to take us +across. The Government allowed the stuff that robbed them of their +manhood, and of their sense of responsibility, to be manufactured. The +Government allowed private individuals to make fortunes out of that +stuff! Just think of it! There we were, all waiting, but we could not +go. Why could not we go? Why were we held up, when the lives of +thousands of others depended upon us? when the success of the war +probably depended upon it? Drink! there is your answer in one word. + +'Here's this affair of the last two or three days; it didn't come off. +Ammunition was wasted, men's lives were wasted, hearts were broken; but +it didn't come off. Why was it? + +'What are we fighting? We are fighting devilry, inhumanity, Prussian +barbarism. Search your dictionary, and you can't find names too bad to +describe what we are fighting. But in order to do it, we use one of +the devil's chief weapons, which is robbing us of victory. + +There was a strange intensity in his voice, and I think he forgot all +about himself in what he said. + +'Look here,' he went on, 'you remember how some time ago we were crying +out for munitions. "Let us have more guns, more munitions," we said. +The Germans, who had been preparing for war for so many years, had +mountains of it, and as some one has said, thousands of our men were +blown into bloody rags each day. And we could not answer back. We had +neither guns nor shells. Why?' + +'Because we were not properly organized. You see----' + +'Yes, it was partly that, but more because our power was wasted, in the +gun factories and the munition factories. You know as well as I do +that it was on the continual and persistent work of the people in those +factories that our supplies depended. What happened? Hundreds, +thousands of them left work at noon on Saturdays, and then started +drinking, and did not appear at their work until the Tuesday or +Wednesday following, and when they came they were inefficient, muddled. +Work that required skilled hands and clear brains had to be done by +trembling hands and muddled brains. The War Minister told us that +there was a wastage of 10 per cent. of our munition-making power. He +told us, too, that between thirty and forty days of the whole working +force of the country were lost every year,--what by? Drink. + +'And meanwhile our chaps out here were killed by the thousand, because +of shortage of munitions. Is it any wonder that the war drags on? Is +it any wonder that we are not gaining ground? We were told months ago +that we should shorten the war by blockading Germany, by keeping food +from the nation. Now I hear rumours that there is going to be a +shortage of food in our own country. Whether that will be the case or +not, I don't know. If there is a shortage, it will be our own fault. +I see by the English newspapers that bread is becoming dearer every +day, and people say that there'll soon be a scarcity, and all the time +millions upon millions of bushels of grain intended for man's food is +being wasted in breweries and distilleries. Hundreds of thousands of +tons of sugar, which are almost essential to human life, are utilized +for man's damnation; and all by the consent of the Government. + +'When the war broke out, the King signed the pledge, so did Lord +Kitchener, so did the Chancellor of the Exchequer. Did the people +follow? They only laughed. I tell you, Luscombe, every distillery and +every brewery is lengthening the war, and I sometimes doubt whether we +shall ever win it,--until the nation is purged of this crime! Yes, we +are making vast preparations, and we have raised a fine Army. But all +the time, we are like a man trying to put out a fire by pouring water +on it with one hand, and oil with the other.' + +'But, my dear chap,' I said, 'these brewers and distillers have put +their fortunes into their business, and they employ thousands of hands. +Would you rob them of their properties, and would you throw all these +people out of work?' + +'Great God! man,' was his reply, 'but the country's at stake, the +Empire's at stake! Truth, righteousness, liberty are at stake! If we +don't win in this war, German devilry will rule the world, and shall +the country allow the Trade, as it calls itself, to batten upon the +vitals of the nation? That's why I am bewildered. I told you just now +that perhaps I look at things differently from what I ought to look at +them. I have lost all memory of my past life, and I judge these things +by their face value, without any preconceived notions or prejudices. I +have to begin _de novo_, and perhaps can't take into account all the +forces which have been growing up through the ages. But, Heavens! man, +this is a crisis! and if we are going to win this war, not only must +every one do his bit, but all that weakens and all that destroys the +resources of the nation must be annihilated!' + +Our conversation came abruptly to an end at that moment, caused by the +entrance of my orderly, who told me that a gentleman wished to see me. + +'Who is it, Jenkins?' I asked. + +'Major St. Mabyn, sir.' + +He had scarcely spoken when, with a lack of ceremony common at the +front, George St. Mabyn entered. + +'Ah, there you are, Luscombe! Did you know that both Springfield and I +have had a remove? We got here last night. I fancy there are going to +be busy times. I was awfully glad when I heard you were here too.' + +'No, I never heard of your coming,' I replied, 'but this is really a +great piece of luck.' + +I had scarcely uttered the words, when I turned towards Paul Edgecumbe, +who was looking steadily at St. Mabyn. There was no suggestion of +recognition in his eyes, but I noticed that far-away wistful look, as +though he were trying to remember something. + +Instinctively I turned towards George St. Mabyn, who at that moment +first gave a glance at Edgecumbe. Then I felt sure that although +Edgecumbe knew nothing of St. Mabyn, his presence startled the other +very considerably. There was a look in George St. Mabyn's eyes +difficult to describe; doubt, wonder, fear, astonishment, were all +there. His ruddy cheeks became pale, too, and I was sure his lips +quivered. + +'Who--who have you got here?' he asked. + +'It's a chap who has got knocked about in a scrap,' I replied. + +St. Mabyn gave Edgecumbe a second look, and then I thought his face +somewhat cleared. His colour came back; his lips ceased twitching. + +'What did you say your name was, my man?' + +'Edgecumbe, sir.' + +'D.C.L.I., I see.' + +'Yes, sir.' He saluted as he spoke, and left the room, while George +St. Mabyn stood looking after him. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +I BECOME AN EAVESDROPPER + +For some seconds he was silent, while I, with a score of conflicting +thoughts in my mind, stood watching him. I had often wondered how I +could bring these two men together, for, while I had but little reason +to believe that they were in any way connected, I was constantly +haunted by the idea that had been born in my mind on the night I had +first met George St. Mabyn. I had imagined that if they could suddenly +be brought together, my suspicions could be tested, and now, as it +seemed to me, by sheer good fortune, my wishes had been gratified; but +they had led to nothing definite. + +'Who is that fellow, Luscombe?' he asked presently. + +'Don't you remember?' I replied. 'He is the man whom I met at Plymouth +Harbour, the man who had lost his memory.' + +'Oh, yes. Funny-looking fellow; he--he almost startled me,' and he +laughed nervously. + +'Do you know him? Did you ever see him before?' I asked. + +'No, I never saw him before.' + +'I thought you looked as though you--you recognized him.' + +'No, I never saw him before.' + +He spoke quite naturally, and in spite of everything I could not help +being convinced that he and Paul Edgecumbe had met for the first time. + +'Have you heard from Devonshire lately?' + +'No,' I replied. + +'Then you don't know the news?' + +'What news?' I asked eagerly. + +'Miss Blackwater and I are engaged.' + +'Congratulations,' I said; 'you'll be the envy of all the marriageable +men in Devonshire.' + +'Shan't I just! Yes, I'm the happiest man in the British Army, and +that's saying a great deal.' + +'I suppose it is publicly announced?' I said. + +'No, not yet. Norah wants to wait a bit. I would like to have got +married before I came out this time, but--but there's no understanding +women. Still, if I live through this business, it'll come off in due +time.' + +'Where do you hang out, exactly?' I asked. + +'At a village about two miles up the line. You can't miss the house I +am billeted in; it's the first decent house on your right-hand side, at +the entrance to the place. Springfield is with me. We are a bit quiet +just now, but there'll be gay doings in a week or so. You must look me +up, Luscombe, when you have a few hours to spare. By the way, you +remember that Miss Bolivick you saw at the Granville's? She's out here +in France somewhere.' + +'What, nursing?' + +'Yes, I suppose so.' + +'A remarkably fine girl,' I ventured; 'if I am a judge of character, +she's capable of doing anything.' + +'Is she? Lorna and I never hit it off somehow. She was great pals +with my brother Maurice, although she was only a kid at the time. +She--she didn't congratulate me on my engagement. You'll be sure to +look me up down at St. Pinto, won't you, Luscombe?' + +When he had gone, I sat a long time thinking. It is true I no longer +believed that Paul Edgecumbe could be his brother; but it set me +wondering more than ever as to who Edgecumbe could be. I wondered if +the poor fellow's memory would ever come back, and if the dark veil +which hid his past life would be removed. + +Before going out, I scribbled a line to Lorna Bolivick, telling her of +my meeting with Edgecumbe, and of the wonderful way he had helped me to +escape from the German trenches. It was true that, according to St. +Mabyn, she was in France, but I imagined that her letters would be +forwarded to her. + +After that, several days elapsed before I had opportunity to pay my +promised visit to St. George Mabyn. It was a case of every man to the +wheel, for we were making huge preparations for the great Somme push +which took place immediately afterwards. Still, I did at length find +time to go, and one evening I started to walk there just as the day was +beginning to die. It had been very hot and sultry, I remember, and I +was very tired. + +St. Pinto was well behind the lines, but I could hear the booming of +the big guns away in the distance. I had no difficulty in finding the +house where St. Mabyn was billeted, for, as he said, it was the first +house of importance that I came across on the outskirts of the village. + +I was disappointed, however, in finding that neither he nor Springfield +was in. I could not complain of this, as I had not sent word that I +was coming. But being tired, and having decided to walk, I did not +relish the thought of my tramp back, especially as I had not taken the +trouble to change my heavy field boots. + +Not a breath of wind blew, and the air was heavy and turgid. On my way +back, I had to pass a little copse which lay in a dell, and having +noticed a little stream of water, I climbed over the fence in order to +get a drink. Then, feeling deadly tired, I stretched myself at full +length on the undergrowth, and determined to rest for an hour before +completing my journey. + +I think I must have fallen asleep, for presently I suddenly realized +that it was quite dark, and that everything had become wonderfully +still. The guns no longer boomed, and it might seem as though the +conflicting armies had agreed upon a truce. I imagine that even then I +was scarcely awake, for I had little consciousness of anything save a +kind of dreamy restfulness, and the thought that I needn't hurry back. + +Suddenly, however, I was wholly awake, for I heard voices close by, and +I judged that some one was standing close to where I was. I was about +to get up, and make my way back to my billet, but I remained quite +still. I was arrested by a word, and that word was 'Edgecumbe.' + +I did not realize that I was playing the part of an eaves-dropper, and +even if I had, I doubt if I should have made my presence known. +Anything to do with Edgecumbe had a strong interest for me. + +The murmur of voices continued for some seconds without my being able +to detect another word. Then some one said distinctly: + +'You say he has been down at our place to-night?' + +'Yes,' was the reply, and I recognized St. Mabyn's voice; 'he called +about an hour before I got back.' + +'What did he come for?' It was Springfield who spoke. + +'Oh, that's all right. I asked him to look us up, and I expect that +he, being off duty, came down to smoke a pipe with us.' + +'I don't like the fellow.' + +'Neither do I.' + +Again there was low murmuring for several seconds, not a word of which +reached me. Then I heard Springfield say: 'I shan't sleep soundly till +I'm sure.' + +'You weren't convinced, then?' + +'I didn't see him plainly,' was Springfield's reply. 'You see, I had +no business there, and we can't afford to arouse suspicions.' + +'I tell you, Springfield,' and George St. Mabyn spoke as though he were +much perturbed, 'I don't like it. I was a fool to listen to you in the +first place. If you hadn't told me you were certain about it, and +that----' + +'Come that won't do, George. We are both in it together; if I have +benefited, so have you, and neither of us can afford to have the affair +spoilt now. You are squire, and I am your friend, and you are going to +remain squire, whatever turns up, unless,' he added with a laugh, 'you +are potted in this show.' + +'What do you mean by that?' + +'I mean that if it is he, he must never go back to England alive. It +wouldn't do, my dear fellow.' + +'But he remembers nothing. He doesn't even know his own name. He +doesn't know where he came from; he doesn't know what he did.' + +'Yes, but if it is he, what would happen, if his memory suddenly came +back? Where should we be then? It won't bear thinking about!' + +'But he knows nothing. Besides, who would take his word?' + +'Are you sure Luscombe has no suspicions?' and Springfield asked the +question sharply. + +'How can he have? and yet--oh hang it all, Springfield, it hangs like a +millstone round one's neck! But mind you, I am going to have no foul +play.' + +Springfield gave an unpleasant laugh. 'Foul play, my son?' he said, +'we are both too deep in this business to stick at trifles. You can't +afford it, neither can I.' + +A few seconds later, I heard them trudging back towards St. Pinto, +still talking eagerly. + +I lay on the thick undergrowth for some minutes without moving. The +scraps of conversation which I had heard, and which I have set down +here, gave me enough food for reflection for a long time. I was not +yet quite clear as to the purport of it all, but I was clear that +villainy was on foot, and that not only was Paul Edgecumbe's life in +danger, but my own as well, and if the truth must be told, I feared +Springfield's threat more than I feared the danger which I had to meet +every day as a soldier at the front in war time. + +The next day I received the following note:-- + + +'MY DEAR LUSCOMBE,-- + +'I was awfully disappointed to learn, on my return to-night, that you +had looked us up in our show here, and had not found us. Why didn't +you, like a decent chap, let us know you were coming? We would then +have made it a point to be in. Springfield was even more disappointed +than I at our absence. Can't you come over on Thursday night and have +a bit of grub with us? We will both make it a point to have the entire +evening at liberty, always supposing that the Boches don't pay us +special attention. Let me have a line by bearer. + +'Yours, with the best of regards + 'GEORGE ST. MABYN.' + + +'Yes,' I reflected, 'I will go. But I'll have another talk with +Edgecumbe first.' + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +EDGECUMBE IS MISSING + +On the following Thursday I again made my way to St. Pinto, where I +received an almost effusive welcome from St. Mabyn and Springfield. +Both expressed great vexation at being away when I had called before, +and seemed to vie with each other in being friendly. In fact they +overdid it. After all, I had barely known them in England, and there +seemed no reason why they should act as though I were a long lost +brother in France. + +'By the way, Luscombe,' said St. Mabyn after dinner, 'Springfield is +awfully interested in that experience of yours. He says it's one of +the greatest jokes of the war.' + +'By Jove, that's true,' added Springfield. 'That fellow,--what do you +call him?--must be a great chap. I should like to hear more about him.' + +'He is a great chap,' I replied. 'I don't believe he knows what fear +means, and the way he talked over those Boches was nothing short of a +miracle.' + +Almost before I realized it, I found myself submitted to a keen +examination as to what I knew about Edgecumbe. As I reflect on it now, +I can see that Springfield's methods were very clever. He asked no +direct questions, but he led the conversation into channels which led +me, almost in spite of myself, to divulge my thoughts about him. Still +I do not think I committed any grave error, and when at length I left +them, I felt fairly satisfied with the interview. + +During my walk back to my billet I felt sure I was being followed and +watched. It was true I neither heard nor saw anything out of the +ordinary, but I seemed to be possessed of a sixth sense, and that sixth +sense made me conscious of an unfriendly presence. But nothing +happened, and presently when I reached my quarters without molestation +or happening of any sort, I laughed at myself for harbouring baseless +impressions. + +I found Edgecumbe awaiting me, as I had previously arranged. + +'Been here long?' I asked. + +'About an hour,' and then he looked at me eagerly. + +'No,' I said, noting his glance, 'I've nothing to tell you---yet.' + +I could see he was disappointed. I had aroused his curiosity and he +had been wondering what I had in my mind. + +'Then I may as well be going,' he said, after a few seconds' silence. + +'No, not yet.' + +I could see the eager questions in his eyes, so I went on. 'I can't +tell you anything yet, Edgecumbe; it would not be fair to you, and it +might not be fair to others. It may be I'm only following the +will-o'-the-wisp of my fancies; all the same I want you to stay with me +at least an hour. I think it will be the safest plan. I will send a +note with you that will answer all questions, and meanwhile I'll get +these shutters closed.' + +It was quite midnight when he left me, and I watched him as he walked +away from my billet. He had not gone more than two minutes when I +heard the sound of angry voices, and as far as I could judge they came +from the spot where he was likely to be. Then coming from the same +locality there was the sound of a pistol shot. + +Without hesitating a second, I ran towards the spot from which I +thought the sound came. It was not a very dark night, but there was +not light enough to discern anything very plainly. For half an hour I +searched and listened, but I could discover nothing. + +I tried to persuade myself that what I had heard was only fancy, +nevertheless I did not sleep well that night. As soon as morning +dawned I hurried to the spot again, but if there had been a struggle +the rain which had fallen had washed the traces away. Neither was +there anything suspicious to be seen. + +Later in the day, however, news came to me that Private Edgecumbe was +missing, and as he had last been to my billet, I was to be questioned +as to whether I knew anything of his whereabouts. + +As may be imagined when these questions were asked I could give no +satisfactory answers. I could not say that I suspected foul play +without giving my reasons, and those reasons were not good enough to +give. I could only say that he had come to me bringing a message from +Captain Wilkins, that he had left me about midnight bearing my reply. +That about two minutes after he had left I heard the sound of angry +voices, as well as a pistol shot, but beyond that nothing. + +'Have you no idea where he is?' I asked anxiously. + +'Not the slightest. I have made every inquiry--in vain. The fellow +has disappeared as though he had deserted.' + +'He hasn't done that,' I replied. 'He's not that sort.' + +'Then what's become of him?' + +I shook my head. I was very anxious, but I could say nothing. I dared +not impugn two brother officers on such evidence as I had. +Nevertheless, as may be imagined, I thought a great deal about what had +taken place. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE STRUGGLE IN THE TRENCHES + +The events I have been writing about took place towards the end of May, +1916, and, as I have before stated, we were at this time making huge +preparations for the Great Advance. As fortune would have it, +moreover, I was, two days after my parting with Edgecumbe, given a job +five miles further south, and then life became such a rush, that to +make anything like satisfactory inquiries about a missing soldier was +absolutely impossible. I imagine that few newspaper readers at home, +when they read the first accounts of the battle of the Somme, and noted +that we took a few villages and a few thousand prisoners on the first +days of the battle, little realized the tremendous preparations which +had to be made. So hardly were we kept at it, that oftimes we had +scarce time for food or rest. + +During the month of June, I received a letter from Lorna Bolivick, in +reply to the one I had sent her informing her of my meeting with Paul +Edgecumbe. It was so characteristic of her that I will insert it here. + + +'Now please confess at once,' she wrote, 'that it was because I +witnessed your promise to tell me all about him, that you sent that +letter, otherwise you wouldn't have thought of writing to a poor silly +girl. And wasn't it interesting! I told you he was a wonderful man, +and you see how he has paid you already for the little kindness you +showed him. Why, in all probability he saved your life! And now I +want you to do something else for me; I want you to send me his +photograph. I have conjured up a picture of what I think he is like, +and I am anxious to see if I am right. Aren't I taking a lot of +liberties with you! But you see I like you,--I do really. I fell in +love with you when you came to Granitelands with Sir Roger Granville +that day. Oh, no, there's nothing romantic about it, I can assure you! +But you looked so kind, and trustworthy, and strong, that I took to you +from the very first moment. Father tells me I am wrong to take violent +likes and dislikes to people at a first meeting; but I can't help it, I +am made that way. Of course you are not a bit attractive in the +ordinary way. You don't say sharp, clever things, and you don't +flatter. Besides, you're old. Now don't be angry. Every girl looks +upon a man who is getting on for forty as old. But I am fond of you +all the same. There's a sense of security about you; I am sure I could +trust you, just the same as I trust my father. + +'Send me that photograph of your friend as soon as you can, I am +anxious to get it. I am awfully busy here in this hospital, and there +are such a lot of wounded men, many of them with a limb shot off. Do +you know, I am tremendously interested in a poor Tommy who has lost +both his legs. Horrible, isn't it! But he's the most cheerful man in +the place, and keeps us laughing all day long. + +'He wrote a letter to his mother yesterday, and told her to get him a +pair of patent-leather dancing shoes. + +'You will be sure to be careful, won't you?--I can't bear the idea of +anything happening to you; and although I know you are old enough to be +cautious, and not to take foolish risks,--that is, in the ordinary +way,--I am sure you are one of those men who forget everything like +caution when you are aroused. This is awfully silly, isn't it? so I'll +stop. I command you, write me at once, and do as I tell you. + +'Yours obediently, + +'LORNA BOLIVICK.' + + +I answered this letter at once. I was in a dug-out at the time, and I +remember a lump of mud falling on the writing-pad and making a huge +smear, and explaining to her what the smear meant. As it happened, +too, I was able to send her Paul Edgecumbe's photograph. It was not a +very good one; it had been produced by one of his comrades who was an +amateur photographer. But it gave a fair idea of him. I obtained it +from him the last evening we were together. I did not tell her that he +was missing, even although my fears concerning him were very grave; I +thought it better not;--why, I don't know. + +At length the great first of July arrived, and it was impossible to +think of anything clearly. For days there had been a cannonade such as +the world had never witnessed before; the whole countryside shook, the +air was thick with shrieking shells, the ground trembled with bursting +bombs. Every breath one drew was poison; the acrid smells of high +explosives were everywhere. Then, after days of bombardment, which I +will not try to describe, for it beggars all the language I ever +learnt, the attack commenced. + +I have been sitting here trying to conjure up a picture of all I saw +that day, trying to find words in order to give some general impression +of what took place; but I simply can't. As I look back now, it only +seems a combination of a vast mad-house and a vast charnel-house. I +have confused memories of bodies of men creeping up behind deadly +barrages; I can see shells tearing up great holes in the earth, and +scattering mud and stones around them. I can see, too, where trenches +were levelled, just as I have seen pits which children make on the +seashore levelled by the incoming tide. Now and then there come back +to my mind dim, weird pictures of Germans crawling out of their +dug-outs, holding up their hands, and piteously crying, 'Kamerad! +Kamerad!' + +I have recollections, too, of the great awkward tanks toiling along +their cumbersome way, smashing down whatever opposed them, and spitting +out flame and death on every hand. But I can record nothing. Men talk +about the history of this war being written some day; it never will +be,--the whole thing is too tremendous, too ghastly. + +Personally, there are only a few incidents which I can recall clearly. +In the main, the struggle comes back to me as a series of bewildering, +chaotic, and incomplete events. Scraps of conversation come back to +me, too, and those scraps have neither sequence nor meaning. + +'Fricourt taken, is it?' + +'Yes, and La Boisselle.' + +'No, La Boisselle is not taken.' + +'Yes, it is, and Contalmaison too.' + +'Nonsense, you fool! that's miles on.' + +'The French are doing very well, too. Fritz is having a hot time. +We'll be in Bapaume in no time.' And so on. + +My general impression was that our men were doing very well south of +the Ancre, up as far as Thiepval, but north of the Ancre we were not so +successful. The Germans were putting up a tremendous resistance, and +I, unfortunately, was north of the Ancre. I will not give the exact +locality, nor the name of the village which was our objective; but this +village had been, as we thought, bombarded with such intensity that our +work ought to be easy. Our casualties were very heavy, and I shall +never forget the heartaches I had when I knew that many of my men whom +I had learned to know and to love were lying in nameless graves, torn, +battered and unrecognizable, while many more would linger for a few +hours in agony, and presently a little mound would cover them, and a +little wooden cross would indicate their last resting-place. + +I never saw braver men. Even now my heart thrills at the abandon with +which they rushed into every kind of danger, not grimly and doggedly, +so much, as gaily, and with a laugh. They mocked at danger. I have +seen men crossing No Man's Land, with machine-gun bullets flying all +round them, stop coolly to light their cigarettes, and then go on again +humming a song. + +The advance had been in progress some days, at least I think so, but I +am not sure,--one day seemed just like another. We had been at it for +many hours, I remember, and we were all dead tired. I could see that +some of the poor lads were half asleep, and ready to drop, through +sheer weariness. We had taken a difficult position, but we were +assured before we took it that our success would mean certainty to the +accomplishment of the larger plan. Our objective was the taking of a +fortified village a little farther on. + +Heavy-eyed and heavy-limbed, the boys still stuck to it, and looked +eagerly forward towards the accomplishment of their work. It is true +our ranks were terribly decimated, but the enemy had suffered far worse +than we, and therefore we were confident. Then the news came that we +were to be relieved. Fresh battalions had come up to take our places, +and we were told that we might get back and rest. + +Our boys were disappointed at this, although they were glad of the +reprieve. + +'Anyhow, we've done our bit,' said one. + +'A dirty bit, too,' said another. 'Still, the job's easy now, and a +fresh lot of men should take it in a couple of hours.' + +'I'd rather go on with it,' said a third. 'I don't see why these other +blokes should have the easy job, and we have the hard one.' + +'Cheer up, old sport,' said another, 'what do we care who does the job, +as long as it's done? We're not here for a picnic.' + +And so on, while we retired. How far we went back, I don't know. I +have a confused remembrance of the fellows throwing themselves down on +the ground, almost sleeping as they fell, and not waiting for the food +which was provided for them, while others ate ravenously. + +'Anyhow, we've given Fritz a twisting up to-day, and we've left the +other blokes a soft job,' were the last words I heard as I dragged my +weary legs to the place where I promised myself a good long sleep. + +How long I slept I don't know, but it did not seem to me two minutes, +although it might have been as many hours. + +'The Boches have broken through!' Those were the words that came to my +stupefied brain. + +'What!' I exclaimed, 'it is impossible!' + +'Yes, back at once!' + +There was no time to ask questions, no time to argue. The poor fellows +who had been fighting so long and bravely were with difficulty roused +out of their sleep, and all had to retrace their weary steps towards +the positions for which we had fought, and which we had won. + +'Why is it? why is it?'--'There must be a mistake!'--'Why, we had got +'em on toast.'--'I tell you, we left 'em nothing but a picnic!' + +The men were angry, discontented, grumbling, but they went back to +their job determined to see it through nevertheless. + +After that, I have but a dim recollection of what took place, except +that it was grim, hard, stern fighting. The air was sulphurous, the +ground hideous with filth, and blood, and dead bodies. + +I don't know how it came about, but the Germans were more numerous than +we. It was not we who were taking prisoners, but they, and then +suddenly I found myself alone, with three Germans before me. One, I +remember, had a rag saturated with blood tied round his head. He had a +great gash in his cheek, too, and was nearly beaten; but there was the +look of a devil in his eye. Had I been a private soldier, I expect I +should have been killed without ado, but they called upon me to +surrender. I was mad at the idea. What, surrender after we had won +the position! Surrender to the men whom we had sworn to conquer! The +Army which had set out to make an advance must not surrender! + +I was dog-tired, and a bit stupefied; but that was the feeling which +possessed me. I remember that a dead German lay in the trench close +behind me, and that his rifle had fallen from his nerveless hand. +Seizing the rifle by the barrel, I blindly and recklessly attacked +them; I had a grim sort of feeling that if I was to die, I would die +fighting. I remember, too, that I comforted myself with the thought +that no one depended on me, and that I had no near relatives to bemoan +my death. + +It may be that my position gave me an advantage, otherwise they, being +three, must have mastered me easily, although one of them was badly +wounded; still, one desperate man can do much. I was thirty-nine years +of age, and although not bred a soldier, I was an athlete. I was an +old rowing blue, too, and that means good muscles and a strong heart. +I weighed only a little over twelve stone, but I had not an ounce of +spare flesh, and I was desperate. I had a little advantage in reach, +too; I am over six feet in height, and long in limb. + +But it was an unequal battle, and I knew they were bearing me down. +One of my arms was numb, too; I expect it was from a blow, although I +never felt it. I saw the look of murder in their eyes, as little by +little they pressed me back. Then a change came. + +It seems like a fantastic dream now, and the new-comer appeared to me +more like a visitant from another world than tangible flesh and blood. +I expect it was because my eyesight was failing me. My strength was +gone, and I remember panting for life, while sparks of fire flitted +before my eyes. I fell against the side of the trench, and watched the +new-comer, who leapt upon two of the Germans, and hurled them from him +as though they had been five-year-old children. It seemed to me that I +had never seen such a feat of strength. A second later I knew that my +antagonists would never fight again, and then my own senses departed. + +'It's all right, sir, it's all right! You'll be as fresh as a daisy in +a few minutes. There, that's better. You've fought a great fight!' + +The voice seemed to stir something within me, and I felt myself in my +right mind with a flash. Moreover, he had taken me to a place of +comparative safety. + +'Edgecumbe!' I cried, 'how in Heaven's name----! + +'I've turned up like a bad penny, sir, haven't I? I was just in the +nick of time, too.' + +'This is twice you've saved my life,' I said. + +'That's nothing,' was his reply. 'I have found more than life.' + +I looked at him curiously. His clothes were torn and caked with mud; +here and there I saw they were soaked with blood. His face looked +haggard and drawn, too, but in his eyes was such a look as I had never +seen before. The old wistfulness and yearning were gone; he no longer +had the appearance of a man grieving because he had lost his past. +Joy, realization of something wonderful, a great satisfaction, all +revealed themselves in his eyes, as he looked at me. + +'His memory has come back,' I said to myself. + +I did not think of what had become of him on the night I had dined with +Springfield and St. Mabyn, that was not worth troubling about. His +past had come back, and evidently it was a joyous past, a past which +gave all sorts of promises for the future! + +'I have great things to tell you!' he cried excitedly. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +EDGECUMBE'S STORY + +But my new-found strength was only fitful. He had barely spoken the +words, when I heard a great noise in my ears, and I knew that my senses +were becoming dim again. I heard other voices, too, and looking up I +saw my own colonel standing near, with three or four others near him. +And then I have a faint recollection of hearing Paul Edgecumbe telling +him what had taken place. I know, too, that I was angry at his +description. He was telling of the part I had taken in the struggle in +glowing colours, while keeping his own part in it in the background. I +was trying to tell the colonel this, when everything became black. + +When I came to myself again, I was in a rest-station behind the lines. +I remember feeling very sore, and my head was aching badly, but no +bones were broken. I could move my limbs, although with difficulty; I +felt as though every inch of my body had been beaten with big sticks. +Still, my mind was clear, I was able to think coherently, and to recall +the scenes through which I had passed. + +I lay for some minutes wishing I could hear news of what was going on, +when a brother officer came to me. + +'Hullo, Luscombe, awake? That's right. You've had a rough time; you +were lucky to get out of it so well.' + +'I am in the dark about everything,' I said. 'Tell me what has +happened.' + +He mistook my meaning, and replied with a laugh: + +'Oh, you were saved by that chap who took thirty Boches British +prisoners. He seems to be a guardian angel of yours. He's a great +man, too, there's no doubt about that. Ah, here's the M.O. coming!' + +The doctor and I were good friends, and when he had examined me, and +pronounced me a fraud for being in bed, I eagerly questioned him, and +the sub. who still remained, as to how we were doing. + +'Very well indeed, below Thiepval,' was his reply, 'but up here badly.' + +'Have we taken Thiepval?' + +He shook his head gloomily. 'That'll need a bit of doing. It's a +regular fortress, man! Of course we shall get it in time. Our new +guns are tremendous; but we ought to have done better up this way. +We've thrown away our chances, too.' + +'I don't understand,' I said. 'When we were relieved, we had +practically won the key to the position we set out to get.' + +'That's the mischief of the whole thing,' he replied moodily. He used +language which I will not set down here; it was too strong for polite +ears. + +'What's the matter?' I asked. + +'Oh, we're supposed to say nothing, but----' + +'But what? Come, let us know. We hadn't been relieved long, when we +were called back again, and we found the Boches in the very place we +had taken.' + +'Still, we are doing well south of the Ancre, and that's what the +dispatches will be jubilant about, and that's what the people at home +will know of. If we'd taken G----, we should have had the key of the +whole position here, too. But there, I must be off. Cheer up, and +look perky, my boy. There'll be no obituary notices about you this +time. Yes, you can dress and get up when you want to, although I don't +think you _will_ want to. You will be fit for duty in two or three +days.' + +'By the way, do you know how Edgecumbe is?' + +'He's all right. Wonderful chap! I hear he's to be recommended for +all sorts of things.' + +'He deserves them,' I said; 'he ought to have a commission.' + +'I hear that's coming, too. Good-bye, old man.' + + +The next day I came across Edgecumbe. His face looked more like +parchment than ever, but the wonderful look still remained in his eyes. + +'You are better, sir. You are all right!' he exclaimed eagerly. + +'Oh, yes, I am all right,' I replied. 'Now let us hear about the great +things you have to tell me of. Your memory's come back, hasn't it?' + +He laughed gaily. 'Better than that,' he cried, 'better than that, a +thousand times! I have no past, Sir, but I have a future!' + +I looked at him wonderingly. A doubt even crossed my mind as to +whether he was quite sane. + +'Tell me about it, anyhow,' I said. + +'I have so much to tell you that I hardly know where to begin.' + +'Better begin at the beginning. What have you been doing since that +night you were at my billet over at St. Pierre?' + +'Oh, yes, I'd forgotten all about that. I say, you were right there; I +should imagine that some people think I am in their way. Anyhow, I'd +hardly left your place when I suddenly found myself surrounded by three +men, who went for me. They pretended to be drunk, but I am sure they +were not.' + +'Were they soldiers?' + +'I don't know. It was too dark to tell. But I am pretty handy with my +fives, and I gave one something to remember, and then thinking +discretion was the better part of valour, I bolted. That was lucky, +for they were trying to grab me. As you may remember, it was pretty +dark, but still not so dark as to keep one from seeing things. I +hadn't gone more than a few steps before a bullet whizzed by me. It +didn't touch me, but as the road on which I ran was open, I turned up a +narrow track,--I thought it might lead to a farmhouse, or something of +that sort.' + +'And then?' + +'Then I had bad luck; The track led to a quarry, an old disused quarry. +Then I must have had a very bad fall, for I was stunned and I sprained +myself badly. When I came to myself, it was daylight, and I couldn't +move; at least, I couldn't move without awful pain.' + +'And what happened then?' + +'I lay there a jolly long time. You see the blessed quarry had got +overgrown, and all that sort of thing, and it was a long way from the +road. I yelled, and yelled, but no one came. Then I saw that it would +be all up with me, if I could make no one hear. That seemed silly.' + +'And what did you do?' + +'It was a bit of a tussle; you see I'd bruised and sprained myself so +badly; but I got out after a bit, and--and--made an old man who was +passing down the main road with a horse and cart hear me. The rest was +very simple.' + +'Did you get any punishment?' + +'Oh, no, sir. I have to thank you for that. The statement I made +tallied so exactly with yours that I got off all right. Besides, I was +jolly shaken up. At the end of a fortnight I was able to get around +again. Still, it's worth thinking about.' + +'What do you mean?' + +'Oh, there's no doubt some one is having his knife into me. Of course +I can't help reflecting on what you said. In fact, it was your advice +to look out for squalls, that made me a bit prepared when I left you. +Would you mind telling me the grounds you had for your suspicions?' + +'Go on with your story first. What happened after that?' + +'What happened after that!' he cried, 'everything--everything! What +happened after that has made a new man of me; life has become new, the +world has become new!' + +'You are talking riddles. Explain.' + +'It's no riddle, sir,--it's a solution of all the riddles. I will tell +you. While I was convalescing, I went to a Y.M.C.A. camp. I had never +been to one of these places before; I don't know why I went then, +except that the time hung a bit heavy on my hands. You see, every man +was up to his neck in work, and there was great excitement in making +preparations for the push, and I couldn't do anything. Not but what I +had always respected the Y.M.C.A.,--what the British Army would have +done without it I don't know. In my opinion, that body is doing as +much to win the war as the War Office is--perhaps a bit more. They +have kept thousands upon thousands of our chaps steady and straight. +They have done more to fight the devil than--but there, I'll come to +that presently. + +'Well, one night I made my way into the Y.M.C.A. hut. At first I did +nothing but read the papers, but presently I realized that a service +was going on. The hall wasn't full by any means. Before this push it +was full every night; but you see the boys were busy. Presently I +caught sight of the man who was speaking, and I liked his face. I +quickly found out that he was an intelligent man, too, and I went up +nearer the platform to hear what he had to say. He was not a chaplain +or anything of that sort, he was just one of the Y.M.C.A. workers. Who +he was I didn't know then,--I don't now, although I have an idea I +shall meet him some day, and I shall thank him as a man was never +thanked yet.' + +'Why?' I asked. + +'He made me know the greatest fact in the world,' and he spoke very +earnestly. 'He made me realize that there was a God. That fact hadn't +come within the realm of my vision,--I hadn't thought anything about +it. You see,' and I could see he had forgotten all about military +etiquette and the difference in our ranks, 'as I have said to you +before, I have been like a man beginning to write the story of his life +at the middle. Having no memory, I have had no preconceived notions, +and very few prejudices. I suppose if some one had asked me if I +believed that there was a God, I should have said yes, although I +should have been a bit doubtful. Perhaps I should have thought that +there was some great Force which brought all that we see into being, +and then I should have said that, if this great Force were intelligent, +He'd made an awful mess of things, that He'd found the Universe too big +a thing to manage. But I didn't know; anyhow, the thought of God, the +fact of God, hadn't troubled me, neither had I thought much about +myself in a deeper way. + +'Sometimes, when my pals were killed, I wondered in a vague way what +had become of them, and whether they were really dead; but there was +nothing clear or definite in my mind. But that night, while listening +to that man, I woke up to the fact that there was a God; it came to me +like a flash of light. I seemed to know that there was an Almighty +Power Who was behind everything,--thinking,--controlling. Then I was +staggered.' + +'Staggered? How?' I asked. + +'He said that a Man called Jesus Christ told us what God was +like,--showed us by His own life and death. I expect I was a bit +bewildered, for I seemed to see more than his words conveyed.' + +He did not seem excited, he spoke quite calmly, although there was a +quiver in his voice which showed how deeply he was moved, and his eyes +glowed with that wonderful new light which made him seem like a new +man. That he had experienced something wonderful, was evident. What I +and thousands of others regarded as a commonplace, something which we +had heard from our childhood, and which, I am afraid, did not hold us +very strongly, was to him a wonderful reality, the greatest, the +divinest thing in the world. + +'I got a New Testament,' he went on, 'and for days I did nothing but +read it. I think I could repeat those four Gospels. Man, it's the +most wonderful thing ever known,--of course it is! Why----' + +At that moment a change came over his face. It was as though he were +attacked by great pain, as though indeed his body were torn with agony. +His fists were clenched and quivering, his body became rigid, his face +drawn and bloodless. + +'Hark, what's that?' + +'I hear nothing.' + +'Yes, but listen--there!' + +It was a curious cry I heard; it sounded partly like the cry of a +seagull, mingled with the wail of a wounded animal. It was repeated +once, twice, and then there was a laugh. + +'I've heard that before, somewhere. Where?--where? It's back behind +the black wall!' + +I looked, and saw half hidden by a small belt of brushwood, a group of +officers, and I could hear them laughing. + +'Is that an Indian cry, Springfield?' some one said. + +'Yes, there's a legend that it is always heard the night before there's +a kind of vendetta.' + +Springfield's voice reached us quite clearly, and I looked +instinctively towards Paul Edgecumbe. + +'I know that voice! I know it!' and the intensity of his feeling was +manifested in every word he spoke. + +'Silence,' I whispered, 'and come with me, quickly!' + +I drew him to a spot from which, without being observed, he could see +Springfield's face. + +'That is he, _that's_ he,' he whispered hoarsely. 'I know him,--I know +him!' + +'Who is he?' I asked. + +'I--oh!--no,--I don't know.' + +From pain, almost amounting to agony, the expression on his face had +changed to that of intense loathing, of infinite contempt. + +'Let's get away,' he said; 'this air is polluted.' + +A few minutes later, we had come to the rest-house where I had been +brought after my shaking-up, and I saw that the letters had come. + +'Wait a minute,' I said. 'I want to hear the end of your story.' + +There was only one letter for me, and I saw at a glance that it had +come from Lorna Bolivick. It was a long, newsy epistle, only one part +of which I need quote here. It referred to Paul Edgecumbe's photograph. + +'Thank you,' she wrote, 'for sending me that picture of your protegé. +What a strange-looking man! I don't think I ever saw a face quite like +it before, and hasn't he wonderful eyes! I felt, even while looking at +it, that he was reading my very soul. I am sure he has had wonderful +experiences, and has seen things undreamed of by such as I. I had a +kind of feeling, when I asked you for it, that I might have met him, or +seen him somewhere; but I never have. His face is like no other I have +ever seen, although, in spite of its strangeness, it is wonderfully +striking. If ever you have a chance, you must bring him to see me. I +am sure I should like to talk to him. A man who has a face like that +couldn't help being interesting.' + +Here was the final blow which shattered all my suspicions. In spite of +repeated assurances to the contrary, I retained the impression that +Paul Edgecumbe and Maurice St. Mabyn were the same person. Now I knew +that it was impossible. Lorna Bolivick's testimony was final, all the +more final because she had no thought of what was in my own mind. + +And yet I knew that Paul Edgecumbe was in some way associated with +Springfield and St. Mabyn; everything pointed to that fact. +Springfield's evident fear, St. Mabyn's anxiety, added to Edgecumbe's +strange behaviour when he heard the peculiar cry, and saw Springfield's +face, made me sure that in some way these men's lives were bound +together, in a way I could not understand. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE STRUGGLE ON THE SOMME + +I was not fated to hear the end of Edgecumbe's story. I had barely +finished reading the letter, when events happened in quick succession +which made it impossible for me to hear those things which he declared +made all life new to him. + +It must be remembered that we were in the early part of July, when the +great battle of the Somme was gaining intensity at every hour, and when +private experiences were at a discount. Each day the tornado of the +great guns became more and more terrible, the air was full of the +shrieks of shells, while the constant pep-pep-pep of machine-guns +almost became monotonous. Village after village south of the Ancre +fell into our hands, thousands of German prisoners were taken, while +deadly fighting was the order of the day. It is no use trying to +describe it, it cannot be described. Incidents here and there can be +visualized, and to an extent made plain by words; but the movement as a +whole, the constant roar of guns, the shriek of shells, the sulphur of +explosives, the march of armies, the bringing in of prisoners, and our +own wounded men, cover too vast a field for any one picture. + +It was not one battle, it was a hundred battles, and each battle was +more intense than the other. Position after position was taken, some +of which were lost again, only to be retaken, amidst the thunder of +guns and the groans of dying men. + +If ever Tennyson's martial poem were true, it was true in that great +struggle. Not that cavalry had much to do with it, neither was there +any pageantry or any of the panoply of war. It was all too grim, too +ghastly, too sordid for that. And yet there was a pageantry of which +Tennyson never dreamed. The boom of guns, the weird light of the star +shells, the sulphurous atmosphere, the struggle of millions, formed a +pageant so Homeric, and on such an awful scale, that imagination reels +before it. + +It was towards the middle of July when my battalion was ordered south +of the Ancre. What had become of Edgecumbe I did not know, and it was +impossible to find out. Each battalion, each company, and each +platoon, had its little scene of operations, and we knew nothing of who +might be a few hundred yards from us. As an infantry officer, I was, +during the advance, for the most time in the trenches. Then, after the +artillery had done its work, we leapt the parapets, and made our way +across the open, oft-times through a hailstorm of bullets, while +shrieking shells fell and exploded at our feet. Now we were held up by +barbed wire, which here and there had not been swept away by our +artillery, or again we stumbled into shell holes, where we lay panting +and bruised. But these are only small incidents in the advance. + +I think it was toward the end of July when a section of my battalion +lay in the trenches not far from Montauban. We had been there, I +remember, a considerable time; how long, I can scarcely tell, for hours +and sometimes days passed without definite note being taken. Above our +heads aircraft sped through the heavens, mostly our own, but now and +then Germans! We saw little puffs of cloud forming themselves around +them, as shells exploded in the skies. Now and then one of the +machines would be hit, and I saw them swerve, as I have seen birds +swerve before they fall, at a shooting party. Behind us our guns were +booming, while a few hundred yards away in front of us, the German +trenches were being levelled. It was a fascinating, yet horrible +sight. More than once I saw machine-gun emplacements, with the +gunners, struck by the projectiles from our great howitzers, and hurled +many feet high. + +Not that we had it all our own way, although our artillery was superior +to that of the enemy. If we had located their positions, so had they +located ours, and their shells fell thick and fast along our lines, +decimating our ranks. + +How long we had waited, I don't know. We knew by the artillery +preparations that the command for advance must soon come, and we +crouched there, some quivering with excitement, others cracking jokes +and telling stories, and most of the men smoking cigarettes, until the +word of command should pass down the line. We knew what it meant. It +was true our barrage would make it comparatively safe; but we knew, +too, that many of the lads who were joking with each other, and telling +stories of what they did in pre-war days, would never see England +again, while many more, if they went back, would go back mutilated and +maimed for life. Still, it was all in the day's work. The Boches had +to be beaten, and whatever might happen to us we must finish our job. + +The soldiers talked calmly about it, and even joked. + +'Think your number's up, Bill?' + +'I don't know. I've been home to Blighty twice. Perhaps I shan't have +such good luck next time. But what's the odds? We're giving Fritz a +rare old time.' + +'Fritz ain't got no more fight in him.' + +'Don't you be so sure of that, old cock. Fritz is chained to his guns, +that's what _he_ is.' + +'Is it true the Kaiser and old Hindenburg have come up to see this job, +I wonder? Wouldn't I just like to take 'em prisoners!' + +And so on, minute after minute, while the heavens and the earth were +full of the messengers of death. + +The command to go over came at length, and I heard a cheer pass down +the line. It sounded strangely amid the booming of the guns, and the +voices of the men seemed small. All the same, it was hearty and +confident. Many of them, I knew, would have a sense of relief at +getting out into the open, and feel that they were no longer like +rabbits in their burrows. Helter, skelter, we went across the open +ground, some carelessly and indifferently, others with stern, set +faces. Here one cracked a joke with his pal, while there another +stopped suddenly, staggered, and fell. + +The ground, I remember, was flat just there, and I could see a long way +down the line, men struggling across the open space. There was no +suggestion of military precision, that is in the ordinary sense of the +word, yet in another there was. Each man was ready, and each man had +that strange light in his eyes which no pen can describe. + +We took the first trench without difficulty. The few Germans who +remained were dazed, bewildered, and eager to surrender. They came up +out of their dug-outs, their arms uplifted, piteously crying for mercy. + +'All right, Fritz, old cock, we won't hurt you! You don't deserve it. +But there, I suppose you had to do what you was told.' + +Now and then, however, no mercy was shown. Many of the machine-gunners +held up one hand, and cried for mercy, while with the other they worked +the guns. However, the first line of trenches was taken, a great many +prisoners captured, and then came the more difficult and dangerous +business. The second line must be taken as well as the first, and the +second line was our objective. + +By this time we did not know where we were, and we were so mixed up +that we didn't know to what battalion or regiment we belonged. In the +gigantic struggle, extending for miles, there was no possibility of +keeping together. The one thing was to drive the Germans out of the +second line of trenches, or better still to make them prisoners. But +every inch of ground became more dangerous. German shells were blowing +up the ground around us, and decimating our advancing forces. + +It was here that I thought my number was up. A shell exploded a few +yards from me, shook the ground under my feet, threw me into the air, +and half buried me in the _débris_. It was one of those moments when +it seemed as though every man was for himself, and when, in the mad +carnage, it was impossible to realize what had happened to each other. +I was stunned by the explosion, and how long I lay in that condition I +don't know. + +When I became conscious, I felt as though my head were going to burst, +while a sense of helplessness possessed me. Then I realized that, +while my legs were buried, my head was in the open. Painfully and with +difficulty I extricated myself, and then, scarcely realizing what I was +doing, I staggered along in the direction in which I thought my boys +had gone. + +Evening was now beginning to fall, and I had lost my whereabouts. +Meanwhile, there was no cessation in the roar of artillery. As I +struggled along, I saw, not fifty yards away, a group of men. And then +I heard, coming through the air, that awful note which cannot be +described. It was a whine, a yell, a moan, a shriek, all in one. +Beginning on a lower note, it rose higher and higher, then fell again, +and suddenly a huge explosive dropped close where the men stood. A +moment later, a great mass of stuff went up, forming a tremendous +mushroom-shaped body of earth. When it subsided, a curly cloud of +smoke filled the air. I was sick and bewildered by what I had passed +through, and could scarcely realize the purport of what I had just +seen. But presently I saw a man digging, digging, as if for his life. + +Half mad, and bewildered, I made my way towards him. In different +stages of consciousness I saw several soldiers lying. When I arrived +close to the spot, I recognized the digger. It was Paul Edgecumbe. +Never did I see a man work as he worked. It seemed as though he +possessed the strength of three, while all the energy of his being was +devoted to the rescue of some one who lay beneath the heap of _débris_. +In a bewildered sort of way I realized the situation. Evidently the +enemy had located it as an important spot, for shell after shell +dropped near by, while the men who had so far recovered their senses as +to be able to get away, crawled into the shell hole. + +'Come in here, you madman!' one man said. 'You can't get him out, and +you'll only get killed.' + +But Paul Edgecumbe kept on digging, heedless of flying bullets, +heedless of death. + +'He can't get him out,' said a soldier to me in a dazed sort of way; +'he's buried, that's what he is.' + +'Who is it?' I asked. + +'Captain Springfield,' replied the man. 'Come in here,' he shouted to +Edgecumbe, 'that fellow ain't worth it!' + +Scarcely realizing what I was doing, and so weak that I could hardly +walk, I crawled nearer to my friend. + +'You have a hopeless task there,' I remember saying. 'Leave it, and +get into the hole there.' + +'Is that you, Luscombe? I shall save him, I am sure I shall. I was +buried once myself, so I know what it means. There, I have got him!' +He threw down the tool with which he was digging, and with his hands +pulled away the stones and earth which lay over the body. + +I don't quite recollect what took place after that. I have a confused +remembrance of lying in the shell hole, while the tornado went on. I +seemed to see, as in a dream, batches of soldiers pass by me in the +near distance; some of them Germans, while others were our own men. +Everything was confused, unreal. Even now I could not swear to what +took place,--what I thought I saw and heard may not be in fact a +reality at all, but only phantoms of the mind. Flesh and blood, and +nerves and brain were utterly exhausted, and although I was not +wounded, I was more dead than alive. + +I have an indistinct remembrance of a dark night, and of being led over +ground seamed with deep furrows, and made hideous with dead bodies. I +had a fancy, too, that the sky was lit up with star shells, and that +there was a continuous booming of guns. But this may have been the +result of a disordered imagination. + +When I came to consciousness, I was at a clearing-station, suffering, I +was told, from shell shock. + +'You're not a bad case,' said the M.O. to me, with a laugh, 'but +evidently you've had a rough time. From what I can hear, too, you had +a very great time.' + +'A great time!' I said. 'I scarcely remember anything.' + +'Some of your men do, anyhow. Yes, the second line was taken, and the +village with it. Not that any village is left,' he added with a laugh. +'I hear that all that remains is one stump of a tree and one chimney. +However, the ground's ours. Five hundred prisoners were taken. There +now, you feel better, don't you? It's a wonder you are alive, you +know.' + +'But I was in no danger.' + +'Weren't you? One of your men, who couldn't move, poor chap, because +of a smashed leg and a broken arm, watched you crawl out of a great +heap of stuff. He said that only your head was visible at first; but +the way you wormed yourself through the mud was as good as a play.' + +'I knew very little about it,' I said. + +'Very possibly. Corporal Wilkins watched you, and shouted after you, +as you staggered away; but you took no notice, and then, I hear, +although you were half dead, you did some rescuing work.' + +'I did rescuing work!' I gasped. + +'Why, of course you did, you know you did.' + +'But I didn't,' I replied. + +'All right then, you didn't,' and the doctor laughed again. 'There +now, you're comfortable now, so be quiet. I'll tell some one to bring +you some soup.' + +'But I say, I--I want to know. Is Captain Springfield all right?' + +The doctor laughed again. 'I thought you didn't do any rescuing work?' + +'I didn't,' I replied, 'it was the other man who did that; but is +Springfield all right?' + +'He's very bad. He _may_ pull through, but I doubt it.' + +'Private Edgecumbe,--what of him? He did everything, you know.' + +'I think he has gone back to duty.' + +'Duty!' I gasped. 'Why--why----' + +'The fellow's a miracle, from what I can hear. No, he wasn't wounded. +The man who told me about it said that he might have a charmed life. +He's all right, anyhow. Now be quiet, I must be off.' + +For the next few days, although, as I was told, I was by no means a bad +case, I knew what it was to be a shattered mass of nerves. A man with +a limb shot away, or who has had shrapnel or bullets taken from his +body, can laugh and be gay,--I have seen that again and again. But one +suffering from shell shock goes through agonies untold. I am not going +to _try_ to describe it, but I shall never forget what I suffered. As +soon as I was fit, I was moved to another hospital nearer the base, and +there, as fortune would have it, I met Edgecumbe's colonel. By this +time I was able to think coherently, and my spells of nerves were +becoming rarer and less violent. + +'Yes, my boy, you are a case for home,' said Colonel Gray. 'You are a +lucky beggar to get out of it so well. I was talking with your C.O. +yesterday; you are going back to England at once. I won't tell you +what else he told me about you; your nerves are not strong enough.' + +'There's nothing wrong, is there?' + +Colonel Gray laughed. 'No, it's all the other way. Don't your ears +tingle?' + +'Not a tingle,' I said. 'But what about Edgecumbe?' + +'He's a friend of yours, isn't he?' asked the colonel. + +'Yes,' I replied. + +'Who is he?' + +'I don't know,--I wish I did.' + +'He's a wonderful chap. I've had my eye on him for a long time, and I +haven't been able to make him out. What really aroused my interest in +him was the way--but of course you know all about that, you were in +that show. I never laughed so much in my life as when those Boches +were brought in. Of course you know he's to get his decoration? It +couldn't be helped after that Springfield affair.' + +As it happened, however, I did not cross to England for several days, +but stayed at a base hospital until, in the opinion of the M.O., I was +fit to be removed. Meanwhile the carnage went on, and the great battle +of the Somme developed according to the plans we had made, although +there were some drawbacks. At length the day came when I was to go +back to England, and no sooner had I stepped on board the boat than, to +my delight, I saw Edgecumbe. + +'I _am_ glad to see you!' I cried. + +'Thank you, sir.' + +'Got it bad?' + +'A mere nothing, sir. Just a bruised arm. In a few days I shall be as +right as ever.' + +It was a beautiful day, and as it happened the boat was not crowded. I +looked for a quiet spot where we could talk. + +'You didn't finish telling me your story when we met last,' I said +presently. 'I want to hear it badly.' + +'I want you to hear it,' was his reply, and I noted that bright look in +his eyes which had so struck me before. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +EDGECUMBE'S MADNESS + +'After all, it's nothing that one can talk much about,' he continued. +'I've become a Christian, that's all. But it's changed everything, +_everything_!' + +'How?' + +'I find it difficult to tell you, sir; but after I'd got back from the +Y.M.C.A. meeting I got hold of a New Testament, and for days I did +nothing but read it. You see it was a new book to me.' + +He hesitated a few seconds and then went on. 'Loss of memory is a +curious thing, isn't it? I suppose I must have read it as a boy, just +as nearly all other English boys have, but it was a strange book to me. +I had not forgotten how to read, but I had forgotten what I had read. +I seemed to remember having heard of some one called Jesus Christ, but +He meant nothing to me. That was why the reading of the New Testament +was such a revelation.' + +'Well, go on,' I said when he stopped. + +'Presently I began to pray,' and his voice quivered as he spoke. 'It +was something new to me, but I did it almost unconsciously. You see, +when I left the Y.M.C.A. hut, I had a consciousness that there was a +God, but after I'd read the New Testament----; no I can't explain, I +can't find words! But I prayed, and I felt that God was listening to +me, and presently something new came into my life! It seemed to me as +though some part of my nature which had been lying dormant leapt into +life. I looked at things from a new standpoint. I saw new meanings in +everything. I knew that I was no longer an orphan in the world, but +that an Almighty, All-pervading God was my Father. That He cared for +me, that nothing was outside the realm of His love. I saw what God was +like, too. As I read that story of Jesus, and opened my life to Him, +my whole being was flooded with the consciousness that He cared for me, +that He watched me, and protected me. I saw, too, that there was no +death to the man in whom Christ lived. That the death of the body was +nothing because the man, the essential man lived on,--where I did not +know, did not care, because God was.' + +He looked across the sunlit sea as he spoke, and I think he had almost +forgotten me. + +'I had an awful time though,' he went on. + +'How? In what way?' + +'It was when I read the Sermon on the Mount. I could not for a time +see how a Christian could be a soldier. The whole idea of killing men +seemed a violation of Christianity.' + +'It is,' I said. + +'Yes, in a way you are right, and when I read those words of the Lord +telling us that we must love our enemies, and bless them that cursed +us, I was staggered. Where could there be any Christianity in great +guns hurling men by the thousand into eternity?' + +'There isn't,' I persisted. + +'That's what I believed at first, but I got deeper presently. I saw +that I had only been looking at the surface of things.' + +'How?' I asked. I was curious to see how this man who had forgotten +his past would look at things. + +'I found after a daily study of this great Magna Charta of Jesus +Christ, that He meant us to live by the law of love.' + +'There's not much living by the law of love over yonder,' I said, +nodding in the direction of the Somme. + +'Yes there is,' he cried. 'Oh, I realize the apparent anomaly of it +all, but don't you see? _It wouldn't be living by the law of love to +allow Germany to master the world by brute force_! This was the +situation. Prussianism wanted to dominate the world. The Germans +wanted to dethrone mercy, pity, kindness, love, and to set up a god who +spoke only by big guns. They wanted to rule the world by brute force, +devilry. Now then, what ought Christians to do? It would be poor +Christianity, it would be poor love to the world, to allow the devil to +reign. + +'You see,' he went on, 'Christ's law is, not only that we must love our +enemies, but we must love our neighbours too. We must live for the +overthrow of wrong and the setting up of His Kingdom of truth, and +mercy, and love. But how? Here were Germany's rulers who were bent on +forcing war. They were moral madmen. They believed only in force. +For forty years they had been feeding on the poison of the thought that +might was right, and that it was right to do the thing you _could_ do.' + +'And what is war but accepting that idea. It is simply overcoming +force by force. Where does Christianity come in?' + +'You don't argue with a mad dog,' he said. 'You kill it. It's best +for the dog, and it's essential for the good of the community. +Germany's a mad dog, and this virus of war must be overcome, destroyed. +Oh, I've thought it all out. I believe in prayer. But it's no use +praying for good health while you live over foul drains, and it's just +as little praying for the destruction of such a system while you do +nothing. God won't do for us what we can do for ourselves. That's why +this is a holy war! That's why we must fight until Prussianism is +overthrown. We are paying a ghastly price, but it has to be paid. All +the same, we are fighting this war in the wrong way.' + +'How?' I asked. + +'Because we've forgotten God. Because, to a large extent, we regard +Him too much as a negligible quantity; because we have become too much +poisoned with the German virus.' + +'I don't follow,' I said. + +'I will try to make my meaning plain. In this war we have the +greatest, the holiest cause man ever fought for. We are struggling for +the liberty, the well-being of the world. We are fighting God's cause; +but we are not fighting it in God's way. We are fighting as if there +were no God.' + +'How?' + +'We started wrongly. Were our soldiers made to realize when they +joined the Army that they were going to fight for God? Did the +country, the Government ever tell them so? Oh, don't mistake me. I am +a private soldier, and I've lived with the Tommies for a long time, and +I know what kind of chaps they are. A finer lot of fellows never +lived. Braver than lions, and as tender as women many of them; but +does God count with the great bulk of them? Is Tommy filled with a +passion for God? Is he made to feel the necessity of God? Does Tommy +depend primarily on God for victory?' + +'Well, do we depend on God for victory?' I asked. + +'If God is not with us we are lost!' he said solemnly. 'And that's our +trouble. I've read a good many of our English papers, our leading +daily papers, and one might think from reading them that either there +was no God, or that He didn't count. "How are we to win this war, and +crush Germanism?" is the cry, and the answer of the British Government +and of the British press is, "Big guns, mountains of munitions, +conscription, national service, big battalions, and still more big +battalions!"' + +'Well, isn't that the only way to win? What can we do without these +things?' I asked. + +'Big guns by all means. Mountains of munitions certainly, and all the +other things; but they are not enough. If we forget God, we are lost. +And because we do not seek the help of God, we lose a great part of our +driving power.' + +He was in deadly earnest. To him Christianity, religion was not some +formal thing, it was a great vital reality. He could not understand +faith in God, without seeking Him and depending on Him. + +'We have chaplains,' I urged. 'We are supposed to be a Christian +people.' + +'Yes, but do we depend on God? Do we seek Him humbly? When Tommy goes +into battle, does he go into it like Cromwell's soldiers determined to +fight in God's strength? Oh, yes, Tommy is a grand fellow, take him as +a whole, and there are tens of thousands of fine Christians in the +Army. But in the main Tommy is a fatalist; he does not pray, he does +not depend on God. I tell you, if this battle of the Somme were fought +in the strength of God, the Germans would have fled like sheep.' + +'That's all nonsense,' I laughed. 'We can destroy brute force only by +brute force.' + +'That's the German creed,' he cried, 'and that creed will be their +damnation.' + +'No,' I said, more for the sake of argument than because I believed it, +'we shall beat them because we are better men, and because we shall be +able to "stick it" longer.' + +'Have you been to Ypres?' he asked quickly. + +'No,' I replied. + +'I have. I was there for months. I read the accounts of the Ypres +battles while I was there, and I was able to study the _terrain_, the +conditions. And Germany ought to have won. Germany _would_ have won +too, if force was the deciding power. Why, think, they had four men to +our one, and a greater proportion of big guns and munitions. Humanly +speaking, the battle was theirs and then Calais was theirs and they +could dominate the Channel. But it is "Not by might, nor by power; but +by My Spirit, said the Lord of Hosts." I tell you, Sir, no one can +read the inwardness of the battles of Ypres without believing in +Almighty God. By the way, did you ever read Victor Hugo's _Les +Miserables_?' + +'Years ago. What has that to do with it?' + +'He describes the battle of Waterloo. He says that Napoleon by every +human law ought to have won it. But Hugo says this: "Napoleon lost +Waterloo because God was against him." That's why Germany didn't take +Ypres, and rush through to Calais. That's why they'll lose this war.' + +'And yet the Germans are always saying that God is on their side. They +go to battle singing-- + + "A safe stronghold our God is still."' + + +'Yes, they are like the men in the time of Christ who said "Lord, +Lord," and did not the things he said. I tell you, sir, if we had +fought in God's strength, and obeyed God's commands, _the war would +have been over by now_. German militarism would have been crushed and +the world would be at peace.' + +'Nonsense,' I replied with a laugh. + +'It's not nonsense. This, as it seems to me, is the case: We are +fighting God's cause, but God counts but very little. We are not +laying hold of His Omnipotence; we are trusting entirely in big guns, +while God is forgotten. That is why the war drags on. I tell you,' +and his voice quivered with passion, 'what I am afraid of is this. +This ghastly carnage will drag on, with all its horrors; homes will be +decimated, lives will be sacrificed all because we believe more in +material things than in spiritual things. More in the devil than in +God. I think sometimes that God will not allow us to win because we +are not worthy.' + +'Come now,' I said, 'it is very easy to speak in generalities about +such a question; but tell me how, in a practical way, faith in God, and +religious enthusiasm would help us to win this war?' + +'How?' he cried. 'Don't you see that in addition to what I will call +the spiritual power which would come through faith in, and obedience to +the will of God, you add a practical, human force? Let there be this +faith, this enthusiasm, and the people, the soldiers, would be ready +for anything. Our workpeople would cease going on strike, employers +and tradespeople would no longer be profiteers, grumbling and disunity +would cease. We should all _unitedly_ throw ourselves, heart and soul +into this great struggle, and nothing could withstand us.' + +'But tell me why we are not worthy of victory, now,' I urged. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +EDGECUMBE'S LOGIC + +He was silent for a few seconds, and then went on quietly: 'You will +forgive me, sir, if I seem assertive, but I look on you as my +friend--and--and you know all about me--that I know myself. As I have +said before, I naturally look at things differently from others. I +have to be always beginning _de novo_. But tell me, sir, what do you +think are the greatest curses in the British Army? What ruins most of +our soldiers, body and soul?' + +I hesitated a second, and then replied, 'Drink and--and impurity.' + +'Exactly; and how much is the latter owing to the former?' + +'A great deal, I dare say.' + +'Just so. Now go a step further. Did not one of England's most +prominent statesmen say that he feared drink more than he feared the +Germans?' + +'That was a rhetorical flourish,' I laughed. + +'No, it was a sober considered statement. Now think. Before +I--I--that is before God became real to me, I looked at this question +from the standpoint of policy. I considered the whole thing in the +light of the fact that it was sapping our strength, wasting our +manhood. But I have had to go deeper, and now I see----great God, man, +it's ghastly! positively ghastly!' + +'What is ghastly?' I asked. + +'Look here, sir,'--and his voice became very intense,--'I suppose you +are typical of the educated Britisher. You stand half-way between the +extreme Puritan on the one hand, and the mere man of the world on the +other. Tell me this: Do you regard the body as of more importance than +the soul? Do you think material success more vital than the uplifting +of the real man? Do you look upon any gain won at the expense of a +man's character as a good thing?' + +'No,' I replied, 'I don't. I am afraid that, as a people, we are +gripped very strongly by the material side of things, but +theoretically, at all events, yes, and in a deeper way, too, we know +that character is of more importance than material advancement.' + +'Go a step further, sir. Supposing we could win this war at the +expense of the highest ideals of the nation; supposing we could crush +German militarism, and all the devilry which it has dragged at its +heels, by poisoning our own national life, and by binding ourselves by +the chains which we are trying to break in Germany; would it be a good +thing?' + +'Very doubtful, at all events,' I replied; 'but why are you harping on +that?' + +'Because I am bewildered, staggered. Don't mistake me; I have not the +slightest doubt about the righteousness of our cause. If ever there +was a call from Almighty God, there is a call now, and that call is +increasing in its intensity as the days go by. If Germany won, the +world would not be a fit place to live in; it would be crushed under +the iron heel of materialism and brutalism. All that we regard as +beautiful and holy, all that the best life of the world has been +struggling after, would be strangled, and the race of the nations would +be after material gain, material power, brute force. The more I think +of it, the more I realize this,--we are fighting for the liberty of the +world. But aren't our own men becoming enslaved while they are +fighting? Aren't we seeking to win this war of God at the price of our +own manhood?' + +He was so earnest, so sincere, that I could not help being impressed. +Besides, there was truth, a tremendous amount of truth, in what he was +saying. + +'Either this is God's war,' he went on, 'and we are fighting for God's +cause, or we are not. If it is simply a matter of meeting force by +force, devilry by devilry then there is not much to choose between us. +But if we as a nation,--the pioneer of nations, the greatest nation +under the sun,--are fighting for the advancement of the Kingdom of God, +then we should eschew the devil's weapons. We should see to it that no +victory is won at the cost of men's immortal souls. Besides, we gain +no real advantage; I am certain of that. I have been in this war long +enough to know that the stamina of our men, the quality of our men, is +not made better by this damnable thing. It is all the other way. Our +Army is a poorer army because of it, and we have lost more than we have +gained by the use of it. That is looking at it purely from the +physical standpoint. But surely, if a man believes in Almighty God, he +has higher conceptions; when a man fights in the Spirit of God, and +looks to Him for strength and for guidance, he has Omnipotent forces on +his side. That is why we ought to have won months ago. In reality, +this war at the beginning, was a war of might against right, and we +have been making it a war of might against might, and we have been +willing to sacrifice right for might.' + +'But surely,' I said, 'you who have seen a lot of fighting, and have +been over the top several times, know that the conditions are so +terrible that men do need help. You know, as well as I do, that an +artillery bombardment is hell, and that it needs a kind of artificial +courage to go through what the lads have to go through.' + +'And that brings me back to the point from which I started,' he cried. +'Are we willing to win this war at the cost of men's immortal souls? +Mind you, I don't admit your premise for a moment; to admit it would be +to impugn the courage of tens of thousands of the boys who have all +along refused to touch it. Do you mean to tell me that the abstainers +in the Army are less courageous than those who drink? Does any one +dare to state that the lads who have refused to touch it have been less +brave than those who have had it? To say that would be to insult the +finest fellows who ever lived. But here is the point; we admit that +drink is a curse, that it is a more baneful enemy than the Germans, +that it is degrading not only the manhood of England, but cursing +British womanhood, and yet we encourage its use. Now, assuming that +our victory depends on this stuff, are we justified in using it? It +may be rank treason to say so, but I say better lose the war than win +it by means of that which is cursing the souls of our men. But we are +not faced with that alternative. Our Army, brave as it is, great as it +is, glorious as it is, would be braver, greater, and more glorious, if +the thing were abolished for ever. And more than that, by making a +great sacrifice for the sake of our highest manhood, we should link +ourselves to Almighty God, and thus realize a power now unknown.' + +'Is that what the New Testament teaches you?' I said at length. 'Is +that the result of your becoming a Christian?' + +'Yes,' he replied eagerly. 'I have read through the New Testament +again and again. Every word which is recorded of our Lord's sayings I +have committed to memory, and I am sure that what I say is right. +Either Christianity is a dead letter, a mockery, or we have been +fighting this war in a wrong way. We have not been trusting to God for +strength, and what is more, the best men in our Army and Navy realize +it. Take the two men who, humanly speaking, have the affairs of this +war most largely in their hands: Admiral Beatty and Sir William +Robertson. What did Sir William Robertson say to one of the heads of +the Church of Jesus Christ in England? "Make the men religious, +Bishop," he said, "make the men religious." Have you seen that letter +he wrote? "We are trusting too much in horsemen and chariots, trusting +too much in the arm of flesh, and when the nation depends more on +spiritual forces, we shall be nearer victory." What did Admiral Beatty +say in that remarkable letter he wrote only a little while ago? "When +England looks out with humbler eyes, and with prayer on her lips, then +she can begin to count the days towards the end." Does England believe +that? "Not by might, nor by power, but by my Spirit, saith the Lord of +Hosts." Does the British Government believe that? Do the people +believe it? Do the Churches believe it?' + +'But we must have might, and we must have power,' I urged. + +'Of course we must. No one would think of denying it. But primarily, +_primarily_, our great hope, our great confidence is not in material +forces, but in spiritual. That is the point to which we as a nation +must get back, and when we do, the hosts of German militarism will +become but as thistledown. That is the call of God in these days, that +is what this war should do for our country, it should bring us back to +realities, bring us to God. Is it doing that, Captain Luscombe?' + +'You know as well as I,' I replied. 'I have not been home for a long +time.' + +'I shall see presently,' he said, for by this time the shores of +England were becoming more and more plain to us. 'Of course, while I +was at home during my training, I did not realize things as I do now; +my eyes had not been opened. But I shall study England in the light of +the New Testament.' + +'You will have a busy time,' I laughed. + +'I suppose I am to have a commission, sir,' he said just before leaving +the boat, 'and I am to go away into an Officers' Training Corps at +once. But I have your address and you shall hear from me.' + +That same night I wrote a letter to Lorna Bolivick, telling her of my +arrival in England, and informing her that in all probability Edgecumbe +would be in the country for some time. I wrote to Devonshire, because +I had been previously informed that she had been obliged to return home +on account of her health. + +Three days later I got her reply. + +'"Dear Captain Luscombe," she wrote, "I am awfully interested to hear +that you are back in England; of course you will come and see us. +Father insists that you shall, and you must _be sure_ to bring your +friend. _I shall take no refusal_. If you can give me his address, I +will write to him at once, although, seeing we have never met, I think +it will be better for you to convey my message. Tell him that I +_insist_ on you both coming as soon as possible. I have heaps of +things to tell you, but I can't write them. Besides, as we shall be +seeing each other soon, there is no need. Telegraph at once the time +you will arrive, and remember that I cannot possibly hear of any excuse +whatever from either of you."' + +Edgecumbe having informed me of his whereabouts, I went to see him, and +showed him the letter. + +'Why on earth should she want to see me?' he asked. + +'I don't know, except that I told her about our meeting,' I replied. +'She took a tremendous interest in you. Don't you remember? + +For a few seconds there was a far-away look in his eyes, then evidently +he came to a decision. + +'Yes, I'll go,' he said, 'I will. I--I--think----' But he did not +finish his sentence. + +A few days later, we were on our way to Devonshire together, I little +realizing the influence our visit would have on the future. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +DEVONSHIRE + +Before leaving for England, I had learned that Captain Springfield was +at a base hospital, and that although he was in a bad way, and not fit +to return home, there were good hopes of his recovery. Of St. Mabyn I +had heard nothing, but I imagined that very possibly Lorna Bolivick +would have news of him. As I have said before, Lorna's letter, written +on receipt of Paul Edgecumbe's photograph, had dispelled whatever ideas +I had entertained about his being identical with Maurice St. Mabyn. Of +course it was unthinkable, after what she had said. She had been so +pronounced in her statement that Edgecumbe's face was altogether +strange to her, and that she had never seen one like it before, that I +was obliged to abandon all my former suspicions; and yet, at the back +of my mind, I could not help believing that Edgecumbe and Springfield +were not strangers. + +Of another thing, too, I was certain. He had been an officer in the +Army. On the night before we started for Devonshire I had a talk with +the C.O. of the Officers' Training Corps to which Edgecumbe was +attached. He had been under his command only a few days, but the +attention of the C.O. had already been drawn to him. This man happened +to be an old acquaintance of mine, and he talked with me freely. + +'You say you know Edgecumbe?' he asked. + +'Yes,' I replied; 'he is a friend of mine.' + +'I had a long report of him from France, where he seems to have done +some fine things,' said the colonel. 'Of course you know he is to be +decorated?' + +'I had a hint of it before I left France,' I replied. + +'Would it be an indiscretion to ask you to tell me what you know of +him?' + +'I don't know that it would,' was my answer. 'Only I should like you +to understand that what I am going to tell you is in confidence. You +see, the situation is rather peculiar, and I do not think he wants his +mental condition known.' + +'Why? Is there anything wrong about him?' + +'Oh, no, nothing.' And then I repeated the story of our meeting in +Plymouth. + +'And his memory's not come back?' said Colonel Heywood. + +'No.' + +'I can tell you this about him, though. He is an old artillery +officer.' + +'How do you know?' I asked. + +'The thing is as plain as daylight,' was the reply. 'The man may have +no memory for certain things, and the story of his past may be a blank +to him, but he knows his job already.' + +'You mean----?' + +'I mean this,' interrupted the colonel, 'no man could have the +knowledge he has of an artillery officer's work, without a long and +severe training. If he had forgotten it has come to him like magic. +You know what our work is, and you know, too, that gunners are not made +in a day. But he had it all at his fingers' ends. The major drew my +attention to it almost immediately he joined us, so I determined to +test him myself. He is fit to be sent out right away; he could take +charge of a battery, without an hour's more training. There is not the +slightest doubt about it. I shall take steps to try and find out +particulars about our Indian Army, and whether any officers have been +missing. The fellow interests me tremendously. Why, he has almost a +genius for gunnery! He is full of ideas, too,' and the colonel +laughed. 'He, a cadet, could teach many of us older men our business. +Some day I'm inclined to think there'll be a romantic revelation!' + +It was through Colonel Heywood's good offices that I was allowed to +take Edgecumbe to Devonshire with me, as of course he, only having just +joined the corps, was not entitled to leave so soon. As it was, he was +allowed only a long week-end. I thought of these things on our way to +Devonshire, and I wondered what the future would bring forth. Anyhow, +it was a further blow, if further blow were needed to my suspicions. +Neither Captain Springfield nor Maurice St. Mabyn was an artillery +officer, and if Colonel Heywood was right, even although they had known +each other, they had belonged to different services. + +'I feel awfully nervous,' said Edgecumbe to me, after the train had +left Exeter. + +'Why?' + +'I am acting against my judgment in accepting this invitation; why +should I go to this house? I never saw this girl before, and from what +you tell me, you have met her only once.' + +'For that matter,' I said, 'I feel rather sensitive myself. The fact +that we have only met once makes it a bit awkward for me to be going to +her father's house.' + +'Did you fall in love with her, or anything of that sort?' he asked. + +'No-o,' I replied. 'I was tremendously impressed by her, and, for such +a short acquaintance, we became great friends. The fact that we have +kept up a correspondence ever since proves it. But there is no +suggestion of anything like love between us. I admire her +tremendously, but I am not a marrying man.' + +'I wonder how she'll regard _me_?' And Edgecumbe looked towards the +mirror on the opposite side of the railway carriage. 'I am a +curious-looking animal, aren't I? Look at my parched skin.' + +'It is not nearly as bad as it used to be,' I replied; 'it has become +almost normal. You are not so pale as you were, either.' + +'Don't you think so? Heavens, Luscombe, but I must have had a strange +experience to make me look as I did when you saw me first!' Then his +mood changed. 'Isn't this wonderful country? I am sure I have seen it +all before.' And he looked out of the carriage window towards the +undulating landscape which spread itself out before us. + +'It is a glorious country,' he went on, like one thinking aloud. +'France is like a parched desert after this. Think of the peacefulness +of it, too! See that little village nestling on the hillside! see the +old grey church tower almost hidden by the trees! That is what a +country village ought to be. Yes, I'll go to Bolivick, after all. If +I am uncomfortable, I can easily make an excuse for leaving. But I +want to see her; yes, I do really. You've made me interested in her. +I feel, too, as if something were going to happen. I am excited!' + +'Well, you won't be long now,' I replied, for just then the train drew +up at South Petherwin station. + +An old servant in livery approached me as we alighted. 'Captain +Luscombe, sir?' he queried in a way which suggested the old family +retainer. + +'Yes,' I replied. + +A few minutes later we were seated in an open carriage, while a pair of +spanking horses drew us along some typical Devonshire lanes. + +'This is better than any motor-car, after all!' cried Edgecumbe, as he +looked across the richly wooded valleys towards the wild moorland +beyond. 'After all, horses belong to a countryside like this; +motor-cars don't. If ever I----' but he did not complete his sentence. +He was looking towards an old stone mansion nestling among the trees. + +'That's it, that's surely it,' he cried. + +'Is that Bolivick?' I asked the coachman. + +'Yes, sir.' + +'You might have been here before, Edgecumbe,' I said. + +'No, no, I don't think I have--and yet--I don't know. It is familiar +to me in a way, and yet it isn't. But it _is_ glorious. See, the +sun's rim is almost touching the hill tops,--what colour! what infinite +beauty! Must not God be beautiful!' + +The carriage dashed through a pair of great grey granite pillars, and a +minute later we were in park lands, where the trees still threw their +shade over the cattle which were lying beneath them. + +'An English home,' I heard him say, 'just a typical English home. Oh, +the thought of it is lovely!' + +The carriage drew up at the door of the old mansion, and getting out, I +saw Lorna Bolivick standing there. + +'I am glad you've come,' and she gave a happy laugh. 'I should never +have forgiven you if you hadn't,' and she shook my hand just as +naturally as if she had known me all her life. Then she turned towards +Edgecumbe. 'And this is your friend,' she said; 'you don't know how +pleased I am to see you.' + +But Edgecumbe did not speak. His eyes were riveted on her face, and +they burned like coals of fire. I saw, too, by the tremor of his lips, +how deeply moved he was. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +LORNA BOLIVICK'S HOME + +For a moment I thought that Lorna Bolivick was somewhat annoyed at the +intense and searching look which Edgecumbe gave her. Her face flushed +somewhat, and a suggestion of anger flashed from her eyes. But this +was only for a moment; probably she remembered Edgecumbe's mental +condition, and made allowance accordingly. + +Edgecumbe still continued to look at her steadily, and I noticed that +his eyes, which, except at the times when they were wistful, were quiet +and steadfast, now shone like coals of fire. I saw, too, that he was +unable to govern his lips, which were trembling visibly. + +'Why do you look at me like that?' she said nervously; 'any one would +think you had seen me before somewhere.' + +'I have,' he replied. + +'Where?' + +He hesitated a second, and then said, 'In my dreams,'--and then, +realizing that his behaviour, to say the least of it, was not ordinary, +he hurriedly went on, 'Please forgive me, Miss Bolivick, but I never +remember having spoken to a woman before.' + +She looked at him in astonishment. I suppose the statement to her +seemed foolish and outrageous. + +'It is quite true,' he went on earnestly; 'ever since I met Captain +Luscombe at Plymouth I have been in the Army, and I am afraid I have +not been a very sociable kind of character. I have lived with men all +that time, and have been somewhat of a hermit. Of course I have seen +women, in England and in France,' and he laughed nervously. +'But--but--no, I have never spoken to one.' + +'And how do I strike you?' + +'You seem like a being from another and a more beautiful world,' he +replied gravely. 'I don't know, though, the world as one sees it here +is very beautiful'; and he glanced quickly across the park away to the +moors in the distance, which the setting sun had lit up with a purple +glow. + +At that moment Sir Thomas Bolivick, Lorna's father, came to the door, +and in a hearty West Country fashion gave us both a warm welcome. + +'Awfully good of you to come, Captain Luscombe,' he said. 'Granville +has spoken so much about you, that I feel as though you were an old +friend. Nonsense, nonsense!'--this in reply to my apologies for +accepting the invitation. 'In times like these, we can't stand upon +ceremony. You are a friend of Granville's, and you are a British +soldier, that's enough for me. Whatever this war has done, it has +smashed up a lot of silly conventions, it has helped us to be more +natural, and when Lorna here told me about you, I wanted to see you. +You see, I have read reports of your speeches, and when I saw that you +were mentioned in the dispatches, I wanted to know you more than ever. +So let there be no nonsense about your being a stranger.' + +Soon after, we were shown to our bedrooms, and after dressing for +dinner I went to Edgecumbe's room. + +'I--I--had forgotten,' he gasped. 'How--long have I been here?' + +'Twenty minutes. Aren't you going to put on your new togs?' + +He looked at me like a man in a dream. 'I had forgotten everything,' +he said, 'except----' + +'Except what? What's the matter, old fellow?' + +'I have no business to be here. I ought not to have come. Who am +I?--what am I? Just a poor wreck without a memory.' + +'A poor wreck without a memory!' I laughed. 'Don't be an ass, man. +Look at that ribbon on your new tunic! Think of all the flattering +things that have been said about you, and then talk about being a poor +wreck without a memory!' + +'I am an old man before my time,' and his voice was unnatural as he +spoke. 'Look at my face, seamed and lined. I am here on sufferance, +here because you have been a friend to me. I have no name, no past, +and no--no future.' + +'That's not like you, Edgecumbe,' I protested. 'You've always been a +jolly, optimistic beggar, and now you talk like an undertaker. Future! +why, you're a young fellow barely thirty. As for your name, you've +made one, my boy, and you'll make a bigger one yet, if I'm not +mistaken. You are a welcome guest here, too,--there is not the +slightest doubt about that.' + +'Yes, but what have I?' + +'Come now, get into those togs quick; we mustn't keep them waiting, you +know; it would not be courteous on our part, after all their kindness, +too.' + +A sudden change swept across his face. 'You are right, Luscombe,' he +said; 'I'm ashamed of myself. After all---- I'll be ready in five +minutes. There's one thing about a soldier's togs, it doesn't take +long to put 'em on.' + +It was a very quiet dinner party. The two Bolivick boys were away at +the front, and Lorna was the only one of the children at home. Sir +Thomas and Lady Bolivick were there, but beyond Norah Blackwater, +Edgecumbe and I were the only guests. + +It was evident to me that Edgecumbe was an entire stranger to Norah +Blackwater. Her face did not move a muscle at his appearance; and +although he sat next to her at table, she seemed to find no interest in +his conversation. He was very quiet during dinner, and although Sir +Thomas tried to draw him out, and make him describe some of the scenes +through which he had passed, he was peculiarly reticent. + +As I sat at the opposite side of the table, I was able to watch his +face closely, and I could not help being impressed by the fact that, +although he was very quiet, he was evidently under great excitement. I +saw, too, that sometimes for seconds together he, forgetful of Norah +Blackwater, would gaze steadily at Lorna Bolivick, as though she +fascinated him. I was afraid Sir Thomas did not like him, and as +presently the conversation led to our experiences at the front, I +determined that, although Edgecumbe might feel uncomfortable, I would +show the baronet the kind of man he really was. + +'Talking about tight corners,' I said, 'I got out of one of the +tightest corners ever I was in, in a peculiar way.' + +'Do tell us, Captain Luscombe,' cried Lorna, who had evidently been +uncomfortable under Edgecumbe's gaze. 'We have heard nothing about +your experiences, and I should like to hear something.' + +'It's a story of how one Englishman took thirty Germans prisoners,' I +said with a laugh. + +'One Englishman took thirty German prisoners!' cried the squire. 'Good +old English bull-dog! But how did he do it? Man, it's impossible!' + +'Nothing is impossible to a man who keeps his head cool, and has a +ready wit,' was my answer. I thereupon, without mentioning Edgecumbe's +name, described how I had been taken prisoner, and how I found myself +in the German trenches. + +'But how did you get out of such a hole as that?' cried the squire. + +'As I told you,' I said, 'I found myself with my sergeant in a huge +dug-out with thirty Germans. Of course our position was apparently +hopeless. They had got us, and meant to keep us. I had been +unconscious for a long time owing to a nasty knock I had got, and +therefore I was tremendously surprised when I presently heard an +English voice talking to the Germans. Evidently another English +prisoner had been brought in.' + +'Then you were three against thirty,' laughed the squire. + +'Three against thirty if you will,' I replied, 'but only one in +reality. I was no good, and my sergeant had no other hope than to be +buried in a German prison. The new-comer, however, evidently meant +business. All the time the English guns were booming, and our +explosives were tearing the Boches' trenches to pieces. As it +happened, we were too deep for them to reach us, although the danger +was that we might be buried alive. That gave this chap, whose face I +could not see, his chance, and he began to tell the Germans what idiots +they were to stay there in imminent danger of death, when they could +get to safety. He described the jolly times which German prisoners had +in England, and of the absolute certainty of their being licked on the +battle-field. Of course at first the Germans laughed at him, but he +went on talking, and in a few minutes he had got every one of them to +surrender.' + +'But that's impossible!' cried the squire. + +'It's a fact,' I said. 'Never in my life had I realized the effect +which a cool, courageous man could have upon a crowd of men. Call it a +miracle if you like,--indeed I always shall think of it as a +miracle,--but without once losing his nerve, or once revealing the +slightest lack of confidence, he worked upon the fears and hopes of +those Boches in such a way that he persuaded them to follow him, and +give themselves up in a body as prisoners. It was one of the most +amusing things you ever saw in your life, to see this one man lead +those thirty Boches, while they held up their hands and cried +"Kamerad."' + +'By George, sir!' said the squire, 'that's great, great, sir! No one +but an Englishman could do a thing like that. Ah, the old country is +the old country still! But who was he, an officer or a private?' + +'A private,' I replied. + +'And he rescued you, and took the whole thirty Huns as prisoners? By +Jove, I should like to know that man! Is he alive now?' + +'Very much alive,' I laughed. + +'Where is he, then?' + +I nodded my head towards Edgecumbe, who all the time had been sitting +in silent protest. + +But my story had done its work. The squire's apparent dislike was +over, and, acting upon the generous impulse of the moment, he started +to his feet and rushed to Edgecumbe's side. + +'Give me your hand, sir,' he cried; 'I am proud to know you, proud to +have you sitting at my table!' + +What Edgecumbe would have said, I do not know. He had been protesting +all the time as much as a man could protest with his eyes, and I knew +that like all men of his class he hated to have such deeds dragged into +the light of day, although I had done it with a set purpose. But as it +happened, there was no need for him to say anything. At that moment +the butler came behind Lady Bolivick's chair and spoke to her. + +'Captain Springfield!' she cried, 'and Charlie Buller. Oh, I am so +glad. Charlie's evidently better, then. He wrote, telling me, when I +asked him to come over to-night, that he was afraid he wouldn't be well +enough.' + +I do not know why it was, but at that moment I looked towards Lorna +Bolivick, and I saw her face flush with excitement. Evidently the +mention of the new-comers' names meant a great deal to her. + +Then I looked at Edgecumbe, and I saw that he too had been watching her. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +A NEW DEVELOPMENT + +Charlie Buller, as Lady Bolivick had called him, was a young fellow +about twenty-four years of age, and was first lieutenant in the +Devonshire yeomanry. He had been wounded in France, and some time +before my return to England had been in a hospital in London. Only a +few days before he had been discharged from the hospital, and had now +returned to his Devonshire home on leave. He was the only son of a +squire whose lands joined those of Sir Thomas Bolivick, and was, as +Norah Blackwater told me during the evening, a suitor for Lorna +Bolivick's hand. + +'I think it is as good as settled,' she said to me, 'although no +engagement has been announced. He will be a splendid match for her, +too, and owns one of the finest estates in Devonshire. Didn't you see +how excited Lorna became when she heard that he had come?' + +This was the first time I had seen Springfield since I had helped +Edgecumbe to dig him from under a heap of rubbish in France. + +They had both dined early, they said, and the night being fine, had +motored over, Charlie Buller's home being only four miles from Bolivick. + +Buller was a good-looking boy, fresh-coloured, curly-haired, and +although in no way remarkable, quite likeable. Springfield I liked +less now than when I had first seen him. His face looked paler and +less wholesome than ever. The old scar which I had noticed on our +first meeting revealed itself more plainly, while his somewhat sinister +appearance repelled me. + +Sir Thomas, however, gave him a hearty greeting, and welcomed him to +his house with great cordiality. Sir Thomas had dined well, and was by +this time in great good humour. + +'This is splendid!' he cried, 'four men in khaki here all together! +Ah, don't I wish my boys were at home to complete the party! But +there, never mind, please God they'll come back.' + +Springfield was introduced to Edgecumbe as though he were an entire +stranger, and neither of them gave the slightest indication that they +had ever met before. I wondered, as I saw them, whether Springfield +had been aware of the name of the man who had, in all probability, +saved him from death. I did not quite see how he could have been +ignorant of it, and yet, from the way he greeted Edgecumbe, it might +have been that he was in entire ignorance. + +But one thing was evident to me. He hated him, and what was more, +feared him. I could see his face quite plainly, and there was no +mistaking the look in his eyes. The conversation I had heard while +lying in that copse in France months before flashed back to my mind, +and I knew that in some way the life of Captain Springfield was linked +to that of Edgecumbe, and that if the truth were known evil forces were +at work. What they were, I could not divine, but that they existed I +had no doubt whatever. + +I soon realized, too, that he exercised a great influence over young +Buller. That ruddy-faced, fair-haired young fellow was but as wax in +his hands. There seemed no reason why I should be disturbed at this, +but I was. I was apprehensive of the future. + +Another thing struck me, too. In a way, which I could not understand, +he was wearing down Lorna Bolivick's former repugnance to him. As my +readers may remember, she had greatly disliked him at their first +meeting, and had told me in confidence that he made her think of +snakes. Now she listened to him eagerly, and seemed fascinated by his +presence. I had to admit, too, that the fellow talked well, and +although he was anything but an Apollo in appearance, he possessed a +charm of manner which I could not deny. + +I must confess that I felt angry at this. In spite of my admiration of +his strength, I disliked him intensely. I was sure he wore a mask, and +that some dark mystery surrounded his life. So angry was I, that I +determined if possible to turn the tables upon him. And so, at the +close of one of his stories, I broke in upon the conversation. + +'Yes, Captain Springfield,' I said, 'what you say is quite true. The +quiet heroism shown by fellows whom the world regarded as entirely +commonplace is simply wonderful, and a great deal of it has never come +to light. By the way, you wouldn't have been here to-night but for the +heroism of a man whose action you seem to have forgotten.' + +'Is that so?' he asked. 'It is quite possible, although I am not aware +of what you are thinking.' + +'Surely you must be aware of it?' I replied. + +He looked at me curiously, as though he were in doubt whether I was +friendly disposed towards him. + +'I wish you'd tell me exactly what you mean,' he said. + +'Surely you are aware of what happened to you, and why you were sent to +hospital, and why you are home on sick leave now?' + +'To tell you the truth, I know precious little,' he replied. 'All I +remember is the shriek of a shell, the noise of ten thousand thunders, +absolute blackness, and then coming to consciousness in a hospital.' + +'Then you don't know what happened between the noise of the ten +thousand thunders and awaking in the hospital?' + +'No,' he replied, 'I don't. I do remember inquiring, but I was told to +be quiet, and when, on my becoming stronger, I was removed to the base, +no one seemed to be able to tell me what had happened to me. I should +be jolly glad to know. Perhaps you can tell me'; and there was a +suggestion of a sneer in his voice. + +'Yes,' I replied, 'I can.' + +By this time there was a deathly silence in the room. In a way which I +had not imagined I had changed the whole atmosphere of the place. + +'As it happened,' I said, 'I had a curious experience myself, close to +where you were. A shell had exploded not far from me, and I was half +buried, besides receiving a tremendous shock. I managed to drag myself +out from under the _débris_, however, and was in a confused kind of way +trying to find my men. You know what an awful day that was; the +Germans had located us to a nicety, and were sending tons of explosives +on us. It was one of the hottest times I have ever known.' + +'Heavens! it was,' he said, and I thought he shuddered. + +'We had passed the Germans' first line,' I continued, 'and I was +struggling along in the open, hardly knowing what I was doing, when I +saw some men whom I thought I recognized. I heard the awful whine of a +shell, which fell close by, and it was not a dud. It exploded with a +tremendous noise, and for some time I was wellnigh blinded by dust and +sulphurous smoke. A great hole had been torn in the ground, and a huge +heap of rubbish hurled up. After a bit I saw a man digging as if for +very life. He was right out in the open, and in the greatest danger a +man could be. The men who were still alive shouted to him to get into +the shell-hole, but he went on digging.' + +I was silent for a few seconds. I did not know how best to conclude +the story. + +'Well, what happened?' he asked. + +'He dug you out,' I replied. + +'How do you know it was I?' + +'Because I helped to carry you to a place of safety.' + +'By Jove! I knew nothing about it. But who was the chap who dug me +out? I should like to know.' + +'Surely you know?' + +'I told you I was unconscious for several days,' was his answer, 'and +when I asked questions, was told nothing. Who was the chap who dug me +out? I--I should like to thank him.' + +'He is there,' I replied, nodding towards Edgecumbe, who seemed to be +deeply interested in Bairnfather's _Five Months at the Front_. + +'What!' he cried. 'Did--did----' The sentence died in an +unintelligible mutter. He seemed to utter a name I could not catch. +All the time I was watching him intently, and never shall I forget the +look that passed over his face. He had been very pale before, but now +his pallor was ghastly. For a moment he looked almost like a dead man, +save for the gleam in his eyes. He was like one struggling with +himself, struggling to obtain the mastery over some passion in his own +heart. + +It was some seconds before he spoke again, and then, in spite of my +dislike for him, I could not help admiring him. The sinister gleam +passed away from his eyes, and a look of seemingly great gladness came +into his face. A second later, he had crossed the room to where +Edgecumbe was. + +'I say, Edgecumbe,' he said, 'was it you who did that for me?' and he +held out his hand with frank heartiness. + +'Did what?' asked Edgecumbe quietly. + +'What--what Luscombe has been talking about. You heard, of course?' + +For a moment Edgecumbe looked at him awkwardly. For the second time +during that evening I had subjected him to an experience which he hated. + +'I wish Luscombe wouldn't talk such rot,' he replied; 'after all, it +was nothing.' + +'Oh, but it was!' was Springfield's reply. 'Give me your hand, +man,--you saved my life. The doctors told me afterwards I had a near +shave, and--and--there, you understand, don't you?' + +Seemingly he was overcome with emotion, and for some time he lapsed +into silence. The others in the room were greatly moved, too--too +moved to speak freely. There were none of those effusive +congratulations which might seem natural under the circumstance. In a +way the situation was dramatic, and we all felt it. + +Although he promised to come over on the following day, he seemed very +subdued as he bade us good night, though I thought he struggled to +speak naturally. It was only when he parted with Edgecumbe, however, +that he showed any signs of emotion. + +'Good night,' he said, as he grasped his hand. 'I shan't pretend to +thank you. Words fail, don't they? But I shall never forget you, +never--never; and if ever I can pay you back----' + +He stopped short, and seemed to be struggling to say more, but no words +escaped him. A minute later he had left the house. + + +I had barely entered my room that night, when Edgecumbe knocked at the +door which led from his apartment to mine. 'May I come in?' he asked. + +I opened the door, and scarcely noticing me he staggered to an +arm-chair, and threw himself into it. + +'I want to tell you something,' he said. + +'Well, what is it?' + +But he did not speak. He sat staring into vacancy. + +'Come, old man,' I said, after a lapse of many minutes, 'what is it?' + +'If I weren't sure there was another life,' was his reply, 'I--I should +go mad.' + +'Go mad! Why?' + +'Because this life is such a mockery, such a ghastly, hollow mockery!' + +'Don't be silly. Why is it a mockery?' + +'I don't suppose you can understand,' he said, 'not even you. Oh, I am +a fool!' + +'How has that fact so suddenly dawned on you?' I asked with a laugh. + +'I was mad to come here, mad to see her. Why, just think,--here am I, +without name, without home, without--without anything! But how did _I_ +know! Am _I_ to blame? I couldn't help falling in love with her.' + +'Falling in love with her! With whom?' + +'You must know; you must have seen. It is driving me mad, Luscombe! I +would,--I would,--oh, God knows what I would do to get her! But think +of it! Think of the ghastly mockery of it! There she is, young, fair, +beautiful, a fit mate for the best in the world, and I--think of what I +am! Besides, there's that man,--I know him,--I know him, Luscombe.' + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +A TRAGIC HAPPENING + +I must confess I was staggered. The thought of Paul Edgecumbe falling +in love had never entered my mind. I do not know why it should have +been so, but so it was. He had seemed so far removed from all thoughts +of the tender passion, and had been so indifferent to the society of +women, that to think of him falling in love at first sight seemed pure +madness. But I did not doubt his words; the intensity of his voice, +the look in his eyes, the tremor of his lips, all told their tale. Of +course it was madness, but the fact was patent enough. + +'You can't be serious,' I said, although I knew I was speaking +foolishly. + +'Serious! It's a matter of life or death with me. Besides, there's +that man. I know him, I say,--I know him.' + +'Of course you know him,' I replied. 'You saved his life, and pretty +nearly got killed yourself in doing it.' + +'I wish I had been. But no, I don't; He must never have her, Luscombe, +never! It would be a crime, and worse than a crime. Why, he is----' +Then he stopped again, and with wild eyes seemed staring into vacancy. + +'Come, come,' I said, 'this won't do. He has no thoughts about Lorna +Bolivick.' + +'Did he tell you so?' + +'Of course he didn't; there is no reason why he should; but Miss +Blackwater told me it was as good as settled that she should marry +young Buller.' + +'No, the danger doesn't lie there. Why, you could see that, if you had +eyes. Didn't you watch him while he was talking during the early part +of the evening?--didn't you see how he looked at her? He's a bad man, +I tell you! Have you ever seen a serpent trying to fascinate a bird? +I have--where I don't know, but I have. He was just like that, and she +yielded to his fascination, too; you must have noticed it! Buller is a +nonentity, just a harmless, good-natured, weak boy. He could be a tool +in another man's hands, though,--Springfield could make him do +anything.' + +He did not look at me while he spoke; he seemed to be staring at some +far distant object. + +'You say you know Springfield,' I said; 'what did you mean by that?' + +'I mean,--I have met him before somewhere.' + +'Where?' + +'I don't know. I only know I have. Do you remember that time over in +France, when he made that strange noise?' + +I nodded. + +'It was an old Indian cry. It was a cry that always means vengeance. +It was he who made it,--do you remember? Afterwards I saw his face. I +knew then I had seen him somewhere, but where, I don't know. Oh, if +only this thick veil of the past could be turned aside, and I could +see! Oh, if I could only remember!--but I can't. I tell you, that man +knows me--he remembers. Did you watch his eyes when he looked at me? +And I am helpless, helpless!--and she is so young, so beautiful, so +pure. I can't understand it at all, and yet, when I saw her this +evening for the first time, as she stood in the doorway with the light +of the setting sun upon her face---- I am so helpless,' he continued. +'I can do nothing. Besides----' + +As I have said, I had learnt to love Paul Edgecumbe, and although I +realized his madness as much as he did, I wanted to lift the weight of +care from his life. + +'If what you told me some months ago is true, there is no room for +despair,' I urged. + +'What did I tell you?' + +'You told me you had found a great secret,' I replied; 'that you had +become sure of Almighty God. If that is true, there is no room for +hopelessness; despair's out of the question.' + +He sat quietly for a few seconds, and then leapt to his feet. 'You are +right,' he said; 'there is no chance in the world, there is no such +thing as luck. I can't explain it a bit, but there isn't. God never +makes a mistake. After all, I could not help falling in love with her, +and my love has a meaning. Of course she is not for me,--I am not +worthy of her; but I can defend her, I can see that no harm happens to +her. Yes, I see, I see. Good night, Luscombe, I--I want to be alone +now'; and without another word he passed back into his own room. + +The next day was Saturday, and we spent the morning roaming through the +countryside around Bolivick, and climbing a rugged tor which lay some +distance at the back of the house. + +As we neared the house after our long morning's walk, Lorna Bolivick +broke out abruptly: 'I am disappointed in your friend, Captain +Luscombe.' + +'Why?' I asked. + +'I don't know. I think I admire him--in fact I am sure I do. He +possesses a strange charm, and, in a way, he's just splendid. But why +does he dislike me?' + +'Does he dislike you?' I asked. + +'Can't you see? He avoids me. When for a few minutes we are together, +he never speaks.' + +'That doesn't prove he dislikes you.' + +'Oh, but he does! He acts so strangely, too.' + +'You must make allowances for him,' I said. 'You must remember his +history. He told you last night that you were the first lady he ever +remembered speaking to. It seemed an extravagant statement, but in a +way it is true. What his past has been I don't know, but since I knew +him his life has never been influenced by women. Think what that means +to a man! Besides, he is sensitive and shy. I can quite understand +his being uneasy in your presence.' + +'Am I such an ogress, then?' And she looked into my face with a laugh. +'Besides, why should he be sensitive about me?' + +'Might not his peculiar mental condition make him afraid of offending +you?' I asked. 'Of course it is not for me to say, but I can quite +understand his being very anxious to impress you favourably. And +because he thinks he is awkward, and uninteresting, he is afraid to be +natural, and to act as he would like to act.' + +'I wish you could let him know,' said Lorna in her childlike +outspokenness, 'that I admire him tremendously. I had no idea he had +been such a hero. The way he saved Captain Springfield was just beyond +words. Oh, it must have been horrible for you all!' + +'In a way it was,' I replied. 'But do you know, in spite of the horror +of everything, most of the men look upon it as great sport. You are +altering your opinion of Captain Springfield, aren't you?' + +'How do you know?' And I saw that her face flushed. + +'When we met him over at Granitelands, you told me that he made you +think of snakes.' + +'Yes, but I was silly, and impulsive. Even you can't deny that he is +fascinating. Besides, I always admire mysterious, strong men.' + +'Will you promise me something, Lorna?' I ventured after an awkward +silence. + +'Of course I will if I can. What is it?' + +But I had not time to tell her; we had come up to the house at that +moment, and I saw both Springfield and Buller, who had come over to +lunch, hurrying towards us. + +Our greetings were scarcely over, when Edgecumbe and Norah Blackwater +came up. Immediately Springfield saw them a change came over his face. +He had met Lorna Bolivick with a laugh, but as he saw Edgecumbe the +laugh died on his face, while the scar on his cheek became more +pronounced. + +As far as I can remember, nothing of special note happened during the +afternoon, but in the evening, just before dinner, I saw a ghastly +pallor creep over Edgecumbe's face, and then suddenly and without +warning he fell down like one dead. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +A MYSTERIOUS ILLNESS + +Of course Edgecumbe's sudden illness caused great commotion. Nearly +every member of the family was present at the time, and confusion +prevailed. Buller asked foolish questions, I was nearly beside myself +with anxiety, Sir Thomas hazarded all sorts of guesses as to the reason +of his malady, Norah Blackwater became nearly hysterical, while Lorna +Bolivick looked at him with horror-stricken eyes. + +The only two persons who seemed to retain their senses were Captain +Springfield and Lady Bolivick. The former suggested that in all +probability it was a sudden attack resulting from the life he had led +in India, and also suggesting that a doctor should be sent for at once, +while Lady Bolivick summoned the servants to carry him to bed +immediately. Both of these suggestions were immediately acted on. A +groom was dispatched to the nearest doctor, who lived at South +Petherwin village, while a few minutes later Edgecumbe lay in bed with +a look of death upon his face. + +The whole happening had been so sudden, that I was unable to view it +calmly. That morning he had looked more than usually well, so well +that I could not help reflecting how much younger he appeared than on +the day when I had first seen him. He had taken a long walk, too, and +showed not the slightest sign of fatigue on his return. He had eaten +sparingly, and had drunk nothing but water with his lunch, and a cup of +tea at four o'clock. Yet at half-past six he had the stamp of death +upon his face, he breathed with difficulty, and his features were drawn +and haggard. + +As I sat by his side, watching him until the doctor came, I remembered +that for perhaps an hour before his attack he was very silent, and had +moved around as though he were lacking in energy, but I had thought +little of it at the time. Now, however, his condition told its own +tale. To all appearances, he was dying, and we were all powerless to +help him. + +Of course dinner, as far as I was concerned, was out of the question, +although, as I was afterwards informed, Captain Springfield made an +excellent meal. + +It was nearly eight o'clock when the doctor arrived, and never surely +was a man greeted with more eagerness than I greeted him. For, as I +have already said, I had grown to love Edgecumbe with a great love; why +it was, I will not pretend to explain, but no man ever loved a brother +more than I loved him, and the thought of his death was simply horrible. + +Perhaps the suddenness of everything accounted for my intense feeling; +anyhow, my intense anguish cannot be explained in any other way. + +Dr. Merril did not inspire me with any great hope. He was a +middle-aged man of the country practitioner's type. I judged that he +could be quite useful in dealing with ordinary ailments, but he did not +strike me as a man who looked beneath the surface of things, and who +could deal successfully with a case like Edgecumbe's. Evidently no +particulars of the case had been given to him, and from the confident +way I heard him talking to Sir Thomas, who brought him up to the room, +he might have been called in to deal with a child who had a slight +attack of measles. + +When he saw Edgecumbe, however, a change passed over his face. The +sight of my friend, gasping for breath, with what looked like +death-dews on his agonized face, made him think that he had to deal +with a man in his death agony. + +A few minutes later I altered my opinion of Dr. Merril. He was not so +commonplace, or so unobservant as I had imagined. He examined +Edgecumbe carefully, and, as I thought, asked sensible questions, which +Sir Thomas and Lady Bolivick, both of whom had come into the room, +answered readily. Although he did not speak to me, he doubtless +noticed how interested I was in his patient, and more than once I saw +that he looked at me questioningly. + +'I admit I am baffled,' he said at length. + +I took this as a good sign as far as he was concerned; anyhow, he was +not a man who professed to be wise, while he was in actual ignorance. + +'I gather from what you say,' he went on, speaking to Sir Thomas, 'that +Captain Luscombe knows most about him.' + +'That is so, Merril,' replied Sir Thomas. 'I have explained to you the +circumstances under which he came here.' + +'That being so,' and the doctor spoke very gravely, 'I think it would +be best for you all to leave me, except Captain Luscombe.' + +'There is something here beneath the surface,' said Dr. Merril when we +were alone, 'something which I cannot grasp. Can you help me? +Evidently you have been thinking a great deal.' + +'I have,' I replied. + +'As far as I can judge, he has sufficient vitality to keep him alive +for a few hours. I should judge him to be a man of remarkable +constitution and great physical strength.' + +'You are quite right there. His power of endurance is extraordinary.' + +'What I can't understand,' said the doctor, 'is that there is no +apparent cause for this, and yet there is some force of which I am +ignorant undermining the very citadel of his life. I have never met +such a case before, and unless help comes, he will die in less than +twelve hours. I am speaking to you quite frankly, Captain Luscombe; +from what I know of you, you are quite aware of the limitations of a +medical man's power, and my experience during the time I have lived in +this district has not been of a nature to help me in such a case as +this. Will you tell me what you know of your friend?' + +As briefly as I could, I gave an outline of what I have written in +these pages, while the doctor, without asking a single question, +listened intently. + +'You say he does not drink?' he asked, when I had finished. 'He gives +not the slightest evidence of it, but it is necessary for me to know.' + +'Intoxicants have not passed his lips for more than a year,' I replied. + +'And his food?' + +I detailed to him the food which Edgecumbe had eaten since he came to +the house, and which he had partaken of in common with the rest of the +members of the household. + +'And you have been with him all the day?' + +'All the day.' + +'And you say you thought he became somewhat lethargic about five +o'clock?' + +'That is so. Not enough to take particular note of at the time, but in +the light of what has happened since, I recall it to mind.' + +'Now think,' he said presently, 'has he not, say since lunch, shown any +symptom of light-headedness or anything of that sort?' + +'Thank you for asking that, doctor,' I replied. 'You have reminded me +of something which I had forgotten. It may mean nothing, but at a time +like this one reflects upon the minutiae of life. We were walking +through a field this afternoon, which was dotted with rough granite +rocks. I fancy he must have hitched his foot in one of them; at any +rate, he would have fallen heavily but for Captain Springfield, who +just in the nick of time helped him up. But he showed no signs of +light-headedness, not the slightest. We were all acting like a lot of +children, and romped as though we were boys home from school. The +happening seemed perfectly natural to me at the time, and but for your +question I should not have mentioned it.' + +'I am going to speak to you in an entirely unprofessional way, Captain +Luscombe,' said the doctor. 'I am not sure, and therefore I speak with +hesitation. But it looks to me as though your friend had been +poisoned. I don't know how it could have happened, because, as far as +I can judge, you account for almost every minute of his time since this +morning. But all his symptoms point in that direction.' + +'May they not be the result of some slow-working malady which has been +in his system for years?' I asked. + +Dr. Merril shook his head. 'Hardly,' he replied; 'if the malady were +slow-working, it would not have expressed itself so suddenly. In the +case of a slow-working poison, too, his suffering would have been of a +long drawn-out nature. This is altogether different. A few hours ago +he was, according to your account, active, buoyant, strong. He was +playing games with you in the fields, as though he were a boy. +Now,'--and the doctor looked significantly at the bed. + +'Can you suggest nothing?' I asked again. + +The doctor shook his head. 'It is just as well to be frank,' he +replied. 'The thing is a mystery to me. His symptoms baffle me. He +has drunk nothing but what you have told me of, he has eaten nothing +except what has been consumed by the whole household. I don't know +what to say.' + +'And yet he'll die if nothing's done for him.' + +'If symptoms mean anything, they mean that,' he replied. 'Something +deadly is eating away at his vitals, and sapping the very foundations +of his life. You see, he can tell us nothing; he is unconscious.' + +'Is there no doctor for whom we could send, with whom you could confer?' + +Again Dr. Merril shook his head. 'We are away from everything here,' +he replied; 'it is fifty miles to Plymouth over rough, hilly roads, +and----' + +'I have it!' I cried, for the word Plymouth set my mind working. I had +spent some time there, and knew the town well. + +'Yes, what is it?' asked the doctor eagerly. + +'Do you happen to know Colonel McClure? He is chief of the St. +George's Military Hospital in Plymouth.' + +'An Army doctor,' said Merril; 'no, I don't know him. I have heard of +him. But how can he help? He has been most of his life in India. I +imagine, too, that while he may be very good for amputations and +wounds, he would have no experience in such cases as this. Of course I +shall be glad to meet him, if you can get him here; but that seems +impossible. No trains to Plymouth to-night, and to-morrow is Sunday.' + +'May I ring for Sir Thomas?' I asked. + +'By all means.' And a minute later not only Sir Thomas, but Lady +Bolivick, again entered the room. Evidently the old gentleman was much +moved. The thought of having a dying man in his house was like a +nightmare to him. + +'There's no getting to Plymouth to-night!' he cried. + +'Haven't you got a motor-car here?' + +'Yes, but no chauffeur. My car hasn't been used for weeks, as my man +has been called up. That is why I am obliged to use horses for +everything. You see, my coachman can't drive a car.' + +'Didn't Springfield and Buller come in a car?' I asked. + +'Yes. But if I remember right, it was in a two-seater.' + +'Never mind what it is, as long as it will get to Plymouth. Let us go +and speak to them.' + +We found the two men with Lorna Bolivick and Norah Blackwater in the +library. They had evidently finished dinner, and Springfield was in +the act of pouring a liqueur into his coffee as I entered. + +'How is the patient?' he asked almost indifferently. + +'Very ill indeed,' I replied. 'Unless something is done for him soon, +he will die. Could you,' and I turned to Buller, 'motor to Plymouth, +and fetch a doctor I will tell you of? I will give you a note for him.' + +'Awfully sorry,' said Buller, 'but I daren't drive. My left leg is so +weak that I couldn't work the clutch. Springfield had to run us over +here to-day. There's barely enough petrol to take us back, either.' + +'I have plenty of petrol,' interposed Sir Thomas. + +'I could never get that little bassinette of yours to Plymouth +to-night!' broke in Springfield. 'You see, I am still suffering from +my little stunt in France, and I am as weak as a rabbit. Besides, +Buller's machine isn't fit for such a journey.' + +'My car is all right,' cried Sir Thomas. 'But I can't drive, and I +haven't a man about the place who can.' + +'Do you know the road to Plymouth?' I asked Buller. + +'Every inch of it,' he replied. + +'Then I'll drive, if you will go with me to show me the way.' + +I felt miserable at the idea of leaving Edgecumbe, but there seemed no +other way out of it. + +'Surely you will not leave your friend?' interposed Springfield. 'He +may not be as bad as you think, and to-morrow the journey could easily +be managed.' + +'It is a matter of life and death,' was my reply. 'Merril says that +unless something is done for him at once there is no hope for him.' + +'What does he think is the matter with him?' + +I did not reply. Something seemed to seal my lips. I saw +Springfield's features working strangely, while the scar under his +right ear was very strongly in evidence. + +'Look here,' he said, as if with sudden decision, 'it's a shame for you +to leave your friend under such circumstances. If Sir Thomas will lend +his car, I will drive to Plymouth. You just write a letter, Luscombe, +giving your doctor friend full particulars, and I'll drag him here by +the hair of the head, if necessary.' + +I had not time to reflect on his sudden change of front, and I was +about to close with the offer, but something, I cannot tell what, +stopped me. + +'It's awfully good of you,' I said, 'but I think I'll go myself, if +Buller will go with me to show me the way.' + +I found Dr. Merril, who had been giving some instructions as to things +he wanted, and I led him aside. + +'You will keep near Edgecumbe, won't you?' I said hurriedly. 'Don't +let any one but Sir Thomas and Lady Bolivick enter the room. I have +particular reasons for asking this.' + +'What reasons?' And I could see he was surprised. + +'I can't tell you, but I don't speak without thought. Perhaps later I +may explain.' + +A few minutes later I had started for Plymouth. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +A STRANGE NIGHT + +'I say, Luscombe, you're a nice fellow to drag one out in the middle of +the night in this way!' + +Colonel McClure had just entered the room where I had been shown. + +'I wouldn't have done it without reason,' I said. 'I have travelled +fifty miles to-night to get to you, and I want you to come with me to Sir +Thomas Bolivick's at once.' + +'Sir Thomas Bolivick? I don't know him. Why should I come with you?' + +'At any rate, hear what I have to say, and then judge for yourself.' + +He listened attentively, while I told him my story. At first he seemed +to think lightly of it, and appeared to regard my visit to him as the act +of a madman; but when I related my conversation with Dr. Merril, I saw +that his face changed colour, and his eyes contracted. + +'Tell me the symptoms again,' he said abruptly. + +I described to him as minutely as I was able everything concerning my +friend, and then, without asking another question, he unlocked a cabinet, +took out a number of things which were meaningless to me, and put them in +a bag. + +'Go and get your car started again,' he said, 'and wait for me.' + +In an incredibly quick time, he had made himself ready for the journey, +and insisted on taking his seat by my side. + +'You sit behind,' he said to Buller, so peremptorily that he seemed like +a man in anger. Then turning to me, he said, 'Drive like blazes!' + +For the first hour of our return journey, he did not speak a word. He +was evidently in deep thought, and his face was as rigid as marble. +Then, suddenly, he began to ask questions, questions which at first +seemed meaningless. He asked me to describe the scenery around Bolivick, +and then he questioned me concerning Sir Thomas Bolivick's household, +after which he asked me to give him details concerning every member of +the family. + +'Have you made up your mind concerning the case?' I asked presently. + +'How can I tell until I have examined the man?' + +'But you heard what I have told you?' + +'And you have told me nothing.' + +'It seems to me I have told you a great deal, and I tell you this, +McClure,--if it is within human skill to save him, you must.' + +'Aren't I taking this long, beastly midnight journey,' he replied, like a +man in anger, 'do you think I am doing this for fun? I say, tell me more +about this Edgecumbe; it is necessary that I should have full +particulars.' + +After I had described our meeting, and our experiences in France, he +again sat for some time perfectly silent. He took no notice of what I +said to him, and did not even reply to direct questions. But that he was +thinking deeply I did not doubt. + +'That's South Petherwin church,' I said, as the car dashed through the +village; 'it's only a mile or two now.' + +'That Dr. Merril seems a sensible chap. You say you asked him to admit +no one into the room but Sir Thomas and Lady Bolivick. Why?' + +'I hardly know,' I replied. 'I think I acted on impulse.' + +'A very good thing, sometimes.' And after that he did not speak another +word till we reached the house. + +When I entered Edgecumbe's room I found him still alive, but weaker. I +noticed that a kind of froth had gathered around his mouth, and that his +eyes had a stony stare. He was still unconscious, and had not uttered a +coherent sentence since I had left. + +'Will every one kindly leave the room except Dr. Merril?' And Colonel +McClure looked towards Sir Thomas and Lady Bolivick as he spoke. + +'Do you wish me to go too, Colonel?' I said. + +'I think my words were plain enough,' and he spoke like a man in a temper. + +'I suppose every one has gone to bed,' I remarked to Sir Thomas. + +'No, Lorna is still up. She is a silly girl,--of course she can do no +good.' + +'And Captain Springfield?' + +'He left about midnight. He asked to be allowed to see the patient, but +Merril wouldn't let him go into the room. I thought he behaved to the +captain like a clown.' + +'In what way?' + +'Well, Springfield's a clever fellow, and has seen many curious cases of +illness while he has been in the East. He said that Edgecumbe's +condition reminded him of the illness of an orderly he once had, and +wanted to tell Merril about him. But doctors are all the same, they all +claim to be autocrats in a sick-room. My word, Luscombe, you must have +had a weary night. My advice to you is to go to bed immediately.' + +'Not until I have heard McClure's report.' + +When we came into the library, we found Buller and Lorna Bolivick there. +I thought the young squire seemed anxious and ill at ease, while Lorna +was much excited. On seeing me, however, she asked eagerly for news of +Edgecumbe. + +'There is nothing to tell as yet,' I replied. 'By the way, how did +Springfield get home?' + +'Oh, he took the car.' + +'And how did he imagine that Buller was to get back?' + +'I expect he forgot all about Charlie,' was the reply, 'but--he seemed +rather excited, and insisted that he must return at once. Charlie will +have to stay here until daylight, and then some one can drive him over.' + +As may be imagined, after driving a heavy car for over a hundred miles at +night-time, I was dead tired, but I offered to run Buller home. The +truth was, I was in such a state of nervous tension that I could not +remain inactive, and the thought of sitting still while McClure and +Merril consulted about my friend's condition drove me to madness. + +'Will you?' asked Buller. 'I--I think I should like to get back,' and I +could see that he also was nervous and ill at ease. + +'I can get you to your place in a few minutes,' I said, 'and by the time +I get back I hope the doctors will have something to tell us.' + +A few minutes later, as we were moving rapidly to Buller's house, I said +abruptly, 'Was it not rather strange that Springfield should take your +car?' + +'I suppose it was,' he replied, 'but he is a funny fellow.' + +'What do you know about him?' I asked. + +'There is not much to know, is there?' and he spoke hesitatingly. 'The +Army List will give you full particulars of his career. I believe he has +spent most of his time abroad.' + +'I have neither had time nor opportunity to study Army Lists. How long +was he in India?' + +'Not long; only two or three years, I think.' + +'Is he any one in particular?' I asked. + +I could see by the light of the moon, which was now high in the heavens, +that the young fellow looked at me attentively, as though he was trying +to read my motive in asking these questions. + +'I think he expects to be,' was his reply; 'he is as poor as a church +mouse now, but St. Mabyn says he is heir to a peerage, and that he will +have pots of money some time.' + +'What peerage?' + +'I really never asked him. It--it wasn't quite my business, was it? He +isn't the sort of chap to talk about himself.' + + +Sir Thomas was still up when I got back to the house, and the sight of +his face struck terror into my heart. He, who was usually so florid, +looked positively ghastly. His flesh hung loosely on his cheeks, while +he was very baggy around the eyes. + +'Have you heard anything?' I asked. + +'I don't know, I am not sure,' he replied, 'but I think it is all over.' + +'All over! What do you mean?' + +'As soon as you had gone, I sent my wife and Lorna to bed. I wouldn't +have them stay up any longer. You see, they could do no good.' + +'Have you seen the doctors?' + +'No. But I was frightfully nervous, and I crept up to the door of +Edgecumbe's room. I heard them talking together.' + +'What did they say?' + +'I could detect nothing plainly, but I am sure I heard one of them say, +"It's all over." Oh, it is positively awful! I never had such a thing +happen in my house before. Please don't think I blame you, Luscombe; you +didn't know that such a thing would happen when you brought him here. +But the thought of a guest dying in my house is--is--don't you see----?' + +'I am going to know the worst, anyhow,' I said, for, although I quite +understood his feelings and was naturally upset at the thought of my +being the occasion of his trouble, it was as nothing compared with my +anxiety about my friend. + +I therefore abruptly left him, and rushed upstairs to Edgecumbe's room. +I knocked, but receiving no answer I went in. + +'How is he?' I asked. + +Neither of them spoke, and from the look on their faces I judged that my +worst fears were realized. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +COLONEL McCLURE'S VERDICT + +I moved quickly towards the bed, and in the dim light of the lamp which +stood near saw that a change had come over my friend's face. A look of +perfect peace and tranquility had taken the place of anguish. + +'Tell me,' I cried, 'he isn't dead, is he?' + +'He is out of pain, at all events,' and Colonel McClure spoke abruptly. + +Unmindful of what they might say, I went close to Edgecumbe, and gazed at +him steadily. As far as I could judge, there was no sign of life. + +'Have--have you done anything for him?' I said, turning to the doctors. +But neither of them spoke. They might have been waiting for something. + +I noticed that Edgecumbe's hands were lying on the coverlet almost easily +and naturally. Why I should have done it, I cannot tell, but I seized +the lamp and held it close to them. They did not look like the hands of +a dead man. In spite of everything, there was a suggestion of nervous +energy in the long, capable-looking fingers. Then I put down the lamp, +and took one of the hands in mine. + +'He is alive,' I said; 'the right hand is warm, and it is not rigid.' + +Still the doctors did not speak, but each looked at the other as if +questioningly. They did not appear to resent my action; perhaps they +made allowances for my anxiety; both of them knew how dear he was to me. + +Then something struck me. I saw that one of his hands, although both +were browned by exposure and hardened by labour, was different in colour +from the other. + +'Have you noticed that?' I said. + +'Noticed what?' + +'That his left hand is slightly blue. You can see it beneath the tan.' + +'By gad, you are right!' It was Colonel McClure who whispered this +excitedly, and I saw that my words had a meaning to him. What was in his +mind I could not tell, but that he was thinking hard I was sure. + +'He isn't dead,' I said excitedly; 'I am sure he isn't!' And again I +took his left hand in mine, and lifted it. Then I saw something else. +It was very little, but it meant a great deal to me. I remembered how +that morning Edgecumbe had been using a pair of Indian clubs, and had +rolled up his shirt sleeves. I had remarked to myself at the time the +wonderful ease with which he had swung the clubs, and what perfectly +shaped arms he had. They were large and hard, and firm, without a mark +of any sort. Now, just below the elbow, in the lower part of the arm, +was a blue spot. It was so small that it might have been covered by a +threepenny-piece, and in the dim light of the lamp would not be easily +seen. + +'Did you see this? Did you do it?' I almost gasped. + +Colonel McClure examined the spot closely, and then nodded to Dr. Merril. + +'Did you see this, Merril?' he asked. + +'No,' replied Dr. Merril excitedly. 'As you know you--you----!' He +stopped suddenly like one afraid. + +Colonel McClure took a powerful glass from his case and examined the spot +closely for some seconds. Then he said to his fellow doctor, evidently +with satisfaction, 'By gad, we've done the right thing!' + +'What does it mean?' I asked. 'Tell me.' + +'I will tell you in an hour from now,' and I saw a new light in the +colonel's eyes. Then I heard him mutter to himself, 'I was an ass to +have missed that.' + +I put my hand upon Edgecumbe's forehead; and I could have sworn that it +was warm and moist. The moisture was different from the clammy sweat +which had poured out on his face when first we had brought him to bed +hours before. + +Excitedly I told the doctors of my impression, and then McClure commanded +me to stand aside, as if I were an interloper. Although I believe the +old military doctor was as excited as I, he made no sign, save that his +lips moved as if he were talking to himself. + +'Do you know what it means?' I asked, as he left the bed. + +'It means that you must get out of this,' he replied gruffly. + +'I won't,' I answered, for I had wellnigh lost control over myself. +Something, I could not tell what, made me sure that an important change +was taking place in my friend's condition, and I forgot all about the +etiquette of a sick-room. The experiences through which I had passed, my +long, midnight journey, together with the feverish anxiety under which I +was suffering, made me forget myself. + +'I am his only friend,' I went on, 'and I have a right to be here, and I +have a right to know everything. What is it? What have you done?' + +Scarcely realizing what I was doing, I went to the window and pulled up +the blinds. Day was breaking, the sky was clear, and the eastern horizon +was tinged with the light of the rising sun. In the light of the +new-born day, the lamp looked sickly and out of place. I remember, too, +that it made a strange impression upon me; it seemed as though light were +fighting with darkness, and that light was being triumphant. + +'Don't be an ass, Luscombe,' said the Scotchman; 'I will tell you +everything presently, but can't you see that----' + +'I can see that he's going to live,' I interrupted. 'His face is more +natural; it doesn't look so rigid. I believe there is colour coming into +his lips.' + +'Find your way into the kitchen, there are some servants there, and bring +some hot water immediately.' + +For the next hour, I scarcely remember anything that happened. I imagine +that I was so excited that my experiences left no definite impress upon +my brain. I have indistinct remembrances of alternating between hope and +despair, between joy and sorrow. I remember, too, that I was called upon +to perform certain actions, but to this day I do not know what they were. +I was more like an automaton than a man. + +At the end of the hour, however, Colonel McClure accompanied me into my +bedroom, which, as I have said, adjoined that of Edgecumbe. + +'We've done it, my boy,' he said, and I noted the satisfaction in his +voice. + +'He will live, then?' + +He nodded. 'Barring accidents, he will. But it's a mystery to me.' + +'What is a mystery?' + +'I hardly like to tell you. But you are no hysterical woman, and you +have a steady head on you. Until an hour and a half ago, I was acting in +the dark, acting blindly. Even now I have no proof of anything. You say +your friend was in India?' + +'I have told you all I know,' was my answer. + +'I spent twelve years there,' went on the colonel. 'A great part of the +time I was with native regiments, and I have had some peculiar +experiences. India's a strange country, and in many things the people +there can teach us Westerners a lot. Look here, why did you come for me?' + +'Instinct,' I replied. + +'But instinct has a basis in reason.' + +'Has it? I am not enough of a psychologist to answer that question. +Tell me why you are asking me all this.' + +'Because I am afraid to tell you what is in my mind. Do you remember +what Merril said?' + +'Yes,' I replied; 'he said that according to symptoms my friend had been +poisoned. But he didn't see how it could possibly be, and he said that +the case was completely beyond him.' + +'Exactly. When I went into that room, I of course had your words in my +mind. India has a hundred poisons unknown to the West, many of them are +subtle, almost undiscoverable. I called to my mind what I had learned in +India, what I had seen and done there. Frankly, I don't understand your +friend's case. Had it been in India, I should have understood it, and +what was possible, ay, what would have amounted to certainty there, was +utterly impossible in England--at least, so it seemed to me. But I acted +on the assumption that I was in India.' + +'You mean that you injected an antidote for a poison that you know of?' I +ventured. + +He looked at me steadily for a few seconds, but he did not speak. + +'Now look here, Luscombe,' he said, after a long silence, 'I hesitated to +tell you this, because it is a serious business.' + +I nodded. + +'You see,' he went on, 'we are not in the realm of proof. But as sure as +I am a living man, if your friend was poisoned, some one poisoned him, +unless he had a curious way of trying to commit suicide.' + +'He didn't try to commit suicide,' I replied. + +'You remember that mark in the arm?' + +I nodded. + +'In another hour it will be gone. If he had died, it would not be there. +I was a blind fool not to have seen it. I examined his arm just before +we came in here,--the discolourment has nearly passed away. In an hour +there'll be only a little spot about the size of a pin-prick. Do you +feel free to tell me anything of your suspicions? Remember, they can +only be suspicions. There can be no possible proof of anything, and even +although you may have drawn conclusions, which to you are unanswerable, +you might be committing the cruellest crime against another man by +speaking them aloud.' + +'Then I'll not tell you my suspicions,' I said. 'I will only recount +certain incidents.' + +Then I told him the things I remembered. + +Colonel McClure looked very grave. + +'No,' he said, at length, 'this is something which we dare not speak of +aloud. I must think this out, my boy, so must you, and when our minds +are settled a bit we can talk again.' + +When we returned to Edgecumbe's room, my friend was sleeping almost +naturally, while the relief of every member of the household, who had all +been informed of Edgecumbe's remarkable recovery, can be better imagined +than expressed. + +'Have the doctors told you what is the matter with him?' asked Sir Thomas +eagerly. + +'No,' I replied; 'perhaps they are not sure themselves.' + +'But they must know, man! I gather that they performed a certain +operation, and they wouldn't do that without some definite object.' + +'The ways of doctors are very mysterious,' I laughed; 'anyhow, we are +thankful that the danger is over. Merril tells me that Edgecumbe is +sleeping quite naturally, while McClure is quite sure that in a few hours +he will awake almost well.' + +'But that seems impossible, man! A few hours ago he despaired of his +life, and now----' + +'The great thing is he is better,' I interrupted. I did not want the old +baronet to have the least inkling of my suspicion. After all, I could +prove nothing, and indeed, as McClure had said, it might be a crime to +accuse any man of having anything to do with Edgecumbe's illness. + +During the time I had been in the Army, I had heard of cases of men +losing their memory, and of a sudden shock bringing their past back to +them. I wondered if this would be so in Edgecumbe's case. Might not the +crisis through which he had passed, the crisis which had brought him +close to the gates of death, tear aside the veil which hid his past from +him? Might not the next few hours reveal the mystery of his life, and +make all things plain? + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +EDGECUMBE'S RESOLVE + +Some hours later I saw Colonel McClure again. He had become so +interested in Edgecumbe's case, that he refused to go back to Plymouth +until he was certain that all was well; and although Dr. Merril had left +early that morning, in order to attend to his patients, he had arranged +to meet him at Bolivick later. + +'It's all right, Luscombe. Your friend's talking quite naturally with +Merril. He is rather weak, but otherwise he's splendid.' + +'May I see him?' I asked eagerly. + +'Oh, yes, certainly.' + +When I entered the bedroom, I found Edgecumbe sitting up in bed, and +although he looked rather tired, he spoke naturally. + +'I can't understand why I'm here,' he said, with a laugh, 'but I suppose +I must obey orders. I was tremendously surprised about half an hour ago +when on awaking I saw two men who told me they were doctors, and who +seemed frightfully interested in my condition.' + +Dr. Merril went out of the room as he spoke, leaving us together. + +'Has anything particular happened to me, Luscombe? You needn't be afraid +to tell me, man; I am all right.' + +'Have you no remembrance of anything yourself?' I said. + +'Nothing, except that I was attacked by a horrible pain, and that I +became blind. After that I think my senses must have left me, for I can +remember nothing more.' + +I looked at him eagerly. I remembered Colonel McClure's injunction, and +yet I was more anxious than I can say to ask him questions. + +'Did you feel nothing before the pain?' + +'I felt awfully languid,' he replied, after a few seconds' silence, 'but +nothing more.' + +He lifted himself up in the bed, and I could not help noticing that his +face looked younger, and that his skin was almost natural. The old, +parched look had largely passed away; it might have been as though a new +and rejuvenating force had entered his system. + +'Springfield and I are in for a big battle.' + +I wondered whether he knew anything of my suspicions, and whether by some +means or another the thoughts which haunted not only my mind, but that of +Colonel McClure, had somehow reached his. + +'Springfield means to have her, but I am not going to let him.' + +'You are thinking about Miss Bolivick,' I said. + +'Who else?' And his face flushed as he spoke. 'When I saw her first, I +was hopeless, but now----' + +'Yes, now,' I repeated, as I saw him hesitate, 'what now?' + +For the moment I had forgotten all about his illness. I did not realize +that I might be doing wrong by allowing him to excite himself. + +'Buller is not the danger,' he cried; 'he is but a puppet in +Springfield's hands. There's something between that man and me which I +can't explain; but there's going to be a battle royal between us. He +means to marry Lorna Bolivick. In his own way he has fallen in love with +her. But he shall never have her.' + +'How are you going to stop him?' I asked. + +I saw his lips quiver, while his eyes burnt with the light of resolution. + +'Surely you do not mean,' I went on, 'that you hope to marry her?' + +'I not only hope to,--I mean to,' he said. + +I was silent for a few seconds. I did not want to hinder his recovery, +by saying anything which might cause him to despair, but the thing which +had been born in his mind seemed so senseless, so hopeless, that I felt +it would be cruel on my part to allow him to entertain such a mad feeling. + +'Surely you have not considered the impossibility of such a thing,' I +said. + +'Nothing's impossible,' he cried. + +'But do you not see the insuperable barriers in the way?' + +'I see the barriers, but they must be swept aside. Why, man!' and his +voice became stronger, 'when I awoke a few hours ago, and saw those two +doctor chaps, I was first of all bewildered, I could not understand. +Then it suddenly came to me where I was, in whose house I was staying, +and in a flash I realized everything. As I said, when I saw her first, I +despaired; but no man who believes in God should despair. I tell you, +the thought of it means life, health, strength, to me! I have something +great to live for. Why, think, man, think!' + +'I am thinking hard,' I replied. 'I need hardly tell you, Edgecumbe, +that I am your friend, and that I wish you the best that you can hope +for. It seems cruel, too, after what you have gone through, to try to +destroy the thought which is evidently dear to you, but I must do it.' + +'But I love her, man!' and his voice trembled as he spoke. 'When I saw +her standing in the doorway, as we drove up the other night, she was a +revelation to me,--she made all the world new. One look into her eyes +was like opening the gates of heaven. Do you realize what a pure soul +she has?--how beautiful she is? She is a child woman. She has all the +innocence, all the artlessness of a child of ten, and all the resolution, +and the foresight, and the daring of a woman. She seemed to me like a +being from another world, like one sent to tell me what life should be. +She made everything larger, grander, holier, and before I had been in her +presence five seconds I knew that I was hers for ever and for ever.' + +'It is because she is so pure, and so innocent, that you should give up +all such thoughts at once,' I said. + +'But why should I? Tell me that.' + +'You will not think me harsh or unkind?' + +'I shall not think anything wrong,' and he laughed as he spoke. 'I will +tell you why. Nothing can destroy my resolve.' + +'My dear fellow,' I said, 'evidently you don't realize the situation.' + +'Well, help me to realize it; tell me what you have in your mind.' + +'First of all, a woman's love may not be won easily,--it may be she cares +for some one else.' + +'I will make her love me!' he cried; 'she will not be able to help +herself. She will see that my love for her fills my whole being, and +that I live to serve her, protect her, worship her.' + +'Many men have loved in vain,' I replied; 'but, assuming for the moment +that you could win her love, your hopes would be still as impossible as +ever.' + +'Rule out the word impossible. But tell me why you believe it is so.' + +'First of all, Lorna Bolivick is a young lady of position, she is a child +of an old family, and when she marries she will naturally marry into her +own class.' + +'Naturally; but what of that? Am I not of--of her class?' + +'Doubtless. But face facts. You have not a penny beyond your +pay;--would it be fair, would it be right of you, to go to such a girl as +she, reared as she has been, and offer her only poverty?' + +'I will make a position,' he cried enthusiastically. 'I'm not a fool!' + +'How? When?' I asked. + +'For the moment I don't know how, or when,' he replied, 'but it shall be +done.' + +'Then think again,' I went on, 'you could not marry her without her +parents' consent, and if they know your purposes they would close their +doors against you. Fancy Sir Thomas Bolivick allowing his daughter to +marry a man with only a subaltern's pay!' + +'Number two,' he replied with a laugh; 'go on,'--and I could see that he +regarded my words as of no more weight than thistledown. + +'Yes, that is number two,' I replied. 'Now to come to number three. Do +you think that you, alone, are strong enough to match yourself with your +rivals?' + +'You mean Buller and Springfield? I have told you what I think about +Buller; as for Springfield, he's a bad man. Besides, if I am poor, is he +not poor, too? He's only a captain.' + +'Buller tells me he's the heir to a peerage,' I replied, 'and that when +somebody dies he will come into pots of money. And whatever else you may +think about him, he is a strong man, capable and determined. If you are +right about him, and you think there's going to be a battle royal between +you two, you will have a dangerous enemy, an enemy who will stop at +nothing. But that is not all. The greatest difficulty has not yet been +mentioned.' + +'What is that?' + +I hesitated before replying. I felt I was going to be cruel, and yet I +could not help it. + +'You have no right to ask any woman to be your wife,' I urged--'least of +all a woman whom you love as you say you love Lorna Bolivick.' + +'Why?' and there was a tone of anxiety in his voice. + +'Because you don't know who you are, or what you are. You are, I should +judge, a man thirty years of age. What your history has been you don't +know. Possibly you have a wife somewhere.' + +I was sorry the moment I had uttered the words, for he gave a cry almost +amounting to agony. + +'No, no,' he gasped, 'not that!' + +'You don't know,' I said; 'the past is an utter blank to you; you have no +recollection of anything which happened before you lost your memory, +and----' + +'No, no, not that, Luscombe. I am sure that if I ever married, if I ever +loved a woman, I should know it,--I should feel it instinctively.' + +'I am not sure. You say you have no memory of your father or mother; +surely if you remembered anything you'd remember them? Now suppose,--of +course it is an almost impossible contingency, but suppose you won Lorna +Bolivick's consent to be your wife; suppose you obtained a position +sufficiently good for Sir Thomas and Lady Bolivick to consent to your +marrying her; and then suppose your memory came back, and the whole of +your past were made known to you, and you discovered that there was a +woman here in England, or somewhere else, whom you married years ago, and +whom you loved, and who had been grieving because of your loss? Can't +you see the situation?' + +I could see I had impressed him. Instead of the light of resolution, +there was a haunting fear in his eyes. + +'I had not thought of that,' he murmured. 'Of course it is not so,--I am +sure it is not so. Still, as you say, it would not be fair to submit her +to a suspicion of danger.' + +'Then of course you give up the thought?' + +'Oh, no,' he replied. 'Of course I must think it out, and I must meet +the situation; but I give up nothing--nothing.' + +As I rose to leave him, McClure stood in the door of the bedroom and +beckoned to me. + +'Springfield and Buller are downstairs,' he whispered to me; 'they have +come to lunch. Can you manage to get a chat with the fellow? It seems +horrible to have such suspicions, but----' + +'Yes, I understand,' I replied, noting his hesitation. + +'If what is in both our minds has any foundation in fact,' he went on, +'Edgecumbe should be warned. I hate talking like this, and it is just +horrible.' + +'I know what you feel,' I said, 'but what can we do? As we both have to +admit, nothing can be proved, and it would be a crime to accuse an +innocent man of such a thing.' + +'Yes, I know; but the more I have thought about the matter, the more I am +sure that--that--anyhow, get a chat with him. I must get back to +Plymouth soon, but before I go you and I must have a further talk. This +thing must be bottomed, man, must! I'll be down in a minute.' + +I made my way toward the dining-room, forming plans of action as I did +so. I had by this time made up my mind concerning Springfield. Whether +he were guilty of what Colonel McClure had hinted at, I was not sure, but +a thousand things told me that he both feared and hated my friend. How +could I pierce his armour, and protect Edgecumbe at the same time? + +When I entered the dining-room, he and Lorna Bolivick were talking +together. I watched their faces for a few seconds unheeded by them. I +do not know what he was saying to her, but she was listening to him +eagerly. In some way he had destroyed the instinctive feeling of +revulsion which he had created in her mind months before. She seemed +like one fascinated; he held her as though by a strong personality, a +strange fascination. There was no doubt in my mind, either, that +although he had come to Devonshire as the guest of young Buller, he was a +rival for Lorna Bolivick's hand. As much as such a man as he could love +a woman, he loved Lorna Bolivick, and meant to win her. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +SPRINGFIELD'S PROGRESS + +After lunch, I got my chance of a few minutes' chat with Springfield. I +think I managed it without arousing any suspicions; certainly he did not +manifest any, neither did he appear in the slightest degree ruffled when +I talked with him about Edgecumbe's strange illness. + +'You have been in India, I think, Springfield?' I said. + +'Who told you that?' + +'I have almost forgotten. Perhaps it was St. Mabyn, or it might have +been Buller. Were you there long?' + +'A couple of years,' he replied. 'I was glad to get away, too. It is a +beastly part of the world.' + +'I asked,' I said, 'because Edgecumbe had just come from India when I +first saw him, and I was wondering whether you could throw any light upon +his sudden illness.' + +'My dear chap, I'm not a doctor. What does McClure say?' + +'He's in a bit of a fog,' I replied, 'so is Merril.' + +'Doctors usually are,' he laughed. 'For my own part, I think that a +great deal of fuss has been made about the whole business. After all, +what did it amount to?' + +'It was a very strange illness,' I replied. + +'Was it? Certainly the fellow was taken bad suddenly, and he fell down +in a sort of fit, but that is nothing strange.' + +'It is to a man whose general health is as good as that of Edgecumbe.' + +'Yes, but India plays ducks and drakes with any man's constitution,' he +replied. 'You see, you know nothing about Edgecumbe, and his loss of +memory may be a very convenient thing to him.' + +'What do you mean? + +'I mean nothing, except this: Edgecumbe, I presume, has been a man of the +world; how he lost his memory--assuming, of course, that he _has_ lost +it--is a mystery. But he has lived in India, and possibly, while there, +went the whole hog. Excuse me, Luscombe, but I have no romantic notions +about him. He seems to be on the high moral horse just now, but what his +past has been neither of us know. As I said, life in India plays ducks +and drakes with a man's constitution, especially if he has been a bit +wild. Doubtless the remains of some old disease is in his system, +and--and--we saw the results.' He lit a cigarette as he spoke, and I +noticed that his hand was perfectly steady. + +'Is that your explanation?' I asked. + +'I have no explanation,' he replied, 'but that seems to me as likely as +any other.' + +'Because, between ourselves,' I went on, 'both McClure and Merril think +he was poisoned.' + +He was silent for a few seconds, as though thinking, then he asked quite +naturally, 'How could that be?' + +'McClure, as you know, was an Army doctor in India,' I said. + +'Well, then, if any one ought to know, he ought,' and he puffed at his +cigarette; 'but what symptoms did he give of being poisoned?' + +I detailed Edgecumbe's condition, his torpor, and the symptoms which +followed. + +'Is there anything suggestive of poisoning in that?' he asked, like a man +curious. + +'McClure seems to think so.' + +'Of course he may be right,' he replied carelessly, 'but I don't know +enough about the subject to pass an opinion worth having. All the same, +if he were poisoned, it is a wonder to me how he got well so quickly'; +and he hummed a popular music-hall air. + +'The thing which puzzles McClure,' I went on, 'and he seems to know a +good deal about Indian poisons, is the almost impossibility of such a +thing happening here in England. He says that the Indians have a trick +of poisoning their enemies by pricking them with some little instrument +that they possess, an instrument by which they can inject poison into the +blood. It leaves no mark after death, but is followed by symptoms almost +identical with those which Edgecumbe had. During the time the victim is +suffering, there is a little blue mark on the spot where the injection +was made.' + +I looked at him steadily as I spoke, trying to see whether he manifested +any uneasiness or emotion. But he baffled me. I thought I saw his lips +twitch, and his eyes contract, but I might easily have been mistaken. If +he were a guilty man, then he was the greatest actor, and had the most +supreme command over himself, of any one I had ever seen. + +'And did you find such a mark on your friend?' he asked, after a few +seconds' silence. + +'Yes,' I replied, 'close to the elbow.' + +He showed no emotion whatever, and yet I could not help feeling that he +was conscious of what was in my mind. Of course this might be pure +imagination on my part, and I do not think any detective of fiction fame +would have gained the slightest inkling from his face that he was in any +way connected with it. + +Springfield took his cigarette case-from his tunic, and extracted another +cigarette. 'It seems a bit funny, doesn't it? but I don't pretend to +offer an explanation. By the way, will he be well enough to go back to +duty when his leave is up?' + +'I don't know,' I replied. 'McClure will have to decide that.' + +'I should think you will be glad to get rid of him, Luscombe.' + +'Why?' I asked. + +'The fellow seems such an impossible bounder. Excuse me, but that is how +he struck me.' + +'You didn't seem to think so when you thanked him for saving your life,' +was my reply. + +'No, of course that was different'; and his voice was somewhat strained +as he spoke. 'I--I ought not to have said that, Luscombe. When one man +owes another his life, he--he should be careful. If I can do the fellow +a good turn, I will; and since in these days anybody can become an +officer in the British Army, I--I----' He stammered uneasily, and then +went on: 'Of course it is different when you have to meet a man as an +equal in a friend's house. But there,--I must be going. I have to get +back to town to-night.' + +In spite of what I had said to Edgecumbe, I was angry at seeing that +Springfield spent two hours that afternoon with Lorna Bolivick. There +could be no doubt about it, the fellow had broken down all her antagonism +towards him, and was bent on making a good impression on her. I found, +too, that Sir Thomas Bolivick regarded him with great favour. By some +means or another, the news had come to him that Springfield was a +possible heir to a peerage, and that while he was at present poor, he +would on the death of a distant relative become a very rich man. This +fact had doubtless increased his interest in Springfield, and perhaps had +lessened his annoyance at the fact that Lorna had failed to fall in with +his previous wishes concerning her. + +'Remarkably clever fellow.' he confided in me; 'the kind of man who makes +an impression wherever he goes. When I saw him at St. Mabyn's more than +a year ago, I did not like him so much, but he grows on one.' + +'By the way, what peerage is he heir to?' I asked. 'I never heard of it +until yesterday.' + +'Oh, he'll come into Lord Carbis's title and estates.' + +'Carbis? Then it's not an old affair?' + +'Oh no,--the present Lord Carbis was created a peer in 1890.' + +'A brewer, isn't he?' I asked. + +'Yes,' and I thought Sir Thomas looked somewhat uneasy. 'Of course there +are very few old peerages now,' he went on; 'the old families have a way +of dying out, somehow. But Carbis is one of the richest men in the +country. I suppose he paid nearly a million for the Carbis estates. +Carbis Castle is almost medieval, I suppose, and the oldest part of the +building was commenced I don't know how many hundreds of years ago. Oh, +Springfield will be in a magnificent position when the present Lord +Carbis dies.' + +'Beer seems a very profitable thing,' I could not help laughing. + +'Personally I have no prejudice against these beer peerages,' replied Sir +Thomas somewhat warmly. 'Of course I would prefer a more ancient +creation, but these are democratic days. If a man creates a great +fortune by serving the State, why shouldn't he be honoured? When you +come to think about it, I suppose the brewing class has provided more +peerages than any other during the last fifty years. Come now, +Luscombe,' and Sir Thomas looked at me almost angrily. + + +Just before Colonel McClure left, he drew me aside, and asked me if I had +spoken to Springfield, and on my describing our conversation, he looked +very grave. + +'I can't make it out, Luscombe,' he said. 'If my twelve years' +experience in India goes for anything, your friend Edgecumbe was +poisoned. He had every symptom of a man who had a subtle and deadly +poison injected into his blood. And the way he responded to the +treatment I gave him coincided exactly with what I have seen a dozen +times in India.' + +'Might it not be merely a coincidence?' I asked. + +'Of course almost anything is possible,' he replied, 'and I could not +swear in a court of law that he had been poisoned. I gather you are fond +of Edgecumbe,' he added. + +'Yes,' I replied; 'it may be it is owing to the peculiar circumstances by +which we were brought together, and from the fact that more than once he +saved my life. And no man could love his brother more than I love him.' + +'Then,' said Colonel McClure earnestly, 'watch over him, my friend; guard +him as if he were your own son.' + +I spent a good deal of time in Edgecumbe's room that night, but we +scarcely spoke. He was sleeping most of the time, and I was warned +against exciting him. The following day, however, he was quite like his +natural self, and expressed his determination to get up. As Colonel +McClure had encouraged this, I made no attempt to oppose him, and the +afternoon of the Monday being fine and sunny, we walked in the park +together. + +'Springfield's gone to London, hasn't he?' he asked. + +'Yes,' I replied; and then I blurted out, 'He spent yesterday afternoon +with Miss Bolivick. I am inclined to think you are right about his +intentions concerning her.' + +'Do you think he has spoken to her?' + +'I shouldn't be surprised, and for that matter I am inclined to think he +has had a serious conversation with her father.' + +I was almost sorry, when I saw the look on his face, that I had spoken in +this way. He became very pale, and his lips quivered as though he were +much moved. 'Of course,' I went on, trying to make the best of my _faux +pas_, 'it may be a good thing for you.' + +'Why?' he asked. + +'If he has been successful, it will make you see how foolish your +thoughts are.' + +'Do you know me so little as that?' he asked. + +'But surely, my dear fellow,' I said, 'in the face of what I said +yesterday, you will not think of entertaining such impossible ideas?' + +'You mean about my having a wife somewhere,' and he laughed. + +'I mean that, under the most favourable circumstances, no honourable man +could, in your position, ask a woman to marry him.' + +'I mean to ask her, though,' was his reply. + +'But, my dear fellow----' + +'Luscombe,' and there was a steady look in his eyes as he spoke, 'I have +thought it all out. Almighty God never put such a love in a man's heart +as He has put in my heart for Lorna Bolivick, to laugh at him. At the +very first opportunity I shall tell her everything.' + +'And if she refuses you,' I said, 'as most likely she will?' + +'I shall still love her, and never give up hoping and striving.' + +'You mean----?' + +'I mean that nothing will turn me aside from my determination, +nothing,--nothing.' + +'But supposing you have a wife,--supposing that when you were a boy, +before you lost your memory, you married some one, what then?' + +'Don't talk rubbish, old man,' was his reply. + +'After all,' I reflected that night when I went to bed, 'perhaps it is +best that he should speak to her. She will regard his declaration as +madness, and will tell him so. He never saw her until three hours ago, +and if, as I suspect, Springfield has fascinated her, she will make him +see what a fool he has been. Then he will give up his madness.' + +That was why I left them together the next day. All the same, there was +a curious pain in my heart as I saw them walk away side by side, for I +knew by the light in his eyes that he meant to carry out his +determination. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +A STRANGE LOVE-MAKING + +Few men tell each other about their love-making, especially Englishmen. +Mostly we regard such things as too sacred to speak about, even to +those we trust and love the most. Besides, there is something in the +character of the normal Englishman which is reserved and secretive, and +the thought of telling about our love-making is utterly repugnant to +us. Nevertheless, Edgecumbe told me the story of their conversation +that afternoon almost word for word as it took place. + +He spoke of it quite naturally, too, as though it were the right thing +to do. He looked upon me as his one friend, and perhaps the abnormal +condition of his life made him do what under other circumstances he +would never have thought of. Anyhow, he told me, while I listened +incredulous, but almost spellbound. + +They had been but a few minutes together, when he commenced his +confession. They had left the lane in which they had been walking and +were crossing a field which led to a piece of woodland, now beginning +to be tinged by those autumn tints which are so beautiful in our +western counties. + +It was one of those autumn days, which are often more glorious than +even those of midsummer. The sweetness and freshness of summer had +gone, and the browning leaves and shortening days warned us that winter +was coming on apace. But as they walked, the sun shone in a cloudless +sky. The morning had been gloomy and showery, but now, as if by a +magician's wand, the clouds had been swept away, and nothing but the +great dome of blue, illumined by the brightness of the sun, was over +them. The rain, too, had cleared the air, and the raindrops which here +and there still hung on the grass sparkled in the sunlight. + +'It seems,' said Edgecumbe, 'as though the glory of yonder woods is +simply defying the coming of winter. Do you see the colouring, the +almost unearthly beauty, of the leaves? That is because the sun is +shining on them.' + +'Yes;' replied Lorna, 'but the winter is coming.' + +'Only for a little while, and it only means that nature will take a +rest. It's a glorious thing to live, Miss Bolivick.' + +She looked at him earnestly for a few seconds. Perhaps she was +thinking of the illness through which he had passed, and of his +thankfulness at his recovery. + +'I am so glad you're better,' she said. 'We were all heart-broken at +your illness. I hope----' + +But she did not finish the sentence. Perhaps she saw that he was not +heeding what she said,--saw, too, that his eyes were far away. + +For a few seconds they walked on in silence. Then he turned towards +her suddenly. + +'I have something to tell you,' he said,--'something very wonderful.' + +'You look awfully serious,' and she gave a nervous laugh as she spoke; +'I hope it is nothing to frighten me.' + +'Perhaps it is,' he replied, 'but it must be said,--the words would +choke me if I didn't utter them.' + +She looked at him like one frightened, but did not speak. + +'It is all summed up in three words,' he went on: 'I love you. No, +don't speak yet; it would not be right. I never saw you until Friday +night,--that is, I have no ordinary remembrance of seeing you until +then. My friend had spoken to me about you; he had told me of your +interest in me. He showed me the letter you wrote him. I did not want +to come here, but something, I don't know what it was, made me. When I +saw you on Friday evening, I knew. You stood at the doorway of your +father's house, with the light of the setting sun upon your face. I +could not speak at the time,--words wouldn't come. No wonder, for life +begun for me at that moment,--I mean full life, complete life. When I +saw you, the world became new. You thought I acted strangely, didn't +you? I told you that I never remembered speaking to a woman until +then. In a way, of course, it was foolishness, although in another it +was the truth. My past is a blank,--that is, up to the time I awoke to +a realization that I lived, away in India; and since then my life has +been with men. But that wasn't what I meant. When I saw you, you were +the only woman in the world,--you are now. You are the fulfilment of +my dreams, longing, hopes, ideals. You are all the world.' + +The two walked on side by side, neither speaking for some time after +this. Perhaps Lorna Bolivick was frightened,--perhaps she was +wondering how she could at once be kind, and still make him see the +foolishness of what he had said. + +'I am glad you are silent,' went on Edgecumbe, 'for your silence helps +me. Do you know, when I came to England,--that is, when I saw Luscombe +for the first time, I had no thought of God except in a vague, shadowy +way. Something, I don't know what, had obliterated Him from my +existence,--if ever He had an existence to me, and for months +afterwards I never thought of Him. Then I went into a Y.M.C.A. hut in +France, where a man spoke about Him, and I caught the idea. It was +wonderful,--wonderful! Presently I found Him, found Him in reality, +and He illumined the whole of my life. I read that wonderful story of +how He sent His Son to reveal Him,--I saw His love in the life and +death of Jesus Christ,--and life has never been the same to me since +then. But something was wanting, even then; something human, something +that was necessary to complete life. Then I saw you, and you completed +it. + +'I don't know whether men call you beautiful, or not,--that doesn't +matter. You have not come into my life like an angel, but as a woman, +a human woman. I know nothing about you, and yet I know everything. +You are the one woman God meant for me, you fill my life,--you +glorify it. You mustn't think of marrying anybody else, it would +be sacrilege if you did. Such a love as mine wasn't intended to be +discarded,--mustn't be,--can't be.' + +'Mr. Edgecumbe,' she said quietly, 'I think we had better return to the +house.' + +'No, don't let us go back yet; there are other things I want to say'; +and he walked steadily on. She still kept by his side,--perhaps she +was not so much influenced by his words, as the way he said them, for I +knew by the look in his eyes when he told me his story, and by what I +felt at the recital of it, that there was a strange intensity, a +wonderful magnetism, in his presence. + +'I am very ignorant,' he continued presently, 'about the ways of the +world. I suppose I must have known at one time, for Luscombe tells me +that I generally do what might be expected of a gentleman, although +sometimes I make strange mistakes. The loss of one's memory, I +suppose, has a curious effect, and I cannot explain it to you. There +are certain things which are very real, and very plain,--others are +obscure. For example, I speak German perfectly; but until I read it a +few months ago, I knew nothing of German history. Forgive me for +saying that,--it has nothing to do with what I want to tell you, and +yet perhaps it has. Anyhow, it makes plain certain things I do and +say. You are going to be my wife----' + +'Really, Mr. Edgecumbe,--please,--please----' + +'You are going to be my wife,' he went on, as if she had not spoken; +'some day, if not now, you are going to wake up to the fact that you +love me, as I love you,--that just as you are the only woman in the +world to me, so I am the only man in the world to you. That is not +because of my worthiness, because I am not worthy, but because the fire +which burns in my heart will be kindled in yours. This seems like +madness on my part, doesn't it?--but I am not mad. I am only speaking +because of a great conviction, and because my love envelops me, fills +me, overwhelms me. Don't you see? Then this has come to me: I am +poor, I am nameless, homeless,--but what of that? Love such as mine +makes everything possible, and I am going to make a name, make wealth, +make riches;--it won't take me long. Why,' and he laughed as he spoke, +'what is a great love for, but to conquer difficulties, to sweep away +impossibilities?' + +'But this is madness, Mr. Edgecumbe,' replied the girl, finding her +voice at last. 'I can't allow you to speak in such a way any longer; +it would be wrong for me to do so. I do not wish to hurt you, and +indeed I am very sorry for you. I never thought that you would think +of me in this way; if I had, I would never have asked you to come here. +But you must see how impossible everything is; our habits of life, our +associations, everything, make it impossible. Besides, I don't love +you,--never can love you.' + +'Oh, yes, you can,' replied Edgecumbe, 'and you will. It may be you +will have a great battle to fight,--I think you will; but you will love +me. When I am away from you,--when I am over in France, facing death, +you will think of me, think of this hour, and you will remember that +wherever I am, and whatever I am, I am thinking of you, loving +you,--that my one object in life will be to win a position for you, to +win a name for you. No, no, do not fear that I would ask you to marry +me until, even in that sense, I am worthy of you. But you are young, +and can wait, and, as you remember, perhaps in the silence of the +night, that there is a man whom God made for you, thinking for you, +striving for you,--you will learn the great secret.' + +I fancy at that time Lorna Bolivick really thought his mind was +unhinged; I imagine, too, that she was afraid, because Edgecumbe told +me that a look amounting almost to terror was in her eyes. But he +seems to have taken no notice of this, for he went on. + +'You are thinking of other men who love you; that young fellow Buller +is very fond of you in his own way, and perhaps Springfield has also +made love to you. Perhaps, too, he has fascinated you. But that will +not stop you from loving me. Even if you have promised him anything, +you must give him up.' + +'Perhaps you will finish your walk alone, Mr. Edgecumbe,' she said. +'I--I am going back to the house.' + +'Not yet,' he replied. 'In a few minutes I shall have finished. I did +not expect you to be as patient as you have been, and I thank you. But +if you _have_ any thoughts about Springfield, you will give them up. +He is no fit mate for you; he is as far removed from you as heaven is +from hell.' + +At this she spoke passionately. 'You doubtless have forgotten many +things,' she said, 'and one thing is that one gentleman never speaks +evil of another.' + +'I say what I have to say,' he replied, 'because life, and all it +means, trembles in the balance. I do not pretend to know anything +about Springfield, although I have a feeling that his life and my life +have been associated in the past, and will be again in the future. But +let that pass. You may be fascinated by him, but you can never love +him,--you simply can't. Your nature is as pure as those raindrops, as +transparent as the sky. You love things that are pure and +beautiful,--and that man's nature is dark and sinister, if not evil. +There is only one other thing I have to tell you, then we will return. +You see,' he added, 'I am not asking you to promise me anything, or to +tell me anything,--I only want to tell you. I suppose I am about +thirty years of age, I don't know; how long ago it was that I lost my +memory I can't tell; but my friend Luscombe tells me that perhaps, when +I was younger than I am now--that is in those days which are all dark +to me--I loved some woman and married her. Of course I didn't. But +even when I have won a position worthy of you, and when my name shall +be equal to yours, I will never think of asking you to wed me until +even all possibility of suspicion of such a thing is swept aside. I +thought it right to tell you this; how could I help it,--when the joy +that should fill your life, the light which you should rejoice in, are +all the world to me?' + +'Mr. Edgecumbe,' she said, 'you are my father's guest, and--and--I want +to think only kind thoughts of you,--but please drive away these +foolish fancies.' + +He laughed gaily. 'Foolish fancies! Is the sun foolish for shining? +Are the flowers foolish for blooming? No, no; I love you,--I love you, +and day and night, summer and winter, through shine and through storm, +my one thought will be of you, always of you, and then, in God's good +time, you will come to me, and we shall enter into joy.' + +During the greater part of their journey back scarcely a word passed +between them, and when at length they drew near the house again, he +spoke to her of other things, as though his mad confession had never +been uttered. He told her of the books he was trying to read, books +which were new to him, and yet which he felt he had read before; told, +too, of his thought about the war, and what we were fighting for, and +what the results would be. He spoke of his friendship with me, and of +what it meant to him; of his new life in the Artillery, and of his +progress as a gunner, and when he came up to the door where I was +waiting anxiously for them, he was telling her a humorous story about +two soldiers at the front. Indeed, so much had he erased the influence +of what he had at first said to her, that when Lorna Bolivick reached +the house she was laughing gaily. + +'Had a pleasant walk?' I asked. + +'Wonderful,' replied Edgecumbe; 'a walk never to be forgotten.' + +As for Lorna, she went away to her room, and did not appear again until +dinner-time. + +That night Edgecumbe revealed himself in a new light. No other +visitors were there, with the exception of Miss Blackwater. That was +the reason, perhaps, he was able to speak freely, and act naturally. +But, certainly, I never knew him such a pleasant companion as then, and +he revealed phases of character which I had never suspected him of. +This man, who was often wistful, and generally strenuous in his +earnestness, became humorous and gay. Sometimes he was almost +brilliant in his repartees, and revealed a fund of humour which +surprised me. Sometimes he grew quite eloquent in discussing the war, +and in telling what he believed the effects would be on the life of men +and nations. He showed an insight into the deeper movements of the +times, which revealed him as a thinker of no mean order, while his +idealism and his patriotism were contagious. + +Whether he had a purpose in all this, I cannot say, but certain it is +he simply captivated the old baronet. + +'Dash it, man!' cried Sir Thomas to me, just before I went to bed, 'the +fellow is a genius. I never dreamed of such a thing! With luck, he'll +make his mark. He--he might do anything. Upon my word, I am sorry +he's going to-morrow. I thought on Saturday he was nothing but a +teetotal fanatic, but the fellow is wonderful. He has a keen sense of +humour, too. I wonder who and what he really is. It is the most +remarkable case I ever heard of in my life.' + +'For my own part,' I said, 'I almost dread his memory coming back.' + +'Why?' + +'There are times when a man's past had better be buried and forgotten.' + +'On the other hand,' broke in Sir Thomas, 'it may be the beginning of a +new life to him. Perhaps he has a name, wealth, position.' + +Lorna Bolivick, who was standing by, did not speak, but I could see +that her father's words influenced her. Perhaps she was thinking of +the mad confession which Edgecumbe had made that day. + +The next day we returned to London. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +'WHY IS VICTORY DELAYED? + +'The war still drags on, Luscombe.' + +'Yes, it still drags on,' and I looked up from the copy of _The Times_ +which I had been reading. 'They seem to have had bad weather at the +front. From what I can judge, the Somme push is practically at an end +for this winter, unless better weather sets in.' + +The train by which we travelled had just left Bristol, and would not stop +until we arrived in London. + +'Of course,' I went on, 'it will be Haig's policy to keep the Germans +busy all the winter, but I don't imagine that much more advance will be +made before spring comes.' + +'That will mean another winter in the trenches, with its ghastly toll of +suffering and sacrifice of human life.' + +'I am afraid so,' I said, 'but then we are at war.' + +'How long is this going to last?' and there was a note of impatience in +his voice. + +'Until the Germans are brought to their knees,' I replied, 'and that will +be no easy matter. When a nation like Germany has spent forty years in +preparation for war, it isn't easily beaten. You see they were piling up +mountains of munitions, while the Krupp's factories were turning out +thousands of big guns all the time we were asleep. Now we are paying the +price for it.' + +'The same old tale,' he laughed, 'big guns, explosives, millions of men.' + +'It must be the same old tale,' I replied. 'This is a war of exhaustion, +and the nations which can hold out longest will win.' + +'Then where does God come in?' he asked. + +I was silent. For one thing, I did not wish to enter into a religious +argument, and for another I scarcely knew what to say. + +'You know those words in the Bible, Luscombe,--"Some trust in horsemen, +some in chariots, but we will trust in the strength of the Lord our God." +How much are we trusting in God?' + +'It seems to me,' I replied, 'that God gives the victory to the biggest +and best equipped armies.' + +'That's blank materialism, blank atheism!' he cried almost passionately. +'We don't give God a chance, that is why we haven't won the war before +now.' + +I laughed good-humouredly, for even yet the mental attitude he had taken +up seemed to me almost absurd. + +'I see what you are thinking, but I tell you what,--the materialism of +the country is adding to this frightful welter of blood, to this ghastly +holocaust. The destinies of men and nations are not decided primarily by +big guns, or mighty armies, and until we, as a nation, get back to a +realization of the necessity of God, the war will drag on. As I told you +before, when I was up at Ypres, I was convinced that if big armies, and +big guns, and poison gas shells, could have won the war, Germany would +have won long ago. But she was fighting the devil's battle, she was +trusting in "reeking tube and iron shard,"--as Rudyard Kipling puts it. +That is why she failed. With such a cause as ours, and with such heroism +as our men have displayed, we should, if we had claimed the help of +Almighty God, have won long since.' + +'Nonsense, my dear chap.' + +'Look here,' he cried, 'on what, in your opinion, do we depend for +victory?' + +I was silent for a few seconds before replying. + +'On the mobilization of all our Empire's forces,' I replied, 'on steady, +persevering courage, and on the righteousness of our cause.' + +'But supposing our cause hadn't been righteous, what then?' + +I saw what was in his mind, but I did not feel like yielding to him. +'It's no use talking this high-falutin stuff, Edgecumbe,' I said. 'We +are at war, and war means in these days, at all events, big guns. It +means the utilization of all the material forces at our command.' + +'Then you believe more in a big army, and in what they call our +unconquerable Navy, than in Almighty God? Do you believe in God at all, +Luscombe?' + +'Of course I do,' I replied; 'I am no atheist. All the same, it is our +Navy which has saved us.' + +'Admiral Beatty doesn't believe that,' he replied, 'and if any man knows +what a navy can do, he does. Your position is identical with that of the +Germans. Why, man, if God Almighty hadn't been very patient with us, we +should have been beaten long ago. Germany's materialism, Germany's +atheism, German devilry has been our salvation as a nation. If the logic +of big guns had been conclusive, we should have been annihilated. That +chap Rudyard Kipling saw a long way into the truth.' + +'When? Where?' I asked. + +'When he wrote that _Recessional_: + + Far-famed, our navies melt away, + On dune and headland sinks the fire, + Lo, all the pomp of yesterday + Is one with Nineveh and Tyre. + God of the nations, spare us yet! + Lest we forget, lest we forget. + + +'And mind you, Kipling is a believer in force, and a believer in the +utilization of all the Empire's resources; but he sees that these things +are not enough. Why, man, humanly speaking, we stand on the brink of a +volcano.' + +'Nonsense,' I replied. + +'Is it nonsense? Suppose, for example, that the Germans do what they +threaten, and extend their submarine menace? Suppose they sink all +merchant vessels, and thus destroy our food supplies? Where should we be +then? Or suppose another thing: suppose Russia were to negotiate a +separate peace, and free all the German and Austrian armies in the East, +which I think is quite probable--should we be able to hold them up?' + +'Do you fear these things?' I asked. + +'I fear sometimes lest, as a nation, because we have forgotten God to +such an extent, He has an awful lesson to teach us. In spite of more +than two years of carnage and misery, we still put our trust in the +things which are seen.' + +'How do you know?' I replied. 'Aren't you judging on insufficient +evidence?' + +'Perhaps I am,' he answered. 'As you said some time ago, I know very +little about England or English life, but I am going to study it.' + +'How?' I asked with a laugh. + +'As far as I can see, I shall be some months in England,' he went on, +'and as it happens, my brigade is situated near London. And London is +the centre of the British Empire; it is at the heart of it, and sends out +its life-blood everywhere. I am going to study London; I am going to the +House of Commons, and understand the feeling of our Government. I am +going to the places of amusements, the theatres, the music-halls, and see +what they really mean in the life of the people. I am going to visit the +churches, and try to understand how much hold religion has upon the +people. I am going to see London life, by night as well as by day.' + +'You'll have a big job.' + +'That may be, but I want to know, I want to understand. You don't seem +to believe me, Luscombe, but I am terribly in earnest. This war is +getting on my nerves, it is haunting me night and day, and I cannot +believe that it is the will of God it should continue. Mind you, Germany +must be beaten, _will_ be beaten,--of that I am convinced. That verse of +Kipling's is prophetic of our future,--it cannot be otherwise. The +nation which has depended upon brute force and lies, must sooner or later +crumble; the country guilty of what she has been guilty of must in some +way or another perish,--of that I am sure. Else God is a mockery, and +His eternal law a lie. Some day Germany, who years ago longed for war, +brought about war, and gloried in her militarism, will realize the +meaning of those words: + + "Lo, all the pomp of yesterday + Is one with Nineveh and Tyre." + +But we are paying the price of our materialism, too. Do you remember +those words of our Lord, Who, when speaking to the Jews about the +Galileans of olden times, said, "Suppose ye that these Galileans were +sinners above all the Galileans, because they suffered such things? I +tell you, nay, but except ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish." It +is not pleasant to talk about, is it? but Rome and Byzantium fell because +of their impurities, and they seemed as firmly established as the seven +hills on which Rome stood. Germany will fall, because she has trusted +supremely in the arm of flesh, with all that it means. Primarily it is +righteousness that exalteth a nation, while the nation which forgets God +is doomed to perish.' + +'I might be listening to a Revivalist preacher,' I laughed, 'some Jonah +or Jeremiah proclaiming the sins of a nation. But seriously, my dear +fellow, do you think that because we do not talk so much about these +things, that we have of necessity forgotten them? Besides, we have been +sickened by the Kaiser's pious platitudes; he has been continually using +the name of God, and claiming His protection, even when the country he +rules has been doing the most devilish things ever known in history. I +think that is why we have been sensitive about using the name of God. +Perhaps the nation is more religious than you think.' + +'I hope it is,' he replied, 'for of this I am sure, the secret of a +speedy and triumphant victory lies in the fact of our nation being linked +to God. The question with me is,--Germany is doomed, because it has +depended, and is depending, on brute force. That poem of Kipling's +describes them exactly. He might have had them in his mind when he wrote: + + If drunk with thought of power, we loose + Wild tongues that have not Thee in awe, + Such boasting as the Gentiles use, + Or lesser breeds without the law. + +That is their history. The question is, isn't there a danger that it is +becoming our history too?' + +'One line describes them very well,' I laughed; 'certainly they belong to +the "lesser breeds without the law."' + +'I don't know. Just think of it,--Germany's defying the whole world. +Speaking from the standpoint of a military power, Germany has reason for +her boastfulness. For more than two years she has been holding back and +withstanding the greatest nations of the world. Humanly speaking, they +are a great people, but they are scientific savages. If ever a people +lived according to the doctrine that might is right, they have, and if +that doctrine could be proved to be true, they'd have done it. But their +creed is as false as hell, that is why they are doomed. But what of +England, man, what of England?' + +'You wouldn't have this war conducted in the spirit of a Revival meeting, +would you?' I laughed. + +'Why not? If it is God's war, it should be fought in the spirit of God. +We are fighting to destroy what is opposed to God's will, therefore we +should fight as He would have us fight. But here comes the question. Is +it the supreme conviction of the nation that we are fighting God's +battles? Is it the uppermost thought in our mind? I hate as much as any +man the hypocrisy of calling upon God, while doing the devil's work; but +are we not denuding ourselves of power by fighting God's battles as +though He didn't exist?' + +The train presently drew up at Paddington station, where we alighted. + +'Look, Luscombe,' said Edgecumbe, nodding towards an officer, 'there's +Springfield. I wonder what he's doing here?' + +'Don't let him see us, anyhow,' I said quickly. 'Come this way.' And I +hurried to the passage which leads towards the departure platform. + +'Why didn't you want him to see us?' he asked. + +I did not reply till we reached the restaurant, and then I spoke to him +gravely. + +'Edgecumbe,' I said, 'you were telling me just now that you intended to +study the life of London, and that you meant to go to all sorts of +places.' + +'Yes,' he replied, 'what then?' + +'Only this: take care of yourself, and don't let any one know what your +plans are.' + +'You must have a reason for saying that.' + +'I have. You have told me more than once about your feeling that you and +Springfield knew each other before you lost your memory.' + +'Yes,' he replied, 'what then?' + +'You say you had the feeling that Springfield was your enemy?' + +'Yes, but I have no proof. Sometimes I am ashamed of harbouring such +thoughts.' + +'Self-preservation is the first law of life,' I said sententiously. +'Think, Edgecumbe,--some one shot at you in France,--why? You say you +don't know that you have a single enemy in the world. Then think of your +recent illness.' + +'But--but----' and I saw a look of wonder in his eyes. + +'I only tell you to be careful,' I interposed. 'Don't let any one know +your plans, and whatever you do, don't have anything to do with +Springfield.' + +The words had scarcely passed my lips, when Springfield entered the room. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +'WHERE DOES GOD COME IN?' + +Springfield glanced around as if looking for a table, and then seeing us, +came up quickly and held out his hand. + +'Awfully glad to see you,' he said heartily. 'I came to meet Buller, who +I thought might be in your train. But as he wasn't there, and as I saw +you two fellows come across here, I thought I'd follow you. Left them +all well down in Devonshire?' + +There was no suggestion of restraint or _arrière pensée_ in his tones; he +spoke in the most natural way possible, and seemed to regard us as +friends. + +'I will join you, if I may,' he went on; 'I hate feeding alone. By the +way, what are you fellows doing to-day? If you have nothing on hand, you +might come on to my club.' + +'I am afraid I can't,' I replied; 'I am fixed up. As for Edgecumbe, he +has to get back to duty.' + +'I am at a loose end,' he went on. 'Of course there are hosts of men I +know in London; all the same, it's a bit lonely here. I am staying at +the----' and he mentioned a well-known military club. Then he looked at +us, I thought, suspiciously. + +'Was Miss Bolivick well when you left?' he asked. 'I--I am more than +ordinarily interested in her'; and he glanced at Edgecumbe as he spoke. +But Edgecumbe's face did not move a muscle. Evidently he had taken my +words to heart. + +For a few seconds there was an awkward silence. Then he went on: + +'Edgecumbe, I feel I owe you an apology. It was only after I had left +Devonshire that I fully realized what you had done for me. But for you, +I should be a dead man, and I want to thank you. I am not much given to +sentiment, I am not built that way, but believe me I am not ungrateful. +At the risk of your own life you saved mine, and I feel it deeply.' + +He spoke so earnestly, and there was such a ring of sincerity in his +voice, that I felt ashamed of myself for thinking of him suspiciously. +Still I could not forget the conversation which took place between him +and St. Mabyn months ago, neither could I rid my mind of what had taken +place since. + +'If I can be of any service to you,' he continued, 'I should like to +be,--I should really. I happen to know your colonel, and I'd like to see +more of you. If you will let me know how you are fixed, I will look you +up. You haven't any friends in London, have you?' + +'No,' replied Edgecumbe; 'no one excepting Luscombe.' + +'And you don't know London?' + +'I am afraid not. I have no memory of it, anyhow.' + +'Then let me show you around. I could introduce you to a lot of men, +too. You see, as an old Army man, I know the ropes.' + +'It's awfully good of you, Springfield,' I said; 'but really I don't +think Edgecumbe is your sort, and it would be a shame to bother you.' + +I felt awkward in saying this, because I spoke as though I were +Edgecumbe's guardian. To my surprise, however, Edgecumbe eagerly +accepted Springfield's offer. + +'I'll let you know when I am free,' he said, 'and then, as you say, you +can introduce me to some of the sights of London. But we must be off +now, Luscombe, I have some things to do.' + +'What do you mean by that?' I said, when we were alone. + +He laughed gaily. 'I am not such a simpleton as I look, old man. I am +able to take care of myself.' + +'But do you really mean to say that you are going to let him show you +round London?' + +'Why not? He knows London in a way which you and I don't.' + +'But don't you feel that he is your enemy, and that he has some ulterior +purpose in all this?' + +'Of course I do, but it would be madness to let him know it. You needn't +fear, my friend; I will be a match for him. As I told you down in +Devonshire, there's going to be a battle royal between us. He looks upon +me as a kind of fool, who can be easily duped. But I shan't be.' + +It was some days after this before I heard anything of Edgecumbe again. +As I think I have mentioned, I was on sick leave at the time, and after +leaving him I went to see some friends in Oxford. While there I got a +letter from him, saying that he had been taken ill almost immediately on +his return to duty, and that a fortnight's leave had been granted to him. +He asked me when I should be returning to London, as he would like me to +accompany him on his peregrinations through the City. I curtailed my +visit to Oxford, so as to fall in with his plans, and found that he had +taken up his quarters at a Y.M.C.A. Hut, which had been erected +especially for the use of officers. + +He was looking somewhat pale and hollow-eyed, as I entered a comfortably +fitted-up lounge in the building. + +'What's the matter with you?' I asked. + +'Oh, nothing much. I had a sort of relapse after I got back to work, and +the M.O. declared me unfit for duty. Evidently Colonel McClure wrote to +him about me. He seems to think I was poisoned.' + +'Did your M.O. tell you that?' + +'Yes, and in his opinion the poison was not quite eradicated from my +system. Funny, isn't it? Anyhow, they wouldn't let me work, and here I +am. What we poor soldiers would do without the Y.M.C.A., Heaven only +knows! Anyhow, it shows that Christianity is not quite dead in the +country, for if ever there was a Christian body, the Y.M.C.A. is one.' + +'You can hardly call it a body,' I replied; 'it is an organization +representing the Christian spirit of the country.' + +'All right, old man; call it what you like. Anyhow, I am jolly thankful +to its promoters. What I should have done but for the Y.M.C.A., Heaven +knows, I don't!' + +'I know what you are going to do,' I replied. + +'What?' + +'You are coming with me to my hotel as a guest.' + +'You are awfully good, old man, but I am afraid I can't. You see, this +illness of mine has given me my opportunity, and I am going to take it.' + +'Opportunity for what?' + +'For seeing London, for studying its life. I mean to go everywhere, and +I don't want to interfere with your liberty in any way.' + +'Good,' I replied, 'I'll go with you; and as we shall be staying at the +same hotel, it will be more convenient to both of us.' + +'Do you really mean that, Luscombe?' + +'Of course I do. I, like you, am at a loose end, and I shall be only too +glad to have a pal until I am sent back to the front again. Now not +another word, Edgecumbe. I am not a Rothschild, but I have no one +dependent on me, and I have more money than I need to spend. So pack up +your traps, and come with me. + +'Have you seen Springfield since our meeting on Paddington station?' I +asked, when presently we had removed to the hotel. + +'Yes,' he replied; 'directly I got to the Y.M.C.A. Hostel, I wrote him at +his club.' + +'Well?' I asked. + +'Oh, he was jolly friendly, and seemed anxious to take me around.' + +'And have you been with him?' + +'Yes,' he replied. + +'With what results?' + +He hesitated a few seconds before answering me, and then he said quietly, +'Oh, nothing much out of the ordinary. It--it was rather funny.' + +'What was rather funny?' + +'Our conversation. He hates me, Luscombe; he positively loathes me; and +he fears me, too.' + +'You have discovered that, have you?' + +'Yes, there is no doubt about it.' + +'Did you go anywhere with him?' + +'Yes, a good many places.' + +'You ought not to have gone with him,' I said doubtfully. + +'Perhaps not. But I was anxious to see the phases of life with which he +is familiar; I wanted to know the class of men he meets with,--to +understand their point of view.' + +'And what was your impression?' + +'I am not going to tell you yet. During the four days I have been in +London I have been looking around, trying to understand the working +motives, the guiding principles, of this, the capital of the Empire. I +seem like a man in a strange country, and I am learning my way round. +Oh, I do hope I am wrong!' + +'Wrong,--how? What do you mean?' + +'This war is maddening. Last night I couldn't sleep for thinking of +it,--all the horror of it got hold of me. I fancied myself out at the +front again,--I heard the awful howls and shrieks of the shells, heard +the booming of the big guns, smelt the acids of the explosives, heard the +groans of the men, saw them lying in the trenches and on the No Man's +Land, torn, mutilated, mangled. It is positively ghastly,--war is hell, +man, hell!' + +'Yes,' I said, 'but we must see it through.' + +'I know, I know. But how far away is the end? How long is this carnage +and welter of blood to continue?' + +'Let's change the subject,' I said. 'We'll get a bit of dinner, and then +go to a place of amusement.' + +'I don't feel like it to-night. Do you know any members of Parliament, +any Cabinet Ministers?' + +'Yes, a few. Why?' + +'I want to go to the House of Commons. I want to know what those men who +are guiding our affairs are thinking.' + +'Oh, all right,' I laughed. 'I can easily get a permit to the House of +Commons. I'll take you. As it happens, too, I can get you an +introduction to one or two members of the Government.' + +Two hours later, we were sitting in the Strangers' Gallery of the House +of Commons. I could see that Edgecumbe was impressed, not by the +magnificence of the surroundings, for, as all the world knows, the +interior of the British House of Commons,--that is the great Legislative +Chamber itself,--is not very imposing, but he was excited by the fact +that he was there in the Mother of Parliaments, listening to a debate on +the Great War. + +'It's wonderful, isn't it?' he said to me. 'Here we are in the very hub +of the British Empire,--here decisions are come to which affect the +destiny of hundreds of millions of people. Here, as far as the +Government is concerned, we can look into the very inwardness of the +British mind, its hopes, its ideals. If this Assembly were so to decide, +the war could stop to-morrow, and every soldier be brought home.' + +'I don't know,' I laughed. 'Behind this Assembly is the voice of the +country. If these men did not represent the thoughts and feelings of the +nation, they'd be sent about their business,--there'd be a revolution.' + +'Yes, yes, I realize that. And the fact that there is no revolution +shows that they are doing, on the whole, what the country wishes them.' + +'I suppose so,' I replied. + +After that, he listened two hours without speaking. I never saw a man so +intent upon what was being said. Speaker after speaker expressed his +views, and argued the points nearest his heart. + +At the end of two hours, there was a large exodus of members, and then +Edgecumbe rose like a man waking out of a trance. + +'Have you been interested?' I asked. + +'Never so interested in my life,--it was wonderful! But look here, my +friend, do these men believe in Almighty God? Have they been asking for +guidance on their deliberations?' + +'I don't know. We English are not people who talk about that kind of +thing lightly.' + +'No, and I am glad of it,' he replied earnestly, 'but I must come again. +In a sense, this should be the Power-House of the nation.' + +'It is,' I replied; 'at this place supplies are voted.' + +'Supplies,' he repeated thoughtfully. + +'Come,' I said, 'I have arranged to meet Mr. ----; he is an important +member of the Government, and he said he would be good for half an hour's +chat after this Debate was over.' + +A few seconds later, the member who introduced us took us into the lobby, +where I met the Minister to whom I had referred, and who led the way to +his own room. As it happened, I had known this Minister for several +years. We had spent a holiday together before the war, and had often +played golf together. I had more than once seen him after he had become +a member of the Government, and he appeared very glad of a little +relaxation after the stress of his work. + +'What did you think of the Debate?' he asked. 'Of course things are +different now from what they used to be. The time for making an +impression by big speeches is over. I dare say, when the war comes to an +end, we shall have the old party fights again, although the country will +never be the same again, even in that way. Still, I thought it was +interesting.' + +'How do you think we are doing?' I asked presently. + +'What, at the front? Oh, fairly well. We have to keep hammering away, +you know, but the Germans are by no means done for yet. It is evidently +going to be a war of exhaustion, and we have only just come to our +strength. Of course the Germans have given up all hope of winning. One +of our weaknesses, if I may so say, lies in Russia. It is months now +since they did anything.' + +'Do you think there is any danger of their making a separate peace?' I +asked. + +'No, I don't think so; but there are some very uncertain elements to +contend with, and the corruption there has been frightful. I should not +be surprised at a big movement there in time. Still, we are doing very +well; our forces are becoming well organized, and in another year or so I +think the Boches'll begin to crumple up.' + +Knowing what was in Edgecumbe's mind, I asked him several questions, +which he, without betraying any Cabinet secrets, answered freely. He +discussed the question in all its bearings, and revealed remarkable +acumen and judgment. All the time Edgecumbe sat listening eagerly, +without speaking a word. Then, suddenly, he burst out with a question. + +'What do you think we must do to win this war?' he asked, and there was a +strange intensity in his voice. + +'I am afraid I don't quite understand.' + +'What do you think we must do to win this war?' Edgecumbe repeated. +'Have we left anything undone that we could have done? Are there any +forces to be brought into play which have not yet been used? Do you see +any great dangers ahead? What must we do more? You see, I have been a +long time at the front, and I know what fighting is; but naturally, as a +soldier, my standpoint of vision is small and circumscribed. How does it +appeal to you, who, as a statesman, must necessarily take a larger view?' + +The Cabinet Minister seemed to be collecting his thoughts for a few +seconds, then he said, 'Of course the question is a very big one. First +of all, take the East. If Russia is freed from traitors, and if she +holds together,--and if, with the help that we can give her, she can have +enough munitions, I don't think we need fear anything there. Then, while +our Salonica effort doesn't seem to amount to much, we are holding up a +vast number of men, and doing good work. But I do not expect anything +decisive from there. Then, in a way, we are doing valuable work in +Mesopotamia and Palestine; by that means we are gradually wearing down +the Turks. When we come nearer home,--Italy is doing very well. She'll +make a big push in a few months, and we shall be able to help her. +France is, of course, becoming a bit exhausted, but France is good for a +long while yet. It is we who have to play the decisive game, and if we +hold together, as I believe we shall if we have no Labour troubles, so +that munitions and supplies may be plentiful, we shall be stronger in the +field than the Germans are. We have beaten them in big guns, in +explosives, and in men. Of course it'll be a long, tough fight, for the +Germans realize that it is neck or nothing with them, and they'll hold +out to the last. But we are the strongest side, and in the end they'll +crumple up.' + +'Then you think,' asked Edgecumbe, 'that our victory will depend on these +things?--on stronger armies, and a bigger supply of munitions?' + +'That, and the ability of our generals. The German generals are very +able men, but I think we beat them even there.' + +'Then that is how you roughly outline our forces, and our hopes of +victory?' + +'Yes, that is it, roughly,' replied the Minister. + +'May I ask whether that is the view of the Government as a whole?' + +'What other view is there?' + +'Then where does God come in?' + +He asked the question simply, but evidently he was deeply in earnest. I +recognized the intensity of his voice, saw the flash of his eyes. + +The Minister looked towards me in a bewildered kind of way. I have an +idea that he thought Edgecumbe was mad. + +'I don't quite understand you,' he said. 'Will you tell me exactly what +you mean?' + +'I asked you,' said Edgecumbe, 'what you thought were the forces to be +used in order to win this war, and you told me; whereupon I asked you +where God came in.' + +'God!' repeated the Minister; 'why, we are at war!' + +'Exactly, that is why I ask. When the war commenced, the people of the +nation were informed that we were going to fight a holy war, that we were +going to crush militarism, do justice to small states, bring about an +abiding peace in the world. We were told that it was God's war. May I +ask where God comes in in your scheme of carrying it on?' + +The Minister smiled. Evidently he had come to the conclusion that +Edgecumbe was a harmless lunatic, and should not be taken seriously. + +'The fact that we are fighting for a just cause,' he said, 'is sufficient +to prove that it is God's war.' + +'But is that all?' + +The Minister looked at him helplessly. Evidently he did not think it +worth while to carry the conversation further. + +'Because,' went on Edgecumbe quietly, 'as far as I have watched the +course of events, we have been fighting, as far as the Government is +concerned, as though God did not exist. A great many appeals have been +made to the nation, yet think what they amount to! First of all the +country was appealed to for men, and the men volunteered. But that was +not enough. A certain section of the press cried out for conscription, +and demanded that Parliament should pass a Bill giving power to the +authorities to compel every man of military age to join the Forces. That +was done. Then there was the trouble about munitions, and power was +given whereby many works were controlled, and huge factories were built +all over the country for the production of big guns and explosives. In +addition to that, there was appeal after appeal for money, and still more +money. Then we were told that the whole nation should serve, and there +was a further appeal for a National Service. We were told that if these +things were done victory was certain.' + +'But surely you do not object to this?' said the Cabinet Minister in +astonishment. + +'Certainly not,' replied Edgecumbe. 'I agree with every one of them; but +I asked where God came in. We pretend to believe in God, don't we?' + +'Well, what then?' + +'Has there been any appeal to the nation to repent of its sins? There +have been Proclamations from the throne: has there ever been one calling +upon the people of the British Empire to pray? Have we, as a nation, +been asked to link ourselves to the power of Almighty God? Has the +Government ever endeavoured to make the people feel that our victory is +in God's hands, and that we must look to Him for help? Have we not, I +ask, as far as the Government is concerned, been fighting this war as +though God didn't exist?' + +'But, my dear man,' said the Cabinet Minister, 'you as a soldier must +know that chaplains are sent out with the Forces, that the soldiers have +to attend Church Parade, and that prayer is offered by the chaplains for +our victory? How can you say then that the war has been conducted as +though God didn't exist?' + +'I know what all that means,' replied Edgecumbe. 'I have been at the +front for a good many months, and I know what it means. I recognize, +too, all the splendid work that has been done by the chaplains; many of +them are fine fellows. But I want to get a bit deeper. I want to know +what steps have been taken to make the nation realize that primarily +victory is in the hands of Almighty God. I want to know, too, what steps +have been taken to make the soldiers know what they are fighting for. We +have in the Army now several millions, and they are all being instructed +in the use of rifle shooting, machine-guns, bayonet work, and so on. +Have any steps been taken to instruct them as to the nature of the cause +we are fighting for, and of our ultimate aims and purposes? Have they +ever been imbued with the idea of what Germanism means, and of our +ultimate aims and ideals? In a word, have the soldiers been instructed +that this is God's war, and that they are fighting for a holy cause?' + +The Cabinet Minister laughed. Edgecumbe's question seemed too absurd to +answer. Then he said somewhat uneasily, 'Prayers are said in the +churches every Sunday.' + +'And from what I hear, only about one person in ten goes to Church.' + +'What are you driving at?' and there was a touch of impatience in the +Minister's voice. + +'Only this,' replied Edgecumbe, 'if this is simply a war of brute force +against brute force, then doubtless the Government is going on the right +tack. But if it is more,--if it is a war of God against the devil, of +right against wrong, of the forces of heaven against the forces of hell, +then we are forgetting our chief Power, we are failing as a nation to +utilize the mightiest forces at our command. There might be no God, if +one were to judge from the way we are conducting this struggle.' + +'Nonsense!' + +'That is scarcely an answer. Mark you, I am looking at it from the +standpoint of the Government as expressing the thought and will of the +nation. The Government is supposed to be the mouthpiece of the nation, +and judging from the appeals of the men holding important offices under +the Government, and the general trend of the daily press, while appeals +are being made for all the material resources of the Empire, there has +never been one appeal to the nation to pray, and to lay hold of the power +which God is waiting to give.' + +'You do not seem to realize, my friend,' said the Cabinet Minister, 'that +war is primarily a contest between material forces.' + +'No,' said Edgecumbe, 'I don't, neither do I believe it.' + +'Our generals are not sentimentalists,' said the statesman; 'war is a +stern business, and they see that it is a matter of big guns.' + +'Not all,' replied Edgecumbe. 'If ever a man knew the meaning of big +guns, and what big guns can do, it is Admiral Beatty. Perhaps you +remember what he said: "England still remains to be taken out of the +stupor of self-satisfaction and complacency into which her great and +flourishing condition has steeped her, and until she can be stirred out +of this condition, and until a religious revival takes place at home, +just so long will the war continue."' + +For a moment the statesman seemed nonplussed, and I could see that +Edgecumbe was impressing him in spite of himself. He spoke quietly, but +with evident intense conviction, and there was something in his +personality that commanded respect. On his tunic, too, he wore his +decorations, the decorations which proved him to be a man of courage and +resource. There was no suggestion of weakness or of fanaticism in his +manner. Every word, every movement, spoke of a strong, brave, determined +man. + +'Then what would you do?' he asked almost helplessly. + +'It is scarcely a matter of what I would do,' replied Edgecumbe. 'I am +here as an inquirer, and I came to the House of Commons to-night in order +to understand the standpoint from which the Government looks at this +tremendous question.' + +'And your conclusion is----?' + +'That God's forgotten. It is not looked upon as a religious war at +all,--everything is reduced to the level of brute force. As far as I can +read the newspapers, never, since the first few months of the war, or at +least very rarely, has there been any endeavour to make the people +realize this ghastly business from a religious standpoint, while the +soldiers never hear a word from week end to week end of the purposes for +which they are fighting.' + +'You can't make soldiers religious if they don't want to be,' said the +Minister, weakly I thought. + +'I don't say you can,' replied Edgecumbe, 'but you can do something to +lift the whole thing above its present sordid level, and give them a high +and holy courage.' + +'They _have_ courage,' replied the Minister. 'As you have been at the +front, you know what a splendid lot of men they are.' + +'No man knows better,--a finer lot of fellows never breathed. But look +at facts, think of the forces which have opposed them, and remember how +they have been handicapped? Drink has been one of our great curses in +this country; it has been one of our greatest hindrances. Even the Prime +Minister insisted upon it almost pathetically. When we lacked munitions, +and our men were being killed for want of them, drink was the principal +interest to their manufacture. You of course know what Mr. Lloyd George +said in 1915: "Without spending one penny on additional structures, +without putting down a single additional machine, without adding to the +supervision of the men, but on the contrary lessening the supervision, we +could, by putting down the drink, by one act of sacrifice on the part of +the nation, win through to victory for our country." Yet the Government +has only played with the drink question, as far as the country is +concerned, and it has kept on supplying it to the boys abroad. Everyone +knows it has lowered the standard of our national life, intellectually, +morally, and spiritually. And yet the thing continues. Is that the way +to fight God's battles? Vested interests seem of more importance than +purity and righteousness, while the men who make huge fortunes out of +this traffic are coroneted.' + +'Good night, Luscombe,' said the Cabinet Minister rising. 'I must be +going now. This conversation has been very interesting, but I am afraid +I cannot see as your friend sees.' + +A few minutes later, we stood outside the great Government building. We +were in the heart of London, the great city which so largely focuses the +life of our world-wide Empire. Close to us, the towers of the Abbey +lifted their pinnacles into the grey sky, while St. Margaret's Church +looked almost small and diminutive by its side. Up Whitehall we could +see the dim outlines of the great Government buildings, while the broad +thoroughfare pulsated with the roaring traffic. + +For some seconds Edgecumbe did not speak, then he burst out excitedly. +'It's a wonderful old city, isn't it? The finest, grandest city in the +world! Do you know, it casts a kind of spell upon me. I sometimes think +there is more good in London than in any other place.' + +'Any one would not think so, judging by your conversation just now,' I +laughed. + +'But there is,' he said. 'Why, think of the kindness and loving service +shown to the returning soldiers! Think of the thousands of women who are +giving their lives to nursing them and caring for them! Come on,' and he +moved towards Westminster Bridge. + +'That's not the way back to the hotel.' + +'I am not going back to the hotel yet,' he said. + +'Where are you going, then?' + +'To Waterloo station. There will be trains coming in from the coast. I +want to see what happens to the soldiers who are coming back from the +front.' + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +SEEING LONDON + +I am not going to write at length on what we saw at Waterloo station, and +in its vicinity. In a way, our experiences were interesting beyond +words, and while there was much which made one rejoice, there was also +much to sadden. While we were there, a train came in laden with troops. +Hundreds of men had come home on leave, and they had now arrived at this +great terminus. What rejoiced me was to see the number of Y.M.C.A. +workers, as well as others from various Christian bodies, who met the men +and welcomed them. Of course there were numbers who were eagerly +welcomed by their friends; others had evidently made their plans to get +back to their homes quickly, while many more seemed bewildered and +lonely. Lads who had originally hailed from Canada and Australia, and +who knew nothing of London, looked around the huge station as though not +knowing what to do, and if ever I felt glad because of the work of the +Y.M.C.A., I felt it then. They seemed to have a kind of genius for +knowing the men who were without friends, and for giving them a hearty +welcome back. + +I knew that, scattered all over London, were Huts and Hostels which they +have provided for these lads who were strangers in a strange city, and +that many of them would be taken to these places, given a hot supper, and +provided with a comfortable bed. I know, too, while the lads were under +the influence of the Y.M.C.A., no harm would happen to them, that they +would be surrounded by good and healthy influences, and that as many of +them who had no homes in England could stay at the Hostels during their +leave. + +But there were other influences at work. Not only were there these noble +bands of workers, who existed for our soldiers' comfort and +salvation,--there were scores of evil women who hovered around waiting +like vultures to swoop upon their prey. + +It is difficult to write about, difficult to contemplate. Scores of +these boys, who for months had been away at the front, living without +many refining influences, living, too, under strict discipline amidst all +the stress and horror of war, were suddenly given their liberty, and let +loose in our great City. Most of them would have plenty of money, for +there are few opportunities of spending at the front, and they would be +freed from all restrictions. Then their danger began. Lads, many of +them inspired by no religious ideals, excited by their liberty, with no +restraint of any sort placed upon them, became an easy prey to those who +looked upon them as victims. The angels of light were there to help +them, but there were also many creatures of darkness who lured them to +destruction, and these creatures of darkness were allowed to ply their +ghastly trade often without let or hindrance. + +I could not help feeling the tragedy of it. These lads who had been +living from hour to hour, and from minute to minute, amidst the roar of +great guns, the shriek of shells, the pep-pep-pep of machine-guns, never +knowing when death would come, were suddenly and without preparation +thrown upon the bosom of our great modern Babylon; and on their return +they were met by these creatures. + +'It is ghastly, it is hellish!' said Edgecumbe, as we returned across +Waterloo Bridge. + +'What can be done?' I asked helplessly. + +'These fellows should be safeguarded,' he replied. 'Oh, I know the +difficulties, but those creatures should be dealt with with a strong +hand; they should not be allowed in such places. The boys coming home +from danger and death should be protected from such temptations. It is +not a thing to talk about, not a thing to discuss in public; but think of +the inwardness of it, think of the ghastly diseases, the loss of manhood, +the corruption of soul, that follows in the train of what we have +seen,--and it is going on all over London.' + +'You can't put down vice by Act of Parliament,' I replied. + +'No, but a great deal more can be done than is done,' was his answer. +'People don't talk about these things in their drawing-rooms, or in their +social circles, but they exist,--my God, they exist! And this is +supposed to be a holy war! Still, thank God for the good that is being +done, for the organizations which exist for men's comfort and salvation.' + +And then he did not speak another word until we reached the hotel. + +The next day was Saturday, and directly after lunch we started to go +together to a matinee, for Edgecumbe had stated his determination to +visit the places of amusement and see how London enjoyed itself. + +We begun by going to one of the largest and most popular music-halls in +the City, where a revue which was much commented on was produced for the +delectation of all who cared to see it. + +I was informed that this particular place was much patronized by +soldiers, and that the entertainment was one of the most popular in +London. The prices of the seats varied from half a guinea, plus the War +tax, to a shilling, and as we entered we found a vast concourse of +people, among whom were many men in khaki. I discovered too that the +management had been generous, for there were numbers of wounded soldiers, +many of them in the stalls, and who had been given free admission. + +'After all, it is fine,' I said, as we waited for the curtain to rise, +'that these lads should have a place of brightness and amusement to go +to.' + +'Yes,' replied Edgecumbe, 'in a way it is splendid.' + +'The people of the country are wonderfully good,' I went on; 'soldiers in +the hospitals, as well as others home on leave, are constantly being +given hospitality by the best and kindest people in England. I hope +these chaps'll have a good laugh this afternoon, and be able to forget +the horrors through which they have passed. They have had enough of the +tragedy of life, poor chaps. I hope they'll get some comedy this +afternoon.' + +'I hope they will,' he replied. + +I will not attempt to give a description of the revue they witnessed that +afternoon. I suppose it was similar to a score of others that might be +seen in various parts of the metropolis. There was an excellent +orchestra, the music was light and pleasing, the whole atmosphere of the +place was merry. The lights were dazzling, the dresses were gay, the +scenery almost magnificent. As a spectacle it would, I suppose, be +regarded as gorgeous. Apparently, too, most of the auditors enjoyed it, +although a look of boredom was on some faces. As to the revue itself, +while one could not help admitting that some of the songs were humorous, +and some of the repartee clever, the thing as a whole was cheap and silly +and vulgar. + +I do not say there was anything positively wrong in it, but there were a +great many vulgar suggestions and unpleasant innuendoes. As a dramatic +critic said in my hearing a day or two later, when discussing the popular +entertainments of London, 'Most of these shows consist of vulgar, +brainless twaddle.' Still, the audience laughed and cheered, and when +the curtain finally fell, there was a good deal of applause. Certainly +the entertainment would be a great contrast to the experiences which the +lads who were home on leave had been going through. But as I reflect on +it now, and think of the great struggle through which the nation was +going, and the ideals for which it was fighting, I cannot remember one +single word that would help or inspire. Of course places of amusement +are not intended to instruct or to fill one with lofty emotions. All the +same, I could not help feeling that laughter and enjoyment were in no way +incompatible with the higher aims of the drama. In fact, what we saw was +not drama at all; it was a caricature of life, and a vulgar one at that. +Indeed, the author's purpose seemed to be--that is, assuming he had a +purpose--to teach that virtue was something to be laughed at, that vice +was pleasant, and that sin had no evil consequences. + +Indeed, while I am anything but a puritan, I felt sorry that the hundreds +of lads home from the front, many of whom were wounded, had no better +fare offered to them. God knows I would be the last to detract from +their honest enjoyment, and I would make their leave bright and happy; +but after all, the nation was at war, life was a struggle, and death +stalked triumphant, and this was but a poor mental and moral food for men +who, for months, had been passing through an inferno, and many of whom +would, in a few weeks or days, go back again to see 'hell let loose.' If +those men had been merely fighting animals, if they were mere creatures +of a day, who went out of existence when the sun went down, then one +could understand; but they were men with hopes, and fears, and longings; +men into whose nostrils God had breathed the breath of His own life, men +destined for immortality. And this show was pagan from end to end. + +When the entertainment was over, I led the way to a fashionable hotel for +tea, where a large and handsomely decorated room was set apart for that +purpose. A gay crowd of some hundreds had already gathered when we +arrived, so that there was a difficulty in obtaining a table. This crowd +had evidently, like ours, come from the various places of amusement in +the immediate vicinity, and had managed to get there earlier than we. + +The men folk were mostly officers, while the women were, I imagine, in +the main their relatives and friends. The latter were very gaily and +expensively dressed. As far as I can remember, the cost of a very poor +tea was half a crown for each person. Every one appeared in great good +humour, and laughter was the order of the day. + +'Not much suggestion here that the country's at war, eh?' I said, looking +round the room, 'and but few evidences that the appeals to the public to +economize have been taken very deeply to heart.' + +'No,' replied Edgecumbe, 'except for the khaki, it would be difficult to +believe that the country is at war. Still, I suppose it is natural. +Most of these lads are home on leave, and their women folk want them to +enjoy themselves. This is their way of doing it.' + +'It shows that money is plentiful,' I said; 'we are a long way from +bankruptcy yet.' + +'But the big bill will have to be paid, my friend. There are no signs of +it now, but the country can't spend all these millions every day without +suffering for it later on,' and I saw a thoughtful look come into his +eyes as they wandered round the room. + +After tea we went for a walk along the streets, and then, at half-past +seven, I took him to another fashionable hotel, where I had ordered +dinner. Again we saw a similar crowd, met with similar scenes. Whatever +London might be feeling, the fashionable part of it had determined to +enjoy itself. At night we went to another theatre, which was also packed +to the ceiling with a gay throng. Here also were crowds of soldiers, +many of whom were, I judged, like ourselves, home from the front. + +Edgecumbe passed no opinion on the play, or on the spectators. That he +was deeply interested, was evident, although I think his interest was +more in the audience than the performers. + +'I am tired,' I said, when the entertainment was over; 'let's get to bed.' + +'No, not yet, I want to see London by night. All this, to you, Luscombe, +is commonplace. I dare say it would be to me if my memory came back. As +it is, it is all new and strange to me. It is exciting me tremendously. +I am like one seeing the show for the first time.' + +By this time London was at its busiest, crowds surged everywhere. +'Buses, taxi-cabs, and motors threaded their way through the streets, +while the foot pavements were crowded. Places of amusement were emptying +themselves on every hand, and although the streets were darkened, it +seemed to have no effect upon the spirits of the people. The night was +fairly clear, and a pale moon showed itself between the clouds. + +'What a city it is!' said Edgecumbe, after we had been walking some time. +'Think of it, the centre of the British Empire, the great heart which +sends its life-blood through the veins of a mighty people! But is the +life-blood pure, my friend?' + +We passed up Charing Cross to Leicester Square, and then on through +Piccadilly Circus up Regent Street, then we came down again, through the +Haymarket, into Pall Mall. I am not going to describe what we saw, nor +tell in detail the experiences through which we passed. That ghastly +story of gilded vice, and of corruption which is not ashamed, was too +sad, too pathetic. The Empire might be in danger, even then there might +be Zeppelins hovering in the near distance, waiting to drop missiles of +destruction and death. Less than two hundred miles away our armies were +fighting, guns were booming, shells were shrieking, men were dying. But +here in London, on the eve of the Day of Rest, the tide of iniquity +rolled. Young men were tempted, and falling; many of the very lads who +had done heroic deeds were selling their souls for half an hour's +pleasure. + +In spite of the drink regulations, too, it was easy to see that numbers, +both men and women, had been able to obtain it, often to their own +degradation. + +'Come on,' said Edgecumbe presently, 'let's get back to the hotel. I've +had enough.' + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +SUNSHINE AND SHADOW + +During the remainder of Edgecumbe's leave we spent our time in seeing and +trying to understand London. As he had insisted, London was the centre +of the British Empire; the great heart which sent its life-blood +throughout the veins of four hundred millions of people. To understand +London, therefore, was to understand the aims, hopes and ideals of the +British race. Of course I urged that London was not England, much less +the Empire; but I could not help admitting that there was much truth in +his contention. + +Naturally we did not see our metropolis in its entirety. To know London +means a lifetime's study; but we did get a superficial glimpse of its +life, and we tried to understand the inwardness of that life. + +On the day after the incidents described in the last chapter we visited +several churches; we also made our way into Hyde Park, and heard the +orators. We interviewed several ecclesiastics both of the Established +and Nonconformist order, and if ever a man was depressed it was Edgecumbe. + +'These religious organizations do not touch a tithe of the people,' he +said to me. 'London is called a Christian City, but it is far more pagan +than Christian. The people are not interested in religious things, and +even among churchgoers everything seems unreal.' + +He was led to modify this opinion later. He saw that while the City was +in one sense largely godless, it was in another deeply religious. He +realized that, in spite of apparent religious indifference, the teachings +of the Founder of Christianity, and the truths for which He lived and +died, had, through the centuries, created an atmosphere which influenced +every phase of thought and life. + +But he did not feel this during the two Sundays we spent together. As +far as we could see, only a small fragment of the people entered the +doors of the churches, and that even this fragment was filled with no +mighty religious hope or enthusiasm. + +One sermon, however, struck him forcibly. It was preached by a young man +who took for his text, 'And they that were ready went into the marriage +feast.' The argument of the sermon was that God gave neither individuals +nor nations the highest of blessings until they were ready, and he urged +that until England was ready for peace God would not give it her. That +until we became less materialistic, less selfish, until we ceased to +exploit the war as a means for advancing our own interest, and until we +turned to God and kept His commandments, real peace would be a far-off +dream. + +But I must not stay to describe this at length; indeed, a volume would be +necessary to give any true idea of our experiences. We saw London by +night as well as by day. We went to munition factories and to night +clubs, to hospitals and to music-halls, to seats of Government and to +haunts of vice. We talked with hundreds of people of all kinds, and from +the drift of their conversation tried to understand the spirit of the +City. + +I shall never forget the look on Edgecumbe's face after our visit to a +hospital for soldiers who suffered from a disease which shall be +nameless. The horror in his eyes and the absolute nausea and loathing +which possessed him has haunted me ever since. + +But there were sights which rejoiced him also. The splendid sacrifices +which unnumbered people, both men and women, were making, and the great +broad-hearted charity which abounded on every hand, made him realize not +only the bad but the good, and led him to realize that beneath the mad +whirl of evil passions which was too evident, was a life sacred and +sublime. + +Presently, however, our peregrinations came to an end. Edgecumbe had +appeared before a medical officer, and was declared fit for duty again. +He had also received orders to return to his battery, while I daily +waited instructions as to my future course of action. + +'We have had a wonderful time, Luscombe,' he said. 'I little dreamt, +when we started out to see London, what it would be like.' + +'Well, what do you think of it all?' + +'I am bewildered,' he replied; 'it is all too big to co-ordinate. I want +to get a grasp of everything. I want to see things in their true +proportion. I want to understand.' + +We had just come from the Crystal Palace, where so many thousands of our +sailors are quartered, and had been talking with the workers of the +Y.M.C.A. concerning their activities there. + +'You will never be able to co-ordinate it, Edgecumbe,' I said. 'No man +can understand fully the life of a great city like this.' + +'No, I suppose not. Still, I am trying to think my way through it.' + +'Anyhow,' I said, 'you have to return to duty tomorrow. Let us forget +the serious things of life for once. By the way,' I added, 'have you +heard from Miss Lorna Bolivick?' + +For some seconds he did not reply, and I thought he did not hear what I +said. His face was a curious study at the time, and I wondered what he +was thinking about. + +'No,' he replied presently, 'I have not heard from her. Naturally I did +not expect to.' + +During the whole time we had spent in London together, he had never once +referred to her, and I imagined, and almost hoped, that he had seen the +madness of the determination he had expressed when we were down in +Devonshire. + +'You have given up all thought of her, then?' + +'Given up all thought of her? Certainly not. You know what I told you?' + +'Yes, but I thought you might have seen how foolish you were.' + +'I shall never give up hope,' he replied; 'that is, until hope is +impossible. Whatever made you think of such a thing?' + +'But do you not see the madness of your plan?' + +'No, there is nothing mad in it. By the way, Luscombe, I am awfully +hungry. Let us go in here and get some dinner. Don't think, old man, +that I can't see your point of view,' he said when we had taken our seats +in the dining-room of the restaurant, 'I can. From your standpoint, for +a man in my position, without name, without home, without friends, +without money, to aspire to the hand of Lorna Bolivick, is to say that he +is fit for a lunatic asylum. But I can't see things as you do. God +Almighty didn't put this love in my heart for nothing, a love which has +been growing every day since I saw her. Why, man, although I have said +nothing to you, she is everything to me, everything! That is, from the +personal standpoint. If I did not believe in God, I should despair, but, +believing in Him, despair is impossible.' + +'God does not give us everything we want,' I replied; 'it would not be +good for us if He did. Possibly He has other plans for her.' + +'That may be so,' he replied calmly, 'but I am going to act as though He +meant her for me.' + +I looked across the dining-hall as he spoke, and saw, sitting not far +away from us, a party which instantly attracted my attention. + +'I should not, if I were you,' I said. + +'Why?' + +'Look!' I replied, nodding towards the table I had noticed. + +He gave a start, for sitting at the table were Sir Thomas and Lady +Bolivick and their daughter Lorna. Sitting beside the latter was +Springfield. + +'Does not that suggest the answer?' + +His face never moved a muscle, and he looked at them as though he were +but little interested. + +'If ever a man had the appearance of a successful lover,' I went on, +'Springfield has. There, do you see how he is looking at her? Do you +see how his every action suggests proprietorship? Then watch her face, +see how she smiles at him. It would seem, too, as though her father and +mother are very pleased.' + +He continued to look at them for several seconds, then he said quite +casually, 'They have no idea we are here.' + +'No, evidently not. But I think I will go and speak to them.' + +'Don't, Luscombe,' and he spoke quickly; 'it will be better not. I don't +want that man to know where I am.' + +'You are convinced that I was right about him, then?' + +'I am convinced there will be a battle royal between me and that man,' he +said, and there was a far-away look in his eyes. 'Perhaps--perhaps--I +don't know,--the ways of Providence are strange. There is going to be a +terrible fight; I can see it coming.' + +'What, between you and Springfield?' + +'Yes; but there is something more than that, something greater. But I +must fight,--I must fight.' + +I did not understand the look in his eyes, or the tone of his voice. + +'What, to protect yourself against Springfield?' I said. + +'To save a woman's soul,' was his reply. 'Would you mind if we didn't +talk about it any more just now?' He went on with his dinner as though +nothing had happened, and if a stranger had been sitting by, he would +have said that Edgecumbe had no interest in the party close by. + +'I think I must go and speak to them,' I said; 'it would seem +discourteous to be so near, and not speak to people who have shown me so +much kindness.' + +'Go if you like,' was his answer, 'but don't let them see me. I am going +back to the hotel.' + +I waited until he had left the room, and then turned towards Sir Thomas +Bolivick's table. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +CROSS CURRENTS + +I received a hearty welcome as I came up, and Sir Thomas tried to +persuade me to spend the evening with them, and to accompany them to the +theatre. As far as I could judge, however, neither Springfield nor Lorna +seconded his proposal. I thought she preferred Springfield's company to +my own. They were now sitting over their coffee. Sir Thomas was smoking +a huge cigar, while Springfield lit cigarette after cigarette and threw +them away before they were half consumed. + +'When did you come up?' I asked. + +'Oh, we have been here four days. Captain Springfield--oh, I beg his +pardon,--Colonel Springfield, has to go to the front the day after +to-morrow, and I was anxious to see him before he went.' + +'"Colonel"?' I said. 'Have you been gazetted?' and I turned to +Springfield as I spoke. + +'Sir Thomas is a little premature,' he replied with a smile. 'My name +was down for my majority before I returned home wounded, and I was +gazetted two months ago. As to my being colonel,--but there, it is no +use making a secret of it, I suppose I am to have my battalion +immediately on my return.' + +'Yes, I saw General ---- at the War Office yesterday,' and Sir Thomas +smiled benignantly. 'Such services as Springfield has rendered can't go +long unrewarded, and in these days seniority does not count so much. By +the way, what has become of our eccentric friend Edgecumbe?' + +'Don't you know. Have you heard nothing about him?' and I turned quickly +to Springfield as I spoke. + +'I saw him nearly three weeks ago,' he replied; 'it seems he was not fit +for work, and came to London on leave. I saw him twice, I think, and +took him to one or two clubs. Since then I have lost sight of him.' + +'And heard nothing about him?' I asked, looking at him steadily. + +'Nothing at all. Sir Thomas, it is nearly time for us to go, but there +is time for another liqueur. We can meet the ladies in the vestibule.' + +I accompanied Lorna Bolivick a few steps down the room, while Lady +Bolivick went a little ahead. + +'Am I to congratulate you, Lorna?' I said. 'Forgive me, I am taking you +at your word.' + +She gave me a quick look, which I could not understand, and then replied, +'I start nursing again next week.' + +'You know what I mean,' I persisted, and I laughed as I spoke. +'Springfield looks a very happy man.' + +'Don't speak that way.' she replied; 'at least not yet.' + +'Why?' I asked; and then, overstepping the bounds of good taste, I went +on, 'Edgecumbe told me all about it.' + +'Did he? I am so sorry. But--but--come and see us, won't you? We are +staying at the Carlton. We shall be there three days more. I want to +talk to you. Good night,' and she rushed away. + +When I returned to the table, I found that the waiter had replenished the +liqueur glasses, and I saw, not only by the empty champagne bottle, but +by Springfield's eyes, that his libations had been liberal. + +'By the way, Luscombe,' he said, 'do _you_ know where Edgecumbe is? Has +he returned to duty?' + +Before I could reply, Sir Thomas, fortunately I thought, burst in with +another question, 'What do you really make of that fellow Edgecumbe?' + +'One of the bravest, finest, and most conscientious men I ever met,' I +replied. + +Springfield laughed mockingly. + +'Why, is not that your opinion?' and I looked at him steadily. + +'A man is bound to think kindly of a man who has saved his life. Because +of that I tried to be friendly to him. He was staying at that Y.M.C.A. +show for penniless officers, and I thought I'd do him a good turn, +but--but----' he hesitated. + +'But what?' I asked. + +'Of course I know little of him. I never saw him until I met him down at +Sir Thomas's place. But if you weren't so certain about his sanctity, +Luscombe, I should be inclined to look upon him as a criminal madman'; +and there was a snarl in his voice. + +'Surely you must have reasons for that,' I said. + +'Yes, I have.' + +'What are they?' + +'I don't think I am obliged to tell,' he replied truculently. + +'I think you are,' I said. 'To say the least of it, you owe him your +life,--I can testify to that, for he exposed himself to almost certain +death while digging you out from under a big heap of _débris_; none of +the others who were there would have done it. And it is hardly decent to +call one who has done such a thing a criminal madman, without having the +strongest reasons.' + +'I _have_ the strongest reasons,' he replied, and I saw that his +libations had made him less cautious than usual. 'I do not think any one +can doubt his madness, whilst as for the criminality,' and he laughed +again, 'evidently he does the pious when he is with _you_; but when he +gets among men of his own ilk, his piety is an unknown quantity. But the +ladies are waiting, Sir Thomas; we must be off.' + +I did not seek to pursue the conversation further. I did not think it +wise. And certainly the dining-room of a popular restaurant was not the +place for a scene. + +I went back to the hotel very slowly, and having taken a somewhat +roundabout course it was not until an hour after I had left the +restaurant that I arrived there. I went into all the public rooms, and +looked for my friend. But he was nowhere visible. Then, feeling +somewhat uneasy, I went to his bedroom door, and was much relieved at +hearing him bid me enter. I found him sitting in an easy chair with a +handful of notes, which he had evidently been reading. + +'What have you got there?' I asked. + +'Oh, each night after we came back I wrote down my impressions,' he +replied, 'and I have been looking at them.' + +'Well, you are a cool customer!' I laughed. + +'Thank you. But what has led you to that tremendous conclusion?' + +'Why, you see the woman with whom you pretend to be in love taken away by +another man, and never show the least desire to play your game! If it +were any one else but Springfield, I should not wonder so much, but +knowing your opinion of him, I can hardly understand it.' + +'Yes, I hardly understand myself,' he replied; 'in fact, I am rather a +mystery to myself.' + +'Do you really love Lorna Bolivick?' I asked. + +'Excuse me, old man, but I don't quite understand you.' + +He looked at me steadily for a few seconds, and then went on quietly, 'I +fancy there is no need to tell you about that.' + +'And yet you stand by and see Springfield carry her off before your eyes, +and Springfield is a rotter.' + +'Yes, that's just what he is. But he can't harm her yet.' + +'What do you mean by "_yet_"?' + +'I can't put it into words, Luscombe. My first impulse when I saw them +together just now was to go to the table and denounce him,--to warn her +against him. But it would have been madness. The time is not yet come.' + +'Meanwhile, he will marry her,' I said. + +'No, he won't. I am afraid he has fascinated her, and I am sure he means +to marry her,--I saw it down in Devonshire. But there is no danger yet; +the danger will come by and by,--when or how I don't know. It will come, +and I must be ready for it. I will be ready, too. Meantime, I have +other things to think about. I am worried, my friend, worried.' + +'What is worrying you?' + +'I am going back to duty to-morrow, but from what I can hear I am to be +treated as a special case. My colonel has said all sorts of kind things +about me, I find. But that's not what I am thinking about now. This war +is maddening me,--this constant carnage, with all the misery it entails. +You asked me some time ago what I thought about the things we had +seen,--what my impressions were, and I told you that I could not +co-ordinate my ideas, could not look at things in their true perspective. +I say, Luscombe, Admiral Beatty was right.' + +'What do you mean?' + +'Do you remember what he said?--"Just so long as England remains in a +state of religious indifference, just so long as the present conditions +obtain, will the war continue."' + +'Don't let us talk about that now.' + +'But I must, my dear chap. I am going back to duty to-morrow, and I want +to realize the inwardness of all we have seen. One thing I am determined +on.' + +'What is that?' + +'To fight this drink business as long as I have breath. It is doing us +more harm than Germany. I am told there is danger of a food famine. It +is said that bread is going to be scarce,--that people may be put on +short rations. Of course we only hear hints now, but there are +suggestions that Germany is going to pursue her submarine policy with +more vigour, so as to starve us. A man I met in the hotel a little while +ago told me that they were going to sink all merchant ships at sight, +regardless of nationality. Of course you know what that means.' + +'There are always rumours afloat,' I said. + +'They _might_ do it. Germany is capable of anything. But we could laugh +at that, but for this drink business. Think of it! Four million tons of +grain wasted in making drink since the beginning of the war, and there is +a talk about a shortage of bread. Three hundred thousand tons of sugar +have been used in making drink since the beginning of the war, and it is +difficult for people to buy sugar for the common necessities of life! +And that is not the worst of it. Why, man, you know what we have seen +during these last weeks,--all the horror, all the misery, all the +devilry! What has been at the bottom of nine-tenths of it? Night after +night, when we have come back from seeing what we _have_ seen, I have +been studying these questions, I have been reading hours while you +thought I was asleep. And I tell you, it would not be good for us to +have victory, until this thing is destroyed. And I doubt whether God +Almighty ever _will_ give us victory, until we have first of all +strangled once and for ever this drink fiend.' + +'Don't talk nonsense! You are becoming a teetotal fanatic.' + +'Think, Luscombe,' and he rose from his chair as he spoke, 'suppose God +were to give us victory to-night? Suppose the Germans were to cave in, +and tell us that we could dictate the terms of peace? Suppose our armies +were to come back while things are as they are, and while the thought and +feeling of the nation is as it is? Don't you see what would follow? +When trouble was first in the air, Asquith said that "war was hell let +loose." Would not hell be let loose if victory were to be declared? +Think of the drunkenness, the devilry, the bestiality that you and I saw! +Think what those streets round Waterloo station are like! Think of the +places we went to, and remember what took place! And these are grave +times,--times of struggle and doubt, and there are only a few odd +thousands home on leave. But what would happen, with all these +public-houses standing open, if hundreds of thousands, intoxicated with +the thought of victory, came back? You have told me what took place +during the Boer War; that would be nothing to the Bacchanalian orgies we +should see if victory were to come now.' + +'Then you don't want victory?' + +'Don't want victory! I long for it! Why--why I get almost mad as I +think of what is daily taking place. Here in England people don't really +know what is happening. No hell ever invented is as bad as war. It is +the maddest and ghastliest crime ever known, the greatest anachronism +ever conceived. It mocks everything high and holy; it is the devil +incarnate! But one can't close one's eyes to facts. You remember what +that preacher man said in his sermon. He told us that Almighty God often +kept things from men and nations until they were ready, and that if, as +sometimes happened, things came before a people were ready, they proved +curses and not blessings. For my own part I believe we shall have +victory as soon as we are ready for it; but are we ready?' + +'Then what do you believe will happen?' + +'I am afraid we have dark days before us. As a nation we are putting +material gain before moral fitness. The people who are making fortunes +out of our national curses are fighting like death for their hand, and +the nation seems to believe in a policy of _laissez faire_. If a man is +in earnest about these things, he is called a fanatic. Purge England of +her sins, my friend, and God will give us the victory.' + +'That's as shadowy as a cloud, and has about as much foundation as a +cloud,' I retorted. + +'Perhaps events will prove that I am right. Don't let us imagine that +God has no other means of working except through big guns. I have read a +good deal of history lately, and I have seen that, more than once, when +men and nations have been sure that certain things would happen, Almighty +God has laughed at them. God answered Job out of the whirlwind; that's +what He'll do to England.' + +I laughed incredulously. + +'All right,' he went on. 'It is very easy to laugh, but I should not be +at all surprised if Russia were to make a separate peace with Germany, or +if something were to happen to disorganize her forces. Would not that +make a tremendous difference to the war?' + +'Of course it would, but Russia will make no separate peace, and nothing +will happen. Russia's as safe as houses, and as steady as a rock. Don't +talk nonsense, old man, and don't conjure up impossible contingencies to +bolster up your arguments.' + +He was silent a few seconds, then he turned to me and said quietly, 'You +know the country pretty well, don't you?' + +'Pretty well, I think.' + +'Do you think the condition of London represents the nation as a whole?' + +'Yes, I think so. I don't say that such things as we witnessed down by +Waterloo or in those so-called studios around Chelsea can be seen +anywhere except in the big towns and cities, but otherwise I should say +that London gives a fair idea of the condition of the country.' + +'Let me ask you this, then. Bearing what we have seen in mind, the good +as well as the bad, do you think we are ready for victory?' + +I was silent for some seconds, then I said somewhat weakly I am afraid, +'You cannot expect us all to be saints, Edgecumbe. Human nature is human +nature, and--and--but there is a great deal of good in the country.' + +'Doubtless there is. When I think of the quiet determination, the +splendid sacrifices, the magnificent confidence of our people, added to +the unwearying kindness to the wounded and the needy, I feel like saying +we are ready for victory. But could not all that be matched in Germany? +With the world against them they have gone straight on. Have we been +determined? So have they. Have we made sacrifices? So have they. Have +we been confident? They have been more so. I dare say too that with +regard to kindness and care for their wounded and dying they could match +us. But Germany can't win; if they did, it would be victory for the +devil. It would mean a triumph for all that was worst in human life. +God Almighty is in His Heaven, therefore whatever else happens German +militarism will be crushed, and the world rid of an awful menace. But +this is what has impressed me. We as a nation have a unique position in +the world, and if history ever meant anything at all, we are called to +lead the world to higher things. Our opportunity is tremendous; are we +ready for it? I do not close my eyes to all the good there is in the +country, and I am sure there are millions who are leading godly, sober +lives. But as far as the Government and the great bulk of the country +are concerned, we are spiritually dead. I have been studying the +utterances of our statesmen, and I have looked too often in vain for +anything like idealism and for a vision. You know what the old proverb +says, "Where there is no vision, the people perish," and that is what we +lack.' + +'You are very hopeless,' I laughed. + +'No, I am not. I can see that out of this upheaval will come a new +England, a new world. But not yet. We are not ready for the Promised +Land, not ready for the higher responsibilities to which God is calling +us. That is why the victory is delayed. Great God! I wish we had a few +men like Admiral Beatty in the Government. We want to be roused out of +our sleep, our indifference, our lethargy. When the nation gives itself +to God, victory will come.' + +I did not pursue the conversation any further. I could see what was in +his mind, and I did not think that he looked at facts in their right +perspective, although I could not help feeling the tremendous amount of +truth in what he said. + +The next day he went back to duty, while I was informed that for some +time my work would lie at home. A fortnight later Edgecumbe wrote me a +letter, telling me that he was ordered to the front. It seems that his +colonel was more than ever impressed by his evident knowledge of +artillery work, and he was made a special case. + +A week later he had left England, while I, little dreaming of what the +future would bring forth, remained at home. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +THE MARCH OF EVENTS + +The events which I have now to record bring this narrative into this +present year of grace 1917. When I started writing, I had but little +idea of the things I should have to narrate. The drama was then only +partially acted, the story was not complete. As the reader may remember, +when I was in Exeter, shortly after I had first met Edgecumbe, and had +been telling Sir Roger Granville what little I knew of his history. Sir +Roger was much interested. He said that the whole case promised great +things, and that anything might happen to him, that he might have a wife +living, and that he might be heir to big possessions, and that when some +day his memory was restored to him many romantic things might come to +pass. + +Although I did not say so at the time, his words aroused my imagination, +and when, months later, I fell in with Edgecumbe again, having some +little time at my disposal, I set down as well as my memory would serve +the story of our meeting, and what had happened subsequently. + +The remainder of this narrative will, to an extent, be in the nature of a +diary, for so close are some of the events at the time of which I am +writing, that their recital becomes a record of what took place only a +few weeks ago. It is many months ago since first I took pen in hand to +set forth Edgecumbe's story, and now, as I draw near to what, as far as +this history is concerned, is its ending, I am almost afraid to write of +certain things in detail, for fear of wounding some of the people who are +yet alive, and who may feel sensitive that I am making their doings +public. + +The year 1916 was drawing to an end when I received Edgecumbe's first +letter after he had returned to the front. + +'It's miserably cold, miserably wet, and frightfully unpleasant out +here,' he wrote; 'still, it is better for me than it is for many others. +Would you believe it, Luscombe, but Colonel ---- has said so many kind +things about me that I find myself a marked man. I have already got my +full lieutenancy, and am down for my captaincy. Not long after I came +here, I was brought before a very "big pot," whose name I dare not +mention, but who is supposed to be the greatest artillery officer in the +British Army. He put me through the severest examination I have ever +had, and I scarcely knew whether I was standing on my head or my heels. +He was very kind, however, and by and by we got talking freely, and I +suppose I must have interested him in certain theories I had formed about +artillery work. Anyhow, I am to be given my captaincy, and all sorts of +important work is being put in my hands. There are big movements on +foot, my friend,--what they are, I dare not tell you, but if they are +successful they will, from a military standpoint, form an epoch in the +history of this war. + +'With regard to our prospects out here, I am exceedingly optimistic. The +men are splendid, and although the conditions are hard, our health sheet +is exceedingly good. From the standpoint of military preparedness, +things look very rosy; but concerning the other things about which you +and I did not agree I am not at all happy. I am a soldier, and I am +inclined to think that as a boy I was trained for a soldier. I judge, +too, that I have some aptitude in that direction. I believe, too, that +the Almighty is using our military powers for a purpose, but I am sure +that if England believes that this tremendous upheaval is going to be +settled by big guns,--much as I realize the power of big guns, England +will be mistaken. Unless we recognize the moral forces which are always +at work, we shall not be ready in the hour of crisis.' + +When I replied to this letter, I took no notice whatever of these +reflections; indeed, I scarcely saw what he meant. I congratulated him +most heartily on his phenomenally rapid promotion, and told him that he +would soon be colonel, and that this was only a step to higher things. + +As all the world knows, the events of the 1917 have followed each other +with startling and almost bewildering rapidity. Indeed, from the time +when Edgecumbe returned to the front, it is almost impossible to estimate +the far-reaching results of what was taking place. The evacuation of +large tracts of land by the Germans, the giving up of their Somme front, +was more significant than we at the time realized. Then came the +fulfilment of the German threat that on February 1 there would be +unrestricted murder at sea, when vessels of all nationality, whether +neutral or otherwise, would be attacked. At first we could scarcely +believe it, it seemed too horrible to contemplate. War had ceased to be +war; 'rules of the game' were no longer known as far as the Germans were +concerned. Then came the Prime Minister's statement that the food +supplies of the country had become very low, and that the strictest +economy would have to be used. Appeals were made to the nation to +conserve all our food resources, while the Germans jubilantly proclaimed +that in three months we should be starved into submission. + +'I suppose,' Edgecumbe wrote, 'that it is bad form on my part to say "I +told you so"; but I saw this coming months ago. Indeed, no one could +have an intelligent appreciation of German psychology without knowing +that it must come. I am told that food is now only obtainable at famine +prices at home, and that there is a cry on every hand,--"Eat less bread." +But think of the mockery of it, my friend! While there is a threatened +bread famine, beer is still manufactured. And that which was intended to +provide food for the people is being used to make beer. If the Germans +bring us to our knees, it will be our own fault. If the resources of the +nation had not been squandered in this way, we could laugh at all the +Germans say they are going to do.' + +Then news came which staggered Europe and set the world wondering. The +Revolution had broken out in Russia,--the Czar and Czarina became +practically prisoners, the Russian bureaucracy fell, and although the +Revolution was practically bloodless, that great Empire was reduced to a +state of chaos. Of course our newspapers made it appear as though +everything were in our favour; that the old days of corruption and +Czardom were over, and that the people, freed from the tyranny and the +ghastly incubus of autocracy, would now rise in their might and their +millions, and would retrieve what they had lost in the Eastern lines. +Some prophesied that the Revolution in Russia was but the beginning of a +movement which should destroy all autocratic Governments and, with the +establishment of that movement, the end of war would come. Then little +by little it leaked out that liberty had become a licence,--that the +Russian Army had become disorganized,--that the Socialistic element among +the Russians had demanded peace at any price. Soldiers refused to fight, +men deserted by the thousand, while Russian soldiers fraternized with the +Germans. + +'Aren't we living in great times,' Edgecumbe wrote to me,--'surely the +greatest times ever known! They stagger the imagination,--they leave our +minds bewildered,--they shatter our little plans like a strong wind +destroys castles of cards made by children. God is speaking, my friend. +Will England be wise, and hear His voice? Will we learn that, although +the voice of great guns is loud, and the power of explosives mighty, yet +they are not final in the affairs of men and nations? Why, our plans out +here have been blown to smithereens by what has taken place many hundreds +of miles away! We had everything in readiness, and, humanly speaking, it +seemed as though nothing could have stopped our advance. We had the +Germans on toast,--we took Vimy Ridge, and Lens was in our grasp,--we had +advanced miles along the Douay road, and Lille seemed but the matter of a +few days. Then God spoke, and Ecco! what were the plans of men? The +Huns, of course, took advantage of the new situation, and removed vast +hordes of men and guns from the East to the West, and now we are held up. +Of course I am disappointed;--looking at the matter from the standpoint +of a soldier, it seemed as though nothing could withstand us. But what +are the plans of men when God speaks? + +'Of course you will say that I am seeming to prove that God is on the +side of the Germans and, seeing this Russian Revolution has meant our +being held up here, that God Almighty meant that we should not advance. +No, my friend, I am not such a fool as to pretend to understand the ways +of the Omnipotent, but I have no doubt that this wide and far-reaching +movement in Russia will eventually be on our side. It must be. But why +will not England learn the lesson which is so plainly written from sky to +sky? Why do not the people turn to God,--look to Him for wisdom, and +fight in His strength? Then victory would come soon, and gloriously. + +'As I said, I am disappointed at our temporary check, but I am convinced +it is only temporary. God does things in a big way. He staggers our +poor little puny minds by His acts. The world is being re-made; old +systems, hoary with age, are being destroyed. The birth of new movements +is on foot, new thoughts are in the air, new dreams are being dreamed, +and the new age is surely coming. But sometimes it seems as though we +have ears, and hear not,--eyes, and see not. God is speaking to us +aloud, calling us to repentance, and yet we do not hear His voice, or +seek His guidance. Still, we are on the eve of new movements, and out of +all the confusion will come a great order, and men will yet see the hand +of the Lord.' + +His letter had scarcely reached me, when the news came that America had +declared war on Germany, and was to act on the side of the Allies. This +great free people, numbering a hundred million souls, made up of all +nationalities, yet welded into one great nation, had spoken, and had +spoken on the side of freedom and righteousness. Even the few who had +been downhearted took fresh courage at America's action. The thought +that the United States, with its almost illimitable resources of men, of +money, and of potentialities, was joining hands with us, made everything +possible. I was not surprised at receiving another letter from Edgecumbe. + +'At last we have had a prophetic utterance,' he wrote. 'Wilson has +spoken, not merely as a politician, or as the head of the American +nation, but as a prophet of God. His every word made my nerves tingle, +my heart warm. As an Englishman, I felt jealous, and I asked why, during +these last months, there had been no voice heard in England, proclaiming +the idealism, the inwardness of this gigantic struggle? But as a citizen +of the world, I rejoiced with a great joy. I am inclined to think that +Wilson's speech will form a new era in the history of men. That for +which he contends will slowly percolate through the nations, and peoples +of every clime will know and understand that nothing can resist the will +of Almighty God. + +'What pigmies we are, and for how little do the plans of individuals +count! God speaks, and lo the pomp of the Czar becomes but as chaff +which the wind drives away! Who would have believed a few months ago +that all the so-called glory of the Imperial House of the Romanoffs would +become the dream of yesterday? All the long line of Royal sons no longer +counts. Czardom with all it meant has gone for ever. The man, whose +word a few weeks ago meant glory or shame, life or death, is to-day an +exile, a prisoner. His word no more than the cry of a puling child! And +to-morrow? God may speak again, and then Kaiserism will fall with all +its pomp and vanity. + +'Of course I am but a poor ignorant soldier, and my word cannot count for +much; but I have a feeling that before many years are over,--perhaps it +may be only a matter of months--the Kaiser will either die by his own +hand, or else God, through the millions of bereaved and heart-broken +people, will hurl him from his throne. + +'What is the power of autocratic kings? Only the moaning of night winds. +Yesterday it was not, and tomorrow it will not be. But God lives through +His people, and that people is slowly moving on to liberty and power. +That is why I believe the end of war is drawing near. It is never the +_people_ who long for war; it is the kings, the potentates who are ever +guilty of making it. Thus when they cease to rule, war will cease, and +there will be peace and brotherhood. + +'Anyhow, President Wilson has spoken, and he has expressed the highest +feelings of the American nation, and although the end of this war may not +come as we expect, it will come in the overthrow of Junkerdom and +military supremacy.' + +After this I did not hear from Edgecumbe for some time, and I began to +grow anxious at his long continued silence, then when June of this year +arrived, an event took place which overcame me with astonishment. + +I had had a hard day at the training camp, and was sitting outside the +mess tent, when I felt a hand upon my shoulder, and heard a cheery voice +close by me. + +'Hulloa, Luscombe, why that pensive brow?' + +I looked up and saw my friend standing by me, with his left arm in a +sling, looking pale and somewhat haggard, but with a bright light in his +eyes. + +'Edgecumbe!' I cried. 'Ay, but I am glad to see you! Where did you +spring from, and what have you been doing?' + +'That's what I've come to tell you,' he said quietly. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +EDGECUMBE'S RETURN + +'You are wounded,' I stammered, scarcely knowing what I was saying. +His appearance was so sudden, and unexpected, that I could scarcely +believe that it was really he who stood there before me. 'It's not bad +I hope?' + +'No, not bad. Not enough to make a fuss about;--it might have been, +though'; and I noticed that his voice became grave. + +'How? What do you mean?' + +'I'll tell you some day--soon perhaps. Are you busy?' + +'No, my work is over for the day. I _am_ glad to see you, old man. +Are you home for long?' + +'Yes, a few weeks I expect. You see--I've had a rough time rather--and +am a bit knocked about. But I shall pull through.' + +His manner was strange; and while he spoke quietly, I felt rather than +thought that something out of the ordinary had happened. + +He dragged a rough seat up to the side of the tent, and looked across +the field where a number of men were encamped. + +'Have you heard from _her_?' he asked suddenly. 'Do you know how she +is?' + +'No. Directly after we saw her last she returned to her hospital work. +I wrote to her once; but she has not replied.' + +'Have you heard anything?' + +'I know Springfield has been home, and that he's been to see her. I +heard from Buller that they were engaged.' + +'You mean that it's settled? Has it been publicly announced?' His +voice was tense. + +'I don't think so. At any rate, I've not seen it in the papers.' + +Again he was silent for a few seconds, and noting the far-away look in +his eyes, I waited in silence. + +'Springfield is still afraid of me,' he said presently. + +'Why? Have you seen him?' + +'Yes. He and St. Mabyn are still as thick as peas in a pod. They were +both at Vimy Ridge, and afterwards at Ypres and Messines. + +'Did you speak to them?' + +'Rather,' and he laughed curiously. 'I had to.' + +'How? What do you mean?' + +'You asked me just now why I had not written you for some time. I had +my reasons for silence. I was under a cloud for a time, and I wanted +things cleared up before telling you anything.' + +'Don't speak in riddles, Edgecumbe. What has been the trouble? Tell +me quickly.' + +'Oh, it's all over now, so I can speak fairly plainly, but for some +days it was touch and go with me. Of course they kept in the +background, but I was able to trace their handiwork.' + +'What handiwork? Come, old man, don't keep me in suspense.' + +'Oh, it was the old game. You remember how it was when you were in +France, and some fellows shot at me. You remember, too, how I nearly +died of poisoning at Bolivick, and that but for you I should have been +done for. You said you traced Springfield's hands in everything. He's +been trying on the same thing again,--only in another way.' + +'What other way?' + +He laughed quietly. 'I fancy he thought that when you weren't by I +should be easy game, that I should be too simple to see through his +plans. But I happened to keep my eyes skinned, as the Americans say. +It was this way: by some means or another, some important information +went astray, and got into the German lines. Of course the Huns made +the most of it, and we suffered pretty heavily. As it happened I was +at that time in the confidence of the General in command of the D.H.Q., +and there seemed no one else on whom suspicion could fall. But I was +warned in time. I had been told that both Springfield and St. Mabyn +had been in close confab with the General, and I knew that if they +could do me a nasty turn, they would. So I checkmated them.' + +'How? Tell me the details.' + +'I'm afraid I mustn't do that. You know how military secrets are +regarded, and as even yet the scheme I discussed with the General is +not completed, my lips are sealed. But I found that Springfield had +suggested to the General that my loss of memory was very fishy--a mere +blind in fact to cover up a very suspicious past. He also told him he +was sure he had seen me, in pre-war days, in Berlin, wearing the +uniform of a German officer. Had I not been able to show an absolutely +clean sheet I should have been done for. As it was, there was a time +when I wouldn't have given a sou for my life. I was, of course, shut +off from the General's confidence, and pending the results of the +inquiry was practically a prisoner.' + +'I say, old man, you can't mean that?' + +'Fact, I assure you. Still as nothing, absolutely _nothing_ wrong +could be traced to me, and as----' + +'Yes, what,' I said as he hesitated. + +'Oh, a little thing I was mixed up in came off rather well--very well +in fact.' + +'What? Don't keep me in suspense, old man.' + +'Oh, nothing much; nothing worth talking about. Still I may as well +tell you as it's bound to come out. It seems I am to get the D.S.O.' + +'The D.S.O.! Great, old man! I congratulate you with all my heart. +Tell me about it,' I cried. + +'It was really nothing. Still I had concocted a scheme which gave us a +big advantage. It was rather risky, but it came off so well +that--that--it got to the notice of the G.H.Q. and--and--there you are. +When the details of my little stunt became known to the Chief he--he +said it was impossible for its author to be anything but a loyal +Englishman, that I was a valuable man, and all that sort of rot.' + +Of course I read between the lines. I knew Edgecumbe's reticence about +anything he had done, and I was sure he had accomplished a big thing. + +'It came in jolly handy to me,' he went on, 'for it spiked +Springfield's guns right away, and I was regarded as sort of tin god. +Congratulations poured in on every hand and--and, but there's no need +to say any more about it.' + +'And what did Springfield say then?' + +'Oh, he was louder in his congratulations than any one. It makes me +sick to think of it!' + +'But didn't you expose him?' + +'I couldn't. You see, I only learnt in a roundabout way that he had +tried to poison the General's mind against me, and he very nearly +covered his traces everywhere. Oh, he's a clever beggar. Still, you +see the situation. It was jolly sultry for a time.' + +'I see you have had another move,' I said looking at his uniform. + +'Yes, I've had great luck; but don't let's talk any more about me. How +are _you_ getting on? And can't you get some leave?' + +'I have some due,' I replied, noting the far-away look in his eyes, and +wondering what was in his mind. 'Why do you ask?' + +'Big things are going to happen,' he said after a long silence. + +'What do you mean? Tell me, Edgecumbe, has your memory come back? +Have you learnt anything--in--in that direction?' + +He shook his head sadly. 'No, nothing. The past is blank, blank. And +yet I think sometimes----I say, Luscombe, I wonder who I am? I +wonder----' + +'And do you still persist in your mad fancies?' I blurted out after a +long silence. + +'Persist! Mad fancies!' he cried passionately. 'As long as my heart +beats, as long as I have consciousness, I shall never cease to--to----I +say, old man, get some leave and go with me.' + +'Why?' I asked. 'If your mind is made up, seek her out wherever she +is. I know she is at a V.A.D. Hospital not far from her home; so your +way is plain. You can go to her on more equal terms now. You are a +distinguished man now. In a few months you have risen from obscurity +to eminence.' + +'Don't talk rot. I can never meet her on equal terms.' + +'Then why bother about her?' + +'Because God has decreed that I shall. But you must go with me, my +dear fellow. In ways I can't understand, your life is linked to mine. +It was not for nothing that we met down at Plymouth Harbour; it was not +without purpose that I was led to love you like a brother.' + +'Well, what then?' + +'You must go with me. In some way or another, your life is linked to +mine, and you must go with me.' + +Of course I applied for leave right away, and as I had been working +hard all the while Edgecumbe had been in France I was able to get it +without difficulty. + +'My word, have you seen this, Edgecumbe?' I cried the next afternoon, +immediately we had left Salisbury Plain, where I had been stationed. + +'What?' he asked. + +'This in _The Times_. They've been cracking you up to the skies.' + +'Oh, that,' he replied. 'Yes, I saw it this morning. I see they've +made quite a sensational paragraph. I hardly recognize myself.' + +As I read the article a second time, I wondered at his indifference. +Seldom had such a eulogy appeared in that great newspaper. Evidently +the writer had taken considerable pains to get at the facts, and had +presented them in glowing colours. There could be no doubt about it +that from the standpoint of the Army, his future, if his life was +spared, was assured. Not only was he spoken of as a man whose courage +was almost unparalleled, but his abilities as a strategist, and his +grasp of the broad issues of military affairs were discussed, and +recognized in no sparing terms. It seemed impossible that a man who a +few months before was a simple private, should now be discussed in such +glowing panegyrics. + +Greatly elated as I was at the praise bestowed upon my friend, I little +realized what it would mean to him during the next few hours. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + +THE GREAT MEETING + +'Can't we go down to Devonshire to-night?' cried Edgecumbe, as our +train reached London. + +'Impossible, my dear fellow,' I replied. + +'But why not?' and I could see by the wild longing look in his eyes +what he was thinking of. + +'Oh, there are a dozen reasons. For one thing, she may not be able to +get away from the hospital; for another--I don't think it would be +wise.' + +'I simply must go, Luscombe! I tell you something's going to happen, +something great. I feel it in every breath I draw. We must go--go at +once.' + +'No,' I replied. 'I wrote her last night, and told her that we should +step in London at the National Hotel till we heard from her. If she +wants us to come we shan't be long in getting her reply.' + +He gave a long quivering sigh, and I could see how disappointed he was, +but he said no more about the matter, and when we arrived at the hotel +he had seemed to have forgotten all about it. + +'Look here,' he cried, pointing to a paragraph in an evening newspaper, +'that's on the right lines. I'm going.' + +The paragraph which interested him was a notice of a big meeting that +was to be held that night for the purpose of discussing certain phases +of the Army, and consequently of the war, about which newspapers were +usually silent. The fact that a Cabinet Minister of high rank, as well +as a renowned general, were announced to speak, however, caused the +news editor to give it prominence. + +'It's on the right lines,' he repeated. 'Yes, I'm going.' + +'Better go to some place of amusement,' I suggested. + +'Nero fiddled while Rome was burning,' was his reply. + +A little later we found our way to a huge hall where some thousands of +people had gathered. It was evident that the subject to be discussed +appealed strongly to a large portion of the population, and that the +audience was much interested in the proceedings. + +I could see, however, that Edgecumbe was disappointed in the meeting. +None of the speakers spoke strongly and definitely. Each enlarged on +the difficulties of the situation, and spoke of the impossibility of +making men pure by Act of Parliament, but no suggestion was made +whereby the evils mentioned might be grappled with and strangled. +While all admitted that a frightful state of things existed, and +declared that something ought to be done, no one had the courage to +demand drastic reforms, or strike a prophetic note. The Cabinet +Minister enlarged in a somewhat stilted fashion upon what the +Government had done to check drunkenness, while another speaker told of +the magnificent work of the Y.M.C.A., and of the hostels and huts which +had been provided, both in England and on the Continent; but all felt +that the heart of the matter had not been touched. It was not until +the General spoke that the audience was anything like aroused, and even +he failed to get at close quarters with the evils which all admitted. + +Indeed I, who could not see how more could be done than had been done, +felt that the meeting was a failure, and as, when the General sat down, +the reporters were preparing to leave, and the audience grew restless, +I felt that the whole thing was in the nature of a fiasco. + +'Let's go, Edgecumbe,' I said. + +'No, not yet,' and I saw that he was much excited. + +'But the meeting is practically over. There, the chairman is going to +call on somebody to propose the usual vote of thanks.' + +But he took no notice of me. Instead he rose to his feet, and his +voice rang clearly throughout the hall. + +'My lord,' he said addressing the chairman, 'I am a soldier just home +from the front. May I say a few words?' + +It was only then that I realized what a striking figure Edgecumbe was, +and although I was almost stunned by his sudden action, I could not +help comparing him, as he was now, with the first occasion on which I +had seen him. Then, with his nondescript garments, his parchment-like +skin, and the look of wistful indecision in his eyes, he was a creature +to be pitied. Now, in the uniform of a major, he stood stalwart and +erect. In spite of the fact that his left arm was in a sling, there +was something commanding in his attitude. His eyes no longer suggested +indecision, and his bronzed skin was no longer wrinkled and parchment +like. He looked what he was--a tall, strong, capable man, instinct +with life and energy. + +There was something, too, in the tones of his voice that aroused the +interest of the audience, and thousands of eyes were turned towards him. + +The chairman adjusted his eye-glasses, and looked at Edgecumbe, who +still stood erect, the cynosure of all eyes. + +'I am sure,' said the chairman, 'that in spite of the fact that it is +growing late, we shall be glad to hear a few words from a soldier just +back from the front. Will he kindly come to the platform.' + +The audience, doubtless noting Edgecumbe's wounded arm, gave him a +cheer as he left his seat, while the reporters, probably hoping for +something good in the way of copy, again opened their note-books. + +'I asked permission to say a few words, my lord,' he said, 'because I +have been deeply disappointed in this meeting. This is a great +audience, and it is a great occasion; that is why the lack of an +overwhelming conviction, the lack too of anything like vision of the +inwardness of the problem under discussion is so saddening. I had +hoped for a message to the heart of the nation; I had waited to hear +the Voice of God, without which all such gatherings as this must be in +vain.' + +He hesitated a second, and I feared lest he had lost thread of his +thought, feared too lest after his somewhat flamboyant commencement his +appearance would be only a fiasco. I saw, too, that the chairman +looked at him doubtfully, and I had a suspicion that he was on the +point of asking him to sit down. + +But his hesitation was only for a moment. He threw back his shoulders +as though he were on the battlefield and was about to give an important +command. + +'I speak as one who has been a soldier in the ranks, and who knows the +soldier's hardships, his temptations, his sufferings. I also speak as +one who knows what a fine fellow the British soldier is, for believe me +there are no braver men beneath God's all-beholding sun than our lads +have proved themselves to be.' + +He had struck the right note now, and the audience responded warmly. +There was something magnetic in Edgecumbe's presence, too, something in +his voice which made the people listen. + +'I want to say something else, before getting to that which is in my +heart to say,' he went on. 'We are fighting for something great, and +high and holy. We are contending against tyranny, lies, savagery. +Never did a nation have a greater, grander cause than we, and if +Germany were to win----' + +In a few sentences he outlined the great issues at stake and made the +audience see as he saw. It was evident, too, that the occupants of the +platform became aware that a new force was at work. + +Then followed the greatest scene I have ever seen at any public +gathering. For some time Edgecumbe seemed to forget who he was, or to +whom he spoke; he was simply carried away by what seemed to him the +burning needs of the times. He spoke of the way thousands of young +fellows were ruined, and of the facilities which existed for their +ruin. He told of scenes he had seen in France, scenes which took place +when the men were 'back for rest,' and were 'out for a good time.' He +described what we had witnessed together in London. He showed, too, in +burning words that the two outstanding evils, 'Drink and Impurity,' +were indissolubly associated, and that practically nothing was done to +stem the tide of impurity and devilry which flowed like a mighty flood. + +'I say this deliberately,' he said, 'it is nothing short of a blood-red +crime, it is blasphemy against the Holy Spirit of God, to call men from +the four corners of the earth to fight for a great cause like ours, and +then to allow temptations to stand at every corner to lure them to +destruction. Some one has described in glowing terms the work of the +Y.M.C.A., and I can testify the truth of those terms, but ask Y.M.C.A. +workers what is the greatest hindrance to their work, and they will +tell you it is the facilities for drink, drink which so often leads to +impurity, and all the ghastly diseases that follows in its train. + +'How can you expect God's blessing to rest upon us, while the souls of +men are being damned in such a way?' + +'What would you do?' cried some one, when the wild burst of cheering +which greeted his words ceased. + +'Do?' he cried. 'At least every man here can determine, God helping +him, to fight against the greatest foe of our national life. You can +determine that you will leave nothing undone to strangle this deadly +enemy. Personally, after seeing what I have seen, and knowing what I +know, I will make no terms with it. Even now, if a fortune were +offered me, made by drink, I would not benefit by it. But more, you +can besiege the Government, you can give it no rest until it has +removed one of the greatest hindrances to victory. + +'What England needs is to realize that God lives, and to turn to Him in +faith and humility. Just so long as we remain in a state of religious +indifference, just so long will the war continue; and just so soon as +we give our lives to Him, and put our trust in Him, just so soon will +victory be seen. God has other ways of speaking than by big guns. God +spoke, and lo, all the pomp of the Czars became the byword of children! +God will speak again, and all the vain glory of the Kaiser will become +as the fairy stories of the past!' + +I know that what I have written gives no true idea of Edgecumbe's +message. The words I have set down give but faint suggestions of the +outpourings of a heart charged with a mighty purpose. For he spoke +like a man inspired, and he lifted the whole audience to a higher level +of thought, and life, and purpose. People who had listened with a +bored expression on their faces during the other speeches, were moved +by his burning words. Club loungers who had been cynical and +unbelieving half an hour before, now felt the reality of an unseen +Power. + +Then came the climax to all that had gone before. No sooner had +Edgecumbe sat down than the chairman rose again. + +'You wonder perhaps,' he said, 'who it is that has been speaking to us. +You know by his uniform that he is a soldier, and you know he is a +brave man by the decoration on his tunic, but few I expect know, as I +have just learnt, that this is Major Edgecumbe, the story of whose +glorious career is given in to-day's newspapers.' + +If the meeting was greatly moved before, it now became frenzied in its +enthusiasm. Cheer after cheer rose, while the great audience rose to +its feet. All realized that he spoke not as a theorist and a dreamer, +but as a man who had again and again offered his life for the country +he loved, and the cause in which he believed--a man, not only great in +courage, but skilful in war, and wise in counsel. + +When the excitement had somewhat ceased, an old clergyman, who had been +sitting at the back of the platform, came to the front. + +'Let us pray,' he said, and a great hush rested on every one, while he +led the multitude in prayer. + +When the meeting finally broke up, the General who had spoken earlier +in the evening came and shook Edgecumbe by the hand. + +'This meeting is worth more to win the war than an army corps,' he said. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + +THE LIFTED CURTAIN + +The following morning the papers contained lengthy reports of the +meeting, and spoke in no sparing terms of the influence of Edgecumbe's +words on the great crowd. He appeared to be depressed, however. + +'It may be only a passing sensation,' he said. 'Still, I couldn't help +doing what I did.' + +We had barely finished breakfast when a telegram was brought to me, + + +'Come at once and bring your friend. Wire time I may expect +you.--BOLIVICK.' + + +'There,' I said, passing it to Edgecumbe, 'there's dispatch for you.' + +A few minutes later we were in a taxi, on our way to Paddington, and a +few hours later we arrived at Bolivick. + +We had barely alighted from the conveyance when Edgecumbe gave a start. + +'Look,' he said, 'both Springfield and St. Mabyn are there.' + +'Yes,' I replied lightly, 'and Lorna too. Don't you see her in her +nurse's uniform?' + +His face was set and rigid as the greetings took place; but he had +evidently put a strong check upon himself, and spoke naturally. + +'Glad to see you, Luscombe,' cried Sir Thomas, 'and you too, Major +Edgecumbe. Let me congratulate you on your wonderful career. It's +almost like a fairy story!' + +'Let me add my congratulations,' cried Springfield. 'I pay my tribute, +not only to the soldier, but to the orator.' + +I could not fail to detect the sneer in his voice, even although he +seemed to speak heartily. A copy of _The Times_ was lying on the lawn, +and I imagined that Edgecumbe's speech had been read and discussed. + +'We shall be quite a party to dinner to-night,' said Sir Thomas to me +presently. 'Of course you must expect scanty fare, as we are carrying +out the rationing order to the very letter. But it's an important +occasion all the same. Lord Carbis is coming by the next train. +Please don't say anything about it. No one knows but my wife and +myself. I want to give a surprise to both Lorna and Springfield.' + +My heart became as heavy as lead, for I knew what he had in his mind, +and I looked towards Edgecumbe, wondering if he had heard anything. It +was evident he had heard nothing, however; he was talking to Norah +Blackwater, who was again a visitor to Bolivick. + +'By the way,' went on Sir Thomas, 'that fellow Edgecumbe has developed +wonderfully, hasn't he? Of course what he said last night was so much +nonsense. I quite agree that it's very sad about--that--is--some of +the things he talked about, but as to the rest,--it was moonshine.' + +'You wouldn't have said so if you'd been there, Sir Thomas,' I ventured. + +'Something's going to happen, Luscombe,' Edgecumbe said to me as +presently we found our way to our rooms. + +'Why do you say so?' + +'I don't know. But there is. It's in the air we breathe. I know I'm +right.' + +'What's the matter with you?' I asked, looking at him intently. + +'Nothing. Yes there is though. I'm feeling mighty queer.' + +'Are you ill?' + +'No, nothing of the sort. But I'm nervous. I feel as though great +things were on foot. The air is charged with great things. Something +big is going to take place.' + +He was silent a few seconds, and then went on, 'I had a long talk with +a doctor in France a few days ago.' + +'What doctor? What did he tell you?' I asked eagerly. + +'One of our men out there. He had a big practice as a consulting +physician in Harley Street until a few months ago, when he offered +himself to the Army. He is a nerve specialist, and years ago paid +great attention to brain troubles. He was so kind to me, and was such +an understanding fellow that I told him my story. He was awfully +interested, and said that he never knew but one case where loss of +memory had continued so long as it had with me.' + +'Did he give you any hope?' I asked. + +He shook his head doubtfully. 'He would not say anything definite. He +seemed to think that as my general health had been good for so long, +and as my memory had not come back, it might be a very long time before +there was any change. All the same, he felt sure that it was only a +matter of time. He seemed to regard my trouble as a kind of artificial +barrier which divided the past from the present, but that time would +constantly wear away the barrier. He also said that if some very vivid +and striking happening were to take place, something that was vitally +connected with my past, it might suddenly pierce it--tear it aside, and +let in the light.' + +'And--and----?' + +'No, Luscombe,' he interrupted, as if divining my thoughts, 'I know of +nothing, I remember nothing. But there was something else he told me +which makes me have faith in him. It was so true.' + +'What was that?' + +'That loss of memory often gave a kind of sixth sense. He said he +should not be surprised if I had very vivid premonitions of the future. +That I had a kind of knowledge when something out of the common were +going to happen. That's what makes me afraid.' + +'Afraid?' + +'Yes, afraid. I seem to be on the brink of a great black chasm. I +feel that I am able to save myself from falling, only I won't. I say, +what's that?' + +'It's a motor-car,' I replied. 'Sir Thomas told me he had other guests +coming.' + +'What guests? Who are they?' + +'How can I know?' I replied, for I feared to tell him what our host had +told me about Lord Carbis's relations to Springfield, and that probably +Lorna's engagement might be announced in a few hours. + +We were both dressed ready for dinner a quarter of an hour before the +time announced, and together we found our way downstairs into the +reception hall. Early as we were, we found that not only was Lorna +Bolivick there, but George St. Mabyn was also present and was talking +eagerly to Norah Blackwater. Springfield also came a few seconds +later, and went straight to Lorna's side and spoke to her with an air +of proprietorship. + +I felt that Edgecumbe and I were _de trop_, and I moved away from them, +but Edgecumbe went to St. Mabyn and Norah Blackwater, as if with the +purpose of speaking to them. I thought, too, that there was a strange +look in his eyes. + +'You are not much like your brother Maurice,' he said suddenly. + +'My brother Maurice!' said St. Mabyn, and I thought his voice was +hoarse. 'What do you know of him?' + +'What do I know of him?' repeated Edgecumbe, and he spoke as though his +mind were far away. + +'Yes. You can know nothing of him. He's dead.' + +'No,' replied Edgecumbe, 'he's not dead.' + +'Not dead!' and St. Mabyn almost gasped the words, while his face +became as pale as ashes. 'Not dead! You must be mad!' Then he +laughed uneasily. + +'Oh, no,' and Edgecumbe still spoke in the same toneless voice. 'I +knew him well. He was--where did I see him last?' + +Before we could recover from the effect of what he said, I knew that +we were joined by others. In a bewildered kind of way I noticed +that Sir Thomas and Lady Bolivick were accompanied by a tall, +distinguished-looking man about fifty-five years of age, by whose side +stood a sweet-faced, motherly-looking woman. + +'Lorna, my dear,' said Sir Thomas, 'I want you to know Lord and Lady +Carbis.' + +Lorna moved forward to speak to her visitors, but they did not notice +her. Both of them had fixed their gaze on Edgecumbe, who stood looking +at them with a light in his eyes which made me afraid. + +'John!' cried Lady Carbis, her voice almost rising to a scream. 'Why, +it's Jack! our Jack!' + +Never shall I forget the look on my friend's face. He seemed to be in +agony. It might be that he was striving to keep himself from going +mad. His eyes burnt with a red light, his features were drawn and +contorted. Then suddenly he heaved a deep sigh, and lifted his +shoulders, as though he were throwing a heavy weight from him. + +'Mother!' he said hoarsely. 'Mother! When----? that is---- Why, I'm +home again!--and the little mater----' + +Unheeding the fact of his damaged arm, he held out both his hands and +staggered towards her. + +A second later, unconscious of watching eyes, they were in each other's +arms, while Lady Carbis murmured all sorts of fond endearments. + +'My dead boy come back to life!' she cried. 'My little Jack +who--who--oh, thank God, thank God! Speak to me, Jack, my darling, +speak to your mother! Oh, help! What's the matter? Can't you see +that----' + +I was only just in time to keep my friend from falling heavily on the +floor, and when a few seconds later I succeeded in lifting him to a +sofa, he lay like a dead man. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + +MEMORY + +For some minutes wild confusion prevailed. Lady Carbis knelt by the +sofa, and called wildly on my friend to speak to her. Lord Carbis +talked incoherently, and made all sorts of impossible suggestions. +Evidently he was beside himself with joy and fear. Sir Thomas Bolivick +looked from one to another as if asking for explanations, while Lorna +Bolivick, with pale, eager face and wild eyes, stood like one +transfixed. + +But she was the first to recover herself. Swiftly she went to the +sofa, and caught Edgecumbe's hand. Then she knelt down and placed her +ear to his heart. + +'He is alive,' she said; 'his heart beats. I think he will soon be +better.' + +'Yes, yes,' stammered Lord Carbis. 'He was always a strong boy--hard +as nails, hard as nails. Oh, it's wonderful, wonderful! It's my son, +my only son, Sir Thomas. I'd given him up for dead. It's years now +since--since he was last seen. Ah, look, his eyelids are quivering! +Stand back and give him air. But I can't understand. Where's he been +all this time? Why hasn't he let us know where he was? It's not like +him. He was always such a good boy, and so fond of his mother. I got +a paper from India, too; announcing his death. I can't understand it +all. Perhaps you can explain, Sir Thomas----' + +Thus he went on talking, scarcely conscious of what he was saying. +Evidently the shock had almost unhinged his mind, and he was merely +giving expression to the fugitive thoughts that came to him. + +As Edgecumbe's eyes opened, I felt a strange quiver of joy in my heart. +What I saw was no madman's stare, rather it suggested placid +contentment. For a few seconds he glanced from one to another, as if +trying to comprehend, and co-ordinate what had taken place; then he +heaved a deep sigh, half of satisfaction, half of weariness. + +'It's all gone,' he murmured like one speaking to himself. + +'What is gone, my darling?' asked Lady Carbis. + +'The mists, the cobwebs, the black curtain,' he replied. + +I heard her gasp as if in fear. I knew of what she was thinking; but +she spoke no word. Instead she continued looking at him with love-lit +eyes. + +For a few seconds he lay like one thinking, then he rubbed the back of +his right-hand across his eyes, and laughed like one amused. + +'Oh, little mother,' he said, 'it is good to see you again! Good to +know--there kiss me. That's right; it makes me feel as though I were a +kid again, and you were putting me to bed like you did in the old days.' + +Lady Carbis kissed him eagerly, calling him all sorts of endearing +names. + +'It's your old mother!' she murmured. 'Are you better, Jack, my +darling?' + +'Yes, heaps better. Why, there you are, dad! You see I've turned up +again. Oh, I _am_ glad to see you!' and he held out his hand. + +'Jack, Jack,' sobbed his father, 'tell me you are all right.' + +On considering it all, afterwards, it seemed to me that it was not a +bit what I should have expected him to say, but facts have a wonderful +way of laughing at fancies. + +'I feel better every second,' he said. 'Everything came back so +suddenly that I felt like a man bowled over. You see, I couldn't grasp +it all. But--but I'm settling down now. I--I--oh, I'm afraid I'm an +awful nuisance. Forgive me. Thank you all for being so good.' + +I saw his eyes rest on Lorna, and his lips twitched as if in pain, but +only for a moment. + +'Where's Luscombe?' he asked. 'Ah, there you are, old man. You must +know Luscombe, little mother. He's the truest pal a chap ever had. +But for him--but there we'll talk about that later.' + +A minute later Edgecumbe was led by his mother into the library, while +Lord Carbis walked on the other side of his newly-found son. + +Never in all my experience have I sat down to such a strange dinner +party as on that night. We were all wild with excitement, and yet we +appeared to talk calmly about things that didn't matter a bit. What we +ate, or whether we ate, I have not the slightest remembrance. +Personally I felt as though I were dreaming, and that I should +presently wake up and find things in their normal condition again. But +it was easy to see that each was thinking deeply. Especially did Sir +Thomas and Springfield show that they were considering what the +evening's happenings might mean. + +Strange as it may seem, little was said about the happening which had +created such a consternation. Of course it was in all our minds, but +to speak about it seemed for some time like trespassing on forbidden +ground. + +'Anyhow,' said Lady Bolivick presently, 'the dear things will want some +dinner, James,' and she turned to the butler, 'see that something fit +to eat is kept for Lord and Lady Carbis, and Major----that is their +son.' + +'Yes, my lady.' + +'It's all very wonderful, I'm sure,' went on Lady Bolivick. 'I +hope--that is--they won't be disappointed in him. Of, course he's had +a wonderful career, and done unheard-of things, but if he sticks to +what he said about never taking a penny of money made by +drink--there--there'll be all sorts of difficulties.' + +'Yes, but I imagine he'll chuck all that,' and Springfield seemed like +a man speaking to himself. + +'Oh, I hope not,' said Lorna. + +'You hope not!' and her father spoke as if in astonishment. + +'Yes,' cried the girl. 'It was so fine--and so true. When I read his +speech in _The Times_, I felt just as he did.' + +'Nonsense, Lorna! Why, if he stands by his crazy words, he'll still be +a poor man with nothing but his pay to live on. He'll sacrifice one of +the finest fortunes in England.' + +Almost unconsciously I looked towards George St. Mabyn, whom I had +almost forgotten in my excitement, and I saw that he looked like a +haunted man. His face was drawn and haggard, although I judged he had +been drinking freely through dinner. I called to mind the words +Edgecumbe had uttered just before Lord and Lady Carbis came into the +room, and I wondered what they meant. + +'No,' said Sir Thomas, who was evidently thinking of his daughter's +words, 'he'll not be fool enough for that. What do you think, +Luscombe?' + +I was silent, for in truth I did not know what to say. In one sense +Sir Thomas had reason on his side, for such an act would seem like +madness. But I was by no means sure. I had known Edgecumbe for more +than two years, and I did not believe that even the shock which led him +to recover his memory, could change his strong determined nature. + +The ladies left the room just then, but a few seconds later Lorna +Bolivick returned and came straight towards me. + +'He wants you,' she said, and I saw that her eyes burnt with excitement. + +I made my way to the library, where my friend met me with a laugh. +'You mustn't keep away from me, old man,' he said, 'I want you--want +you badly.' + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + +AFTERWARDS + +We were alone in the library, Lord Carbis, Lady Carbis, Edgecumbe and +myself, and certainly it was one of the strangest gatherings ever I +experienced. + +The excitement was intense, and yet we spoke together quietly, as +though we lived in a world of commonplaces. But nothing was +commonplace. Never in my life did I realize the effect which joy can +have, as I realized it then. Years before, Lord and Lady Carbis had +received news that their son had died in India. What that news had +meant to them at the time I had no idea. He was their only son, and on +him all their hopes had centred. They had mourned for him as dead, and +his loss had meant a blank in their lives which no words can describe. + +Then, suddenly and without warning, they had come into a strange house, +and found their son standing before them. As I think of it now, I +wonder that the shock did not do them serious harm, and I can quite +understand the incoherent, almost meaningless words they uttered. + +To Edgecumbe the shock must have been still greater. For years the +greatest part of his life had been a blank to him. As I have set forth +in these pages, all his life before the time when he awoke to +consciousness in India had practically no meaning to him. And then, +suddenly, the thick, dark curtain was torn aside, and he woke to the +fact that his memory was restored, that he was not homeless or +nameless, but that his father and mother stood before him.' + +'Jack has told me all about you,' Lord Carbis said, as I entered the +room; 'told me what you did for him, what a friend you have been to +him! God bless you, sir! I don't know how to express my feelings, +I--I hardly know what I am saying, but you understand,--I am sure you +understand.' + +'Isn't it a lark, old man,' Edgecumbe said with a laugh, 'isn't +it,--isn't it?--but there--I can't put it into words. Half the time I +seem to be dreaming. Things which happened years ago are coming in +crowds back to me, until half the time I am wondering whether after all +I am not somebody else. And yet I know I am not somebody else. Why, +here's dad, and here's the little mater'; and he looked at them +joyfully. + +I could not help watching him anxiously, for after all he had just gone +through an experience which happens to but one man in a million. It +seemed to me as though I dimly understood the strange processes through +which his brain must have gone in order to bring about the present +state of things. During the earlier part of the day, all his past had +been a blank, now much of it was real to him. He had been like a man +with his life cut in two, one half being unknown to him; and now, as if +by a miracle, that half was restored. I wondered how he felt. I +feared he would not be able to stand the shock, and that he would +suffer a terrible reaction afterwards. + +'You are all right, aren't you, old man?' I said. 'You--you don't feel +ill or anything of that sort?' + +'Right as a skylark,' he said gaily, 'except that I am a bit tired.' + +'You are sure, Jack, my darling?' said his mother, looking at him +anxiously. 'Sure there is nothing we can do for you? Oh, I wish we +were home!' + +'Do you?' he said. 'I am not sure I agree with you.' + +'Oh, but I do. You see, we don't know the Bolivicks very well, +and--and--we didn't come expecting anything like this, did we, John?' + +'Anything like this!' ejaculated Lord Carbis, 'anything like this! +Why--why,--Jack, my boy!'--and he rubbed his eyes vigorously. + +'I am sure Sir Thomas and Lady Bolivick are only too glad to have you +here,' I said, 'and nothing will be regarded as a trouble. Besides, I +am not sure that your son does not want to be here. But tell me, old +fellow, don't you think you ought to get to bed?' + +A look of fear came into his eyes. 'No, not yet, not yet,' he said. +'I think I am afraid to go to sleep; afraid lest when I wake up I shall +find that great black cloud lying at the back of my mind again.' + +'Then wouldn't it be wise to send for a doctor? The man who lives here +is not at all a bad chap;--you know that.' + +Again he laughed gaily. 'I want no doctor. The little mother is all +the doctor I want.' + +Lady Carbis leant over him and kissed him, just as I have seen young +mothers kiss their firstborn babies. + +'I will sit by your bed all the night, my darling,' she said, 'and no +harm shall come to you while you are asleep.' + +'But I don't want to sleep just yet,' went on Edgecumbe. 'I feel as +though I must tell you all I can tell you, for fear,--that is, suppose +when I wake the old black cloud is there? I--I want you to know +things'; and there was a look in his eyes which suggested that wistful +expression I had noticed at Plymouth Harbour when we first met. + +'You felt something was going to happen, you know,' I said. + +'Yes, I did. All through the day it felt to me as though some great +change were coming. I did not know what it was, and the curtain which +hid the past was as black as ever, but I had a kind of feeling that +everything was hanging as in a balance, that--that--eh, mother, it is +good to see you! to know you, to--to--have a past! It was just like +this,' he went on: 'when I came downstairs, and saw George St. Mabyn, I +felt that the curtain was getting thinner. I remembered Maurice St. +Mabyn,--it was only dimly, and I could not call to mind what happened +to him; but something impelled me to speak to him.' + +'Don't talk about it any more, old fellow,' I said; 'you are not well +enough yet. To-morrow, after you have had a good night's rest, +everything will seem normal and natural.' + +'It is normal and natural now,' he laughed; 'besides, it does me good +to talk about it to you. It is not as though you were a stranger.' + +'No,' cried his mother, 'he has told us all about you, sir, and what +you did for him.' + +'Perhaps, after all,' went on Edgecumbe, 'I had better not talk any +more to-night. You--you think I'll be all right in the morning, don't +you? And I am feeling tired and sleepy. Besides, I feel like a kid +again;--the idea of going to bed with the little mother holding my hand +makes me think of----' + +'There now, old man,' I interrupted, 'let me go with you to your room. +You are a bit shaky, you know, and you must look upon me as a stern +male nurse.' + +Half an hour later, when I left him, he was lying in bed, and as he had +said, his mother sat by his side, holding his hand, while Lord Carbis +was in a chair close by, watching his son with eager, anxious eyes. + +After a few words with Sir Thomas, I made my way to the village of +South Petherwin to find the doctor. Truth to tell, I felt more than a +little anxious, and although I had persuaded Edgecumbe that when +morning came everything would be well, I dreaded his awakening. + +As good fortune would have it, I found the doctor at home, who listened +with great eagerness and attention to my story. + +'It is the strangest thing I have ever heard of,' he said, when I had +finished. + +'Do you fear any grave results?' I asked. + +'Luscombe,' he replied, 'I can speak to you freely. I will go with you +to see him, but the whole business is out of my depth. For the matter +of that, I doubt if any doctor in England could prophesy what will +happen to him. All the same, I see no reason why everything should not +be right.' + +Without waking him, Dr. Merril took his temperature, felt his pulse, +listened to the beating of his heart. + +'Everything is right, isn't it?' asked Lord Carbis anxiously. + +'As far as I can tell, yes.' + +'And there is nothing you can do more than has been done?' + +'Nothing,' replied the doctor; 'one of the great lessons which my +profession has taught me is, as far as possible, to leave Nature to do +her own work.' + +'And you think he will awake natural and normal to-morrow morning?' +whispered the older man. + +'I see no reason why he should not,' he said. All the same, there was +an anxious look in his eyes as he went away. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + +EDGECUMBE'S RESOLUTION + +In spite of my excitement, I slept heavily and late, and when I awoke I +found that it was past ten o'clock. Dressing hurriedly, I rushed to +Edgecumbe's bedroom and found him not only awake, but jubilant. + +'It's all right, old man,' he said. 'I am a new man. Merril has +already been here. He advises me to be quiet for a day or two, but I +am going to get up.' + +'And there are no ill effects? Your mind is quite clear?' + +'Clear as a bell. There is just one black ugly spot; but it doesn't +affect things.' + +'Black ugly spot?' I asked anxiously. + +'Yes, I'll tell you about it presently. Not that it matters.' + +Throughout the day I saw very little of him, as neither his father nor +mother would allow him out of their sight. It was pathetic the way +they followed him wherever he went. I saw, too, that they were +constantly watching him, as if looking for some sign of illness or +trouble. I imagine that their joy was so sudden, so wonderful, that +they could scarcely believe their own senses. It was evident, too, +that they gloried in his career since I had met him more than two years +ago. The thought that he should have, without influence or position, +surmounted so many difficulties, and become the hero of the hour, was +wonderful beyond words. More than once I caught Lord Carbis scanning +the newspapers which contained references to him, his eyes lit up with +pride. + +In spite of all this, however, I foresaw difficulties, saw, too, that +if Edgecumbe had not become radically changed, he would be a great +disappointment to his father. Would he, I wondered, stand by the words +he had uttered at the great public meeting? Would he refuse to +participate in the wealth which his father had amassed through his +connection with the trade which he believed was one of the great curses +of humanity? For it was evident that Lord Carbis was a man of strong +opinions. He had built up a great and prosperous business by +enterprise, foresight and determination. To him that business was +doubtless honourable. Through the wealth he had amassed by it, he had +become a peer of the realm. What would he say and do if his son took +the stand which, in spite of everything, I imagined he would? + +Other things troubled me, too. Springfield, who was staying with St. +Mabyn, motored over early, and immediately sought Lorna Bolivick's +society. Of course Edgecumbe saw this, and I wondered how it would +affect him. I wondered, too, how Sir Thomas would regard Springfield's +suit, now that the future of his life was so materially altered. I +tried, by a study of Lorna Bolivick's face, to understand the condition +of her heart. I wondered whether she really cared for the tall, +sinister-looking man who, I judged, had evidently fascinated her. + +It was not until after tea that I was able to get a few minutes' chat +with her alone. Indeed, I had a suspicion that she rather avoided me. +But seeing Springfield and St. Mabyn evidently in earnest conversation +together, I made my way to her, and asked her to come with me for a +stroll through the woods. + +'Real life makes fiction tame and commonplace,' I said, as I nodded +toward Lady Carbis and Edgecumbe, who were walking arm in arm on the +lawn. + +'Real life always does that,' was her reply; 'the so-called +impossibilities of melodrama are in reality the prosiest of realism.' + +'I can't quite settle down to it yet,' I said. 'I can't think of +Edgecumbe as Lord Carbis's son, in spite of all we have seen. To begin +with, his name isn't Edgecumbe at all.' + +'No,' she replied; 'don't you know what it is? You know who Lord +Carbis was, I suppose?' + +'I know he was a brewer; but really I have not taken the trouble to +study his antecedents.' + +'He was called Carbis before he was made a peer,' she replied. 'I +suppose he was largely influenced to buy the Carbis estates by the fact +that they bore his own name.' + +'So that my friend is called Jack Carbis. There is so much +topsy-turvyism in it that I can hardly realize it.' + +'I think Paul Edgecumbe is a much nicer name,' she said suddenly. 'I +hope--I hope----; but if--if----' + +'Do you realize,' I said, 'what it will mean to him if he stands by +what he said at that meeting the other night?' + +'Yes, he will still be a poor man, I suppose. But what then? Isn't he +a thousand times bigger man now than he was as the fashionable Captain +Jack Carbis?' + +'Perhaps you don't realize how he would wound his father,---destroy all +his hopes and ambitions.' + +'Yes, that would be rather sad; but doesn't it depend what his father's +hopes and ambitions are?' + +'Lorna,' I said, 'are you and Springfield engaged?' + +She did not answer me for a few seconds; then, looking at me steadily, +she said, 'Why do you ask that?' + +For the moment I almost determined to tell her what I believed I knew +about Springfield, and about the things of which I had accused him. +But I felt it would not be fair. If that time ever came, he must be +there to answer my accusations. + +'I think you know why,' I replied. 'The change in my friend's +circumstances has not changed my love for him. Do you know, Lorna, +that he loves you like his own life?' + +She was silent at this, and I went on, 'He spoke to you about it months +ago; there in yonder footpath, not half a mile away,--he told you he +had given his heart to you. It was madness then, madness,--because he +had no name, no career, no position to offer you. His past lay in a +mist,--indeed his past might have made it impossible for him to marry +you, even if you had loved him. You refused him, told him that what he +asked was impossible; but things have changed since then,--now he is a +rich man's son,--he can come to you as an equal.' + +'But--but----' and then noticing the curious look on her face, I +blurted out: + +'You're not going to marry Springfield, are you?' + +'Yes,' she replied, 'I shall marry Colonel Springfield, if--if----but +there,'--and she stopped suddenly,--'I think it is scarcely fair to +discuss such things.' + +After that she refused to talk about Springfield at all,--indeed I +could not understand her. She seemed as though she had a great problem +to solve, and was unable to see her way through it. + +I had no opportunity of talking with my friend till the next day. His +father and mother monopolized him so completely that there was no +chance of getting a word alone with him. But when Lord Carbis informed +me that he had made arrangements for Lady Carbis and his son to return +home, I made my way to him. + +'Do you feel well enough for a chat?' I asked. + +'Oh, quite,' he replied. 'I was waiting all yesterday for an +opportunity, but none came.' + +'Edgecumbe,' I said,--'you will forgive me for still calling you that, +won't you?--but for the life of me I can't fasten on that new name of +yours.' + +'Can't you? It's as natural as anything to me now. But call me Jack, +will you? I wish you would. Do you know, when I heard the old name +the night before last, I--I--but there, I can't tell you. It seemed to +open a new world to me,--all my boyhood came back, all those things +which made life wonderful. Yes, that's it, call me Jack.' + +'Well, then, Jack,' I said, 'I have been wondering. Are your +experiences at that Y.M.C.A. hut real to you now?' + +'Of course,' he replied quietly; 'why, they are not a matter of memory, +you know; they went down to the very depths of life.' + +'And the convictions which were the result of those experiences? Do +you feel as you did about drink and that sort of thing?' + +'Exactly.' + +'And you will stand by what you said in London the other night?' + +'Of course,--why shouldn't I?' + +'I was only wondering. Do you know, Jack,--you will forgive me for +saying so, I am sure, but you present a kind of problem to me.' + +'Do I?' and he laughed merrily as he spoke. 'You are wondering whether +my early associations, now that they have come back to me, are stronger +than what I have experienced since? Not a bit of it. I did a good +deal of thinking last night, after I had got to bed. You see, I tried +to work things out, and--and--it is all very wonderful, you know. I +wasn't a bad chap in the old days, by no means a pattern young man, but +on the whole I went straight,--I wasn't immoral, but I had no +religion,--I never thought about it. I had a good house-master when I +went to school, and under him I imbibed a sort of code of honour. It +didn't amount to very much, and yet it did, for he taught me to be an +English gentleman. I was always truthful, and tried to do the straight +thing. You know the kind of thing a chap picks up at a big public +school. But that night, at the Y.M.C.A. hut, I got down deep. No, +no,--early associations can't destroy that.' + +'And you still hold to what you said at the meeting?' + +'Absolutely. Why?' + +'I was wondering how it would appeal to your father. You remember you +said that you would never benefit by, or participate in, any gain made +by drink, and your father has made most of his money as a brewer and +distiller. I wondered how you regarded it now?' + +'That is quickly settled,' he replied; 'I shall not benefit by it, of +course.' + +'Do you mean that?' + +'Of course I mean it. Mind, I don't want it talked about,--that is a +matter between my father and my own conscience, and one can't talk +about such things freely.' + +'Surely you are very foolish,' I said. 'Why should you not use the +money which will naturally come to you?' + +'I don't say I won't _use_ it,' he replied, 'but I will not benefit by +it.' + +'You mean, then----?' + +'I mean that I was a poor man, with nothing but my pay, and that I _am_ +a poor man, with nothing but my pay. Thinking as I think, and feeling +as I feel, I could not become a rich man by money got in--that is, by +such means.' + +He spoke quietly and naturally, although he seemed a little surprised +by my question. + +'What will your father say when he knows?' + +'I think he _does_ know. He asked me whether I stood by what I said in +London.' + +'And you told him?' + +'Of course I told him.' + +'And he,--what did he say?' + +'He didn't say anything.' + +'Jack,' I went on, 'you must forgive me talking about this, but I only +do it, because--you see, we are pals.' + +'Of course we are pals. Say what you like.' + +'It is all summed up in one name--Lorna.' + +A new light came into his eyes immediately, and I saw that his lips +became tremulous. + +'Yes, what of her?' + +'Springfield still means to have her,' I blurted out. + +A curious look passed over his face, a look which I could not +understand. 'Do you know,' he asked eagerly, 'if she is engaged to +him?' + +'I gather, that so far, there is no engagement, but I believe there is +an understanding. He had obtained Sir Thomas's consent, but they were +both under the impression at the time that Springfield was your +father's heir. Of course, your turning up in such a way makes it a bit +rough on Springfield.' + +'I shall have a good deal to tell you about Springfield presently,' he +said, 'but you have something in your mind. What is it?' + +'It is very simple,' I replied. 'If there is no engagement between +Lorna and Springfield, and if you come to her as your father's heir, +you will of course be an eligible suitor. If you hold by your +determination, you are just where you were. How could you ask her to +marry you on the pay of a major in the Army? It would not be fair; it +would not be honourable.' + +'If she loves me, it would be honourable,' he said. + +'How could it be honourable for you, with just a major's pay, to go to +a girl reared as she has been,--a girl as attractive as she is, and who +has only to hold up her finger to a man like Buller, who will own one +of the finest estates in Devonshire? You have no right to drag her +into poverty, even if she cared for you.' + +He rose to his feet, and took a turn across the lawn. 'I see what is +in your mind, but my dear Luscombe,'--and then he burst out into a +laugh, a laugh that was sad, because it had a touch of hopelessness in +it,--'I am afraid we are talking in the clouds,--I am afraid Lorna +doesn't love me. If she does, she has shown no sign of it.' + +'But are you going to let her go without a struggle?' + +He looked at me with flashing eyes. 'I thought you knew me better than +that,' he said. 'No, I am going to fight for her, fight to the very +last. But if she will not have me as I am,--if she will not have me +without my father's money, which I will not take, then--then----' + +'You'll see her marry Springfield? I say, Jack, you know all we have +thought and said about Springfield?' + +'I have something to tell you about Springfield,' he said quietly. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII + +MAURICE ST. MABYN + +'You don't know Maurice St. Mabyn, do you?' + +I shook my head. + +'Spent all his life soldiering in the East, and knows more about +Eastern affairs than any living man. Yes, I mean it. He knows any +amount of Eastern dialects; speaks Arabic and Turkish like a native, +and has a regular passion for mixing himself up in Eastern matters. He +can pass himself off as a Fakir, a Dervish--anything you like. He +knows the byways of Eastern cities and Eastern life better than any man +I know of, and obtained a great reputation in certain official quarters +for discovering plots inimical to British interests. That's Maurice +St. Mabyn. A jolly chap, you understand, as straight as a die, and as +fearless as a lion. A diplomatist too. He can be as secret as an +oyster, and as stealthy as a sleuth-hound. He has been used more than +once on delicate jobs.' + +'But--but----' I interjected. + +'In the July of 1914,' he went on without noticing my interruption, 'I +was sitting alone in my show in Bizna where I was then stationed, when +who should come in but Maurice. He looked as I thought a bit anxious +and out of sorts. I hadn't seen him for more than a year, and he +startled me. + +'I asked him what he was doing in India, and he told me a curious yarn. +He said that he'd been mixed up in a skirmish in Egypt, and that +Springfield had tried to murder him.' + +'You are sure of this?' I gasped. + +'Sure! Of course I'm sure. He said that Springfield, who was also in +the show, had for some time acted in a very suspicious way, and that +during the row with the natives, the greater part of which had taken +place during the night, Springfield had pounced upon him, stabbed +him--and--and left him for dead. By one of those flukes which +sometimes takes place, St. Mabyn didn't die. He turned up, weeks +afterwards, and saw General Gregory. + +'Now follow me closely here. It so happened that only that day Gregory +had received a message telling him that German trouble was probable, +and that reports were wanted from certain quarters where it was feared +the Huns were trying to stir up trouble.' + +'In India?' I asked. + +'In the East; it was not for me to know where; and Gregory wanted a man +who knew the East, in whom he could trust lock, stock and barrel. +Directly he saw St. Mabyn, he fastened on him as his man, and he clung +to him all the more tightly when St. Mabyn told him his story. + +'"I'll keep Springfield, and his little game in mind, St. Mabyn," he +said; "but for the time you must remain dead. This is an important +job, and it must be done quietly." + +'That was why he came to India, and why the story which I imagine +Springfield got into the papers was never contradicted. On his way to +his job, however, he got thinking things over. Naturally he wanted not +only his brother to know, but his fiancée, Miss Blackwater. So knowing +where I was, he looked me up and told me what I have told you. It +seems he had heard I was due to return home, and he asked me to look up +his brother and Miss Blackwater, and to tell them that his death was by +no means certain, and that he might turn up all right. + +'Not long after, fresh drafts of men came to Bizna, and on the day they +arrived I asked a young chap called Dawkins who they were. He +mentioned several names, and among them was Springfield's. + +'"What Springfield?" I asked, for I remembered I had a distant relative +of that name. + +'"Oh, he was in Upper Egypt. His family came from Devonshire, and he +was a great friend of Maurice St. Mabyn who was killed. Poor chap, +when he told us the story he nearly broke down. I never knew he had so +much feeling in him." + +'I don't know why it was, but I lost my head. I suppose the fellow's +hypocrisy disgusted me so that I blurted out what St. Mabyn told me to +keep quiet. + +'"The blackguard," I said "he deserves to be shot, and will be shot, or +hanged!" + +'"Who's a blackguard?" asked Dawkins. + +'"Springfield," I replied. "Grieving about the death of Maurice St. +Mabyn! Why, the coward, he--he--; but Maurice St. Mabyn will turn up +again, and--and----" + +'"But St. Mabyn's dead!" cried Dawkins. "I saw it reported myself." + +'"He isn't dead?" I blurted out. + +'"But how can that be?" asked Dawkins. + +'"Because I believe in my own eyes and ears," I replied. + +'After that, I was under the impression that I was watched and +followed. More than once when I thought I was alone I heard stealthy +footsteps behind me, but although I tried to verify my suspicions I +could not. However, I did not trouble, for in due time I started for +home. I arranged to break my journey to Bombay at a place where I had +been stationed for six months. It was only a one horse sort of a show, +but I had some pals there, and they had insisted on my spending a day +or two with them. It took me three days to get there, and on my +arrival I found a long telegram purporting to be from my colonel, +requesting me to go to an outpost station where important information +would be given me. It also urged me to be silent about it. + +'Of course, although I was on leave, I was anxious to fall in with my +colonel's wishes, and so, instead of going straight on to Bombay, when +I left my pals, I went towards this outpost station.' + +'Were you alone?' I asked. + +'Except for my native servant whom I had arranged to take back to +England with me. We had not gone far when my servant stopped. "There +is something wrong, master," he said. "Let us go back." + +'He had scarcely spoken, when there was the crack of a pistol, and +several men pounced upon me. I was thrown from my horse, and very +roughly handled.' + +'Did you see the men?' I asked. + +My friend was silent for a few seconds, then he replied, 'I can swear +that one of them was Springfield. Some one had given me a blow on the +head, and I was a bit dizzy and bewildered; but I am certain that +Springfield was there.' + +'Then you believe----' + +'The thing's pretty evident, isn't it?' he said. 'He had a double +purpose to accomplish. If I were dead I could no longer be a danger to +him as far as St. Mabyn was concerned, and----' + +'He was the next in succession to your father's title, and would +naturally be his heir,' I interrupted. 'But what happened to you after +that?' + +He shuddered like a man afraid. 'I don't like to think of it,' he +said. 'As I told you there was one black spot in my past which I +couldn't remember clearly. That's it. But I have dim memories of +torture and imprisonment. I know I suffered untold agonies. I have +only fitful glimpses of that time, but in those glimpses I see myself +fighting, struggling, suffering until a great blackness fell upon me. +Then I remember nothing till I came to myself on the road to Bombay, +with my memory gone. The rest you know.' + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII + +A BOMBSHELL + +After this followed a series of events, startling, almost unbelievable +and utterly unexpected, such as only take place in real life. Had this +story been the outcome of my own imagination, I should never dare to +relate them; but because I have undertaken the task of writing what +actually took place I can do no other. + +This was how they happened: + +We were sitting together after dinner that night in the most +commonplace fashion imaginable. Lord and Lady Carbis had announced +their intention to leave early on the following morning, and their son +had promised to go with them. George St. Mabyn and Springfield were +there, having accepted Lady Bolivick's invitation to spend the evening +with them. Norah Blackwater, who had been a guest at the house for +some days, was also there. + +'I think as I am leaving to-morrow,' and Jack only slightly raised his +voice, 'that I ought to tell you all something, something--important.' + +Instantly there was a deathly silence, and with a quick movement every +one turned to the speaker. + +'I imagine my motives may be questioned,' he went on. 'I am sure, too, +that what I say will be denied; but that doesn't matter.' + +He hesitated a second as if doubtful how he had best continue, but the +tone of his voice and the purport of his words had done their work. +Even Lady Bolivick dropped her knitting, and looked quite disturbed. + +'This is what I have to tell you,' he said. 'Maurice St. Mabyn is +alive; at least he was in July, 1914, months after he was announced to +be dead.' + +I saw George St. Mabyn start to his feet, his lips livid, while Norah +Blackwater gave a cry which was not far removed from a scream. + +'Perhaps I ought to have told this in a different way,' went on my +friend. 'Perhaps, directly my memory came back to me, and the events +of the past became clear again, I ought to have sought out George St. +Mabyn, and especially Colonel Springfield, and told them privately what +I know. However, I have thought a good deal before speaking, and--and +as this is a family party, I have adopted this method.' + +'Why should you tell Colonel Springfield?' and George St. Mabyn seemed +to be speaking against his will. + +'Because he is most deeply implicated, and because he will have most to +explain.' + +I heard Springfield laugh at this, a laugh half of derision, half of +anger. + +'I am afraid,' he said quietly, 'that although we have all +congratulated Lord and Lady Carbis on the return of their son, that his +loss of memory has disturbed his mental equilibrium in other ways.' + +'Oh, no,' said Jack quietly, 'I am quite sane. No doubt it would +simplify your course of action very much if I were not, but as a matter +of fact my mind was never clearer. My father and mother will tell you +that I was never given to hysterics, and I am no great hand at +imagination.' + +'But--but if you have--have proof of this,'--it was George St. Mabyn +who spoke, and his voice was hoarse and unnatural,--'why--why'----? by +heaven, it's monstrous!' + +Springfield laughed like one amused. + +'I do not wish to wound any one's feelings,' he said, 'but I suppose +many madmen think they are sane. Of course we sympathize with Lord and +Lady Carbis, but I am afraid there is only one conclusion that we can +come to. Only on the night when his father and mother came here, +before this marvellous change in his memory took place, he said +something similar to this, and--and of course we can only regard it as +the hallucination of an unbalanced mind. Let us hope after a few +months' quiet, things will be normal again.' + +'Of course I knew you would take this attitude, Colonel Springfield,' +replied Jack quietly. 'You have reason to.' + +'What reason?' he snarled. + +'Are you sure you wish me to tell?' + +'Yes, tell anything, everything you can! Only be sure it's the truth. +Else by----!' he remembered himself suddenly and then went on: 'But +this is madness, pure madness!' + +'I'll not deal with motives,' went on my friend, still speaking +quietly; 'they will doubtless come out in good time. For that matter I +would rather say no more at present. I have only said what I have to +give you a chance--of--of clearing out.' + +Springfield gave me a quick glance, and then for a moment lost control +of himself. + +'Oh, I see,' he said. 'This is a plot. Luscombe is in it. He has +been discussing things with this--this lunatic, and this hatched-up +absurdity is the result.' + +I think Springfield felt he had made a false move the moment he had +spoken. Directly my name was mentioned, it became evident that the +plea of my friend's madness broke down. + +'At any rate,' he went on, 'I am not to be intimidated, and I will not +listen to any hysterical slanderings.' + +'Pardon me,' said Jack quietly, 'but Luscombe knew nothing whatever of +my intentions. You are sure you want me to go on?' he added quietly. + +'Go on by all means. Doubtless you will be amusing. But mind,' and +Springfield's voice became threatening, 'I am a dangerous man to trifle +with.' + +'I have grave reasons for knowing that,' was Jack's reply; 'but let +that pass. About three years ago news arrived in England that Maurice +St. Mabyn was dead--killed in a skirmish in Egypt. Some time +afterwards Colonel or Captain Springfield as he was then, came to +Devonshire, and gave a detailed account of his death. He said he was +with him during his last moments, together with--other interesting +things. From the account given Maurice St. Mabyn died in April, 1914, +and Colonel Springfield came, I think, in September, or October. By +this time George St. Mabyn had not only taken possession of his +brother's estates, but had also become the suitor for the hand of his +brother's fiancée.' + +'Surely,' cried Springfield, as if in protest, 'there is no need to +distress us all by probing the wounds made three years ago. Personally +I think it is cruel.' + +'It would be cruel but for what I am going to say,' replied Jack +Carbis. 'As it happens, Maurice St. Mabyn was not dead at the time. I +saw him,--spoke with him in Bizna in the July of that year.' + +'You saw Maurice in July, although he was reported dead in April!' +cried Sir Thomas. 'Why--why----; but it can't be true! That is--are +you sure? I say, George, wasn't the news definite--concise? Yes, I +remember it was. I saw the Egyptian newspaper account.' + +'I suppose you don't expect any one here to believe in this +cock-and-bull story,' and Springfield laughed uneasily. 'But may one +ask,' he continued, 'why we are regaled with this--this romance?' + +'Yes,' replied Jack, 'you may ask; but if I were you I wouldn't. I'd +make myself scarce.' + +I saw Springfield's eyes contract, and his whole attitude reminded me +of an angry dog. + +'You must tell us all what you mean by that,' he snarled. 'I'm sorry, +Lady Bolivick, that such a scene as this should take place in your +house, but I must defend myself.' + +'Against whom? Against what? What charges have been made?' and Jack +Carbis still spoke quietly and naturally. + +Again Springfield lost control of himself. 'Oh, I know,' he cried, +'that you and Luscombe have been plotting against me for years. I know +that you would poison the mind of----; that is--why should I deny it? +I love Miss Bolivick. I have loved her from the first hour I saw her. +I have sought her honourably. I would give my immortal soul to win +her, such is my love for her. I know, too, that you, Edgecumbe, or +Carbis, or whatever you may call yourself, are jealous of me, because +you are madly in love with her yourself. By unproved, unprovable +because they are lying, statements, you are trying to poison the mind +of the women I love against me. You are suggesting that I sent home +and brought home false accounts of Maurice St. Mabyn's death for some +sinister purpose. You are hinting at all sorts of horrible things. +Great God, haven't you done enough to thwart me? Oh, yes--I'll admit +it, I expected to be Lord Carbis's heir. I had reason. But for you +I--I----but there, seeing you have robbed me of what I thought was my +legitimate fortune, don't try to rob me of my good name. It's--it's +all I have!' + +At that moment I looked at Lorna Bolivick, and I thought I saw +admiration in her eyes; I felt that never was Springfield's hold upon +her stronger than now. + +'Tell us plainly what you want to say,' continued Springfield; +'formulate your charges. Tell me of what I am guilty. But by the God +who made us, you shall prove your words. I will not be thrust into a +hopeless hell by lying innuendos and unproved charges.' + +For the first time I thought my friend looked confused and frightened. +It might be that the personality of the other had mastered him, and +that although he had gone several steps forward in his attack, he now +desired to turn back. He seemed about to speak, then hesitated and was +silent. + +'Why force me to tell the truth?' he said lamely. 'I do not wish to +say more. Take my advice, and leave while you may.' + +'I am a soldier,' cried Springfield, 'and I am not one to run +away--especially from vague threats. Nay, more,' and he turned to +Lorna Bolivick, 'Miss Bolivick--Lorna, to prove how I scorn these vague +threats, I ask you here and now, although I am only a poor man, and +have nothing to offer you but the love of a poor soldier, to give me +the happiness I have so longed and prayed for.' + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX + +SPRINGFIELD AT BAY + +But Lorna did not speak. That she realized the situation no one could +doubt. The sea in which the bark of her life was sailing was full of +cross currents, and in her excitement she did not know the course she +ought to steer. + +It was here that Sir Thomas Bolivick thought it right to speak. I +gathered that he was not pleased at Springfield's avowal, for while he +doubtless favoured his suit while he was to all appearances the heir to +Lord Carbis, events had changed everything. + +'Why have you told us this now, and--and in such a way?' he asked, +turning to my friend. + +Jack hesitated a second before replying. He realized that nothing +could prejudice his cause in Lorna's eyes more than by attacking his +rival. + +'Because I want to save Miss Bolivick,' he said. + +'From what? Tell us plainly what you mean!' + +'From promising to marry a man who is unworthy of her, and who would +blacken her life.' + +'Prove it. You have said too much or too little. Either prove what +you have said, or withdraw it.' + +Springfield laughed aloud. 'Surely,' he said, 'we have had enough of +this! You see, after all his bluster, what it really amounts to.' + +'Just a minute, please,' and Jack's voice became almost menacing. 'I +am not in the habit of blustering. I have warned you to go away from +here, and as you have forced me to go into details I will do so. You +insist, then, that I lie when I say that I saw Maurice St. Mabyn alive +in the July of 1914?' + +'I do not say that, but I do say that you are suffering from an +hallucination,' replied Springfield. 'You may have recovered your +memory, but in doing so you suffer from remembering more than ever took +place.' + +'You insist on that?' + +'Certainly I do. I can do no other. If you are not mentally deranged, +you are a---- I would rather not use the word,' he added with a laugh. + +'You see,' went on Jack, 'that he is very anxious to prove Maurice St. +Mabyn to have been killed in a native uprising. I'll tell you why. He +tried to murder him, and it was only by the mercy of God that he failed +to do so.' + +'Murder him! How dare you say such a thing?' gasped Sir Thomas. + +'Maurice told me so himself--told me in India in 1914.' + +'Great God, you shall prove this!' and now Springfield was really +aroused. 'If he was not dead in July, 1914, where has he been these +three years? Why has he sent no word? What has become of him? Who +has seen him since April of that year when he was killed?--I mean +besides this madman?' + +'General Gregory, to whom he reported himself.' + +'Do you mean to say that he reported himself to General Gregory?' His +voice was hoarse, and I saw him reel as though some one had struck him. + +'I do mean to say so. He told me so himself. If I have told a lie, +you can easily prove it by communicating with him.' + +Springfield laughed again, and in his laugh was a ring of triumph. + +'It is easy to say that, because Gregory is dead. He died two years +ago. A dead man is a poor witness.' + +'I don't ask any one to accept my words without proof,' said Jack +Carbis. 'Proof will not be wanting. You say that Maurice St. Mabyn +was killed in a skirmish, that you saw his dead body, and that you had +no hand whatever in it?' + +'I _do_ say it,' cried Springfield hoarsely. 'I swear by Almighty God +that your charges are venomous lies, and----' + +But he did not finish the sentence. At that moment I heard the murmur +of voices outside the room, the door opened, and a tall, bronzed but +somewhat haggard-looking man entered the room. + +'Maurice!' + +It was George St. Mabyn who uttered the word, but it was not like his +voice at all. + +The new-comer gave a quick glance around the room, as though he wanted +to take in the situation, then he took a quick step towards Lady +Bolivick. + +'Will you forgive me for coming in this way, Lady Bolivick?' he said +quietly. 'But I could not help myself. I only got back an hour or two +ago, and the servants were so upset that they lost their heads +entirely. But they did manage to tell me that George was here, so I +took the liberty of an old friend and----; but what's this? Is +anything the matter? George, old man, why--why----' and he looked at +George St. Mabyn and Norah Blackwater inquiringly. + +But George St. Mabyn did not speak; instead, he stood staring at his +brother with terror-stricken eyes. + +'You thought I was dead, eh?' and there was a laugh in Maurice St. +Mabyn's voice. 'I'm worth a good many dead men yet.' + +Again he looked around the room until his eyes rested upon Springfield, +who had been watching his face from the moment of his entrance. + +'By Jove, St. Mabyn,' he cried, and I could see he was fighting for +self-mastery; 'but you have played us a trick. Here have we all been +wasting good honest grief on you. But--but--I am glad, old man. +I--I----' + +His speech ended in a gasp. His words seemed to be frozen by the cold +glitter of Maurice St. Mabyn's eyes. Never in my whole life have I +seen so much contempt, so much loathing in a man's face as I saw in the +face of the new-comer at that moment. But he did not speak. He simply +turned on his heel, and addressed Sir Thomas Bolivick. + +'You seem surprised, and something more than surprised at seeing me, +Sir Thomas,' he said; 'but you are glad to see me, aren't you?' + +'Glad!' cried the old man. 'Glad! Why, God bless my soul, Maurice! +I--I--but--but glad?'--and he began to mop his eyes vigorously. + +'I think there'll be a lot of explanations by and by,' went on +Maurice,' especially after I've had a chat with my old friend, Jack +Carbis, over there. Jack, you rascal, you've a lot to tell me, haven't +you? By the way, George,'--and he gave Springfield a glance,--'I +understand that this fellow is a guest at St. Mabyn. Will you tell +him, as you seem friendly with him, that my house is not good for his +health.' + +Springfield looked from one to another like a man in despair. The +coming of Maurice St. Mabyn had been such a confirmation of all that +Jack Carbis had said, that he saw no loophole of escape anywhere. But +this was only for a moment. Even in his defeat the man's character as +a fighter was evident. + +'St. Mabyn,' he said hoarsely, 'I swear by Heaven that you are +mistaken! Of course I was mistaken--and--and no one is gladder than +I--that you have turned up. Give me fair play,--give me a chance--give +me time, and I'll clear up everything!' + +'Will you tell the fellow,' and Maurice St. Mabyn still spoke to his +brother, 'that a motor-car will be placed at his disposal to take him +to any place he chooses to go. Tell him, too, that I do not propose +to--to have anything to do with him in any way unless he persists in +hanging on to you; but that if he does, the War Office and the world +shall know what he is, and what he has done.' + +Still Springfield did not give in. He turned again to Lorna Bolivick, +and as he did so I realized, as I never realized before, that the man +really loved her. I believed then, as I believe now, that all his +hopes, all his plottings, were centred in one desire, and that was to +win the love of this girl. + +'Miss Bolivick, Lorna,' he said hoarsely, 'you do not tell me to go, do +you? You believe in me? I will admit that things look against me; but +I swear to you that I am as innocent of their charges as you are; +that--that----' He ceased speaking suddenly, as though his words were +frozen on his lips, then he burst out like a man in agony, 'Why do you +look at me like that?' he gasped. + +But she did not speak. Instead, she stood still, and looked at him +steadily. There was an unearthly expression in her eyes; she seemed to +be trying to look into his soul, to read his innermost thoughts. For a +few seconds there was a deathly silence, then with a quick movement she +turned and left the room. + +Again Springfield looked from face to face as if he were hoping for +support; then I saw pride flash into his eyes. + +'Lady Bolivick, Sir Thomas,' he said quietly, 'I am deeply sorry that +this--this scene should have taken place. As you know I am not +responsible. Thank you for your kind hospitality.' Then he turned and +left the room, and a few seconds later we heard his footsteps on the +gravel outside. + + + + +CHAPTER XL + +MAURICE ST. MABYN'S GENEROSITY + +Of what happened afterwards, and of the explanations which were given, +it is not for me to write. They do not come within the scope of this +history, and would be scarcely of interest to the reader. One thing, +however; specially interested me, and that was the large-heartedness of +Maurice St. Mabyn. He refused to allow his brother to attempt any +explanation, although I felt sure he understood what his brother had +done. + +'Of course you could not help believing me dead, George,' he said with +a laugh. 'That fellow Springfield sent home and brought home all sorts +of circumstantial evidence, and you naturally took things over. No, +not another word. The fellow has gone, and I'll see that he stays +away.' + +'But--but why didn't you write, Maurice?' stammered the other. + +'Couldn't, my dear chap. For more than two years I was away from +civilization; for six months I was a prisoner among the Turks; and when +at length, after the taking of Baghdad I was released, I was too ill to +do anything, Besides, I thought Jack Carbis would have set your minds +at rest. But there, I shall have a great yarn to tell you later.' + +To Norah Blackwater he was coldly polite. That she had become his +brother's fiancée within a few months of his reported death evidently +wounded him deeply, although he made not the slightest reference to it. +For my own part I was almost sorry for the girl. I do not believe she +had ever cared for George St. Mabyn, although there could be no doubt +of his fondness for her. Even when she had accepted him, her heart +belonged to Maurice, but being desperately poor, and believing George +to be the true heir to the St. Mabyn estates, she had given her +promise. But this is only conjecture on my part. Nevertheless, it was +impossible not to pity her. Her eyes, as she looked at Maurice, told +their own story; she knew that she loved him; knew, too, that she had +lost him for ever. + +I was not present during the long conversation Maurice St. Mabyn and +Jack Carbis had together that night, but before I went to sleep the +latter came into my room. + +'This has been a great night, Luscombe,' he said. + +'Great night!' I repeated. 'I can hardly believe that I have not been +dreaming all the time.' + +'But you haven't,' he replied with a laugh. 'All the same, I almost +believed I was losing my head when Maurice St. Mabyn came into the +room. Isn't he a splendid chap though? No noise, no bluster, no +accusations. But he understood.' + +'Understood what?' + +'Everything.' + +'And you believe that Maurice knows of George's complicity in +Springfield's plans?' + +'Of course he knows. But he'll not let on to George. He realizes that +Springfield played on his brother's weakness and made his life one long +haunting fear.' + +'But what about Norah Blackwater?' + +'Ah, there we have the tragedy!' + +'Why, do you think Maurice cares for her still?' + +'I'm sure she cares for him. But he's adamant. He'll never forgive +her, never. I wonder--I wonder----' + +'What?' + +He started to his feet and left the room. + +I hadn't a chance of speaking with him the next day, for he left by an +early train with his father and mother. They had naturally insisted on +his returning to his home with them, and although they asked me to +accompany them, I was unable to do so, as I had to report myself to my +C.O. on the following day. I had arranged to catch the afternoon train +to London, and then motor to the camp in time for duty. + +About eleven o'clock I saw Lorna Bolivick leave the house and make her +way towards a rosery which had been made some little distance away. + +'Lorna,' I said, 'I have to leave directly after lunch; you don't mind +my inflicting myself on you, do you?' + +She looked at me with a wan smile. + +'It's splendid about Maurice St. Mabyn, isn't it?' + +'It's wonderful,' she replied, but there was no enthusiasm in her tones. + +There was a silence between us for some seconds, then I said awkwardly, +'His--his--coming was a wonderful vindication of my friend, wasn't it?' + +'Did he need any vindication?' she asked. + +'I imagined you thought so last night--forgive me,' I replied, angry +with myself for having blurted out the words. + +I saw the colour mount to her cheeks, and I thought her eyes flashed +anger. + +'It might seem as though everything had been pre-arranged,' I went on, +'but I'm sure he could not help himself. Never did a man love a woman +more than Edgecumbe--that is Jack Carbis, loves you. He felt it to be +his duty to you to expose Springfield. He knew all along that he was +an evil fellow.' + +She did not speak, and again I went on almost in spite of myself. + +'I have thought a good deal about what you said. Surely you never +thought of marrying him?' + +'Yes, I did.' + +'Because you loved him?' + +She shook her head. 'No, I never loved him,' she replied quickly, +angrily. 'The very thought of----' she stopped suddenly, and was +silent for a few seconds; and then went on, 'I cannot tell you. It +would----; no, I cannot tell you.' + +'I know it's no business of mine,' I continued,' and yet it is. No man +had a better friend than Jack, and--and--owing to the peculiar way we +were brought together perhaps, no man ever felt a deeper interest in +another man than I feel in him. That is why----; I say, Lorna, I'm +afraid he'd be mad with me for telling you, but--but--he'd give the +world to marry you.' + +'I shall never marry him,' and her words were like a cry of despair. + +'But--but----' + +'I shall never marry him,' she repeated, still in the same tones. + +At that moment we heard Sir Thomas Bolivick's voice, and turning, saw +him coming towards us with a look of horror on his face. + +'I say, this is ghastly,' he said. + +'What is it, dad?' asked Lorna anxiously. + +'It's terrible, simply terrible,--and yet--you see--Maurice St. Mabyn +has just telegraphed me. He says he has just received a message from +Plymouth. That man Springfield was found dead an hour or so ago.' + +'Found dead!' I gasped. + +'Yes, in his room in the ---- Hotel. Committed suicide.' + +I looked at Lorna's face almost instinctively. It was very pale, and +there could be no doubt but that she was terribly shocked by the news. +And yet I felt sure I saw a look on her face which suggested relief. +But beyond her quick breathing she uttered no sound. + +'It's terrible,' went on Sir Thomas, 'but after--after last night I'm +not sure--it's--it's not a relief to us all. Evidently the fellow----; +but--but it's terrible, isn't it? Of course the hotel people wired St. +Mabyn, as he told them at the bureau that he had just come from his +house.' + +'How did he die?' I asked. + +'Poison,' replied Sir Thomas. 'He seems to have injected some sort of +Indian poison into his veins. Evidently he had it with him, as the +doctor says it is unobtainable anywhere in England. He left a letter, +too.' + +'A letter? To whom?' + +'I don't quite know. To George St. Mabyn I expect. Awful, isn't it?' + +I saw him look at Lorna; but her face told him nothing. She appeared +perfectly calm, although I felt sure she was suffering. + +'I am awfully sorry your visit should have ended like this, Luscombe,' +said Sir Thomas three hours later; 'but you must come down again when +you can get a day or two off. Don't wait for a formal invitation; we +shall always be glad to see you.' + +'Thank you, I'll take you at your word, Sir Thomas; meanwhile you'll +keep me posted up with the news, won't you?' + +'You mean about---- Yes, I'll let you know what happens. Where are +you going, Lorna?' + +'I'm going with Major Luscombe to the station, if he'll let me,' was +her reply. + +'You've something to tell me, Lorna,' I said when we had started. + +She shook her head. + +'You are sure? Has Springfield's death made no difference?' + +'No,' she replied, then she hesitated, and repeated the word. + +'Jack'll ask you again, Lorna. Of course he's not told me; but he +will. He is one who never gives up. Never.' + +'It's no use,' she said wearily. 'It's impossible, everything's +impossible.' + +'Nothing's impossible to a chap like Jack. You don't mean to say that +Springfield----' + +'Don't,' she pleaded. 'You don't know; he--he doesn't know; if he +did----,' and then she lapsed into silence. + +'I'm coming down again soon,' I said as I entered the train. 'I +promised your father I would.' + +'Do, do,' and she held my hand almost feverishly. + + + + +CHAPTER XLI + +THE NEW HOPE + +Nothing more than was absolutely necessary appeared in the newspapers +about Springfield's death. In a letter which he wrote before taking +his life he explained his action in a few characteristic words. + +'Life's not worth living, that's why I'm going to die. I do not wish +any question asked of any one why I intend to solve the "great secret," +very suddenly. I'm tired of the whole show. That's enough explanation +for any one. I am quite sane, and I hope no fool set of jurymen will +bring in a verdict about my taking my life while in an unsound mind. I +am reaping as I've sown, and I dare say if I had been a pattern young +man things might have ended differently. But there it is. The game, +as far as I am concerned, is not worth the candle. Besides, the game's +played out. I am grateful to those of my friends who have been kind to +me. The personal letters I am writing must be regarded as private and +confidential. By that I mean they must not be read to satisfy the +vulgar curiosity of the gaping crowd, and no questions must be asked of +their recipients. Their contents are meant only for those to whom they +are addressed.' + +According to the newspaper reports, no awkward questions were asked of +Sir Thomas Bolivick, or any members of the party with whom he had dined +the night before he died, and the twelve jurymen who brought in a +verdict of suicide said nothing about an 'unsound mind.' + +Mention was made, however, of a sealed letter, placed by the side of +the one I have copied. This letter bore no address, and nothing was +written on the envelope but the words: 'This package must _not_ be +opened within a week of my burial.' + +Comparing this instruction with the 'open letter,' I judged that the +package contained more than one letter, but no further information was +given. + +At the beginning of August two letters arrived by the same post. One +was from Lorna Bolivick, and the other was from my friend. The latter +was simply a command to get a few days off, and to come and see him. +He wanted a chat badly, he said, and if I could not get away, he would +come to me, but surely I was not so important that I couldn't be spared +for a week-end, if not more. He also insisted that I must send him a +wire at once. + +On opening Lorna's letter, I found practically the same request. The +doctor had forbidden her resuming her nursing work for some months, she +said, and had suggested that she should go to the seaside. But this +she had refused to do, as she hated leaving her home. Besides, her +brother Tom might come home on leave almost any day, and she wanted to +be there to meet him. + +'But you said you promised dad to pay us another visit as soon as you +could,' her letter concluded, 'and I am writing to remind you of your +promise. You told me you had some leave still due to you after your +last visit, so why not come at once? The sooner the better.' + +She gave no special reason for asking me to come, but I read into her +appeal a desire to tell me something, and perhaps to ask my advice. I +therefore had a chat with my C.O., with the result that I started to +see my friend the same day. + +On arriving at the station I found him on the platform awaiting me. + +'Now this is sensible,' he cried with a laugh. 'This is something like +dispatch. Come on, I have a motor outside. I suppose you will trust +me to drive you.' + +'You look fit, anyhow,' I said. + +'Fit as a fiddle,' he replied. 'I go back to the front in four days.' + +He looked years younger than when I had first seen him. The old +wistful look in his eyes had almost entirely gone, while the +parchment-like skin had become almost as smooth and ruddy as that of a +boy. + +'Oh, it has been glorious,' he said. 'I've taken the little mother to +all sorts of places, and dad declares she looks twenty years younger. +More than once we've been taken for lovers.' + +'And your memory, Jack?' + +'Sound as a bell. Wonderful, isn't it? Sometimes I'm almost glad I +went through it all. After--after--years of darkness and loneliness, +to emerge suddenly into the light! To have a mother, and a father, +and--a home!' + +'And you and your father get on well together?' + +'Yes, in a way. But I have a lot to tell you about that. Here we are!' + +I shall not attempt to describe Jack Carbis's home, nor the welcome I +received. Had I been their son, Lord and Lady Carbis could not have +received me with greater joy. + +It was not until late that Jack and I were able to be alone, but at +length when the others had gone to bed we found ourselves in a kind of +snuggery which had been especially set apart for his own personal use. + +'It's great, having you here,' he cried, as he threw himself into an +arm-chair; 'great to feel alive, and to remember things. Have you +heard from Bolivick?' + +'Yes, Sir Thomas sent me a line, also a newspaper containing a report +of the inquest. Have you?' + +He shook his head. 'We wrote immediately after we left, and Lady +Bolivick has written to mother, but--nothing more.' + +'Of course you got particulars about Springfield. It seems he left a +sealed packet. Did it contain a letter for you?' + +'No, nothing. I often wonder who he wrote to. Do you know anything?' + +'Nothing. But I propose going to Bolivick to-morrow; perhaps they'll +tell me.' + +'To-morrow! I say, old man, have you heard from her?' + +I nodded. 'No, her letter contained nothing that would interest you,' +I continued as I noted the look of inquiry in his eyes. 'Why don't you +go with me? It would seem quite natural, seeing you are off to the +front so soon.' + +He hesitated a second, and then shook his head. 'No, Luscombe,' he +said, 'she'll send for me if she wants me.' + +'That's not the way to win a girl. How can she send for you?' + +'I seem to have lost confidence since my memory came back,' he replied. +'When I told her I loved her, although I didn't seem to have the ghost +of a chance, I felt confident, serene. Now I'm sure of nothing.' + +'Nothing?' I queried. 'Do you mean to say that--that your faith in God +and that kind of thing is gone?' + +'No, no,' he replied quickly. 'That remains. It's the foundation of +everything, everything. But God doesn't do things in the way we +expect, and when we expect. After all, our life here is only a +fragment, and God has plenty of time. He's never in a hurry. It's all +right, old man. She'll be mine some time. If not in this world, in +another.' + +'If I loved a girl, I'd move heaven and earth to get her in this life.' + +'Yes, don't fear that I'm not going to do my bit; but I've had a little +time for thinking, and I've had to adjust myself to--to my new +conditions.' + +'With what results? How do things strike you now?' + +'What things? The war?' + +'Yes, that among others. Have you the same views you had? After our +peregrinations through London, you were not optimistic, I remember. +You seemed to regard England as in a bad way. You said we were not fit +for victory. What are your views now?' + +He was silent a few seconds before replying. + +'I expect I was a bit of a fool,' he said presently. 'I'm afraid my +outlook was narrow and silly. You see, I had no experience to go on. +I had no standards.' + +'No standards?' I repeated. 'You mean, then, that you've given all +your fine sentiments the go-by?' + +'And if I had?' he said with a smile. 'Should you be sorry or glad?' + +I was silent. As I have stated I had not agreed with him, and yet I +should have been sorry had he become like many another of his class. + +'I see,' and he laughed gaily. 'No, old man, I've given nothing the +go-by. No doubt, I overstated things a bit. No wonder. I saw things +only in the light of the present. But in the main I was right.' + +'Then what do you mean by saying that your outlook was narrow and +silly?' + +'I mean this. I looked on life without being able to compare it with +what it was before the war. When I went with you through London, and +saw the things I saw, when I saw the basest passions pandered to, when +I saw vice walking openly, and not ashamed, I said, "God is keeping +victory from us because we are not fit for it." In a sense I believe +it still. Admiral Beatty was right. "Just so long as England remains +in a state of religious indifference, just so long will the war +continue. When the nation, the Empire comes to God with humility and +with prayer on her lips, then we can begin to count the days towards +the end." And that's right. The nation itself, by its lack of faith +in God, by its materialism, by its want of prayer, by its greed, and +its sin, has kept victory from coming. I tell you the great need of +the age is prophets, men of God, calling us to God.' + +'And do you stand by what you said about drink?' + +'To every word. That phase of our national life has been and is +horrible. While vested interests in this devilish thing remain +paramount, we are partly paralysed. You see, it is the parent of a +great part of the crime of the country. Oh, yes, I stand by that. All +the same I was wrong.' + +'Why wrong?' + +'Because I did not look deep enough. Because I was not able to see the +tremendous change that has been wrought.' + +'I don't understand,' I said. + +'It's this way. You, because the change which has come over the land +has come slowly and subtly, have hardly been able to see it. But when, +a few weeks ago, my memory came back to me, I realized a sort of shock. +I saw how tremendous the change was, and is. A few years ago I was +home for a long leave, and I went a good deal into society. What did I +see? I saw that the women of England were in the main a mass of +useless, purposeless butterflies. I saw that the great mass of the +young men of our class were mere empty-headed, worthless parasites. +The whole country was given over to money getting and pleasure seeking. +I didn't realize it then; but I do now. On every hand they were +craving for unnatural excitement, and doubtless there was a great +danger of our race becoming decadent. But these last few weeks I've +realized the difference. Why, our people have been glorious, simply +glorious! See what an earnest tone pervades all life. Think of what +the women of all classes have done, and are doing! Think of their +change of outlook! Instead of being mere bridge-playing, gambling, +purposeless things, finding their pleasures in all sorts of silly fads +and foolishness, they've given themselves to service--loyal, noble +service. The young fellows who filled up their time by being mere +club-loungers, empty-headed society dudes, whose chief talk was women, +the latest thing in neckties, or their handicap at golf, are now doing +useful work, or fighting for the best in life. As for the rank and +file, life has a new meaning to them, and they've become heroes. + +'Mind you, we've still a long way to go; but we are on the right road. +God is speaking out of the whirlwind and the fire. Religion may not be +expressing itself in Church-going, but it is expressing itself in +deeper, grander ways. I failed to see it; but I see it now. Oh, man, +if England will only be true to the call of God, we can become the +wonder and glory of the world!' + +'Then you believe we are ready for victory?' + +'I do not say that; but we are getting ready. God has been putting us +through the refining fires, and I can see such a democracy emerging out +of this world upheaval as was never known before.' + +'And yet the war does not appear to be coming to an raid,' I urged. +'Think of Russia. Russia is a wild chaos, the victim of every passing +fancy. Anarchy is triumphant, and the great army which should be a +tower of strength is a rope of sand. If Russia had been true, we +should have been----' + +'Don't be in a hurry, my friend. God never is. Things will brighten +in that direction. I don't say the war will be ended on the +battlefield. Sometimes I think it won't. God does things in big ways. +Surely the history of the last few months has taught us that. With Him +nothing is impossible. People say that Kaiserdom stands more firmly +than ever. What of that? The Kaiser may become more autocratic than +ever, but his doom is written for all that. What is happening to his +invincible legions? They will never save him. We are going to have a +new world, my friend, and the pomp of the Kaiser will become a thing of +yesterday.' + +He was silent a few seconds, and then went on. + +'There is something else, too. Russia has failed us, failed us because +of corruption, and injustice. But God does not fail. No sooner did +Russia yield, than America spoke. Her voice was the voice of the new +Democracy. America's action is one of the greatest things in the +world. Without thought of gain and realizing her sacrifice she has +answered the call of God, and thrown herself into this struggle for the +liberty and justice of the world. Had our cause not been righteous +America would not have done this, but because it is God's Cause she +could not resist the call to give her all. Yes, my friend, + + 'The mills of God grind slowly, + But they grind exceeding small.' + + + + +CHAPTER XLII + +AN UNFINISHED STORY + +I left Jack Carbis the following day, and made my way to Bolivick. I +did my best to persuade him to come with me; but he would not. + +'No, not yet,' he said in answer to my entreaties, and yet I knew that +he longed to come. + +We had talked far into the night, and he had opened his heart to me as +never before; but it is not for me to tell all he said. + +When I reached Bolivick I found Lorna looking pale and ill, and I felt +sure something was preying on her mind. The house was nearly empty, +too. Her brother had not yet arrived from the front, and there were no +visitors. I was glad of this, however, as it gave me a chance of +talking with her alone. + +'I have just come from Jack,' I said, as we left the house for a walk +after dinner. + +She did not speak, but I knew by the quick catch in her breath what +interest my words had to her. + +'He's going to France in three days,' I went on. 'He is reported fit +for general service. I tried to persuade him to come with me.' + +'I dare say he has much to occupy him,' she said coldly. + +'It's not that,' I replied. 'He wanted to come; but he thinks you do +not want him. He said he would not come till you sent for him.' + +'And does he think I'll do that?' she asked, a little angrily I thought. + +'No, I don't think he does. But he's sensitive, and--and of course he +heard what Springfield said. He remembers, too, what you told +him--that is, just before Maurice St. Mabyn came.' + +'Does he think I--I cared for--for that man?' + +'I don't know. It would be no wonder if he did. I say, Lorna, I don't +understand your relations to Springfield. Was there anything between +you?' + +'Yes,' she replied. + +'He asked you to marry him; of course that's no secret. You'll forgive +my speaking plainly, won't you?' + +'What do you want to say?' + +'What was his power over you? I am taking advantage of our friendship, +even at the risk of being rude and impertinent.' + +'He had no power over me,--in the way you think.' + +'That sounds like an admission. Is it?' + +'Yes, if you like.' + +'Then what was his power?' + +She looked at me for a few seconds without speaking. + +'I can't tell you,' she replied presently. + +For some time we walked on in silence; I thinking what her words might +mean, she apparently deep in thought. + +'According to the newspaper,' I said after we had gone some distance, +'Springfield left a sealed packet containing letters. Was one of them +for you?' + +'Yes.' + +'You do not feel disposed to tell me what it contained?' + +'I would if I could, but I--can't.' + +'Then I'm going to see George St. Mabyn, and get it out of him.' + +'George does not know.' + +Again there was a painful silence between us, and again I tried to +understand what was in her mind. + +'Lorna,' I said, 'I want to tell you something. It has been in my mind +a long time, but if there's one thing you and I both despise it's +speaking ill of another. But I can't help myself. You must know the +truth.' + +Thereupon I told her the whole of Springfield's story as I knew it. I +related to her the conversation I had heard between Springfield and +George St. Mabyn. I described the attempts made to kill Jack Carbis. +I told her what Colonel McClure had said, both in our conversations and +in the letter he wrote me after Springfield's death. + +'Why have you told me all this?' she asked, and her voice was hard, +almost bitter. + +'Because I do not think you understand the kind of man Springfield was.' + +'Excuse me, I understand perfectly.' + +'You knew all the time! Knew what I have just told you?' + +'No, I knew nothing of that; but I knew he was a bad man, knew it +instinctively from the first. That's what makes everything impossible +now.' + +'I don't understand.' + +'No, of course you don't. Oh, I wish I could tell you.' + +'Then do. I wouldn't ask you, only my friend's happiness means a lot +to me.' + +She caught my arm convulsively. 'Do you think he cares for me still?' +she asked. 'Do you really?' + +'I'm sure he does,' I replied. + +'And you do not believe that the change in his life has made any +difference to--to that?' + +'Not a bit.' + +'Oh, I have been mad--criminally mad!' she burst out passionately. 'No +one despises me more than I despise myself. You say he loves me, but +he would hate me, scorn me if--if he knew.' + +'Knew what?' + +'I can't tell you. I simply can't.' + +'But you _will_!' I said grimly; 'you will tell me now.' + +'Major Luscombe!' + +'Yes, be as angry as you like, I am angry too. And I tell you plainly +that I am not going to allow my friend's life to be ruined because of +the vagaries of a silly child. For you _are_ a silly child. You have +got hold of some hare-brained fancy, and you are magnifying it into a +mountain. You've got to tell me all about it, because I'm sure it +stands in the way of my friend's happiness.' + +'But you don't understand. I've been--oh, I'm ashamed of myself!' + +Some men perhaps would, on listening to this outburst, have imagined +some guilty secret on her part. But knowing her as I did, it was +impossible for me to do so. + +'You are going to tell me about it,' I said. 'What is it?' + +'But you'll not tell him; promise me that.' + +'You must trust me,' I replied, 'and your trust must be complete. What +power had Springfield over you? What did he say to you in that letter?' + +She was silent for a few seconds, then she said, 'You remember what I +said about him when I first saw him?' + +'Yes, you said he made you think of snakes. You told me you disliked +him.' + +'That's why I'm so ashamed. I knew he was a bad man, and yet he +fascinated me. I was afraid of him, and yet he almost made me promise +to marry him.' + +'Go on,' I said when she hesitated, 'tell me the rest.' + +'When--when--your friend came here for the first time, he--he----' + +'Fell in love with you. Yes, it is no use mincing words. The moment +he saw you, he gave his life to you. He told me so. He told you so.' + +'I knew it before he told me.' + +'How did you know?' + +Her tell-tale blush, her quivering lips, told their own story, and I +could not help laughing aloud. + +'Don't be cruel!' she cried. + +'I am not cruel, I am only very happy. I am happy because my friend is +going to be happy.' + +'But you don't know all.' + +'I know that love overcomes all difficulties, and I know that you love +each other.' + +'Yes, but listen. He--that is, that man--told me that although you did +not know who your friend was, he knew. He said that he had been guilty +of deeds in India, which if made known would mean life-long disgrace. +That he, that is Colonel Springfield, had only to speak and--and oh, I +can't tell you! I'm too ashamed!' + +'I don't need telling,' I laughed. 'I know. He bound you to secrecy +before telling you anything. He found out that you loved Jack, and he +used your love as a lever. Like the mean scoundrel he was, he tried to +make you promise to marry him, by threatening to expose Jack if you +wouldn't. And you, because you were a silly girl, were afraid of him. +You were the victim of an Adelphi melodrama plot.' + +'Oh, I am ashamed,' she cried; 'but--he showed me proofs, or what +seemed to be proofs of his guilt. He said his loss of memory was real, +but that he, Colonel Springfield, knew who he was, and--oh, I am mad +when I think of it!' + +'And that's all!' I laughed, 'Why, little girl, when Jack knows, he'll +rejoice in what you've told me.' + +'No, he won't,' she cried piteously. 'Don't you see, he made me +believe it! That is why--why I'm so ashamed. What will he think when +he knows I believed him guilty of the most horrible things?' + +'I know what he'll think when he knows that in order to save him you +were ready to----' + +'Besides, don't you see?' she interrupted, 'I refused him when he was +nameless, and--and all that sort of thing, while now as Lord Carbis's +son----' + +But she did not finish the sentence. At that moment Jack Carbis leapt +over a stile into the lane where we were walking. + +With that quick intuition which I had so often noticed, he seemed to +divine in a moment what we were talking about. He looked at us both +for a few seconds without speaking, while both of us were so startled +by his sudden appearance, that I think we were both incapable of +uttering a word. + +'How did you get here?' I gasped presently. + +'I motored over,' he said. 'After you had left this +morning--I--I--thought I would. It was only a hundred and fifty miles. +They told me at the house which way you had gone, and----' + +'You followed us,' I interjected. 'Jack, I think you have something to +say to Lorna, and I fancy Sir Thomas and Lady Bolivick may be lonely. +I shall see you presently, shan't I?' + +Lorna looked at me with frightened eyes, as if in protest, then she +turned towards my friend. + +'Will you come with me?' said Jack, and his voice was tremulous, 'I +say, you will come, won't you?' + +She hesitated a second, and then the two walked away together in the +quiet Devonshire lane, while the shadows of evening gathered. + + * * * * * + +I did not go into the house on my return. Instead I sat on the lawn +and awaited them. Darker and darker the night shadows fell, while the +sky became star-spangled. Away, two hundred miles distant, the guns +were booming, but here was peace. + +The mystery, the wonder of it all came to me as I sat thinking. On the +long battle line the armies of Empires were engaged in a deadly +struggle, while close by a man was telling a girl that he loved her, +while she would be foolishly trying to explain what required no +explanation. + +The moon was rising as they came back. The first beams were shining +through the trees as I saw them approach. + +'Well, Lorna?' I said as they came close to where I was. + +She looked at me shyly, and then lifted her eyes to Jack's. In the +pale moonlight I saw the look of infinite happiness on her face. + +'May I, Jack?' I said. 'This morning you called me your brother, and +as Lorna is to be my sister, may I claim a brother's privilege?' + +For answer, she threw her arms around my neck and kissed me. + +'I say,' cried Jack with a happy laugh, 'you are coming it a bit thick, +aren't you? I didn't get one as easily as that.' + +'Of course not--you didn't deserve to. But where are you off to? + +'I'm going to beard the lion in his den. I'm going to have a serious +talk with Sir Thomas. Will you look after Lorna till I return?' + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK "THE POMP OF YESTERDAY"*** + + +******* This file should be named 25136-8.txt or 25136-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/5/1/3/25136 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + diff --git a/25136-8.zip b/25136-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ab5201e --- /dev/null +++ b/25136-8.zip diff --git a/25136.txt b/25136.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1c061cd --- /dev/null +++ b/25136.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11444 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, "The Pomp of Yesterday", by Joseph Hocking + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: "The Pomp of Yesterday" + + +Author: Joseph Hocking + + + +Release Date: April 22, 2008 [eBook #25136] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK "THE POMP OF YESTERDAY"*** + + +E-text prepared by Al Haines + + + +'THE POMP OF YESTERDAY' + +by + +JOSEPH HOCKING + +Author of 'All for a Scrap of Paper,' 'Dearer than Life,' + 'The Curtain of Fire,' etc. + + + + + "Far famed our Navies melt away, + On dune and headland sinks the fire, + Lo, all the pomp of yesterday + Is one with Nineveh and Tyre. + God of the Nations, spare us yet! + Lest we forget, lest we forget." + RUDYARD KIPLING. + + + + + + + +Hodder and Stoughton +London ---- New York ---- Toronto + + + + +_JOSEPH HOCKING'S GREAT WAR STORIES_ + + ALL FOR A SCRAP OF PAPER + THE CURTAIN OF FIRE + DEARER THAN LIFE + THE PRICE OF A THRONE + THE PATH OF GLORY + 'THE POMP OF YESTERDAY' + TOMMY + TOMMY AND THE MAID OF ATHENS + + +OTHER STORIES BY JOSEPH HOCKING + + Facing Fearful Odds + O'er Moor and Fen + The Wilderness + Rosaleen O'Hara + The Soul of Dominic Wildthorne + Follow the Gleam + David Baring + The Trampled Cross + + + + +"Let us never forget in all that we do, that the measure +of our ultimate success will be governed, largely if not mainly, +by the strength with which we put our religious convictions +into our action and hold fast firmly and fearlessly to the faith +of our forefathers." + +_Extract of speech by General Sir William Robertson._ + +_March 2, 1918._ + + + + +CONTENTS + + +CHAP. + + I THE MAN WITHOUT A PAST + II SIR ROGER GRANVILLE'S SUGGESTION + III THE STRANGE BBHAVIOUR OF GEORGE ST. MABYN + IV I MEET CAPTAIN SPRINGFIELD + V HOW A MAN WORKED A MIRACLE + VI PAUL EDGECUMBE'S MEMORY + VII A CAUSE OF FAILURE + VIII I BECOME AN EAVESDROPPER + IX EDGECUMBE is MISSING + X THE STRUGGLE IN THE TRENCHES + XI EDGECUMBE'S STORY + XII THE STRUGGLE ON THE SOMME + XIII EDGECUMBE'S MADNESS + XIV EDGECUMBE'S LOGIC + XV DEVONSHIRE + XVI LORNA BOLIVICK'S HOME + XVII A NEW DEVELOPMENT + XVIII A TRAGIC HAPPINESS + XIX A MYSTERIOUS ILLNESS + XX A STRANGE NIGHT + XXI COLONEL MCCLURE'S VERDICT + XXII EDGECUMBE'S RESOLVE + XXIII SPRINGFIELD'S PROGRESS + XXIV A STRANGE LOVE-MAKING + XXV 'WHY IS VICTORY DELAYED?' + XXVI 'WHERE DOES GOD COME IN?' + XXVII SEEING LONDON + XXVIII SUNSHINE AND SHADOW + XXIX CROSS CURRENTS + XXX THE MARCH OF EVENTS + XXXI EDGECUMBE'S RETURN + XXXII THE GREAT MEETING + XXXIII THE LIFTED CURTAIN + XXXIV MEMORY + XXXV AFTERWARDS + XXXVI EDGECUMBE'S RESOLUTION + XXXVII MAURICE ST. MABYN + XXXVIII A BOMBSHELL + XXXIX SPRINGFIELD AT BAY + XL MAURICE ST. MABYN'S GENEROSITY + XLI THE NEW HOPE + XLII AN UNFINISHED STORY + + + + +FOREWORD + +It is now fast approaching four years since our country at the call of +duty, and for the world's welfare entered the great struggle which is +still convulsing the nations of the earth. What this has cost us, and +what it has meant to us, and to other countries, it is impossible to +describe. Imagination reels before the thought. Still the ghastly +struggle continues, daily comes the story of carnage, and suffering, +and loss; and still the enemy who stands for all that is basest, and +most degraded in life, stands firm, and proudly vaunts his prowess. + +Why is Victory delayed? + +That is the question which has haunted me for many months, and I have +asked myself whether we, and our Allies, have failed in those things +which are essential, not only to Victory, but to a righteous and, +therefore, lasting peace. + +In this story, while not attempting a full and complete answer to the +question, I have made certain suggestions which I am sure the Nation, +the Empire, ought to consider; for on our attitude towards them depends +much that is most vital to our welfare. + +Let it not be imagined, however, that _The Pomp of Yesterday_ is +anything in the nature of a polemic, or a treatise. It is first and +foremost a story--a romance if you like--of incident, and adventure. +But it is more than a story. It deals with vital things, and it deals +with them--however inadequately--sincerely and earnestly. The +statements, moreover, which will probably arouse a great deal of +antagonism in certain quarters, are not inventions of the Author, but +were related to him by those in a position to know. + +Neither are the descriptions of the Battle of the Somme the result of +the Author's imagination, but transcripts from the experiences of some +who passed through it. Added to this, I have, since first writing the +story, paid a Second Visit to the Front, during which I traversed the +country on which Thiepval, Goomecourt, La Boiselle, Contalmaison; and a +score of other towns and villages once stood. Because of this, while +doubtless a military authority could point out technical errors in my +descriptions, I have been able to visualize the scenes of the battle, +and correct such mistakes as I made at the time of writing. + +One other word. More than once, the chief character in the narrative +anticipates what has taken place in Russia. While I do not claim to be +a prophet, it is only fair to say that I finished writing the story in +August, 1917, when very few dreamt of the terrible chaos which now +exists in the once Great Empire on which we so largely depended. + +JOSEPH HOCKING. + +_March_, 1918. + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE MAN WITHOUT A PAST + +My first meeting with the man whose story I have set out to relate was +in Plymouth. I had been standing in the harbour, hoping that the +friends I had come to meet might yet appear, even although the chances +of their doing so had become very small. Perhaps a hundred passengers +had landed at the historic quay, and practically all of them had rushed +away to catch the London train. I had scrutinized each face eagerly, +but when the last passenger had crossed the gangway I had been +reluctantly compelled to assume that my friends, for some reason or +other, had not come. + +I was about to turn away, and go back to the town, when some one +touched my arm. 'This is Plymouth, isn't it?' + +I turned, and saw a young man. At that time I was not sure he was +young; he might have been twenty-eight, or he might have been +forty-eight. His face was marked by a thousand lines, while a look +suggestive of age was in his eyes. He spoke to me in an apologetic +sort of way, and looked at me wistfully. + +I did not answer him for a second, as his appearance startled me. The +strange admixture of youth and age gave me an eerie feeling. + +'Yes,' I replied, 'this is Plymouth. At least, this is Plymouth +Harbour.' + +He turned toward the vessel, and looked at it for some seconds, and +then heaved a sigh. + +'Have you friends on board?' I asked. + +'Oh, no,' he replied. 'I have just left it. I thought I remembered +Plymouth, and so I got off.' + +'Where have you come from?' + +'From India.' + +'Where did you come from?' + +'From Bombay. It was a long journey to Bombay, but it seemed my only +chance.' Then he shuddered. + +'Aren't you well?' I asked. + +'Oh, yes, I am very well now. But everything seems difficult to +realize; you, now, and all this,' and he cast his eyes quickly around +him, 'seem to be something which exists in the imagination, rather than +objective, tangible things.' + +He spoke perfect English, and his manner suggested education, +refinement. + +'You don't mind my speaking to you, do you?' he added somewhat +nervously. + +'Not at all,' and I scrutinized him more closely. 'If you did not +speak English so well,' I said, 'I should have thought you were an +Indian,'--and then I realized that I had been guilty of a _faux pas_, +for I saw his face flush and his lips tremble painfully. + +'You were thinking of my clothes,' was his reply. 'They were the best +I could get. When I realized that I was alive, I was half naked; I was +very weak and ill, too. I picked up these things,' and he glanced at +his motley garments, 'where and how I could. On the whole, however, +people were very kind to me. When I got to Bombay, my feeling was that +I must get to England.' + +'And where are you going now?' I asked. + +'I don't know. Luckily I have a little money; I found it inside my +vest. I suppose I must have put it there before----' and then he +became silent, while the strange, wistful look in his eyes was +intensified. + +'What is your name?' I asked. + +'I haven't the slightest idea. It's very awkward, isn't it?' and he +laughed nervously. 'Sometimes dim pictures float before my mind, and I +seem to have vague recollections of things that happened ages and ages +ago. But they pass away in a second. I am afraid you think my conduct +unpardonable, but I can hardly help myself. You see, having no memory, +I act on impulse. That was why I spoke to you.' + +'The poor fellow must be mad,' I said to myself; 'it would be a +kindness to him to take him to a police station, and ask the +authorities to take care of him.' But as I looked at him again, I was +not sure of this. In spite of his strange attire, and in spite, too, +of the wistful look in his eyes, there was no suggestion of insanity. +That he had passed through great trouble I was sure, and I had a +feeling that he must, at some time, have undergone some awful +experiences. But his eyes were not those of a madman. In some senses +they were bold and resolute, and suggested great courage; in others +they expressed gentleness and kindness. + +'Then you have no idea what you are going to do, now you have landed at +Plymouth?' + +'I'm afraid I haven't. Perhaps I ought not to have got off here at +all. But again I acted on impulse. You see, when I first saw the +harbour, I had a feeling that I had been here before, so seeing the +others landing, I followed them. My reason for speaking to you was, I +think, this,'--and he touched my tunic. 'Besides, there was something +in your eyes which made me trust you.' + +'Are you a soldier, then?' I asked. + +'I don't know. You see, I don't know anything. But I rather think I +must have been interested in the Army, because I am instinctively drawn +to any one wearing a soldier's uniform. You are a captain, I see.' + +'Yes,' I replied. 'I'm afraid my position in the Army is somewhat +anomalous, but there it is. When the war broke out, I was asked by the +War Office to do some recruiting, and thinking that I should have more +influence as a soldier, a commission was given me. I don't know much +about soldiering, although I have taken a great deal of interest in the +Army all my life.' + +He looked at me in a puzzled sort of way. 'War broke out?' he queried. +'Is England at war?' + +'Didn't you know?' + +He shook his head pathetically. 'I know nothing. All the way home I +talked to no one. I didn't feel as though I could. You see, people +looked upon me as a kind of curiosity, and I resented it somewhat. +But, England at war! By Jove, that's interesting!' + +His eyes flashed with a new light, and another tone came into his +voice. 'Who are we at war with?' he added. + +'Principally with Germany,' I replied, 'but it'll take a lot of +explaining, if you've heard nothing about it. Roughly speaking, +England, France, and Russia are at war with Germany, Austria and +Turkey.' + +'I always said it would come--always. The Germans have meant it for +years.' + +'The fellow is contradicting himself; he begins to have a memory in a +remarkable manner,' I thought. 'When did you think it would come?' I +asked. + +He looked at me in a puzzled way as if he were trying to co-ordinate +his thoughts, and then, with a sigh, gave it up as if in despair. 'It +is always that way,' he said with a sigh, 'sometimes flashes of the +past come to me, but they never remain. But what is England at war +about?' + +'I am afraid it would take too long to tell you. I say,' and I turned +to him suddenly, 'have you done anything wrong in India, that you come +home in this way?' + +I was sorry the moment I had spoken, for I knew by the look in his eyes +that my suspicion was unjust. + +'Not that I know of,' he replied. 'I am simply a fellow who can't +remember. You don't know how I have struggled to recall the past, and +what a weary business it is.' + +I must confess I felt interested in him. That he had been educated as +a gentleman was evident from every word he spoke, and in spite of his +motley garb, no one would take him for an ordinary man. I wanted to +know more about him, and to look behind the curtain which hid his past +from him. + +'I'm afraid I must be an awful nuisance to you,' he said. 'I'm taking +up a lot of your time, and doubtless you have your affairs to attend +to.' + +'No, I'm at a loose end just now. If you like, I'll help you to get +some other clothes, and then you'll feel more comfortable.' + +'It would be awfully good of you if you would.' + +Two hours later, he sat with me in the dining-room of a hotel which +faced The Hoe. His nondescript garments were discarded, and he was now +clothed in decent British attire. That he had a good upbringing, and +was accustomed to the polite forms of society, was more than ever +evidenced while we were together at the hotel. There was no suggestion +of awkwardness in his movements, and everything he did betrayed the +fact that he had been accustomed to the habits and associations of an +English gentleman. + +After dinner, we went for a walk on The Hoe. + +'It would be really ever so much easier to talk to you,' I said with a +laugh, 'if you had a name. Have you no remembrance of what you were +called?' + +'Not the slightest. In a vague way I know I am an Englishman, and +that's about all. Months ago I seemed to awake out of a deep sleep, +and I realized that I was in India. By a kind of intuition, I found my +way to Bombay, and hearing that a boat was immediately starting for +England, I came by it. It was by the merest chance that I was able to +come. I had walked a good way, and was foot-sore. I had a bathe in a +pond by the roadside, and on examining a pocket inside my vest I found +several L5 notes.' + +'And you knew their value?' I asked. + +'Oh, yes, perfectly,' he replied. + +'Did you not realize that they might not belong to you?' + +'No, I was perfectly sure that they belonged to me, and that I had put +them there before I lost my memory, I can't give you any reason for +this, but I know it was so. I have just another remembrance,' he +added, and he shuddered as he spoke. + +'What is that?' + +'That I had been with Indians. Even now I dream about them, and I wake +up in the night sometimes, seeing the glitter of their eyes, and the +flash of their knives. I think they tortured me, too. I have curious +scars on my body. Still, I don't think about that if I can help it.' + +'And you have no recollection of your father or mother?' + +He shook his head. + +'No memories of your boyhood?' + +'No.' + +'Then I must give you a name. What would you like to be called?' + +He laughed almost merrily. 'I don't know. One name is as good as +another. What a beautiful place!' and he pointed to one of the +proudest dwellings in that part of the country. 'What is it called?' + +'That is Mount Edgecumbe,' I said. + +'Mount Edgecumbe,' he repeated, 'Edgecumbe? That sounds rather nice. +Call me Edgecumbe.' + +'All right,' I laughed; 'but what about your Christian name?' + +'I don't mind what it is. What do you suggest?' + +'There was a scriptural character who had strange experiences, called +Paul.' + +'Paul Edgecumbe,--that wouldn't sound bad, would it?' + +'No, it sounds very well.' + +'For the future, then, I'll be Paul Edgecumbe, until--my memory comes +back;--if ever it does,' he added with a sigh. 'Paul Edgecumbe, Paul +Edgecumbe,--yes, I shall remember that.' + +'And what are you going to do?' I asked. 'Your little store of money +will soon be gone. Have you any idea what you are fit for?' + +'Not the slightest. Stay though----' A group of newly-made soldiers +passed by as he spoke, and each of them, according to the custom of +soldiers, saluted me. 'Strapping lot of chaps, aren't they?' he said, +like one talking to himself; 'they'll need a lot of licking into shape, +though. By Jove, that'll do.' + +'What'll do?' + +'You say England is at war, and you've been on a recruiting stunt. +That will suit me. Recruit me, will you?' + +'Do you know anything about soldiering?' + +'I don't think so. I remember nothing. Why do you ask?' + +'Because when those soldiers saluted me just now, you returned the +salute.' + +'Did I? I didn't know. Perhaps I saw you doing so and I unconsciously +followed your lead. But I don't think I do know anything about +soldiering. I remember nothing about it, anyhow.' + +This conversation took place in the early spring of 1915, just as +England began to realize that we were actually at war. The first flush +of recruiting had passed, and hundreds of thousands of our finest young +men had volunteered for the Army. But a kind of apathy had settled +upon the nation, and fellows who should have come forward willingly +hung back. + +I had been fairly successful in my recruiting campaign; nevertheless I +was often disappointed at the lack of enthusiasm manifested. I found +that young men gave all sorts of foolish excuses as reasons for not +joining; and when this stranger volunteered, as it seemed to me, +unthinkingly, and without realizing the gravity of the step he was +taking, I hesitated. + +'Of course you understand that you are doing a very important thing?' I +said. 'We are at war, and fellows who volunteer know that they are +possibly volunteering for death.' + +'Oh yes, of course.' He said this in what seemed to me such a casual +and matter-of-fact way that I could not believe he realized what war +was. + +'The casualty list is already becoming very serious,' I continued. +'You see, we are having to send out men after a very short training, +and thus it comes about that the lads who, when war broke out, never +dreamed of being soldiers, are now, many of them, either maimed and +crippled for life, or dead. You quite realize what you are doing?' + +'Certainly,' he replied, 'but then, although I have forgotten nearly +everything else, I have not forgotten that I am an Englishman, and of +course, as an Englishman, I could do no other than offer myself to my +country. Still, I'd like to know the exact nature of our quarrel with +Germany.' + +'You've not forgotten there is such a country as Germany, then?' + +'Oh, no.' And then he sighed, as if trying to recollect something. 'I +say,' he went on, 'my mind is a curious business. I know that Germany +is a country in Europe. I can even remember the German language. I +know that Berlin is the capital of the country, and I can recall the +names of many of their big towns,--Leipzig, Frankfurt, Munich, +Nuremburg; I have a sort of fancy that I have visited them; but I know +nothing of the history of Germany,--that is all a blank. Funny, isn't +it?' and then he sighed again. + +'As it happens,' I said, 'I have to speak at a recruiting meeting +to-night, here in Plymouth. Would you like to come? I am going to +deal with the reasons for the war, and to show why it is every chap's +duty to do his bit.' + +'I'd love to come. My word! what's that?' + +Away in the distance there was a sound of martial music, and as the +wind was blowing from the south-west the strains reached us clearly. +Evidently some soldiers were marching with a band. + +'It's fine, isn't it!' he cried. He threw back his shoulders, stood +perfectly erect, and his footsteps kept perfect time to the music. I +felt more than ever convinced that he had had some former association +with the Army. + +On our way to the recruiting meeting, however, he seemed to have +forgotten all about it. He was very listless, and languid, and +depressed. He was like a man who wanted to hide himself from the +crowd, and he slunk along the streets as though apologizing for his +presence. + +'That's the hall,' I said, pointing to a big building into which the +people were thronging. + +'I shall not be noticed, shall I? If you think I should, I'd rather +not go.' + +'Certainly not. Who's going to notice you? I'll get you a seat on the +platform if you like.' + +'Oh, no, no. Let me slink behind a pillar somewhere. No, please don't +bother about me, I'll go in with that crowd. I'll find you after the +meeting.' He left me as he spoke, and a minute later I had lost sight +of him. + +I am afraid I paid scanty attention to what was said to me in the +anteroom, prior to going into the hall. The man interested me more +than I can say. I found myself wondering who he was, where he came +from, and what his experiences had been. More than once, I doubted +whether I had not been the victim of an impostor. The story of his +loss of memory was very weak and did not accord with the spirit of the +men in the anteroom, who were eagerly talking about the war; or with +the purposes of the meeting. And yet I could not help trusting in him, +he was so frank and manly. In a way, he was transparent, too, and +talked like a grown-up child. + +When I entered the hall, which was by this time crowded with, perhaps, +two thousand people, I scanned the sea of faces eagerly, but could +nowhere see the man who had adopted the name of Paul Edgecumbe. I +doubted whether he was there at all, and whether I should ever see him +again. Still, I did not see what purpose he could have had in +deceiving me. He had received nothing from me, save his dinner at the +hotel, which I had persisted in paying for in spite of his protests. +The clothes he wore were paid for by his own money, and he showed not +the slightest expectation of receiving any benefits from me. + +Just as I was called upon to speak, I caught sight of him. He was +sitting only a few rows back from the platform, close to a pillar, and +his eyes, I thought, had a vacant stare. When my name was mentioned, +however, and I stood by the table on the platform, waiting for the +applause which is usual on such an occasion to die down, the vacant +look had gone. He was eager, alert, attentive. + +Usually I am not a ready speaker, but that night my work seemed easy. +After I had sketched the story of the events which led to the war, the +atmosphere became electric, and the cause I had espoused gripped me as +never before, and presently, when I came to the application of the +story I had told, and of our duty as a nation which pretended to stand +for honour and truth, and Christianity, my heart grew hot, and the +meeting became wild with enthusiasm. + +Just as I was closing, I looked toward the pillar by which Paul +Edgecumbe sat, and his face had become so changed that I scarcely knew +him. There were no evidences of the drawn, parchment-like skin; +instead, his cheeks were flushed, and looked youthful. His eyes were +no longer wistful and sad, but burned like coals of fire. He was like +a man consumed by a great passion. If he had forgotten the past, the +present, at all events, was vividly revealed to him. + +Before I sat down, I appealed for volunteers. I asked the young men, +who believed in the sacredness of promises, in the honour of life, in +the sanctity of women, to come on to the platform, and to give in their +names as soldiers of the King. + +There was no applause, a kind of hush rested on the audience; but for +more than a minute no one came forward. Then I saw Paul Edgecumbe make +his way from behind the pillar, and come towards the platform, the +people cheering as he did so. He climbed the platform steps, and +walked straight toward the chairman, who looked at him curiously. + +'Will you take me, sir?' he said, and his voice rang out clearly among +the now hushed audience. + +'You wish to join, do you?' + +'Join!' he said passionately, 'how can a man, who is a man, do anything +else?' + +What I have related describes how I first met Paul Edgecumbe, and how +he joined the Army. At least a hundred other volunteers came forward +that night, but I paid little attention to them. The man whose history +was unknown to me, and whose life-story was unknown even to himself, +had laid a strong hand upon me. + +As I look back on that night now, and as I remember what has since +taken place, I should, if power had been given me to read the future, +have been even more excited than I was. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +SIR ROGER GRANVILLE'S SUGGESTION + +When the meeting was over, I looked around for my new acquaintance, but +he was nowhere to be found. I waited at the hall door until the last +man had departed, but could not see him. Thinking he might have gone +to the hotel where we had had dinner, I went up to The Hoe, and +inquired for him; but he had not been seen. He had vanished as +suddenly as he had appeared. + +I must confess that I was somewhat anxious about him, and wondered what +had become of him. He was alone; he knew no one but myself; he had +lost his memory; he was utterly ignorant of Plymouth, and I feared lest +something untoward should have happened to him. However, I reflected +that, as volunteers had been ordered to report themselves at the +barracks at nine o'clock on the following morning, I should find him +there. + +I went to the house I was staying at, therefore, hoping, in spite of my +misgivings, that all would be well. + +I had no opportunity of going to the barracks, however. Before I had +finished breakfast the next day a telegram arrived, ordering me to go +to Falmouth by the earliest possible train on an urgent matter. This +necessitated my leaving Plymouth almost before my breakfast was +finished. All I could do, therefore, was to scribble him a hasty line, +explaining the situation, and urging him to communicate with me at an +address I gave him in Falmouth. I also told him that on my return to +Plymouth I would look him up, and do all I could for him. + +As events turned out, however, I did not get back for more than a week, +and when I did, although I made careful inquiries, I could learn +nothing. Whether he remained in Plymouth, or not, I could not tell, +and of course, among the thousands of men who were daily enlisting, it +was difficult to discover the whereabouts of an unknown volunteer. +Moreover, there were several recruiting stations in Plymouth besides +the barracks, and thus it was easy for me to miss him. + +Months passed, and I heard nothing about Paul Edgecumbe, and if the +truth must be told, owing to the multifarious duties which pressed upon +me at that time, I almost forgot him. But not altogether. Little as I +knew of him, his personality had impressed itself upon me, while the +remembrance of that wild flash in his eyes as he came on to the +platform in Plymouth, and declared that he should join the Army, was +not easily forgotten. + +One day, about three months after our meeting, I was lunching with +Colonel Gray in Exeter, when Sir Roger Granville, who was chairman of +the meeting at which Edgecumbe had enlisted, joined us. + +'I have often thought about that fellow who joined up at Plymouth, +Luscombe,' he said. 'Have you ever heard any more about him?' + +I shook my head. 'I've tried to follow him up, too. The fellow has +had a curious history.' Whereupon I told Sir Roger what I knew about +him. + +'Quite a romance,' laughed Colonel Gray. 'It would be interesting to +know what becomes of him.' + +'I wonder who and what he is?' mused Sir Roger. + +'Anything might happen to a fellow like that. He may be a peer or a +pauper; he may be married or single, and there may be all sorts of +interesting developments.' + +He grew quite eloquent, I remember, as to the poor fellow's possible +future, and would not listen to Colonel Gray's suggestions that +probably everything would turn out in the most prosaic fashion. + +About five o'clock that evening our train arrived at a little roadside +station, where Sir Roger Granville's motor-car awaited us. It was a +beautiful day in early summer, and the whole countryside was lovely. + +'No wonder you Devonshire people are proud of your county,' I said, as +the car swept along a winding country lane. + +'Yes, you Cornishmen may well be jealous of us, although, for that +matter, I don't know whether I am a Cornishman or a Devonshire man. +There has always been a quarrel, you know, as to whether the Granvilles +belonged to Cornwall or Devon, although I believe old Sir Richard was +born on the Cornish side of the county boundary. In fact, there are +several families around here who can hardly tell the county they hail +from. You see that place over there?' and he pointed to a fine old +mansion that stood on the slopes of a wooded hill. + +'It's a lovely spot,' I ventured. + +'It is lovely, and George St. Mabyn is a lucky fellow. But _a propos_ +of our conversation, George does not know which county his family came +from originally, Cornwall or Devon. St. Mabyn, you know, is a Cornish +parish, and I suppose that some of the St. Mabyns came to Devonshire +from Cornwall three centuries ago. That reminds me, he is dining with +us to-night. If I mistake not, he is a bit gone on a lady who's +staying at my house,--fascinating girl she is, too; but whether she'll +have him or not, I have my doubts.' + +'Why?' I asked. + +'Oh, she was engaged to his elder brother, who was killed in Egypt, and +who was heir to the estate. It was awfully sad about Maurice,--fine +fellow he was. But there was a row with the Arabs up by the Nile +somewhere, and Maurice got potted.' + +'And George not only came into the estate, but may also succeed to his +brother's sweetheart?' I laughed. + +'That's so. It's years ago now since Maurice's regiment was sent to +Egypt, and the engagement, so I am informed, was fixed up the night +before he went.' + +'And is George St. Mabyn a good chap?' + +'Oh, yes. He was a captain in the Territorials before the war broke +out, and was very active in recruiting last autumn. In November he got +sent to Ypres, and had a rough time there, I suppose. He was there +until two months ago, when he was wounded. He's home on leave now. +This war's likely to drag on, isn't it? We've been at it nine months, +and there are no signs of the Germans crumbling up.' + +'From all I can hear,' I said, 'it was touch and go with us a little +while ago. If they had broken through our lines at Ypres, we should +have been in a bad way.' + +'My word, we should! Still, the way our fellows stuck it was +magnificent.' + +The car entered the drive just then which led to Sir Roger's place, and +after passing more than a mile through fine park land, we swept up to +an old, grey stone mansion. + +'You possess one of the finest specimens of an Old English home that I +know, Sir Roger,' I said. + +'Yes, I do,' and there was a touch of pride in his voice. 'I love +every stone of it,--I love every outbuilding,--I love every acre of the +old place. I suppose it's natural, too,--my people have lived here so +long. Heavens! suppose the Germans were to get here, and treat it as +they have treated the old French chateaux! Hallo, here we are!' and he +shouted to some people near the house. 'You see I have brought the +orator with me!' + +We alighted from the car, and made our way towards three ladies who sat +in a secluded nook on the lawn. One I knew immediately as Lady +Granville, the other two were strangers to me. But as they will figure +more or less prominently in this story, and were closely associated +with the events which followed, it will be necessary for me to give +some description of them. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE STRANGE BEHAVIOUR OF GEORGE ST. MABYN + +One was a tall, stylishly dressed, handsome girl, of striking +appearance. I had almost called her a woman, for although she was +still young, her appearance could not be called strictly girlish. She +might be about twenty-five years of age, and her face, though free from +lines, suggested a history. I thought, too, that there was a lack of +frankness in her face, and that she had a furtive look in her eyes. +There was nothing else in her appearance, however, which suggested +this. She gave me a pleasant greeting, and expressed the hope that we +should have a good meeting in the little town near Granitelands, which +was the name of Lord Granville's house. + +'I have heard such tremendous things about you, Captain Luscombe,' she +said, 'that I am quite excited. Report has it that you are quite an +orator.' + +'Report is a lying jade,' I replied; 'still, I suppose since the people +at the War Office think I am no use as a fighter, they must use me to +persuade others to do their bit.' + +'Of course I am going,' she laughed, 'although, personally, I don't +like the Army.' + +'Not like the Army, Norah!' It was the other girl who spoke, and who +thus drew my attention to her. + +I was not much impressed by Lorna Bolivick when I had been first +introduced to her, but a second glance showed me that she was by far +the more interesting of the two. In one sense, she looked only a +child, and I judged her to be about nineteen or twenty years of age. +She had all a child's innocence, and _naivete_, too; I thought she +seemed as free from care as the lambs I had seen sporting in the +meadows, or the birds singing among the trees. I judged her to be just +a happy-go-lucky child of nature, who had lived among the shoals of +life, and had never realized its depths. Her brown eyes were full of +laughter and fun. Her frank, untrammelled ways suggested a creature of +impulse. + +'That girl never had a care in her life,' I reflected; 'she's just a +happy kid who, although nearly a woman in years, is not grown up.' + +I soon found myself mistaken, however. Something was said, I have +forgotten what, which evidently moved her, and her face changed as if +by magic. The look of carelessness left her in a moment, her great +brown eyes burned with a new light, her face revealed possibilities +which I had not dreamt of. I knew then that Lorna Bolivick could feel +deeply, that she was one who heard voices, and had plumbed the depths +of life which were unknown to the other. + +She was not handsome, a passing observer would not even call her +pretty, but she had a wondrous face. + +'Do you like my name, Captain Luscombe?' she asked. + +'It is one of the most musical I know,' I replied. + +'I don't like it,' she laughed. 'You see, in a way it gives me such a +lot to live up to. I suppose dad was reading Blackmore's great novel +when I was born, and so, although all the family protested, he insisted +on my being called Lorna. But I'm not a bit like her. She was gentle, +and winsome, and beautiful, and I am not a bit gentle, I am not a bit +winsome, and I am as ugly as sin,--my brothers all tell me so. +Besides, in spite of the people who talk so much about Lorna Doone, I +think she was insipid,--a sort of wax doll.' + +Just then we heard the tooting of a motor horn, and turning, saw a car +approaching the house. + +'There's George St. Mabyn,' cried Sir Roger. 'You're just in time, +George,--I was wondering if you would be in time for our early dinner.' + +Immediately afterwards, I was introduced to a young fellow about +twenty-eight years of age, who struck me as a remarkably good specimen +of the English squire class. He had, as I was afterwards told, +conducted himself with great bravery in Belgium and France, and had +been mentioned in the dispatches. I quickly saw that Sir Roger +Granville had been right when he said that George St. Mabyn was deeply +in love with Norah Blackwater. In fact, he took no trouble to hide the +fact. He flushed like a boy as he approached her, and then, as I +thought, his face looked pained as he noticed her cold greeting. They +were evidently well known to each other, however, as he called her by +her Christian name, and assumed the attitude of an old friend. + +I did not think Lorna Bolivick liked him. Her greeting was cordial +enough, and yet I thought I detected a certain reserve; but of course +it might be only my fancy. In any case, they were nothing to me. I +was simply a bird of passage, and would, in all probability, go away on +the morrow, never to see them again. + +During the informal and somewhat hurried evening meal which had been +prepared, I found myself much interested in the young squire. He had a +frank, boyish manner which charmed me, and in spite of his being still +somewhat of an invalid, his fresh, open-air way of looking at things +was very pleasant. + +'By the way, Luscombe,' said Sir Roger, as the ladies rushed away to +their rooms to prepare for their motor drive, 'tell St. Mabyn about +that fellow we were talking of to-day; he'll be interested.' + +'It's only a man I met with in Plymouth some time ago, who has lost his +memory,' I responded. + +'Lost his memory? What do you mean?' + +I gave him a brief outline of the story I have related in these pages, +and then added: 'It is not so strange after all; I have heard of +several cases since, where, through some accident, or shock, men have +been robbed of the past. In some cases their memory has returned to +them suddenly, and they have gone back to their people, who had given +them up for dead. On the other hand, I suppose there have been lots +who have never recovered.' + +'The thing that struck me,' said Sir Roger, 'was the possibility of a +very interesting _denouement_ in this case. I was chairman of the +meeting at Plymouth, where the fellow enlisted, and he struck me as an +extraordinary chap. He had all the antiquity of Adam on his face, and +yet he might have been young. He had the look of a gentleman, too, and +from what Luscombe tells me, he is a gentleman. But there it is; he +remembers nothing, the past is a perfect blank to him. What'll happen, +if his memory comes back?' + +'Probably nothing,' said St. Mabyn; 'he may have had the most humdrum +past imaginable.' + +'Of course he may, but on the other hand there may be quite a romance +in the story. As I said to Luscombe, he may have a wife, or a +sweetheart, who has been waiting for him for years, and perhaps given +him up as dead. Think of his memory coming back, and of the meeting +which would follow! Or supposing he is an heir to some estate, and +somebody else has got it? Why, George, think if something like that +had happened to your brother Maurice! It might, in fact it _would_ +alter everything. But there are the motors at the door; we must be +off.' + +He turned toward the door as he spoke, and did not see George St. +Mabyn's face; but I did. It had become drawn and haggard, while in his +eyes was a look which suggested anguish. + +In spite of myself, a suspicion flashed across my mind. Of course the +thing was improbable, if not impossible. But, perhaps influenced by +Sir Roger's insistence upon the romantic possibilities of the story, I +could not help thinking of it. There could be no doubt, too, that +George St. Mabyn looked positively ghastly. A few minutes before, he +looked ruddy and well, but now his face was haggard, as if he were in +great pain. + +Of course it was all nonsense; nevertheless I caught myself constantly +thinking about it on my way to the meeting. In fact, so much did it +occupy my attention that Lorna Bolivick, who sat with me in the car, +laughingly suggested that I was a dull companion, and was evidently +thinking more about my speech than how to be agreeable to a lady. + +'St. Mabyn ought to be the speaker, not I,' I said. 'He has been to +the front, and knows what real fighting means.' + +'Oh, George can't speak,' she replied laughingly; 'why, even when he +addressed his tenants, after Maurice was killed, he nearly broke down.' + +'What sort of fellow was Maurice?' I asked. + +'Oh, just splendid. Everybody loved Maurice. But he ought not to have +stayed in the Army.' + +'Why?' + +'Because,--because--oh, I don't know why, but it didn't seem right. +His father was old and feeble when he went away, and as he was the heir +he ought to have stayed at home and looked after him, and the estate. +But he would go. There were rumours about trouble in Egypt, and +Maurice said he wanted to see some fighting. I suppose it was his +duty, too. After all, he was a soldier, and when his regiment was +ordered abroad, he had to go. But it seems an awful shame.' + +'What kind of a looking fellow was he?' + +'I don't think I am a judge; I was only a kiddy at the time, and people +said I made an idol of Maurice. But to me he was just splendid, just +the handsomest fellow I ever saw. He had such a way with him, too; no +one could refuse him anything.' + +'I suppose he was engaged to Miss Blackwater?' + +The girl was silent. Evidently she did not wish to talk about it. + +'Were the two brothers fond of each other?' I asked. + +'Oh, yes, awfully fond. The news of Maurice's death almost killed +George. You see, it happened not long after his father's death. You +have no idea how he was cut up; it was just horrible to see him. But +he's got over it now. It nearly broke my heart too, so I can quite +understand what George felt. But this must be very uninteresting to +you.' + +'On the other hand, it is very interesting. Did you tell me that +George St. Mabyn was engaged to Miss Blackwater?' + +'No, I didn't tell you that.' + +'Is he going to be?' + +I knew I was rather overstepping the bounds of good taste, but the +question escaped me almost before I was aware. + +'I don't know. Oh, won't it be lovely when the war is over! You think +it will be over soon, don't you?' + +'I am afraid not,' I said; 'as far as I can see, we are only at the +beginning of it.' + +'Have you reason for saying that?' + +'The gravest,' I replied; 'why do you ask?' + +'Only that I feel so ashamed of myself. Here are you going to a +meeting to-night to persuade men to join the Army, while some of us +women do practically nothing. But I'm going to; I told dad I should, +only this morning, but he laughed at me. He said I should stay at home +and stick to my knitting.' + +'What did you tell him you were going to do?' + +'Train as a nurse. But he wouldn't hear of it. He said it was not a +fit thing for a young girl to nurse wounded men. But if they are +wounded for their country, surely we women ought to stop at nothing. +But here we are at the hall. Mind you make a good speech, Captain +Luscombe; I am going to be an awfully severe critic.' + + +After the meeting, George St. Mabyn returned with us to Granitelands, +and Sir Roger, in talking about the men who had volunteered for service +that night, again referred to the meeting at Plymouth, and to the man +who had enlisted. He also again insisted upon the possible romantic +outcome of the situation. Again I thought I saw the haunted look in +George St. Mabyn's eyes, and I fancied that the cigar he held between +his fingers trembled. + +Miss Blackwater, however, showed very little interest in the story, and +seemed to be somewhat bored by its recital. Lorna Bolivick, however, +was greatly interested. + +'And do you mean to say,' she asked, 'that you don't know where he is?' + +'I have not the slightest idea.' + +'And aren't you going to find out?' + +'If I can, certainly.' + +'Why,--why,'--and she spoke in a childish, impetuous way--'I think it +is just cruel of you. If I were in your place, I wouldn't rest until I +had found him. I would hunt the whole Army through.' + +'I should have a long job,' I replied. 'Besides, he may not have +joined the Army.' + +'But he has,--of course he has. He could not help himself. It is your +duty to be with him, and to help him. I think you are responsible for +him.' + +Of course every one laughed at this. + +'But I _do_!' she insisted. 'It was not for nothing that they met like +that. Mr. Luscombe was meant to meet him, meant to help him. It was +he who persuaded him to join the Army, and now it is his bounden duty +to find him out, wherever he is. Why, think of the people who may be +grieving about him! Here he is, a gentleman, with all a gentleman's +instincts, an ordinary private; and of course having no memory he'll, +in a way, be helpless, and may be led to do all sorts of foolish +things. I mean it, Captain Luscombe; I think it's just--just awful of +you to be so careless.' + +Again there was general laughter, and yet the girl's words made me feel +uneasy. Although I could not explain it, it seemed to me that some +Power higher than our own had drawn us together, that in some way this +man's life would be linked with mine, and that I should have to take my +part in the unravelling of a mystery. + +All this time, George St. Mabyn had not spoken. He sat staring into +vacancy, and what he was thinking about it was impossible to tell. Of +course the thoughts which, in spite of myself, haunted my mind, were +absurd. If I had not seen that ashen pallor come to his face, and +caught the haunted look in his eyes, when earlier in the evening Sir +Roger Granville had almost jokingly associated the unknown man with +Maurice St. Mabyn, I do not suppose such foolish fancies would have +entered-my mind. But now, although I told myself that I was +entertaining an absurd suspicion, that suspicion would not leave me. + +I looked for a resemblance between him and Paul Edgecumbe, but could +find none. Was he, I wondered, in doubt about his brother's death? +Had he entered into possession on insufficient proof? Many strange +things happened in the East; soldiers had more than once been reported +to be dead, and then turned up in a most remarkable way. Had George +St. Mabyn, in his desire to become owner of the beautiful old house I +had seen, taken his brother's death for granted, on insufficient +grounds, and had not troubled about it since? + +'Promise me,' said Lorna Bolivick, in her impetuous way, 'that you will +never rest until you find this man again! Promise me that you will +befriend him!' and she looked eagerly into my eyes as she spoke. + +'Of course I will,' I said laughingly. + +'No, but that won't do. Promise me that you will look for him as if he +were your own brother!' + +'That's a pretty large order. But why should you be so interested in +this stranger?' + +'I never give reasons,' she laughed, 'they are so stupid. But you +_will_ promise me, won't you?' + +'Of course I will,' I replied. + +'That's a bargain, then.' + +'When are you leaving this neighbourhood?' asked George St. Mabyn, when +presently he was leaving the house. + +'To-morrow afternoon,' I replied. 'They are working me pretty hard, I +can tell you.' + +'Won't you look me up to-morrow morning?' he asked. 'There's a man +staying with me whom you'd like to know. I tried to persuade him to +come to the meeting to-night, but he did not feel up to it. He is +convalescing at my place; he's had a baddish time. He could tell you +some good stories, too, that would help you in this recruiting stunt.' + +'By all means,' said Sir Roger, to whom I looked, as St. Mabyn spoke. +'I can send you over in the car.' + + +The next day, about eleven o'clock, I started to pay my promised visit, +and passed through the same beautiful countryside which had so appealed +to me before. I found that St. Mabyn's house was not quite so large as +Granitelands, but it was a place to rejoice in nevertheless. It was +approached by a long avenue of trees, which skirted park lands where +deer disported themselves. Giant oaks studded the park, and the house, +I judged, was built in the Elizabethan period. An air of comfort and +homeliness was everywhere; the grey walls were lichen-covered, and the +diamond-paned, stone-mullioned windows seemed to suggest security and +peace. + +'I wonder why he wanted me to come here?' I reflected, as the car drew +up at the old, ivy-covered porch. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +I MEET CAPTAIN SPRINGFIELD + +I stood at the window of the room into which I had been shown, looking +over the flower-beds towards the beautiful landscape. Devonshire has +been called the Queen of the English counties, perhaps not without +reason. Even my beloved Cornwall could provide no fairer sight than +that which spread itself before me. For a coast scenery, Cornwall is +unrivalled in the whole of England, but for sweet, rustic loveliness, I +had to confess that we had nothing to surpass what I saw that day. + +Mile after mile of field, and woodland, in undulating beauty, spread +themselves out before me, while away in the distance was a fringe of +rocky tors and wild moor-land. + +At the bottom of the hill on the side of which the house stood ran a +clear, sparkling river, which wound itself away down the valley like a +ribbon of silver, hidden only here and there by trees and brushwood. + +So enamoured was I that I stood like one entranced, and did not notice +the two men who had entered, until St. Mabyn spoke. + +Captain Horace Springfield was a tall, dark, lean man from thirty to +thirty-five years of age, and from what I learnt afterwards, had spent +a great deal of time abroad. Although still young, his intensely black +hair was becoming tinged with grey, and his deeply-lined cheeks, and +somewhat sunken eyes made him look older than he really was. Although +he was home on sick leave, he showed no sign of weakness; his every +movement suggested strength and decision. + +'Glad to know you,' he said; 'it's a degrading sort of business to go +round the country persuading men to do their duty, but since there are +so many shirkers in the country, some one's obliged to do it. We shall +need all the strength of England, and of the Empire, before we've done, +if this job is to be finished satisfactorily; the Germans will need a +lot of licking.' + +'Still, our chaps are doing very well,' I ventured. + +'Oh, yes, they are all right. But naturally these new fellows haven't +the staying power of the men in the old Army. They, poor chaps, were +nearly all done for in the early days of the war. Still, the +Territorials saved the situation.' + +'You've seen service in the East?' I ventured. + +'Yes, Egypt and India.' + +'It was in Egypt that Captain Springfield knew my brother Maurice,' and +George St. Mabyn glanced quickly at him as he spoke. + +'The country lost a fine soldier in Maurice St. Mabyn,' said +Springfield. 'If he had lived, he'd have been colonel by now; in fact, +there is no knowing what he mightn't have become. He had a big mind, +and was able to take a broad grasp of things. I'd like to have seen +him at the General Headquarters in France. What Maurice St. Mabyn +didn't know about soldiering wasn't worth knowing. Still, he's dead, +poor chap.' + +'Were you with him when he died?' I asked. + +'Yes, I was,--that is I was in the show when he was killed. It was one +of those affairs which make it hard to forgive Providence. You see, it +was only a small skirmish; some mad mullah of a fellow became a paid +agitator among the natives. He stirred up a good deal of religious +feeling, and quite a number of poor fools joined him. By some means, +too, he obtained arms for them. St. Mabyn was ordered to put down what +the English press called "a native rebellion." He was able to do it +easily for although he hadn't many men, he planned our attack so +perfectly that we blew them into smithereens in a few hours.' + +'And you were in it?' I asked. + +'Yes,' and then in a few words he described how Maurice St. Mabyn was +killed. + +'It's jolly hard when a friend dies like that,' I said awkwardly. + +'Yes,' was Springfield's reply, 'it is. Of course it is one of the +risks of the Army, and I am sure that Maurice would have gone into it, +even if he had known what would take place. He was that sort. In a +way, too, it was a glorious death. By his pluck and foresight he made +the whole job easy, and put down what might have been a big rebellion. +But that isn't quite how I look at it. I lost a pal, the best pal a +man ever had. His death bowled me over, too, and I wasn't fit for +anything for months. Poor old Maurice!' + +I must confess that I was moved by the man's evident feeling. He had +not struck me as an emotional man,--rather, at first, he gave me the +impression of being somewhat hard and callous. His deep-set eyes, high +cheek-bones, and tall gaunt form, suggested one of those men who was as +hard as nails, and who could see his own mother die without a quiver of +his lips. + +'Forgive me, Luscombe,' he said, 'I'm not a sloppy kind of chap as a +rule, and sentiment isn't my strong point. I have seen as much hard +service as few men, and death has not been a rare thing to me. I have +been in one or two little affairs out in India, and seen men die fast. +It is no make-belief over in France, either, although I have seen no +big engagement there. But to lose a pal is---- I say, shall we change +the subject?' + +After this, we went out into the grounds, and talked of anything rather +than war or soldiering, and I must confess that Springfield talked +well. There was a kind of rough strength about him which impressed me. +That he was on good terms with George St. Mabyn was evident, for they +called each other by their Christian names, and I judged that their +friendship was of long standing. + +After I had been there a little over an hour, and was on the point of +telling the chauffeur to take me back to Granitelands, George St. Mabyn +informed me that he and Springfield were going there to lunch. I was +rather surprised at this, as no mention of it had been made before, and +I wondered why, if they had arranged to be at Granitelands, I should +have been asked to visit them that morning. Still, I did not give the +matter a second thought, and before one o'clock St. Mabyn appeared in +the seventh heaven of delight, for he was walking around the grounds of +Granitelands with Norah Blackwater by his side. + +I left soon after lunch, but before I went I had a few minutes' chat +with Lorna Bolivick. + +'You will remember your promise, won't you?' and she looked eagerly +into my face as she spoke. + +'What promise?' + +'You know. The promise, you made about that man, Paul Edgecumbe. I +want you to promise something else, too.' + +'What is that?' + +'I want you to let me know when you have found him.' + +'What possible interest can you have in him, Miss Bolivick?' + +'I only know that I _am_ interested in him; I couldn't sleep last night +for thinking about him. It's--it's just awful, isn't it? Do you like +Captain Springfield?' + +'I neither like nor dislike him. I only met him an hour or two ago, +and in all probability I shall never see him again.' + +'Oh, but you will. You are a friend of Sir Roger Granville's, aren't +you?' + +'Scarcely. I happen to have been brought into contact with him because +of this work I am doing, and he has been very kind to me. That is all. +I have never been here before, and probably I shall never come again.' + +'Oh, yes, you will. Sir Roger likes you, so does Lady Granville; they +said so last night after you went to bed. I am sure you will come here +again.' + +'I shall be awfully glad if I do, especially if it will lead to my +seeing you.' + +'Don't be silly,' and she spoke with all the freedom of a child; 'all +the same, I'd like you to meet my father. He'd like to know you, too. +We only live about five miles away. Ours is a dear old house; it is +close by the village of South Petherwin. Can you remember that?' + +'If I have to write you about Paul Edgecumbe, will that find you?' + +'Yes. You needn't put Bolivick, which is the name of the house, +because every one who is called Bolivick lives at Bolivick, don't you +see? I shall expect to hear from you directly you find him. You are +sure you won't forget?' + +I laughed at the girl's insistence. 'To make it impossible,' I said, +'I will put it down in my diary. Here we are. May 29,--you see there +is a good big space for writing. "I give my promise, that as soon as I +have found the man, Paul Edgecumbe, I will write Miss Lorna Bolivick +and acquaint her of the fact."' + +'That's right. Now then, sign your name.' + +I laughingly did as she desired. + +'I am going to witness it,' she said, and there was quite a serious +tone in her voice. She took my pencil, and wrote in a somewhat crude, +schoolgirl hand,--'Witnessed by Lorna Bolivick, Bolivick, South +Petherwin.' 'You can't get rid of it now,' she said. + +While she was writing, I happened to look up, and saw Norah Blackwater, +who was accompanied by George St. Mabyn and Captain Springfield. + +'What deep plot are you engaged in?' asked Norah Blackwater. + +'It's only some private business Mr. Luscombe and I are transacting,' +she replied, whereupon the others laughed and passed on. + +'Do you know what that Captain Springfield makes me think of?' she +asked. + +'No,' I replied. + +'Snakes,' she said. + +As I watched the captain's retreating form, I shook my head. + +'I can't help it. Have you noticed his eyes? There now, put your +diary in your pocket, and don't forget what you've promised.' + + +'One thing is certain,' I said to myself, as I was driven along to the +station that afternoon, 'my suspicions about George St. Mabyn are +groundless. What a fool a man is when he lets his imagination run away +with him! Here was I, building up all sorts of mad theories, and then +I meet a man who knows nothing about my thoughts, but who destroys my +theories in half a dozen sentences. Whoever Paul Edgecumbe is, it is +certain he is not Maurice St. Mabyn.' + + +Several months passed, and still I heard nothing of Paul Edgecumbe. I +made all sorts of inquiries, and did my best to find him, all without +success, until I came to the conclusion that the man had not joined the +Army at all. Then, suddenly, I ceased thinking about him. My +recruiting work came to an end, and I was pitchforked into the active +work of the Army. As I have said, I knew practically nothing about +soldiering, and the little I had learnt was wellnigh useless, because, +being merely an officer in the old Volunteers, my knowledge was largely +out of date. Still, there it was. New schemes for obtaining soldiers +were on foot, and as a commission had been given to me, and there being +no need for me at the University, I became a soldier, not only in name, +but in actuality. I suppose I was not altogether a failure as a +battalion officer; indeed, I was told I picked up my duties with +remarkable ease. Anyhow, I worked very hard. And then, before I had +time to realize what had happened to me, I was ordered to the front. + +Some one has described life at the front as two weeks of monotony and +one week of hell. I do not say it is quite like that, although it +certainly gives a hint of the truth. When one is in the trenches, it +is often a very ghastly business, so ghastly that I will not attempt to +describe it. On the other hand, life behind the lines is dreadfully +monotonous, especially in the winter months, when the whole of our +battle-line is a sea of mud and the quintessence of discomfort. Still, +I did not fare badly. I was engaged in two small skirmishes, from +which my battalion came out well, and although, during the winter of +1915-1916, things could not be described as lively, a great deal of +useful work was done. + +Then something took place which bade fair to put an end to my +activities for the duration of the war, and which calamity was averted +in what I cannot help describing now as a miraculous way. I need not +go into the matter at length; it was a little affair as far as I was +concerned, but was intended as a preliminary to something far more +serious, but of which I had no knowledge. It was on a dark night, I +remember, and my work was to raid a bit of the Boches' trenches, and do +all the damage possible. Preparations had been carefully made, and as +far as we could gather, everything promised success. I had twenty men +under my command, and early in the morning, about an hour before +daylight, we set out to do it. Everything seemed favourable to our +enterprise. The German searchlights were not at work, and the bit of +No Man's Land which we had to cross did not seem to be under enemy +observation. + +I was given to understand that my little stunt was only one of several +others which was to take place, and so, although naturally our nerves +were a bit strung up when we crawled over the parapets, we did not +anticipate a difficult job. + +As a matter of fact, however, the Boches had evidently been warned of +our intentions, and had made their plans accordingly. We were allowed +to cross the No Man's Land, which at this spot was about three hundred +yards wide, and were nearing the place from which we could commence +operations, when, without warning, a number of the enemy attacked us. +The odds were against us at the very start; they had double our +numbers, and were able to take advantage of a situation strongly in +their favour. + +Evidently some one on our side had either conveyed information to them, +or their Intelligence Department was better served than we imagined. +Anyhow, there it was. Instead of entering their trenches, and taking a +number of prisoners, we had the worst of it. Still, we made a good +fight, and I imagine their losses were greater than ours, in spite of +their superiority of numbers. Most of our fellows managed to get away, +but I was not so fortunate. Just at the first streak of dawn, I found +myself a prisoner; while four of the men whom I had brought suffered a +similar fate. + +It was no use my trying to do anything, they out-numbered us several +times over, and I was led away to what I suppose they regarded as a +place of safety, until reports could be made concerning us. + +I knew German fairly well, although I spoke it badly, and I tried to +get some information as to the plans concerning me; but I could get no +definite reply. It was bitterly cold, and in spite of all the Boches +had done to make their condition comfortable, it was no picnic. Mud +and slush abounded, and I heard the German soldiers complain one to +another that it was ten hours since they had tasted any food. + +Then, suddenly, there was a tremendous boom, followed by a terrific +explosion, and although I was not wounded, I was wellnigh stunned. A +British shell had fallen close to where we were, and, as far as I could +judge, several Boches had been accounted for. A few seconds later, +there was a regular tornado. + +As I have said our work that night was intended to be preparatory to a +big bombardment, and I had the misfortune to learn from the German +trenches what a British bombardment meant. + +'_Gott in Himmel!_' said one of my captors, 'let's get away from this.' +Whereupon I was hurried on to what I supposed to be a safer place. A +few minutes later, I was descending what seemed to me a concrete +stairway, until I came to what struck me as a great cave, capable of +holding two or three hundred men. + +As I entered, a German officer looked up from some papers he had been +examining, and saw us. + +'What have you here?' he asked. + +'English prisoners, sir.' + +'Prisoners! what use have we for prisoners? Better put a bullet into +their brains. They will mean only so many more mouths to feed.' + +'One is an officer, sir,' and the soldier nodded toward me. + +'Ah well, he may be useful. But I have no time to deal with him now. +_Himmel!_ what's that?' + +It was the noise of a tremendous explosion, and the whole place shook +as though there were an earthquake. + +The captain gave some rapid instructions which I did not hear, and then +hurried away. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +HOW A MAN WORKED A MIRACLE + +Since then, I have been under some terrific bombardments, but up to +that time I had never experienced anything so terrible. Evidently our +big guns were turned on, and they had located the German trenches to a +nicety. Moreover, I judged that something serious was on hand, for it +continued hour after hour. Before long all lights went out, and I knew +by the hoarse cries which the Germans were making that they were in a +state of panic. + +The bombardment had lasted perhaps an hour, when part of the roof of +the cave fell in with a tremendous crash, and I imagined that several +men were buried. + +'We'll get out of this,' said the lieutenant who had been left in +charge; 'there's a safer place further down.' + +'Yes, sir,' replied the soldier, evidently glad of the order, 'but what +about the prisoners?' + +The young officer seemed in doubt about us, and then grumbled something +about his captain's orders. + +'Our numbers are up, sergeant,' I said, for Sergeant Smith and I were +the only two who were left alive. 'Either we shall be killed by our +own guns, or else we shall suffer worse than death at the hands of +these fellows.' + +'Never say die, sir,' replied Sergeant Smith, who was noted for his +optimistic temperament; 'anyhow, these chaps are all in a blue funk.' + +'There can be no doubt about that,' was my reply. 'If we live through +it, and if this bombardment is but the preliminary to an attack, +there's a sporting chance that we may get away.' + +'About a hundred to one, sir.' + +After this, I have no clear recollection as to what took place. I +remember that we moved along a tunnel until we came to another +dug-out,--after that everything became a blank to me. Either I had +been stunned by my captors, or I had been hurt by falling _debris_. + +When I came to my senses again, the guns were still booming, although +they seemed at a greater distance, and I judged that our captors +regarded us as in a safer place. Then, suddenly, I heard a voice which +set my nerves tingling. It was an English voice, too, although he +spoke in German. + +'You chaps are in an awful hole,' I heard some one say, in quiet +matter-of-fact tones, as though the situation were of a most ordinary +nature. 'Do you know what I think of you? You are a lot of idiots.' + +'We're better off than you, anyhow,' and this time it was a German who +spoke. 'If we come alive out of this, we shall be all right; but you +are our prisoners.' + +'Prisoners if you like, my dear fellow, but what's the good of that to +you?' + +'Every English prisoner taken is one step nearer to German victory,' +replied the soldier sententiously. + +'Nonsense! There'll never be a German victory, and you know it. +You've never been behind the British lines, have you? Why, man, there +are mountains of guns and ammunition--every day is adding to the stock, +and soon, mark you, very soon, all these places of yours will become so +many death-traps.' + +The German laughed incredulously. + +'Do you know what'll happen soon?' went on the English voice, 'there +will be bombing parties along here; you may be safe for the moment, but +you can't get out,--not one of you dare try. If you did, it would be +all up with you.' + +'What are you getting at?' snarled the German. 'You are our prisoner, +anyhow, and if we are killed, so will you be!' + +'Just so. But then I don't want to get killed, neither do you.' + +'I know it's a beastly business,' said the German, 'and I wish this +cursed war would come to an end.' + +'Yes, you see you were mistaken now, don't you?' and the Englishman +with the quiet voice laughed. 'You were told it was all going to be +over in a few weeks, and that it was going to be a picnic. "Bah!" you +said, "what can the English do?" But, my dear fellow, the English have +only just begun. You are just ramming your heads against a stone wall. +You won't hurt the wall, but your heads will get mightily battered. Oh +yes, we are your prisoners, there are just three of us left alive, and +you are thirty. But what is the good of it?' + +'What are you getting at, Tommy?' asked another, 'and why are you +talking all this humbug?' + +'Because I can get you out of this.' + +'Get us out of it! How?' + +'Ah, that is my secret, but I can.' + +'What! Every one of us, unhurt?' + +'Every one of you, unhurt.' + +There was a general laugh of incredulity. + +'You don't believe me, I know. But I swear to you I can do it.' + +'How?' + +'By taking you as prisoners to the British lines. I know a way by +which it can be done.' + +As may be imagined, I was not an uninterested listener to this +conversation. Evidently another man had been taken prisoner; who I had +no knowledge, but we had somehow been brought together. But it was not +altogether the quiet confidence of the speaker which interested me, it +was the sound of his voice. While it was not familiar to me, I felt +sure I had heard it before. The light was so dim, that I could see +neither his face nor any marks whereby I could discover his rank; but +he spoke German so well that I judged him to be an officer. The +Germans laughed aloud at his last remark. + +'Your prisoners!' they shouted, 'and we ten to your one!' + +'Why not,' he asked, 'if I take you to safety? Now just think, suppose +you all get out of this, and we are lodged in one of your German prison +camps; you remain here at the front, and be fodder for cannon. How +many of you will come through this war alive, think you? Perhaps one +out of ten. And the end of it will be that your country will be +beaten. I am as sure of that as I am that the sun will rise to-morrow. +Now supposing you adopt my plan, suppose you go with me as prisoners of +war; I will take you to the British lines unhurt, and then you will be +sent to the Isle of Wight, or some such place; you will be well housed, +well clothed, well fed, until the war's over. Don't you think you are +silly asses to stay here and play a losing game, amidst all this misery +and suffering, when you can get away unhurt and enjoy yourselves?' + +In spite of the madness of the proposal, he spoke in such a convincing +way that he impressed them in spite of themselves. Indeed I, who am +relating the conversation as nearly word for word as I can remember, +cannot give anything like an idea of the subtle persuasion which +accompanied his words. It might seem as though he were master of the +situation, and they had to do his will; in fact, he seemed to hypnotize +them by the persuasiveness of his voice, and by some magnetic charm of +his presence. + +'You may be safe here for the moment,' he went on, 'but I can tell you +what'll happen. By this time your trenches are nearly level with the +ground,--not a man in them will be alive. Your machine-gun +emplacements will be all blown into smithereens, for this is no +ordinary bombardment; it is tremendous, man, tremendous! In less than +two hours from now, either the outlets of these dug-outs of yours will +be stopped up, and you will die of foul air or starvation, or bombing +parties will come, and then it'll be all up with you. I tell you, I +know what I am talking about.' + +'Yes, but if we are killed, so will you be!' + +'And if we are, what good'll that do to any of us? We are young, we +want to live.' + +Just then we heard a terrific explosion, louder even than any which had +preceded it. The ground shook; it seemed as though hell were let loose. + +'Do you hear that?' he went on, when there was a moment's quiet. +'That's just a foretaste of what's coming. That's one of the big new +guns, and there are hundreds of them, hundreds. Well, if you won't, +you won't.' + +'What do you want us to do?' and one of the Germans spoke excitedly. + +'I tell you I know a way by which I can lead you out of this. I know +the country round here, inch by inch; I have made it my business to +study it; and I give you my word I will take you back to the British +lines unhurt. And then your life as an English prisoner will be just a +picnic.' + +'Your word!' said one of them scornfully, 'what is it worth? You are +only a Tommy.' + +'Yes, my word,' and he spoke it in such a way that they felt him to be +their master. It was one of those cases where one personality +dominated thirty. + +'Are you an officer?' said one of the Germans after a pause. 'You +speak like a gentleman, but your uniform is that of a Tommy.' + +'No matter what I am, I give you my promise, and I never broke my +promise yet.' + +Again it was not the words which affected them, it was the manner in +which he spoke them. He might have been a king speaking to his +subjects. + +'Now then, which shall it be?' he went on; 'if we stay here, in all +probability we shall every one of us be killed. Listen to that! +There! there! don't you feel it?--the whole earth is trembling, I tell +you, and all these fortifications of yours will be nothing but so much +cardboard! And our men have mountains of munitions, man, mountains! I +have seen them. It will be rather a horrible death, too, won't it? +Whether we are buried alive, or blown up by bombs, it won't be +pleasant. It seems such a pity, too, when in ten minutes from now we +can be in safety.' + +The man was working a miracle; he was accomplishing that which, +according to every canon of common sense, was impossible. He was a +prisoner in the power of thirty men, and yet he was persuading them to +become his prisoners. Even Sergeant Smith, who could not understand a +word of what was being said, knew it. He knew it by the tense +atmosphere of the place, by the look on the faces of the German +soldiers. + +We had become so interested, that neither of us dared to move; we just +sat and listened while the unknown man, with quiet, persuasive words, +was working his will on them. + +As I said, I could not see his face. For one thing, the light was dim, +and for another his features were turned away from me; but I could hear +every word he said. Even above the roar of the artillery, which +sounded like distant thunder, and in spite of the trembling earth, +every tone reached me, and I knew that his every word was sapping the +Germans' resistance, just as a strong current of water frets away a +foundation of sand. What at first I had felt like laughing at, became +to me first a possibility, then a probability, then almost a certainty. +So excited did I become that, more than once, I longed with an intense +longing to join my persuasions to that of the stranger. But when I +tried to speak, no words came. It might have been as though some +magician were at work, or some powerful mesmerist, who mesmerized his +hearers into obedience. + +'I say, you fellows,' said one of the Germans to his companions, 'what +do you say? Our life here is one prolonged hell,--what is the use of +it? Our officers tell us to hold on, hold on. And why should we hold +on? Just to become fodder for cannon? I had four brothers, and every +one of them is killed. Who's to look after my mother, if I am dead?' + +Three minutes later he had accomplished the impossible. He was leading +the way out of the dug-out towards the open. Sergeant Smith and I went +with him like men in a dream. + +When we came out in the open air, the night had again fallen. More +than twelve hours had elapsed since I had been taken prisoner; most +likely I had been unconscious a great part of the time. I did not know +where we were going. The guns were still booming, while the heavens +were every now and then illuminated as if by some tremendous fireworks. + +'Sergeant,' I whispered, 'the man's a magician.' + +'Never heard of such a thing in my life, sir. I'm like a man dreaming. +Who is he? He's got a Tommy's togs on, but he might be a field +marshal.' + +All this time I had not once caught sight of our deliverer's face, but +the tones of his voice still haunted me like some half-forgotten dream. +I had almost forgotten the wonder of our freedom in the excitement +wrought by the way it was given to us. + +When at length we entered the British trenches, and the German +prisoners had been taken care of, I saw the face of the man who had +wrought the miracle, and I recognized him as the stranger whom I had +met at Plymouth Harbour many months before, and who had adopted the +name of Paul Edgecumbe.[1] + + + +[1] The incident related above is not an invention on the part of the +author. It was told me by a British officer, and it took place as +nearly as possible as I have described it. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +PAUL EDGECUMBE'S MEMORY + +'You!' I exclaimed. + +He stood like a soldier on parade, and saluted me. + +'Yes, Captain Luscombe. I hope you are well, sir.' + +He spoke as though nothing out of the ordinary had taken place. + +'But--but--this is great!' I gasped. 'Tell me, how did you do it?' + +But he had no time to answer the question, as at that moment orders +came for us to report ourselves. + +Never had I seen a man so excited as the colonel was when the story was +told to him. First of all he stared at us as though we were madmen, +then laughter overcame his astonishment, and he fairly roared with +merriment. + +'The brigadier and the divisional general must hear of it at once!' he +cried. 'Why, it is the greatest thing since the war began! And you +did nothing, Luscombe?' + +'Nothing,' I said; 'this man did it all.' And I enlarged upon the +difficulties of the situation, and the way Paul Edgecumbe had overcome +them. + +'Well, Edgecumbe,' I said, when at length I had an opportunity of +speaking to him alone, 'give me an account of yourself. Where have you +been? what have you been doing? and how have things been going with +you?' + +'All right, sir. As to where I have been, and what I have been doing, +it's not worth telling about.' + +'You don't mind my asking you awkward questions, do you?' + +'Not a bit. Ask what you like, sir.' + +'Has your memory come back?' + +A shadow passed over his face, and a suggestion of the old yearning +look came into his eyes. + +'No,--no, nothing. Strange, isn't it? Ever since that day when I +found myself a good many miles away from Bombay, and realized that I +was alive, everything stands out plainly in my memory; but before +that,--nothing. I could describe to you in detail almost everything +that has taken place since then. But there seems to be a great, black +wall which hides everything that took place before. I shudder at it +sometimes because it looks so impenetrable. Now and then I have +dreams, the same old dreams of black, evil faces, and flashing knives, +and cries of agony; but they are only dreams,--I remember nothing.' + +'During the time you were in England training,' I said, 'you went to +various parts of the country?' + +'Yes, I was in Exeter, Swindon, Bramshott, Salisbury Plain.' + +'And you recognized none of them, you'd no feeling that you had seen +those places before?' + +'No.' + +'Faces, now,' I urged; 'do you ever see faces which suggest people you +have known in the past?' + +He was silent for two or three seconds. + +'Yes, and no,' he replied. 'I see faces sometimes which, while they +don't cause me to remember, give me strange fancies and +incomprehensible longings. Sometimes I hear names which have the same +effect upon me.' + +'And your memory has been good for ordinary things?' + +He laughed gaily. 'I think that whatever I went through has increased +my powers of memory,--that is, those things that took place since I +woke up. If you will ask the sub., or the drill sergeant who gave me +my training, they will tell you that there was never any need to tell +me anything twice. I forget nothing, I never have to make an effort to +remember. When I hear a thing, or see a man's face, I never forget it. +I worked hard, too. I have read a good deal. I found that I knew +nothing of mathematics, and that my knowledge of German and French was +very hazy. It is not so now. Things like _that_ have come to me in a +miraculous way.' + +'Have you tried for a commission?' + +'No. I have been offered one, but I wouldn't have it. Something, I +don't know what, told me not to. I wouldn't even have a corporal's +stripe.' + +'And you have no more idea of who you really are than you had when I +saw you first?' + +'No, not a bit.' + +'Let me see if I can help your memory,' I said. 'Devonshire, think of +that word, now, and what it represents,--does it bring back anything to +you?' + +'Nothing, except that yearning. I have a feeling that I know something +about it,--a great longing to--to--I hardly know what.' + +I tried him a little farther. 'Granitelands,--does that mean anything +to you?' + +Again he hesitated. 'No, nothing.' + +'Can you ever recall any remembrance of, or has the name of Maurice St. +Mabyn any interest for you?' + +I asked this because, even in spite of what Captain Springfield had +told me, vague fancies had come to me that perhaps there might be some +mistake, and--and----but I dared not bring my thoughts to a conclusion. + +'Maurice St. Mabyn,' he repeated, 'Maurice St. Mabyn. It might be a +name I heard when I was a kiddy, but--no.' + +'Norah Blackwater.' I uttered the name suddenly, impressively, and I +thought I saw his lips tremble, and certainly his eyes had a far-away +look. He was like a man trying to see in a great darkness, trying to +outline objects which were invisible to the natural eye. + +'That seems like a dream name. Who is she? Why do you ask about her?' + +'I am trying to help you,' I said. 'She is a lady I met at the house +of Sir Roger Granville. She must be about twenty-five, perhaps not +quite so old, a tall, stylish-looking girl. I expect by this time she +is engaged to a fellow called George St. Mabyn. He is a brother to +Maurice, who was killed in Egypt.' + +'Maurice killed in Egypt!' he repeated. + +'Yes. I think Maurice had a friend called Springfield.' + +'I remember that,--Springfield. Springfield,--Springfield.' + +For a moment there was a change in his voice, a change, too, in the +look of his eyes. At least I thought so. I could fancy I detected +anger, contempt; but perhaps it was only fancy, and it was only for a +moment. + +'A tall, dark fellow. He has rather a receding forehead, black hair +streaked with grey, a thin, somewhat cadaverous-looking face, deep-set +eyes, a scar on his cheek, just below his right temple.' + +He laughed again. 'By Jove, sir,' he said, 'you might be describing a +man I know. I seem to see his face as plainly as I see yours. I don't +think I like him, either, but--but--no, it has gone, gone! Have you +any suspicions about me? Have _you_ found out anything?' + +'No,' I said, 'I have found out nothing. But I have a hundred +suspicions. You see, you interested me tremendously when I saw you +first, and I wondered greatly about you. I was awfully disappointed +when I could not find you.' + +'Why should you want to find me?' he asked. + +'Because I told some one about you, and she got tremendously +interested. She got angry with me because I had lost sight of you.' + +'Who was she, sir?' + +'Her name is Lorna Bolivick, and, I say,--I have something to show +you.' And I searched in my tunic until I had found the previous year's +diary in which I had written the promise. + +'There,' I said, and opened the diary at May 29. + +'And this girl was interested in me, was she?' + +Our conversation suddenly terminated at that moment, as an urgent +message reached me that my colonel wanted to see me. A few minutes +later I learnt that little short of a calamity had befallen us; that +the Germans had broken into some trenches which had lately been taken, +and that there was imminent danger of some of our best positions +falling into their hands. + +Twelve hours later, the danger was averted; but it was at a frightful +cost. It was reported to me that a battalion was largely decimated, +and the positions which we ought to have gained remained in the hands +of the enemy. + +I saw that the colonel looked very perturbed; indeed his face, which +was usually ruddy and hopeful, was haggard and drawn. + +'Anything serious the matter?' I asked. + +'Serious!' he replied, 'it is calamitous!' + +'But we've cleared them out, haven't we?' + +'Cleared them out! Why, man!' and he walked to and fro like one +demented. 'There's sure to be an inquiry,' he said at length, 'and +there'll be no end of a row; there ought to be, too. But what could +one do?' + +'What is the trouble, then?' for the look in his eyes had made me very +anxious. + +He made no reply, but I could see that his mind was busily at work. + +'You remember that chap who got you out of that hole the day before +yesterday?' he asked. + +'What, Edgecumbe? I should think I do!' + +'I hear he is missing.' + +'Edgecumbe missing? Taken prisoner, you mean?' + +'I don't know. I have not heard particulars yet. I should not have +heard anything about him at all, but for the way he brought himself +into prominence over that affair. But it seems he was last seen +fighting with two Huns, so I expect he is done for. Terrible pity, +isn't it? I was going to recommend him for decoration, and--and other +things.' + +In a way I could not understand, my heart grew heavy; I felt as though +I were responsible for it, and that I had failed in my duty. And I had +a sort of feverish desire to know what had become of him. + +'Good night, colonel,' I said suddenly, and I hurried away into the +darkness. I felt that at all costs I must find out the truth about +Paul Edgecumbe. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +A CAUSE OF FAILURE + +In spite of all my inquiries that night, I could discover nothing of a +satisfactory nature. The reports I obtained were conflicting. One man +had it that he was wounded badly, and left dying on No Man's Land; +another told me he had seen him taken prisoner by two Germans; another, +still, that he was seen to break away from them. But everything was +confused and contradictory. The truth was, that there was a great deal +of hand-to-hand fighting, and when that is the case it is ofttimes +difficult to tell what becomes of a single individual. The fact +remained, however, that he was missing, and no one knew anything +definite about him. + +As a battalion officer, moreover, I had many duties to perform, and in +spite of my desires, I had to give up my inquiries about him, and +attend to my work. + +The following day I was sitting in my quarters, and was on the point of +writing a letter to Lorna Bolivick, telling her what had taken place, +when my orderly informed me that a soldier wished to see me. + +'He gave me this, sir,' added Jenkins, handing me a slip of paper. + +No sooner did I see it than, starting to my feet, I rushed to the door, +and saw Paul Edgecumbe, pale and wan, but standing erect nevertheless. + +I quickly got him into the room of the cottage where I was billeted, +and then took a second look at him. + +'You are ill--wounded, man! You ought not to be here,' I said, +scarcely realizing what I was saying. + +'The wound's nothing, sir. I lost a little blood, that's all; and I +got the M.O.'s consent to come and see you. I shall be right as ever +in two or three days.' + +'You are sure of that?' I asked eagerly. + +'Certain, sir.' + +I laughed aloud, I was so much relieved. I need not send my letter to +Lorna Bolivick after-all. + +'I've wasted a lot of good sentiment over you, Edgecumbe,' I said. +'I've heard all sorts of things about you.' + +'I did have a curious experience,' he replied, 'and at one time I +thought my number was up; still I got out of it.' + +'Tell me about it,' I said. + +'It's very difficult, sir. As I told you, my memory has been specially +good since the time when----but you know. In these skirmishes, +however, it's difficult to carry anything definite in your mind, things +get mixed up so. You are fighting for your life, and that's all you +know. Two German chaps did get hold of me, and then, I don't know how +it was, but we found ourselves in No Man's Land. The Huns were two +big, strong chaps, too, but I managed to get away from them.' + +'How did you do it?' + +'You see they were drugged,' he replied. + +'Drugged?' + +'Yes, drugged with ether, or something of that sort, and although they +fought as though they were possessed with devils, their minds were not +clear, they acted like men dazed. So I watched for my opportunity, and +got it. I spent the whole day in a shell hole,--it wasn't pleasant, I +can tell you. Still, it offered very good cover, and if my arm hadn't +been bleeding, and if I wasn't so beastly faint and hungry, I shouldn't +have minded. However, I tied up my arm as well as I could, and made up +my mind to stay there. I got back under the cover of night, and--here +I am.' + +'I saw nothing of the affair,' I said. 'I had a job to do farther +back, and so was out of it. I wish I had been in it.' + +'I wish you had, sir.' There was a change in his voice, and he looked +at me almost pathetically. + +'What's the matter?' + +'Of course I have no right to say anything,' he said. 'Discipline is +discipline, and I am only a private soldier. Are you busy, sir? If +you are, I will go away. But, owing to this scratch, I am at a loose +end, and--and--I'd like a chat with you, sir, if you don't mind.' + +'Say what you want to say.' + +He was silent for a little while, and seemed to be in doubt how to +express what he had in his mind. I saw the old, yearning, wistful look +in his eyes, too, the look I had noticed when we were walking on The +Hoe at Plymouth. + +'Has your memory come back?' I asked eagerly. 'Has it anything to do +with that?' + +'No,' he replied, 'my memory has not come back. The old black wall +stands still, and yet I think it has something to do with it. I am +afraid I forget myself sometimes, sir, forget that you are an officer, +and I am a private.' + +'Never mind about that now. Tell me what you have to say.' + +'This war has shaken me up a bit, it has made me think. I don't know +what kind of a man I was before I lost my memory; but I have an idea +that I look at things without prejudice. You see, I have no +preconceived notions. I am a full-grown man starting life with a clean +page, that's why I can't understand.' + +'Understand what?' + +'I don't think I am a religious man,' he went on, without seeming to +heed me. 'When we were in England I went to Church parade and all that +sort of thing, but it had no effect upon me; it seemed to mean nothing. +Perhaps it will some day, I don't know. At present I look at things +from the outside; I judge by face values. Forgive me if I am talking a +great deal about myself, sir, and pardon me if I seem egotistical, I +don't mean to be. But you are the only officer with whom I am +friendly, and I was led to look upon you as a man of influence in +England. The truth is, I am mystified, confused, bewildered. Either I +am wrong, mad; or else we are waging this war in a wrong way.' + +'Yes, how?' + +'While I was in the training camps, I was so much influenced by that +speech which you gave in Plymouth, that I determined to study the +causes of this war carefully. I did so. I gave months to it. I read +the whole German case from their own standpoint. I thought out the +whole thing as clearly as I was able, and certainly I had no +prejudices.' + +'Well?' I asked. + +'If ever a country ought to have gone to war, we ought. If ever a +country had a righteous cause, we had, and have; if ever a Power needed +crushing, it was German power. Prussianism is the devil. I tell you, +I have been physically sick as I have read the story of what they did +in Belgium and France. I have gone, as far as I have been able, to the +tap-roots of the whole business. I have got at the philosophy of the +German position. I have studied the resources of our country; I have +tried to realize what we stand for. I fancy I must have been a fairly +intelligent man before I lost my memory. Perhaps I was tolerably well +educated, too. Anyhow, I think I have got a grasp of the whole +position.' + +I did not speak, but waited for him to proceed. + +'I am saying this, sir, that you may see that I am not talking wildly, +and my conviction is that Germany ought to have been beaten before now; +but it's nowhere like beaten, the devil stalks about undaunted.' + +'You forget that Germany is a great country,' I answered, 'and that she +is supported by Austria, and Turkey, and Bulgaria. You forget, too, +that she had all the advantages at the start, and that she had been +preparing for this for forty years. You forget that she had the finest +trained fighting machine in the world, the biggest and best-equipped +army ever known. You forget, too, that she took the world practically +unawares, and that all her successes, especially in the West, were +gained at the beginning.' + +'No, I do not forget,' he replied, and there was passion in his voice; +'I have gone through all that; I made allowance for it. All the same, +they ought to have been beaten before now. Anyhow, their backs ought +to have been broken, and we ought to be within sight of the end.' + +'I am afraid I don't understand. The whole resources of the country +have been strained to the utmost. Besides, see what we have done; see +the army we have made; think of all the preparations in big guns and +munitions!' + +'Yes, yes,' he cried, 'but man-power is the final court of appeal, and +we have been wasting our man-power, wasting it,--wasting it!' + +'What do you mean by that? A finer lot of men never put on uniform +than we had.' + +'In a way you are right. No one could admire the heroism of our +fellows more than I do. You have to get farther back.' + +'How can we get farther back?' + +'You have to get back to the Government. Look here, Luscombe,' and +evidently he had forgotten the difference in our ranks, 'let me put the +case into a nutshell. I was sent over here, to France, in a hurry. +Never mind how I found out what I am going to tell you,--it is a fact. +Two battalions of ours were urgently ordered here; our men here were +hardly pressed, the Germans outnumbered us. Our chaps hadn't enough +rest, and the slaughter was ghastly. So we were ordered over to +relieve them, and the command was that we were to travel night and day, +so urgent was the necessity. + +'What happened? The boat by which I came was held up in the harbour +for twenty-four hours. Why? I am not talking without my book,--I +know, I have made investigations, and I will tell you why. The firemen +were in public-houses, and would not come away. And the Government +allowed those public-houses to be open; the Government allowed those +firemen to drink until they were in an unfit condition to take us +across. The Government allowed the stuff that robbed them of their +manhood, and of their sense of responsibility, to be manufactured. The +Government allowed private individuals to make fortunes out of that +stuff! Just think of it! There we were, all waiting, but we could not +go. Why could not we go? Why were we held up, when the lives of +thousands of others depended upon us? when the success of the war +probably depended upon it? Drink! there is your answer in one word. + +'Here's this affair of the last two or three days; it didn't come off. +Ammunition was wasted, men's lives were wasted, hearts were broken; but +it didn't come off. Why was it? + +'What are we fighting? We are fighting devilry, inhumanity, Prussian +barbarism. Search your dictionary, and you can't find names too bad to +describe what we are fighting. But in order to do it, we use one of +the devil's chief weapons, which is robbing us of victory. + +There was a strange intensity in his voice, and I think he forgot all +about himself in what he said. + +'Look here,' he went on, 'you remember how some time ago we were crying +out for munitions. "Let us have more guns, more munitions," we said. +The Germans, who had been preparing for war for so many years, had +mountains of it, and as some one has said, thousands of our men were +blown into bloody rags each day. And we could not answer back. We had +neither guns nor shells. Why?' + +'Because we were not properly organized. You see----' + +'Yes, it was partly that, but more because our power was wasted, in the +gun factories and the munition factories. You know as well as I do +that it was on the continual and persistent work of the people in those +factories that our supplies depended. What happened? Hundreds, +thousands of them left work at noon on Saturdays, and then started +drinking, and did not appear at their work until the Tuesday or +Wednesday following, and when they came they were inefficient, muddled. +Work that required skilled hands and clear brains had to be done by +trembling hands and muddled brains. The War Minister told us that +there was a wastage of 10 per cent. of our munition-making power. He +told us, too, that between thirty and forty days of the whole working +force of the country were lost every year,--what by? Drink. + +'And meanwhile our chaps out here were killed by the thousand, because +of shortage of munitions. Is it any wonder that the war drags on? Is +it any wonder that we are not gaining ground? We were told months ago +that we should shorten the war by blockading Germany, by keeping food +from the nation. Now I hear rumours that there is going to be a +shortage of food in our own country. Whether that will be the case or +not, I don't know. If there is a shortage, it will be our own fault. +I see by the English newspapers that bread is becoming dearer every +day, and people say that there'll soon be a scarcity, and all the time +millions upon millions of bushels of grain intended for man's food is +being wasted in breweries and distilleries. Hundreds of thousands of +tons of sugar, which are almost essential to human life, are utilized +for man's damnation; and all by the consent of the Government. + +'When the war broke out, the King signed the pledge, so did Lord +Kitchener, so did the Chancellor of the Exchequer. Did the people +follow? They only laughed. I tell you, Luscombe, every distillery and +every brewery is lengthening the war, and I sometimes doubt whether we +shall ever win it,--until the nation is purged of this crime! Yes, we +are making vast preparations, and we have raised a fine Army. But all +the time, we are like a man trying to put out a fire by pouring water +on it with one hand, and oil with the other.' + +'But, my dear chap,' I said, 'these brewers and distillers have put +their fortunes into their business, and they employ thousands of hands. +Would you rob them of their properties, and would you throw all these +people out of work?' + +'Great God! man,' was his reply, 'but the country's at stake, the +Empire's at stake! Truth, righteousness, liberty are at stake! If we +don't win in this war, German devilry will rule the world, and shall +the country allow the Trade, as it calls itself, to batten upon the +vitals of the nation? That's why I am bewildered. I told you just now +that perhaps I look at things differently from what I ought to look at +them. I have lost all memory of my past life, and I judge these things +by their face value, without any preconceived notions or prejudices. I +have to begin _de novo_, and perhaps can't take into account all the +forces which have been growing up through the ages. But, Heavens! man, +this is a crisis! and if we are going to win this war, not only must +every one do his bit, but all that weakens and all that destroys the +resources of the nation must be annihilated!' + +Our conversation came abruptly to an end at that moment, caused by the +entrance of my orderly, who told me that a gentleman wished to see me. + +'Who is it, Jenkins?' I asked. + +'Major St. Mabyn, sir.' + +He had scarcely spoken when, with a lack of ceremony common at the +front, George St. Mabyn entered. + +'Ah, there you are, Luscombe! Did you know that both Springfield and I +have had a remove? We got here last night. I fancy there are going to +be busy times. I was awfully glad when I heard you were here too.' + +'No, I never heard of your coming,' I replied, 'but this is really a +great piece of luck.' + +I had scarcely uttered the words, when I turned towards Paul Edgecumbe, +who was looking steadily at St. Mabyn. There was no suggestion of +recognition in his eyes, but I noticed that far-away wistful look, as +though he were trying to remember something. + +Instinctively I turned towards George St. Mabyn, who at that moment +first gave a glance at Edgecumbe. Then I felt sure that although +Edgecumbe knew nothing of St. Mabyn, his presence startled the other +very considerably. There was a look in George St. Mabyn's eyes +difficult to describe; doubt, wonder, fear, astonishment, were all +there. His ruddy cheeks became pale, too, and I was sure his lips +quivered. + +'Who--who have you got here?' he asked. + +'It's a chap who has got knocked about in a scrap,' I replied. + +St. Mabyn gave Edgecumbe a second look, and then I thought his face +somewhat cleared. His colour came back; his lips ceased twitching. + +'What did you say your name was, my man?' + +'Edgecumbe, sir.' + +'D.C.L.I., I see.' + +'Yes, sir.' He saluted as he spoke, and left the room, while George +St. Mabyn stood looking after him. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +I BECOME AN EAVESDROPPER + +For some seconds he was silent, while I, with a score of conflicting +thoughts in my mind, stood watching him. I had often wondered how I +could bring these two men together, for, while I had but little reason +to believe that they were in any way connected, I was constantly +haunted by the idea that had been born in my mind on the night I had +first met George St. Mabyn. I had imagined that if they could suddenly +be brought together, my suspicions could be tested, and now, as it +seemed to me, by sheer good fortune, my wishes had been gratified; but +they had led to nothing definite. + +'Who is that fellow, Luscombe?' he asked presently. + +'Don't you remember?' I replied. 'He is the man whom I met at Plymouth +Harbour, the man who had lost his memory.' + +'Oh, yes. Funny-looking fellow; he--he almost startled me,' and he +laughed nervously. + +'Do you know him? Did you ever see him before?' I asked. + +'No, I never saw him before.' + +'I thought you looked as though you--you recognized him.' + +'No, I never saw him before.' + +He spoke quite naturally, and in spite of everything I could not help +being convinced that he and Paul Edgecumbe had met for the first time. + +'Have you heard from Devonshire lately?' + +'No,' I replied. + +'Then you don't know the news?' + +'What news?' I asked eagerly. + +'Miss Blackwater and I are engaged.' + +'Congratulations,' I said; 'you'll be the envy of all the marriageable +men in Devonshire.' + +'Shan't I just! Yes, I'm the happiest man in the British Army, and +that's saying a great deal.' + +'I suppose it is publicly announced?' I said. + +'No, not yet. Norah wants to wait a bit. I would like to have got +married before I came out this time, but--but there's no understanding +women. Still, if I live through this business, it'll come off in due +time.' + +'Where do you hang out, exactly?' I asked. + +'At a village about two miles up the line. You can't miss the house I +am billeted in; it's the first decent house on your right-hand side, at +the entrance to the place. Springfield is with me. We are a bit quiet +just now, but there'll be gay doings in a week or so. You must look me +up, Luscombe, when you have a few hours to spare. By the way, you +remember that Miss Bolivick you saw at the Granville's? She's out here +in France somewhere.' + +'What, nursing?' + +'Yes, I suppose so.' + +'A remarkably fine girl,' I ventured; 'if I am a judge of character, +she's capable of doing anything.' + +'Is she? Lorna and I never hit it off somehow. She was great pals +with my brother Maurice, although she was only a kid at the time. +She--she didn't congratulate me on my engagement. You'll be sure to +look me up down at St. Pinto, won't you, Luscombe?' + +When he had gone, I sat a long time thinking. It is true I no longer +believed that Paul Edgecumbe could be his brother; but it set me +wondering more than ever as to who Edgecumbe could be. I wondered if +the poor fellow's memory would ever come back, and if the dark veil +which hid his past life would be removed. + +Before going out, I scribbled a line to Lorna Bolivick, telling her of +my meeting with Edgecumbe, and of the wonderful way he had helped me to +escape from the German trenches. It was true that, according to St. +Mabyn, she was in France, but I imagined that her letters would be +forwarded to her. + +After that, several days elapsed before I had opportunity to pay my +promised visit to St. George Mabyn. It was a case of every man to the +wheel, for we were making huge preparations for the great Somme push +which took place immediately afterwards. Still, I did at length find +time to go, and one evening I started to walk there just as the day was +beginning to die. It had been very hot and sultry, I remember, and I +was very tired. + +St. Pinto was well behind the lines, but I could hear the booming of +the big guns away in the distance. I had no difficulty in finding the +house where St. Mabyn was billeted, for, as he said, it was the first +house of importance that I came across on the outskirts of the village. + +I was disappointed, however, in finding that neither he nor Springfield +was in. I could not complain of this, as I had not sent word that I +was coming. But being tired, and having decided to walk, I did not +relish the thought of my tramp back, especially as I had not taken the +trouble to change my heavy field boots. + +Not a breath of wind blew, and the air was heavy and turgid. On my way +back, I had to pass a little copse which lay in a dell, and having +noticed a little stream of water, I climbed over the fence in order to +get a drink. Then, feeling deadly tired, I stretched myself at full +length on the undergrowth, and determined to rest for an hour before +completing my journey. + +I think I must have fallen asleep, for presently I suddenly realized +that it was quite dark, and that everything had become wonderfully +still. The guns no longer boomed, and it might seem as though the +conflicting armies had agreed upon a truce. I imagine that even then I +was scarcely awake, for I had little consciousness of anything save a +kind of dreamy restfulness, and the thought that I needn't hurry back. + +Suddenly, however, I was wholly awake, for I heard voices close by, and +I judged that some one was standing close to where I was. I was about +to get up, and make my way back to my billet, but I remained quite +still. I was arrested by a word, and that word was 'Edgecumbe.' + +I did not realize that I was playing the part of an eaves-dropper, and +even if I had, I doubt if I should have made my presence known. +Anything to do with Edgecumbe had a strong interest for me. + +The murmur of voices continued for some seconds without my being able +to detect another word. Then some one said distinctly: + +'You say he has been down at our place to-night?' + +'Yes,' was the reply, and I recognized St. Mabyn's voice; 'he called +about an hour before I got back.' + +'What did he come for?' It was Springfield who spoke. + +'Oh, that's all right. I asked him to look us up, and I expect that +he, being off duty, came down to smoke a pipe with us.' + +'I don't like the fellow.' + +'Neither do I.' + +Again there was low murmuring for several seconds, not a word of which +reached me. Then I heard Springfield say: 'I shan't sleep soundly till +I'm sure.' + +'You weren't convinced, then?' + +'I didn't see him plainly,' was Springfield's reply. 'You see, I had +no business there, and we can't afford to arouse suspicions.' + +'I tell you, Springfield,' and George St. Mabyn spoke as though he were +much perturbed, 'I don't like it. I was a fool to listen to you in the +first place. If you hadn't told me you were certain about it, and +that----' + +'Come that won't do, George. We are both in it together; if I have +benefited, so have you, and neither of us can afford to have the affair +spoilt now. You are squire, and I am your friend, and you are going to +remain squire, whatever turns up, unless,' he added with a laugh, 'you +are potted in this show.' + +'What do you mean by that?' + +'I mean that if it is he, he must never go back to England alive. It +wouldn't do, my dear fellow.' + +'But he remembers nothing. He doesn't even know his own name. He +doesn't know where he came from; he doesn't know what he did.' + +'Yes, but if it is he, what would happen, if his memory suddenly came +back? Where should we be then? It won't bear thinking about!' + +'But he knows nothing. Besides, who would take his word?' + +'Are you sure Luscombe has no suspicions?' and Springfield asked the +question sharply. + +'How can he have? and yet--oh hang it all, Springfield, it hangs like a +millstone round one's neck! But mind you, I am going to have no foul +play.' + +Springfield gave an unpleasant laugh. 'Foul play, my son?' he said, +'we are both too deep in this business to stick at trifles. You can't +afford it, neither can I.' + +A few seconds later, I heard them trudging back towards St. Pinto, +still talking eagerly. + +I lay on the thick undergrowth for some minutes without moving. The +scraps of conversation which I had heard, and which I have set down +here, gave me enough food for reflection for a long time. I was not +yet quite clear as to the purport of it all, but I was clear that +villainy was on foot, and that not only was Paul Edgecumbe's life in +danger, but my own as well, and if the truth must be told, I feared +Springfield's threat more than I feared the danger which I had to meet +every day as a soldier at the front in war time. + +The next day I received the following note:-- + + +'MY DEAR LUSCOMBE,-- + +'I was awfully disappointed to learn, on my return to-night, that you +had looked us up in our show here, and had not found us. Why didn't +you, like a decent chap, let us know you were coming? We would then +have made it a point to be in. Springfield was even more disappointed +than I at our absence. Can't you come over on Thursday night and have +a bit of grub with us? We will both make it a point to have the entire +evening at liberty, always supposing that the Boches don't pay us +special attention. Let me have a line by bearer. + +'Yours, with the best of regards + 'GEORGE ST. MABYN.' + + +'Yes,' I reflected, 'I will go. But I'll have another talk with +Edgecumbe first.' + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +EDGECUMBE IS MISSING + +On the following Thursday I again made my way to St. Pinto, where I +received an almost effusive welcome from St. Mabyn and Springfield. +Both expressed great vexation at being away when I had called before, +and seemed to vie with each other in being friendly. In fact they +overdid it. After all, I had barely known them in England, and there +seemed no reason why they should act as though I were a long lost +brother in France. + +'By the way, Luscombe,' said St. Mabyn after dinner, 'Springfield is +awfully interested in that experience of yours. He says it's one of +the greatest jokes of the war.' + +'By Jove, that's true,' added Springfield. 'That fellow,--what do you +call him?--must be a great chap. I should like to hear more about him.' + +'He is a great chap,' I replied. 'I don't believe he knows what fear +means, and the way he talked over those Boches was nothing short of a +miracle.' + +Almost before I realized it, I found myself submitted to a keen +examination as to what I knew about Edgecumbe. As I reflect on it now, +I can see that Springfield's methods were very clever. He asked no +direct questions, but he led the conversation into channels which led +me, almost in spite of myself, to divulge my thoughts about him. Still +I do not think I committed any grave error, and when at length I left +them, I felt fairly satisfied with the interview. + +During my walk back to my billet I felt sure I was being followed and +watched. It was true I neither heard nor saw anything out of the +ordinary, but I seemed to be possessed of a sixth sense, and that sixth +sense made me conscious of an unfriendly presence. But nothing +happened, and presently when I reached my quarters without molestation +or happening of any sort, I laughed at myself for harbouring baseless +impressions. + +I found Edgecumbe awaiting me, as I had previously arranged. + +'Been here long?' I asked. + +'About an hour,' and then he looked at me eagerly. + +'No,' I said, noting his glance, 'I've nothing to tell you---yet.' + +I could see he was disappointed. I had aroused his curiosity and he +had been wondering what I had in my mind. + +'Then I may as well be going,' he said, after a few seconds' silence. + +'No, not yet.' + +I could see the eager questions in his eyes, so I went on. 'I can't +tell you anything yet, Edgecumbe; it would not be fair to you, and it +might not be fair to others. It may be I'm only following the +will-o'-the-wisp of my fancies; all the same I want you to stay with me +at least an hour. I think it will be the safest plan. I will send a +note with you that will answer all questions, and meanwhile I'll get +these shutters closed.' + +It was quite midnight when he left me, and I watched him as he walked +away from my billet. He had not gone more than two minutes when I +heard the sound of angry voices, and as far as I could judge they came +from the spot where he was likely to be. Then coming from the same +locality there was the sound of a pistol shot. + +Without hesitating a second, I ran towards the spot from which I +thought the sound came. It was not a very dark night, but there was +not light enough to discern anything very plainly. For half an hour I +searched and listened, but I could discover nothing. + +I tried to persuade myself that what I had heard was only fancy, +nevertheless I did not sleep well that night. As soon as morning +dawned I hurried to the spot again, but if there had been a struggle +the rain which had fallen had washed the traces away. Neither was +there anything suspicious to be seen. + +Later in the day, however, news came to me that Private Edgecumbe was +missing, and as he had last been to my billet, I was to be questioned +as to whether I knew anything of his whereabouts. + +As may be imagined when these questions were asked I could give no +satisfactory answers. I could not say that I suspected foul play +without giving my reasons, and those reasons were not good enough to +give. I could only say that he had come to me bringing a message from +Captain Wilkins, that he had left me about midnight bearing my reply. +That about two minutes after he had left I heard the sound of angry +voices, as well as a pistol shot, but beyond that nothing. + +'Have you no idea where he is?' I asked anxiously. + +'Not the slightest. I have made every inquiry--in vain. The fellow +has disappeared as though he had deserted.' + +'He hasn't done that,' I replied. 'He's not that sort.' + +'Then what's become of him?' + +I shook my head. I was very anxious, but I could say nothing. I dared +not impugn two brother officers on such evidence as I had. +Nevertheless, as may be imagined, I thought a great deal about what had +taken place. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE STRUGGLE IN THE TRENCHES + +The events I have been writing about took place towards the end of May, +1916, and, as I have before stated, we were at this time making huge +preparations for the Great Advance. As fortune would have it, +moreover, I was, two days after my parting with Edgecumbe, given a job +five miles further south, and then life became such a rush, that to +make anything like satisfactory inquiries about a missing soldier was +absolutely impossible. I imagine that few newspaper readers at home, +when they read the first accounts of the battle of the Somme, and noted +that we took a few villages and a few thousand prisoners on the first +days of the battle, little realized the tremendous preparations which +had to be made. So hardly were we kept at it, that oftimes we had +scarce time for food or rest. + +During the month of June, I received a letter from Lorna Bolivick, in +reply to the one I had sent her informing her of my meeting with Paul +Edgecumbe. It was so characteristic of her that I will insert it here. + + +'Now please confess at once,' she wrote, 'that it was because I +witnessed your promise to tell me all about him, that you sent that +letter, otherwise you wouldn't have thought of writing to a poor silly +girl. And wasn't it interesting! I told you he was a wonderful man, +and you see how he has paid you already for the little kindness you +showed him. Why, in all probability he saved your life! And now I +want you to do something else for me; I want you to send me his +photograph. I have conjured up a picture of what I think he is like, +and I am anxious to see if I am right. Aren't I taking a lot of +liberties with you! But you see I like you,--I do really. I fell in +love with you when you came to Granitelands with Sir Roger Granville +that day. Oh, no, there's nothing romantic about it, I can assure you! +But you looked so kind, and trustworthy, and strong, that I took to you +from the very first moment. Father tells me I am wrong to take violent +likes and dislikes to people at a first meeting; but I can't help it, I +am made that way. Of course you are not a bit attractive in the +ordinary way. You don't say sharp, clever things, and you don't +flatter. Besides, you're old. Now don't be angry. Every girl looks +upon a man who is getting on for forty as old. But I am fond of you +all the same. There's a sense of security about you; I am sure I could +trust you, just the same as I trust my father. + +'Send me that photograph of your friend as soon as you can, I am +anxious to get it. I am awfully busy here in this hospital, and there +are such a lot of wounded men, many of them with a limb shot off. Do +you know, I am tremendously interested in a poor Tommy who has lost +both his legs. Horrible, isn't it! But he's the most cheerful man in +the place, and keeps us laughing all day long. + +'He wrote a letter to his mother yesterday, and told her to get him a +pair of patent-leather dancing shoes. + +'You will be sure to be careful, won't you?--I can't bear the idea of +anything happening to you; and although I know you are old enough to be +cautious, and not to take foolish risks,--that is, in the ordinary +way,--I am sure you are one of those men who forget everything like +caution when you are aroused. This is awfully silly, isn't it? so I'll +stop. I command you, write me at once, and do as I tell you. + +'Yours obediently, + +'LORNA BOLIVICK.' + + +I answered this letter at once. I was in a dug-out at the time, and I +remember a lump of mud falling on the writing-pad and making a huge +smear, and explaining to her what the smear meant. As it happened, +too, I was able to send her Paul Edgecumbe's photograph. It was not a +very good one; it had been produced by one of his comrades who was an +amateur photographer. But it gave a fair idea of him. I obtained it +from him the last evening we were together. I did not tell her that he +was missing, even although my fears concerning him were very grave; I +thought it better not;--why, I don't know. + +At length the great first of July arrived, and it was impossible to +think of anything clearly. For days there had been a cannonade such as +the world had never witnessed before; the whole countryside shook, the +air was thick with shrieking shells, the ground trembled with bursting +bombs. Every breath one drew was poison; the acrid smells of high +explosives were everywhere. Then, after days of bombardment, which I +will not try to describe, for it beggars all the language I ever +learnt, the attack commenced. + +I have been sitting here trying to conjure up a picture of all I saw +that day, trying to find words in order to give some general impression +of what took place; but I simply can't. As I look back now, it only +seems a combination of a vast mad-house and a vast charnel-house. I +have confused memories of bodies of men creeping up behind deadly +barrages; I can see shells tearing up great holes in the earth, and +scattering mud and stones around them. I can see, too, where trenches +were levelled, just as I have seen pits which children make on the +seashore levelled by the incoming tide. Now and then there come back +to my mind dim, weird pictures of Germans crawling out of their +dug-outs, holding up their hands, and piteously crying, 'Kamerad! +Kamerad!' + +I have recollections, too, of the great awkward tanks toiling along +their cumbersome way, smashing down whatever opposed them, and spitting +out flame and death on every hand. But I can record nothing. Men talk +about the history of this war being written some day; it never will +be,--the whole thing is too tremendous, too ghastly. + +Personally, there are only a few incidents which I can recall clearly. +In the main, the struggle comes back to me as a series of bewildering, +chaotic, and incomplete events. Scraps of conversation come back to +me, too, and those scraps have neither sequence nor meaning. + +'Fricourt taken, is it?' + +'Yes, and La Boisselle.' + +'No, La Boisselle is not taken.' + +'Yes, it is, and Contalmaison too.' + +'Nonsense, you fool! that's miles on.' + +'The French are doing very well, too. Fritz is having a hot time. +We'll be in Bapaume in no time.' And so on. + +My general impression was that our men were doing very well south of +the Ancre, up as far as Thiepval, but north of the Ancre we were not so +successful. The Germans were putting up a tremendous resistance, and +I, unfortunately, was north of the Ancre. I will not give the exact +locality, nor the name of the village which was our objective; but this +village had been, as we thought, bombarded with such intensity that our +work ought to be easy. Our casualties were very heavy, and I shall +never forget the heartaches I had when I knew that many of my men whom +I had learned to know and to love were lying in nameless graves, torn, +battered and unrecognizable, while many more would linger for a few +hours in agony, and presently a little mound would cover them, and a +little wooden cross would indicate their last resting-place. + +I never saw braver men. Even now my heart thrills at the abandon with +which they rushed into every kind of danger, not grimly and doggedly, +so much, as gaily, and with a laugh. They mocked at danger. I have +seen men crossing No Man's Land, with machine-gun bullets flying all +round them, stop coolly to light their cigarettes, and then go on again +humming a song. + +The advance had been in progress some days, at least I think so, but I +am not sure,--one day seemed just like another. We had been at it for +many hours, I remember, and we were all dead tired. I could see that +some of the poor lads were half asleep, and ready to drop, through +sheer weariness. We had taken a difficult position, but we were +assured before we took it that our success would mean certainty to the +accomplishment of the larger plan. Our objective was the taking of a +fortified village a little farther on. + +Heavy-eyed and heavy-limbed, the boys still stuck to it, and looked +eagerly forward towards the accomplishment of their work. It is true +our ranks were terribly decimated, but the enemy had suffered far worse +than we, and therefore we were confident. Then the news came that we +were to be relieved. Fresh battalions had come up to take our places, +and we were told that we might get back and rest. + +Our boys were disappointed at this, although they were glad of the +reprieve. + +'Anyhow, we've done our bit,' said one. + +'A dirty bit, too,' said another. 'Still, the job's easy now, and a +fresh lot of men should take it in a couple of hours.' + +'I'd rather go on with it,' said a third. 'I don't see why these other +blokes should have the easy job, and we have the hard one.' + +'Cheer up, old sport,' said another, 'what do we care who does the job, +as long as it's done? We're not here for a picnic.' + +And so on, while we retired. How far we went back, I don't know. I +have a confused remembrance of the fellows throwing themselves down on +the ground, almost sleeping as they fell, and not waiting for the food +which was provided for them, while others ate ravenously. + +'Anyhow, we've given Fritz a twisting up to-day, and we've left the +other blokes a soft job,' were the last words I heard as I dragged my +weary legs to the place where I promised myself a good long sleep. + +How long I slept I don't know, but it did not seem to me two minutes, +although it might have been as many hours. + +'The Boches have broken through!' Those were the words that came to my +stupefied brain. + +'What!' I exclaimed, 'it is impossible!' + +'Yes, back at once!' + +There was no time to ask questions, no time to argue. The poor fellows +who had been fighting so long and bravely were with difficulty roused +out of their sleep, and all had to retrace their weary steps towards +the positions for which we had fought, and which we had won. + +'Why is it? why is it?'--'There must be a mistake!'--'Why, we had got +'em on toast.'--'I tell you, we left 'em nothing but a picnic!' + +The men were angry, discontented, grumbling, but they went back to +their job determined to see it through nevertheless. + +After that, I have but a dim recollection of what took place, except +that it was grim, hard, stern fighting. The air was sulphurous, the +ground hideous with filth, and blood, and dead bodies. + +I don't know how it came about, but the Germans were more numerous than +we. It was not we who were taking prisoners, but they, and then +suddenly I found myself alone, with three Germans before me. One, I +remember, had a rag saturated with blood tied round his head. He had a +great gash in his cheek, too, and was nearly beaten; but there was the +look of a devil in his eye. Had I been a private soldier, I expect I +should have been killed without ado, but they called upon me to +surrender. I was mad at the idea. What, surrender after we had won +the position! Surrender to the men whom we had sworn to conquer! The +Army which had set out to make an advance must not surrender! + +I was dog-tired, and a bit stupefied; but that was the feeling which +possessed me. I remember that a dead German lay in the trench close +behind me, and that his rifle had fallen from his nerveless hand. +Seizing the rifle by the barrel, I blindly and recklessly attacked +them; I had a grim sort of feeling that if I was to die, I would die +fighting. I remember, too, that I comforted myself with the thought +that no one depended on me, and that I had no near relatives to bemoan +my death. + +It may be that my position gave me an advantage, otherwise they, being +three, must have mastered me easily, although one of them was badly +wounded; still, one desperate man can do much. I was thirty-nine years +of age, and although not bred a soldier, I was an athlete. I was an +old rowing blue, too, and that means good muscles and a strong heart. +I weighed only a little over twelve stone, but I had not an ounce of +spare flesh, and I was desperate. I had a little advantage in reach, +too; I am over six feet in height, and long in limb. + +But it was an unequal battle, and I knew they were bearing me down. +One of my arms was numb, too; I expect it was from a blow, although I +never felt it. I saw the look of murder in their eyes, as little by +little they pressed me back. Then a change came. + +It seems like a fantastic dream now, and the new-comer appeared to me +more like a visitant from another world than tangible flesh and blood. +I expect it was because my eyesight was failing me. My strength was +gone, and I remember panting for life, while sparks of fire flitted +before my eyes. I fell against the side of the trench, and watched the +new-comer, who leapt upon two of the Germans, and hurled them from him +as though they had been five-year-old children. It seemed to me that I +had never seen such a feat of strength. A second later I knew that my +antagonists would never fight again, and then my own senses departed. + +'It's all right, sir, it's all right! You'll be as fresh as a daisy in +a few minutes. There, that's better. You've fought a great fight!' + +The voice seemed to stir something within me, and I felt myself in my +right mind with a flash. Moreover, he had taken me to a place of +comparative safety. + +'Edgecumbe!' I cried, 'how in Heaven's name----! + +'I've turned up like a bad penny, sir, haven't I? I was just in the +nick of time, too.' + +'This is twice you've saved my life,' I said. + +'That's nothing,' was his reply. 'I have found more than life.' + +I looked at him curiously. His clothes were torn and caked with mud; +here and there I saw they were soaked with blood. His face looked +haggard and drawn, too, but in his eyes was such a look as I had never +seen before. The old wistfulness and yearning were gone; he no longer +had the appearance of a man grieving because he had lost his past. +Joy, realization of something wonderful, a great satisfaction, all +revealed themselves in his eyes, as he looked at me. + +'His memory has come back,' I said to myself. + +I did not think of what had become of him on the night I had dined with +Springfield and St. Mabyn, that was not worth troubling about. His +past had come back, and evidently it was a joyous past, a past which +gave all sorts of promises for the future! + +'I have great things to tell you!' he cried excitedly. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +EDGECUMBE'S STORY + +But my new-found strength was only fitful. He had barely spoken the +words, when I heard a great noise in my ears, and I knew that my senses +were becoming dim again. I heard other voices, too, and looking up I +saw my own colonel standing near, with three or four others near him. +And then I have a faint recollection of hearing Paul Edgecumbe telling +him what had taken place. I know, too, that I was angry at his +description. He was telling of the part I had taken in the struggle in +glowing colours, while keeping his own part in it in the background. I +was trying to tell the colonel this, when everything became black. + +When I came to myself again, I was in a rest-station behind the lines. +I remember feeling very sore, and my head was aching badly, but no +bones were broken. I could move my limbs, although with difficulty; I +felt as though every inch of my body had been beaten with big sticks. +Still, my mind was clear, I was able to think coherently, and to recall +the scenes through which I had passed. + +I lay for some minutes wishing I could hear news of what was going on, +when a brother officer came to me. + +'Hullo, Luscombe, awake? That's right. You've had a rough time; you +were lucky to get out of it so well.' + +'I am in the dark about everything,' I said. 'Tell me what has +happened.' + +He mistook my meaning, and replied with a laugh: + +'Oh, you were saved by that chap who took thirty Boches British +prisoners. He seems to be a guardian angel of yours. He's a great +man, too, there's no doubt about that. Ah, here's the M.O. coming!' + +The doctor and I were good friends, and when he had examined me, and +pronounced me a fraud for being in bed, I eagerly questioned him, and +the sub. who still remained, as to how we were doing. + +'Very well indeed, below Thiepval,' was his reply, 'but up here badly.' + +'Have we taken Thiepval?' + +He shook his head gloomily. 'That'll need a bit of doing. It's a +regular fortress, man! Of course we shall get it in time. Our new +guns are tremendous; but we ought to have done better up this way. +We've thrown away our chances, too.' + +'I don't understand,' I said. 'When we were relieved, we had +practically won the key to the position we set out to get.' + +'That's the mischief of the whole thing,' he replied moodily. He used +language which I will not set down here; it was too strong for polite +ears. + +'What's the matter?' I asked. + +'Oh, we're supposed to say nothing, but----' + +'But what? Come, let us know. We hadn't been relieved long, when we +were called back again, and we found the Boches in the very place we +had taken.' + +'Still, we are doing well south of the Ancre, and that's what the +dispatches will be jubilant about, and that's what the people at home +will know of. If we'd taken G----, we should have had the key of the +whole position here, too. But there, I must be off. Cheer up, and +look perky, my boy. There'll be no obituary notices about you this +time. Yes, you can dress and get up when you want to, although I don't +think you _will_ want to. You will be fit for duty in two or three +days.' + +'By the way, do you know how Edgecumbe is?' + +'He's all right. Wonderful chap! I hear he's to be recommended for +all sorts of things.' + +'He deserves them,' I said; 'he ought to have a commission.' + +'I hear that's coming, too. Good-bye, old man.' + + +The next day I came across Edgecumbe. His face looked more like +parchment than ever, but the wonderful look still remained in his eyes. + +'You are better, sir. You are all right!' he exclaimed eagerly. + +'Oh, yes, I am all right,' I replied. 'Now let us hear about the great +things you have to tell me of. Your memory's come back, hasn't it?' + +He laughed gaily. 'Better than that,' he cried, 'better than that, a +thousand times! I have no past, Sir, but I have a future!' + +I looked at him wonderingly. A doubt even crossed my mind as to +whether he was quite sane. + +'Tell me about it, anyhow,' I said. + +'I have so much to tell you that I hardly know where to begin.' + +'Better begin at the beginning. What have you been doing since that +night you were at my billet over at St. Pierre?' + +'Oh, yes, I'd forgotten all about that. I say, you were right there; I +should imagine that some people think I am in their way. Anyhow, I'd +hardly left your place when I suddenly found myself surrounded by three +men, who went for me. They pretended to be drunk, but I am sure they +were not.' + +'Were they soldiers?' + +'I don't know. It was too dark to tell. But I am pretty handy with my +fives, and I gave one something to remember, and then thinking +discretion was the better part of valour, I bolted. That was lucky, +for they were trying to grab me. As you may remember, it was pretty +dark, but still not so dark as to keep one from seeing things. I +hadn't gone more than a few steps before a bullet whizzed by me. It +didn't touch me, but as the road on which I ran was open, I turned up a +narrow track,--I thought it might lead to a farmhouse, or something of +that sort.' + +'And then?' + +'Then I had bad luck; The track led to a quarry, an old disused quarry. +Then I must have had a very bad fall, for I was stunned and I sprained +myself badly. When I came to myself, it was daylight, and I couldn't +move; at least, I couldn't move without awful pain.' + +'And what happened then?' + +'I lay there a jolly long time. You see the blessed quarry had got +overgrown, and all that sort of thing, and it was a long way from the +road. I yelled, and yelled, but no one came. Then I saw that it would +be all up with me, if I could make no one hear. That seemed silly.' + +'And what did you do?' + +'It was a bit of a tussle; you see I'd bruised and sprained myself so +badly; but I got out after a bit, and--and--made an old man who was +passing down the main road with a horse and cart hear me. The rest was +very simple.' + +'Did you get any punishment?' + +'Oh, no, sir. I have to thank you for that. The statement I made +tallied so exactly with yours that I got off all right. Besides, I was +jolly shaken up. At the end of a fortnight I was able to get around +again. Still, it's worth thinking about.' + +'What do you mean?' + +'Oh, there's no doubt some one is having his knife into me. Of course +I can't help reflecting on what you said. In fact, it was your advice +to look out for squalls, that made me a bit prepared when I left you. +Would you mind telling me the grounds you had for your suspicions?' + +'Go on with your story first. What happened after that?' + +'What happened after that!' he cried, 'everything--everything! What +happened after that has made a new man of me; life has become new, the +world has become new!' + +'You are talking riddles. Explain.' + +'It's no riddle, sir,--it's a solution of all the riddles. I will tell +you. While I was convalescing, I went to a Y.M.C.A. camp. I had never +been to one of these places before; I don't know why I went then, +except that the time hung a bit heavy on my hands. You see, every man +was up to his neck in work, and there was great excitement in making +preparations for the push, and I couldn't do anything. Not but what I +had always respected the Y.M.C.A.,--what the British Army would have +done without it I don't know. In my opinion, that body is doing as +much to win the war as the War Office is--perhaps a bit more. They +have kept thousands upon thousands of our chaps steady and straight. +They have done more to fight the devil than--but there, I'll come to +that presently. + +'Well, one night I made my way into the Y.M.C.A. hut. At first I did +nothing but read the papers, but presently I realized that a service +was going on. The hall wasn't full by any means. Before this push it +was full every night; but you see the boys were busy. Presently I +caught sight of the man who was speaking, and I liked his face. I +quickly found out that he was an intelligent man, too, and I went up +nearer the platform to hear what he had to say. He was not a chaplain +or anything of that sort, he was just one of the Y.M.C.A. workers. Who +he was I didn't know then,--I don't now, although I have an idea I +shall meet him some day, and I shall thank him as a man was never +thanked yet.' + +'Why?' I asked. + +'He made me know the greatest fact in the world,' and he spoke very +earnestly. 'He made me realize that there was a God. That fact hadn't +come within the realm of my vision,--I hadn't thought anything about +it. You see,' and I could see he had forgotten all about military +etiquette and the difference in our ranks, 'as I have said to you +before, I have been like a man beginning to write the story of his life +at the middle. Having no memory, I have had no preconceived notions, +and very few prejudices. I suppose if some one had asked me if I +believed that there was a God, I should have said yes, although I +should have been a bit doubtful. Perhaps I should have thought that +there was some great Force which brought all that we see into being, +and then I should have said that, if this great Force were intelligent, +He'd made an awful mess of things, that He'd found the Universe too big +a thing to manage. But I didn't know; anyhow, the thought of God, the +fact of God, hadn't troubled me, neither had I thought much about +myself in a deeper way. + +'Sometimes, when my pals were killed, I wondered in a vague way what +had become of them, and whether they were really dead; but there was +nothing clear or definite in my mind. But that night, while listening +to that man, I woke up to the fact that there was a God; it came to me +like a flash of light. I seemed to know that there was an Almighty +Power Who was behind everything,--thinking,--controlling. Then I was +staggered.' + +'Staggered? How?' I asked. + +'He said that a Man called Jesus Christ told us what God was +like,--showed us by His own life and death. I expect I was a bit +bewildered, for I seemed to see more than his words conveyed.' + +He did not seem excited, he spoke quite calmly, although there was a +quiver in his voice which showed how deeply he was moved, and his eyes +glowed with that wonderful new light which made him seem like a new +man. That he had experienced something wonderful, was evident. What I +and thousands of others regarded as a commonplace, something which we +had heard from our childhood, and which, I am afraid, did not hold us +very strongly, was to him a wonderful reality, the greatest, the +divinest thing in the world. + +'I got a New Testament,' he went on, 'and for days I did nothing but +read it. I think I could repeat those four Gospels. Man, it's the +most wonderful thing ever known,--of course it is! Why----' + +At that moment a change came over his face. It was as though he were +attacked by great pain, as though indeed his body were torn with agony. +His fists were clenched and quivering, his body became rigid, his face +drawn and bloodless. + +'Hark, what's that?' + +'I hear nothing.' + +'Yes, but listen--there!' + +It was a curious cry I heard; it sounded partly like the cry of a +seagull, mingled with the wail of a wounded animal. It was repeated +once, twice, and then there was a laugh. + +'I've heard that before, somewhere. Where?--where? It's back behind +the black wall!' + +I looked, and saw half hidden by a small belt of brushwood, a group of +officers, and I could hear them laughing. + +'Is that an Indian cry, Springfield?' some one said. + +'Yes, there's a legend that it is always heard the night before there's +a kind of vendetta.' + +Springfield's voice reached us quite clearly, and I looked +instinctively towards Paul Edgecumbe. + +'I know that voice! I know it!' and the intensity of his feeling was +manifested in every word he spoke. + +'Silence,' I whispered, 'and come with me, quickly!' + +I drew him to a spot from which, without being observed, he could see +Springfield's face. + +'That is he, _that's_ he,' he whispered hoarsely. 'I know him,--I know +him!' + +'Who is he?' I asked. + +'I--oh!--no,--I don't know.' + +From pain, almost amounting to agony, the expression on his face had +changed to that of intense loathing, of infinite contempt. + +'Let's get away,' he said; 'this air is polluted.' + +A few minutes later, we had come to the rest-house where I had been +brought after my shaking-up, and I saw that the letters had come. + +'Wait a minute,' I said. 'I want to hear the end of your story.' + +There was only one letter for me, and I saw at a glance that it had +come from Lorna Bolivick. It was a long, newsy epistle, only one part +of which I need quote here. It referred to Paul Edgecumbe's photograph. + +'Thank you,' she wrote, 'for sending me that picture of your protege. +What a strange-looking man! I don't think I ever saw a face quite like +it before, and hasn't he wonderful eyes! I felt, even while looking at +it, that he was reading my very soul. I am sure he has had wonderful +experiences, and has seen things undreamed of by such as I. I had a +kind of feeling, when I asked you for it, that I might have met him, or +seen him somewhere; but I never have. His face is like no other I have +ever seen, although, in spite of its strangeness, it is wonderfully +striking. If ever you have a chance, you must bring him to see me. I +am sure I should like to talk to him. A man who has a face like that +couldn't help being interesting.' + +Here was the final blow which shattered all my suspicions. In spite of +repeated assurances to the contrary, I retained the impression that +Paul Edgecumbe and Maurice St. Mabyn were the same person. Now I knew +that it was impossible. Lorna Bolivick's testimony was final, all the +more final because she had no thought of what was in my own mind. + +And yet I knew that Paul Edgecumbe was in some way associated with +Springfield and St. Mabyn; everything pointed to that fact. +Springfield's evident fear, St. Mabyn's anxiety, added to Edgecumbe's +strange behaviour when he heard the peculiar cry, and saw Springfield's +face, made me sure that in some way these men's lives were bound +together, in a way I could not understand. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE STRUGGLE ON THE SOMME + +I was not fated to hear the end of Edgecumbe's story. I had barely +finished reading the letter, when events happened in quick succession +which made it impossible for me to hear those things which he declared +made all life new to him. + +It must be remembered that we were in the early part of July, when the +great battle of the Somme was gaining intensity at every hour, and when +private experiences were at a discount. Each day the tornado of the +great guns became more and more terrible, the air was full of the +shrieks of shells, while the constant pep-pep-pep of machine-guns +almost became monotonous. Village after village south of the Ancre +fell into our hands, thousands of German prisoners were taken, while +deadly fighting was the order of the day. It is no use trying to +describe it, it cannot be described. Incidents here and there can be +visualized, and to an extent made plain by words; but the movement as a +whole, the constant roar of guns, the shriek of shells, the sulphur of +explosives, the march of armies, the bringing in of prisoners, and our +own wounded men, cover too vast a field for any one picture. + +It was not one battle, it was a hundred battles, and each battle was +more intense than the other. Position after position was taken, some +of which were lost again, only to be retaken, amidst the thunder of +guns and the groans of dying men. + +If ever Tennyson's martial poem were true, it was true in that great +struggle. Not that cavalry had much to do with it, neither was there +any pageantry or any of the panoply of war. It was all too grim, too +ghastly, too sordid for that. And yet there was a pageantry of which +Tennyson never dreamed. The boom of guns, the weird light of the star +shells, the sulphurous atmosphere, the struggle of millions, formed a +pageant so Homeric, and on such an awful scale, that imagination reels +before it. + +It was towards the middle of July when my battalion was ordered south +of the Ancre. What had become of Edgecumbe I did not know, and it was +impossible to find out. Each battalion, each company, and each +platoon, had its little scene of operations, and we knew nothing of who +might be a few hundred yards from us. As an infantry officer, I was, +during the advance, for the most time in the trenches. Then, after the +artillery had done its work, we leapt the parapets, and made our way +across the open, oft-times through a hailstorm of bullets, while +shrieking shells fell and exploded at our feet. Now we were held up by +barbed wire, which here and there had not been swept away by our +artillery, or again we stumbled into shell holes, where we lay panting +and bruised. But these are only small incidents in the advance. + +I think it was toward the end of July when a section of my battalion +lay in the trenches not far from Montauban. We had been there, I +remember, a considerable time; how long, I can scarcely tell, for hours +and sometimes days passed without definite note being taken. Above our +heads aircraft sped through the heavens, mostly our own, but now and +then Germans! We saw little puffs of cloud forming themselves around +them, as shells exploded in the skies. Now and then one of the +machines would be hit, and I saw them swerve, as I have seen birds +swerve before they fall, at a shooting party. Behind us our guns were +booming, while a few hundred yards away in front of us, the German +trenches were being levelled. It was a fascinating, yet horrible +sight. More than once I saw machine-gun emplacements, with the +gunners, struck by the projectiles from our great howitzers, and hurled +many feet high. + +Not that we had it all our own way, although our artillery was superior +to that of the enemy. If we had located their positions, so had they +located ours, and their shells fell thick and fast along our lines, +decimating our ranks. + +How long we had waited, I don't know. We knew by the artillery +preparations that the command for advance must soon come, and we +crouched there, some quivering with excitement, others cracking jokes +and telling stories, and most of the men smoking cigarettes, until the +word of command should pass down the line. We knew what it meant. It +was true our barrage would make it comparatively safe; but we knew, +too, that many of the lads who were joking with each other, and telling +stories of what they did in pre-war days, would never see England +again, while many more, if they went back, would go back mutilated and +maimed for life. Still, it was all in the day's work. The Boches had +to be beaten, and whatever might happen to us we must finish our job. + +The soldiers talked calmly about it, and even joked. + +'Think your number's up, Bill?' + +'I don't know. I've been home to Blighty twice. Perhaps I shan't have +such good luck next time. But what's the odds? We're giving Fritz a +rare old time.' + +'Fritz ain't got no more fight in him.' + +'Don't you be so sure of that, old cock. Fritz is chained to his guns, +that's what _he_ is.' + +'Is it true the Kaiser and old Hindenburg have come up to see this job, +I wonder? Wouldn't I just like to take 'em prisoners!' + +And so on, minute after minute, while the heavens and the earth were +full of the messengers of death. + +The command to go over came at length, and I heard a cheer pass down +the line. It sounded strangely amid the booming of the guns, and the +voices of the men seemed small. All the same, it was hearty and +confident. Many of them, I knew, would have a sense of relief at +getting out into the open, and feel that they were no longer like +rabbits in their burrows. Helter, skelter, we went across the open +ground, some carelessly and indifferently, others with stern, set +faces. Here one cracked a joke with his pal, while there another +stopped suddenly, staggered, and fell. + +The ground, I remember, was flat just there, and I could see a long way +down the line, men struggling across the open space. There was no +suggestion of military precision, that is in the ordinary sense of the +word, yet in another there was. Each man was ready, and each man had +that strange light in his eyes which no pen can describe. + +We took the first trench without difficulty. The few Germans who +remained were dazed, bewildered, and eager to surrender. They came up +out of their dug-outs, their arms uplifted, piteously crying for mercy. + +'All right, Fritz, old cock, we won't hurt you! You don't deserve it. +But there, I suppose you had to do what you was told.' + +Now and then, however, no mercy was shown. Many of the machine-gunners +held up one hand, and cried for mercy, while with the other they worked +the guns. However, the first line of trenches was taken, a great many +prisoners captured, and then came the more difficult and dangerous +business. The second line must be taken as well as the first, and the +second line was our objective. + +By this time we did not know where we were, and we were so mixed up +that we didn't know to what battalion or regiment we belonged. In the +gigantic struggle, extending for miles, there was no possibility of +keeping together. The one thing was to drive the Germans out of the +second line of trenches, or better still to make them prisoners. But +every inch of ground became more dangerous. German shells were blowing +up the ground around us, and decimating our advancing forces. + +It was here that I thought my number was up. A shell exploded a few +yards from me, shook the ground under my feet, threw me into the air, +and half buried me in the _debris_. It was one of those moments when +it seemed as though every man was for himself, and when, in the mad +carnage, it was impossible to realize what had happened to each other. +I was stunned by the explosion, and how long I lay in that condition I +don't know. + +When I became conscious, I felt as though my head were going to burst, +while a sense of helplessness possessed me. Then I realized that, +while my legs were buried, my head was in the open. Painfully and with +difficulty I extricated myself, and then, scarcely realizing what I was +doing, I staggered along in the direction in which I thought my boys +had gone. + +Evening was now beginning to fall, and I had lost my whereabouts. +Meanwhile, there was no cessation in the roar of artillery. As I +struggled along, I saw, not fifty yards away, a group of men. And then +I heard, coming through the air, that awful note which cannot be +described. It was a whine, a yell, a moan, a shriek, all in one. +Beginning on a lower note, it rose higher and higher, then fell again, +and suddenly a huge explosive dropped close where the men stood. A +moment later, a great mass of stuff went up, forming a tremendous +mushroom-shaped body of earth. When it subsided, a curly cloud of +smoke filled the air. I was sick and bewildered by what I had passed +through, and could scarcely realize the purport of what I had just +seen. But presently I saw a man digging, digging, as if for his life. + +Half mad, and bewildered, I made my way towards him. In different +stages of consciousness I saw several soldiers lying. When I arrived +close to the spot, I recognized the digger. It was Paul Edgecumbe. +Never did I see a man work as he worked. It seemed as though he +possessed the strength of three, while all the energy of his being was +devoted to the rescue of some one who lay beneath the heap of _debris_. +In a bewildered sort of way I realized the situation. Evidently the +enemy had located it as an important spot, for shell after shell +dropped near by, while the men who had so far recovered their senses as +to be able to get away, crawled into the shell hole. + +'Come in here, you madman!' one man said. 'You can't get him out, and +you'll only get killed.' + +But Paul Edgecumbe kept on digging, heedless of flying bullets, +heedless of death. + +'He can't get him out,' said a soldier to me in a dazed sort of way; +'he's buried, that's what he is.' + +'Who is it?' I asked. + +'Captain Springfield,' replied the man. 'Come in here,' he shouted to +Edgecumbe, 'that fellow ain't worth it!' + +Scarcely realizing what I was doing, and so weak that I could hardly +walk, I crawled nearer to my friend. + +'You have a hopeless task there,' I remember saying. 'Leave it, and +get into the hole there.' + +'Is that you, Luscombe? I shall save him, I am sure I shall. I was +buried once myself, so I know what it means. There, I have got him!' +He threw down the tool with which he was digging, and with his hands +pulled away the stones and earth which lay over the body. + +I don't quite recollect what took place after that. I have a confused +remembrance of lying in the shell hole, while the tornado went on. I +seemed to see, as in a dream, batches of soldiers pass by me in the +near distance; some of them Germans, while others were our own men. +Everything was confused, unreal. Even now I could not swear to what +took place,--what I thought I saw and heard may not be in fact a +reality at all, but only phantoms of the mind. Flesh and blood, and +nerves and brain were utterly exhausted, and although I was not +wounded, I was more dead than alive. + +I have an indistinct remembrance of a dark night, and of being led over +ground seamed with deep furrows, and made hideous with dead bodies. I +had a fancy, too, that the sky was lit up with star shells, and that +there was a continuous booming of guns. But this may have been the +result of a disordered imagination. + +When I came to consciousness, I was at a clearing-station, suffering, I +was told, from shell shock. + +'You're not a bad case,' said the M.O. to me, with a laugh, 'but +evidently you've had a rough time. From what I can hear, too, you had +a very great time.' + +'A great time!' I said. 'I scarcely remember anything.' + +'Some of your men do, anyhow. Yes, the second line was taken, and the +village with it. Not that any village is left,' he added with a laugh. +'I hear that all that remains is one stump of a tree and one chimney. +However, the ground's ours. Five hundred prisoners were taken. There +now, you feel better, don't you? It's a wonder you are alive, you +know.' + +'But I was in no danger.' + +'Weren't you? One of your men, who couldn't move, poor chap, because +of a smashed leg and a broken arm, watched you crawl out of a great +heap of stuff. He said that only your head was visible at first; but +the way you wormed yourself through the mud was as good as a play.' + +'I knew very little about it,' I said. + +'Very possibly. Corporal Wilkins watched you, and shouted after you, +as you staggered away; but you took no notice, and then, I hear, +although you were half dead, you did some rescuing work.' + +'I did rescuing work!' I gasped. + +'Why, of course you did, you know you did.' + +'But I didn't,' I replied. + +'All right then, you didn't,' and the doctor laughed again. 'There +now, you're comfortable now, so be quiet. I'll tell some one to bring +you some soup.' + +'But I say, I--I want to know. Is Captain Springfield all right?' + +The doctor laughed again. 'I thought you didn't do any rescuing work?' + +'I didn't,' I replied, 'it was the other man who did that; but is +Springfield all right?' + +'He's very bad. He _may_ pull through, but I doubt it.' + +'Private Edgecumbe,--what of him? He did everything, you know.' + +'I think he has gone back to duty.' + +'Duty!' I gasped. 'Why--why----' + +'The fellow's a miracle, from what I can hear. No, he wasn't wounded. +The man who told me about it said that he might have a charmed life. +He's all right, anyhow. Now be quiet, I must be off.' + +For the next few days, although, as I was told, I was by no means a bad +case, I knew what it was to be a shattered mass of nerves. A man with +a limb shot away, or who has had shrapnel or bullets taken from his +body, can laugh and be gay,--I have seen that again and again. But one +suffering from shell shock goes through agonies untold. I am not going +to _try_ to describe it, but I shall never forget what I suffered. As +soon as I was fit, I was moved to another hospital nearer the base, and +there, as fortune would have it, I met Edgecumbe's colonel. By this +time I was able to think coherently, and my spells of nerves were +becoming rarer and less violent. + +'Yes, my boy, you are a case for home,' said Colonel Gray. 'You are a +lucky beggar to get out of it so well. I was talking with your C.O. +yesterday; you are going back to England at once. I won't tell you +what else he told me about you; your nerves are not strong enough.' + +'There's nothing wrong, is there?' + +Colonel Gray laughed. 'No, it's all the other way. Don't your ears +tingle?' + +'Not a tingle,' I said. 'But what about Edgecumbe?' + +'He's a friend of yours, isn't he?' asked the colonel. + +'Yes,' I replied. + +'Who is he?' + +'I don't know,--I wish I did.' + +'He's a wonderful chap. I've had my eye on him for a long time, and I +haven't been able to make him out. What really aroused my interest in +him was the way--but of course you know all about that, you were in +that show. I never laughed so much in my life as when those Boches +were brought in. Of course you know he's to get his decoration? It +couldn't be helped after that Springfield affair.' + +As it happened, however, I did not cross to England for several days, +but stayed at a base hospital until, in the opinion of the M.O., I was +fit to be removed. Meanwhile the carnage went on, and the great battle +of the Somme developed according to the plans we had made, although +there were some drawbacks. At length the day came when I was to go +back to England, and no sooner had I stepped on board the boat than, to +my delight, I saw Edgecumbe. + +'I _am_ glad to see you!' I cried. + +'Thank you, sir.' + +'Got it bad?' + +'A mere nothing, sir. Just a bruised arm. In a few days I shall be as +right as ever.' + +It was a beautiful day, and as it happened the boat was not crowded. I +looked for a quiet spot where we could talk. + +'You didn't finish telling me your story when we met last,' I said +presently. 'I want to hear it badly.' + +'I want you to hear it,' was his reply, and I noted that bright look in +his eyes which had so struck me before. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +EDGECUMBE'S MADNESS + +'After all, it's nothing that one can talk much about,' he continued. +'I've become a Christian, that's all. But it's changed everything, +_everything_!' + +'How?' + +'I find it difficult to tell you, sir; but after I'd got back from the +Y.M.C.A. meeting I got hold of a New Testament, and for days I did +nothing but read it. You see it was a new book to me.' + +He hesitated a few seconds and then went on. 'Loss of memory is a +curious thing, isn't it? I suppose I must have read it as a boy, just +as nearly all other English boys have, but it was a strange book to me. +I had not forgotten how to read, but I had forgotten what I had read. +I seemed to remember having heard of some one called Jesus Christ, but +He meant nothing to me. That was why the reading of the New Testament +was such a revelation.' + +'Well, go on,' I said when he stopped. + +'Presently I began to pray,' and his voice quivered as he spoke. 'It +was something new to me, but I did it almost unconsciously. You see, +when I left the Y.M.C.A. hut, I had a consciousness that there was a +God, but after I'd read the New Testament----; no I can't explain, I +can't find words! But I prayed, and I felt that God was listening to +me, and presently something new came into my life! It seemed to me as +though some part of my nature which had been lying dormant leapt into +life. I looked at things from a new standpoint. I saw new meanings in +everything. I knew that I was no longer an orphan in the world, but +that an Almighty, All-pervading God was my Father. That He cared for +me, that nothing was outside the realm of His love. I saw what God was +like, too. As I read that story of Jesus, and opened my life to Him, +my whole being was flooded with the consciousness that He cared for me, +that He watched me, and protected me. I saw, too, that there was no +death to the man in whom Christ lived. That the death of the body was +nothing because the man, the essential man lived on,--where I did not +know, did not care, because God was.' + +He looked across the sunlit sea as he spoke, and I think he had almost +forgotten me. + +'I had an awful time though,' he went on. + +'How? In what way?' + +'It was when I read the Sermon on the Mount. I could not for a time +see how a Christian could be a soldier. The whole idea of killing men +seemed a violation of Christianity.' + +'It is,' I said. + +'Yes, in a way you are right, and when I read those words of the Lord +telling us that we must love our enemies, and bless them that cursed +us, I was staggered. Where could there be any Christianity in great +guns hurling men by the thousand into eternity?' + +'There isn't,' I persisted. + +'That's what I believed at first, but I got deeper presently. I saw +that I had only been looking at the surface of things.' + +'How?' I asked. I was curious to see how this man who had forgotten +his past would look at things. + +'I found after a daily study of this great Magna Charta of Jesus +Christ, that He meant us to live by the law of love.' + +'There's not much living by the law of love over yonder,' I said, +nodding in the direction of the Somme. + +'Yes there is,' he cried. 'Oh, I realize the apparent anomaly of it +all, but don't you see? _It wouldn't be living by the law of love to +allow Germany to master the world by brute force_! This was the +situation. Prussianism wanted to dominate the world. The Germans +wanted to dethrone mercy, pity, kindness, love, and to set up a god who +spoke only by big guns. They wanted to rule the world by brute force, +devilry. Now then, what ought Christians to do? It would be poor +Christianity, it would be poor love to the world, to allow the devil to +reign. + +'You see,' he went on, 'Christ's law is, not only that we must love our +enemies, but we must love our neighbours too. We must live for the +overthrow of wrong and the setting up of His Kingdom of truth, and +mercy, and love. But how? Here were Germany's rulers who were bent on +forcing war. They were moral madmen. They believed only in force. +For forty years they had been feeding on the poison of the thought that +might was right, and that it was right to do the thing you _could_ do.' + +'And what is war but accepting that idea. It is simply overcoming +force by force. Where does Christianity come in?' + +'You don't argue with a mad dog,' he said. 'You kill it. It's best +for the dog, and it's essential for the good of the community. +Germany's a mad dog, and this virus of war must be overcome, destroyed. +Oh, I've thought it all out. I believe in prayer. But it's no use +praying for good health while you live over foul drains, and it's just +as little praying for the destruction of such a system while you do +nothing. God won't do for us what we can do for ourselves. That's why +this is a holy war! That's why we must fight until Prussianism is +overthrown. We are paying a ghastly price, but it has to be paid. All +the same, we are fighting this war in the wrong way.' + +'How?' I asked. + +'Because we've forgotten God. Because, to a large extent, we regard +Him too much as a negligible quantity; because we have become too much +poisoned with the German virus.' + +'I don't follow,' I said. + +'I will try to make my meaning plain. In this war we have the +greatest, the holiest cause man ever fought for. We are struggling for +the liberty, the well-being of the world. We are fighting God's cause; +but we are not fighting it in God's way. We are fighting as if there +were no God.' + +'How?' + +'We started wrongly. Were our soldiers made to realize when they +joined the Army that they were going to fight for God? Did the +country, the Government ever tell them so? Oh, don't mistake me. I am +a private soldier, and I've lived with the Tommies for a long time, and +I know what kind of chaps they are. A finer lot of fellows never +lived. Braver than lions, and as tender as women many of them; but +does God count with the great bulk of them? Is Tommy filled with a +passion for God? Is he made to feel the necessity of God? Does Tommy +depend primarily on God for victory?' + +'Well, do we depend on God for victory?' I asked. + +'If God is not with us we are lost!' he said solemnly. 'And that's our +trouble. I've read a good many of our English papers, our leading +daily papers, and one might think from reading them that either there +was no God, or that He didn't count. "How are we to win this war, and +crush Germanism?" is the cry, and the answer of the British Government +and of the British press is, "Big guns, mountains of munitions, +conscription, national service, big battalions, and still more big +battalions!"' + +'Well, isn't that the only way to win? What can we do without these +things?' I asked. + +'Big guns by all means. Mountains of munitions certainly, and all the +other things; but they are not enough. If we forget God, we are lost. +And because we do not seek the help of God, we lose a great part of our +driving power.' + +He was in deadly earnest. To him Christianity, religion was not some +formal thing, it was a great vital reality. He could not understand +faith in God, without seeking Him and depending on Him. + +'We have chaplains,' I urged. 'We are supposed to be a Christian +people.' + +'Yes, but do we depend on God? Do we seek Him humbly? When Tommy goes +into battle, does he go into it like Cromwell's soldiers determined to +fight in God's strength? Oh, yes, Tommy is a grand fellow, take him as +a whole, and there are tens of thousands of fine Christians in the +Army. But in the main Tommy is a fatalist; he does not pray, he does +not depend on God. I tell you, if this battle of the Somme were fought +in the strength of God, the Germans would have fled like sheep.' + +'That's all nonsense,' I laughed. 'We can destroy brute force only by +brute force.' + +'That's the German creed,' he cried, 'and that creed will be their +damnation.' + +'No,' I said, more for the sake of argument than because I believed it, +'we shall beat them because we are better men, and because we shall be +able to "stick it" longer.' + +'Have you been to Ypres?' he asked quickly. + +'No,' I replied. + +'I have. I was there for months. I read the accounts of the Ypres +battles while I was there, and I was able to study the _terrain_, the +conditions. And Germany ought to have won. Germany _would_ have won +too, if force was the deciding power. Why, think, they had four men to +our one, and a greater proportion of big guns and munitions. Humanly +speaking, the battle was theirs and then Calais was theirs and they +could dominate the Channel. But it is "Not by might, nor by power; but +by My Spirit, said the Lord of Hosts." I tell you, Sir, no one can +read the inwardness of the battles of Ypres without believing in +Almighty God. By the way, did you ever read Victor Hugo's _Les +Miserables_?' + +'Years ago. What has that to do with it?' + +'He describes the battle of Waterloo. He says that Napoleon by every +human law ought to have won it. But Hugo says this: "Napoleon lost +Waterloo because God was against him." That's why Germany didn't take +Ypres, and rush through to Calais. That's why they'll lose this war.' + +'And yet the Germans are always saying that God is on their side. They +go to battle singing-- + + "A safe stronghold our God is still."' + + +'Yes, they are like the men in the time of Christ who said "Lord, +Lord," and did not the things he said. I tell you, sir, if we had +fought in God's strength, and obeyed God's commands, _the war would +have been over by now_. German militarism would have been crushed and +the world would be at peace.' + +'Nonsense,' I replied with a laugh. + +'It's not nonsense. This, as it seems to me, is the case: We are +fighting God's cause, but God counts but very little. We are not +laying hold of His Omnipotence; we are trusting entirely in big guns, +while God is forgotten. That is why the war drags on. I tell you,' +and his voice quivered with passion, 'what I am afraid of is this. +This ghastly carnage will drag on, with all its horrors; homes will be +decimated, lives will be sacrificed all because we believe more in +material things than in spiritual things. More in the devil than in +God. I think sometimes that God will not allow us to win because we +are not worthy.' + +'Come now,' I said, 'it is very easy to speak in generalities about +such a question; but tell me how, in a practical way, faith in God, and +religious enthusiasm would help us to win this war?' + +'How?' he cried. 'Don't you see that in addition to what I will call +the spiritual power which would come through faith in, and obedience to +the will of God, you add a practical, human force? Let there be this +faith, this enthusiasm, and the people, the soldiers, would be ready +for anything. Our workpeople would cease going on strike, employers +and tradespeople would no longer be profiteers, grumbling and disunity +would cease. We should all _unitedly_ throw ourselves, heart and soul +into this great struggle, and nothing could withstand us.' + +'But tell me why we are not worthy of victory, now,' I urged. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +EDGECUMBE'S LOGIC + +He was silent for a few seconds, and then went on quietly: 'You will +forgive me, sir, if I seem assertive, but I look on you as my +friend--and--and you know all about me--that I know myself. As I have +said before, I naturally look at things differently from others. I +have to be always beginning _de novo_. But tell me, sir, what do you +think are the greatest curses in the British Army? What ruins most of +our soldiers, body and soul?' + +I hesitated a second, and then replied, 'Drink and--and impurity.' + +'Exactly; and how much is the latter owing to the former?' + +'A great deal, I dare say.' + +'Just so. Now go a step further. Did not one of England's most +prominent statesmen say that he feared drink more than he feared the +Germans?' + +'That was a rhetorical flourish,' I laughed. + +'No, it was a sober considered statement. Now think. Before +I--I--that is before God became real to me, I looked at this question +from the standpoint of policy. I considered the whole thing in the +light of the fact that it was sapping our strength, wasting our +manhood. But I have had to go deeper, and now I see----great God, man, +it's ghastly! positively ghastly!' + +'What is ghastly?' I asked. + +'Look here, sir,'--and his voice became very intense,--'I suppose you +are typical of the educated Britisher. You stand half-way between the +extreme Puritan on the one hand, and the mere man of the world on the +other. Tell me this: Do you regard the body as of more importance than +the soul? Do you think material success more vital than the uplifting +of the real man? Do you look upon any gain won at the expense of a +man's character as a good thing?' + +'No,' I replied, 'I don't. I am afraid that, as a people, we are +gripped very strongly by the material side of things, but +theoretically, at all events, yes, and in a deeper way, too, we know +that character is of more importance than material advancement.' + +'Go a step further, sir. Supposing we could win this war at the +expense of the highest ideals of the nation; supposing we could crush +German militarism, and all the devilry which it has dragged at its +heels, by poisoning our own national life, and by binding ourselves by +the chains which we are trying to break in Germany; would it be a good +thing?' + +'Very doubtful, at all events,' I replied; 'but why are you harping on +that?' + +'Because I am bewildered, staggered. Don't mistake me; I have not the +slightest doubt about the righteousness of our cause. If ever there +was a call from Almighty God, there is a call now, and that call is +increasing in its intensity as the days go by. If Germany won, the +world would not be a fit place to live in; it would be crushed under +the iron heel of materialism and brutalism. All that we regard as +beautiful and holy, all that the best life of the world has been +struggling after, would be strangled, and the race of the nations would +be after material gain, material power, brute force. The more I think +of it, the more I realize this,--we are fighting for the liberty of the +world. But aren't our own men becoming enslaved while they are +fighting? Aren't we seeking to win this war of God at the price of our +own manhood?' + +He was so earnest, so sincere, that I could not help being impressed. +Besides, there was truth, a tremendous amount of truth, in what he was +saying. + +'Either this is God's war,' he went on, 'and we are fighting for God's +cause, or we are not. If it is simply a matter of meeting force by +force, devilry by devilry then there is not much to choose between us. +But if we as a nation,--the pioneer of nations, the greatest nation +under the sun,--are fighting for the advancement of the Kingdom of God, +then we should eschew the devil's weapons. We should see to it that no +victory is won at the cost of men's immortal souls. Besides, we gain +no real advantage; I am certain of that. I have been in this war long +enough to know that the stamina of our men, the quality of our men, is +not made better by this damnable thing. It is all the other way. Our +Army is a poorer army because of it, and we have lost more than we have +gained by the use of it. That is looking at it purely from the +physical standpoint. But surely, if a man believes in Almighty God, he +has higher conceptions; when a man fights in the Spirit of God, and +looks to Him for strength and for guidance, he has Omnipotent forces on +his side. That is why we ought to have won months ago. In reality, +this war at the beginning, was a war of might against right, and we +have been making it a war of might against might, and we have been +willing to sacrifice right for might.' + +'But surely,' I said, 'you who have seen a lot of fighting, and have +been over the top several times, know that the conditions are so +terrible that men do need help. You know, as well as I do, that an +artillery bombardment is hell, and that it needs a kind of artificial +courage to go through what the lads have to go through.' + +'And that brings me back to the point from which I started,' he cried. +'Are we willing to win this war at the cost of men's immortal souls? +Mind you, I don't admit your premise for a moment; to admit it would be +to impugn the courage of tens of thousands of the boys who have all +along refused to touch it. Do you mean to tell me that the abstainers +in the Army are less courageous than those who drink? Does any one +dare to state that the lads who have refused to touch it have been less +brave than those who have had it? To say that would be to insult the +finest fellows who ever lived. But here is the point; we admit that +drink is a curse, that it is a more baneful enemy than the Germans, +that it is degrading not only the manhood of England, but cursing +British womanhood, and yet we encourage its use. Now, assuming that +our victory depends on this stuff, are we justified in using it? It +may be rank treason to say so, but I say better lose the war than win +it by means of that which is cursing the souls of our men. But we are +not faced with that alternative. Our Army, brave as it is, great as it +is, glorious as it is, would be braver, greater, and more glorious, if +the thing were abolished for ever. And more than that, by making a +great sacrifice for the sake of our highest manhood, we should link +ourselves to Almighty God, and thus realize a power now unknown.' + +'Is that what the New Testament teaches you?' I said at length. 'Is +that the result of your becoming a Christian?' + +'Yes,' he replied eagerly. 'I have read through the New Testament +again and again. Every word which is recorded of our Lord's sayings I +have committed to memory, and I am sure that what I say is right. +Either Christianity is a dead letter, a mockery, or we have been +fighting this war in a wrong way. We have not been trusting to God for +strength, and what is more, the best men in our Army and Navy realize +it. Take the two men who, humanly speaking, have the affairs of this +war most largely in their hands: Admiral Beatty and Sir William +Robertson. What did Sir William Robertson say to one of the heads of +the Church of Jesus Christ in England? "Make the men religious, +Bishop," he said, "make the men religious." Have you seen that letter +he wrote? "We are trusting too much in horsemen and chariots, trusting +too much in the arm of flesh, and when the nation depends more on +spiritual forces, we shall be nearer victory." What did Admiral Beatty +say in that remarkable letter he wrote only a little while ago? "When +England looks out with humbler eyes, and with prayer on her lips, then +she can begin to count the days towards the end." Does England believe +that? "Not by might, nor by power, but by my Spirit, saith the Lord of +Hosts." Does the British Government believe that? Do the people +believe it? Do the Churches believe it?' + +'But we must have might, and we must have power,' I urged. + +'Of course we must. No one would think of denying it. But primarily, +_primarily_, our great hope, our great confidence is not in material +forces, but in spiritual. That is the point to which we as a nation +must get back, and when we do, the hosts of German militarism will +become but as thistledown. That is the call of God in these days, that +is what this war should do for our country, it should bring us back to +realities, bring us to God. Is it doing that, Captain Luscombe?' + +'You know as well as I,' I replied. 'I have not been home for a long +time.' + +'I shall see presently,' he said, for by this time the shores of +England were becoming more and more plain to us. 'Of course, while I +was at home during my training, I did not realize things as I do now; +my eyes had not been opened. But I shall study England in the light of +the New Testament.' + +'You will have a busy time,' I laughed. + +'I suppose I am to have a commission, sir,' he said just before leaving +the boat, 'and I am to go away into an Officers' Training Corps at +once. But I have your address and you shall hear from me.' + +That same night I wrote a letter to Lorna Bolivick, telling her of my +arrival in England, and informing her that in all probability Edgecumbe +would be in the country for some time. I wrote to Devonshire, because +I had been previously informed that she had been obliged to return home +on account of her health. + +Three days later I got her reply. + +'"Dear Captain Luscombe," she wrote, "I am awfully interested to hear +that you are back in England; of course you will come and see us. +Father insists that you shall, and you must _be sure_ to bring your +friend. _I shall take no refusal_. If you can give me his address, I +will write to him at once, although, seeing we have never met, I think +it will be better for you to convey my message. Tell him that I +_insist_ on you both coming as soon as possible. I have heaps of +things to tell you, but I can't write them. Besides, as we shall be +seeing each other soon, there is no need. Telegraph at once the time +you will arrive, and remember that I cannot possibly hear of any excuse +whatever from either of you."' + +Edgecumbe having informed me of his whereabouts, I went to see him, and +showed him the letter. + +'Why on earth should she want to see me?' he asked. + +'I don't know, except that I told her about our meeting,' I replied. +'She took a tremendous interest in you. Don't you remember? + +For a few seconds there was a far-away look in his eyes, then evidently +he came to a decision. + +'Yes, I'll go,' he said, 'I will. I--I--think----' But he did not +finish his sentence. + +A few days later, we were on our way to Devonshire together, I little +realizing the influence our visit would have on the future. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +DEVONSHIRE + +Before leaving for England, I had learned that Captain Springfield was +at a base hospital, and that although he was in a bad way, and not fit +to return home, there were good hopes of his recovery. Of St. Mabyn I +had heard nothing, but I imagined that very possibly Lorna Bolivick +would have news of him. As I have said before, Lorna's letter, written +on receipt of Paul Edgecumbe's photograph, had dispelled whatever ideas +I had entertained about his being identical with Maurice St. Mabyn. Of +course it was unthinkable, after what she had said. She had been so +pronounced in her statement that Edgecumbe's face was altogether +strange to her, and that she had never seen one like it before, that I +was obliged to abandon all my former suspicions; and yet, at the back +of my mind, I could not help believing that Edgecumbe and Springfield +were not strangers. + +Of another thing, too, I was certain. He had been an officer in the +Army. On the night before we started for Devonshire I had a talk with +the C.O. of the Officers' Training Corps to which Edgecumbe was +attached. He had been under his command only a few days, but the +attention of the C.O. had already been drawn to him. This man happened +to be an old acquaintance of mine, and he talked with me freely. + +'You say you know Edgecumbe?' he asked. + +'Yes,' I replied; 'he is a friend of mine.' + +'I had a long report of him from France, where he seems to have done +some fine things,' said the colonel. 'Of course you know he is to be +decorated?' + +'I had a hint of it before I left France,' I replied. + +'Would it be an indiscretion to ask you to tell me what you know of +him?' + +'I don't know that it would,' was my answer. 'Only I should like you +to understand that what I am going to tell you is in confidence. You +see, the situation is rather peculiar, and I do not think he wants his +mental condition known.' + +'Why? Is there anything wrong about him?' + +'Oh, no, nothing.' And then I repeated the story of our meeting in +Plymouth. + +'And his memory's not come back?' said Colonel Heywood. + +'No.' + +'I can tell you this about him, though. He is an old artillery +officer.' + +'How do you know?' I asked. + +'The thing is as plain as daylight,' was the reply. 'The man may have +no memory for certain things, and the story of his past may be a blank +to him, but he knows his job already.' + +'You mean----?' + +'I mean this,' interrupted the colonel, 'no man could have the +knowledge he has of an artillery officer's work, without a long and +severe training. If he had forgotten it has come to him like magic. +You know what our work is, and you know, too, that gunners are not made +in a day. But he had it all at his fingers' ends. The major drew my +attention to it almost immediately he joined us, so I determined to +test him myself. He is fit to be sent out right away; he could take +charge of a battery, without an hour's more training. There is not the +slightest doubt about it. I shall take steps to try and find out +particulars about our Indian Army, and whether any officers have been +missing. The fellow interests me tremendously. Why, he has almost a +genius for gunnery! He is full of ideas, too,' and the colonel +laughed. 'He, a cadet, could teach many of us older men our business. +Some day I'm inclined to think there'll be a romantic revelation!' + +It was through Colonel Heywood's good offices that I was allowed to +take Edgecumbe to Devonshire with me, as of course he, only having just +joined the corps, was not entitled to leave so soon. As it was, he was +allowed only a long week-end. I thought of these things on our way to +Devonshire, and I wondered what the future would bring forth. Anyhow, +it was a further blow, if further blow were needed to my suspicions. +Neither Captain Springfield nor Maurice St. Mabyn was an artillery +officer, and if Colonel Heywood was right, even although they had known +each other, they had belonged to different services. + +'I feel awfully nervous,' said Edgecumbe to me, after the train had +left Exeter. + +'Why?' + +'I am acting against my judgment in accepting this invitation; why +should I go to this house? I never saw this girl before, and from what +you tell me, you have met her only once.' + +'For that matter,' I said, 'I feel rather sensitive myself. The fact +that we have only met once makes it a bit awkward for me to be going to +her father's house.' + +'Did you fall in love with her, or anything of that sort?' he asked. + +'No-o,' I replied. 'I was tremendously impressed by her, and, for such +a short acquaintance, we became great friends. The fact that we have +kept up a correspondence ever since proves it. But there is no +suggestion of anything like love between us. I admire her +tremendously, but I am not a marrying man.' + +'I wonder how she'll regard _me_?' And Edgecumbe looked towards the +mirror on the opposite side of the railway carriage. 'I am a +curious-looking animal, aren't I? Look at my parched skin.' + +'It is not nearly as bad as it used to be,' I replied; 'it has become +almost normal. You are not so pale as you were, either.' + +'Don't you think so? Heavens, Luscombe, but I must have had a strange +experience to make me look as I did when you saw me first!' Then his +mood changed. 'Isn't this wonderful country? I am sure I have seen it +all before.' And he looked out of the carriage window towards the +undulating landscape which spread itself out before us. + +'It is a glorious country,' he went on, like one thinking aloud. +'France is like a parched desert after this. Think of the peacefulness +of it, too! See that little village nestling on the hillside! see the +old grey church tower almost hidden by the trees! That is what a +country village ought to be. Yes, I'll go to Bolivick, after all. If +I am uncomfortable, I can easily make an excuse for leaving. But I +want to see her; yes, I do really. You've made me interested in her. +I feel, too, as if something were going to happen. I am excited!' + +'Well, you won't be long now,' I replied, for just then the train drew +up at South Petherwin station. + +An old servant in livery approached me as we alighted. 'Captain +Luscombe, sir?' he queried in a way which suggested the old family +retainer. + +'Yes,' I replied. + +A few minutes later we were seated in an open carriage, while a pair of +spanking horses drew us along some typical Devonshire lanes. + +'This is better than any motor-car, after all!' cried Edgecumbe, as he +looked across the richly wooded valleys towards the wild moorland +beyond. 'After all, horses belong to a countryside like this; +motor-cars don't. If ever I----' but he did not complete his sentence. +He was looking towards an old stone mansion nestling among the trees. + +'That's it, that's surely it,' he cried. + +'Is that Bolivick?' I asked the coachman. + +'Yes, sir.' + +'You might have been here before, Edgecumbe,' I said. + +'No, no, I don't think I have--and yet--I don't know. It is familiar +to me in a way, and yet it isn't. But it _is_ glorious. See, the +sun's rim is almost touching the hill tops,--what colour! what infinite +beauty! Must not God be beautiful!' + +The carriage dashed through a pair of great grey granite pillars, and a +minute later we were in park lands, where the trees still threw their +shade over the cattle which were lying beneath them. + +'An English home,' I heard him say, 'just a typical English home. Oh, +the thought of it is lovely!' + +The carriage drew up at the door of the old mansion, and getting out, I +saw Lorna Bolivick standing there. + +'I am glad you've come,' and she gave a happy laugh. 'I should never +have forgiven you if you hadn't,' and she shook my hand just as +naturally as if she had known me all her life. Then she turned towards +Edgecumbe. 'And this is your friend,' she said; 'you don't know how +pleased I am to see you.' + +But Edgecumbe did not speak. His eyes were riveted on her face, and +they burned like coals of fire. I saw, too, by the tremor of his lips, +how deeply moved he was. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +LORNA BOLIVICK'S HOME + +For a moment I thought that Lorna Bolivick was somewhat annoyed at the +intense and searching look which Edgecumbe gave her. Her face flushed +somewhat, and a suggestion of anger flashed from her eyes. But this +was only for a moment; probably she remembered Edgecumbe's mental +condition, and made allowance accordingly. + +Edgecumbe still continued to look at her steadily, and I noticed that +his eyes, which, except at the times when they were wistful, were quiet +and steadfast, now shone like coals of fire. I saw, too, that he was +unable to govern his lips, which were trembling visibly. + +'Why do you look at me like that?' she said nervously; 'any one would +think you had seen me before somewhere.' + +'I have,' he replied. + +'Where?' + +He hesitated a second, and then said, 'In my dreams,'--and then, +realizing that his behaviour, to say the least of it, was not ordinary, +he hurriedly went on, 'Please forgive me, Miss Bolivick, but I never +remember having spoken to a woman before.' + +She looked at him in astonishment. I suppose the statement to her +seemed foolish and outrageous. + +'It is quite true,' he went on earnestly; 'ever since I met Captain +Luscombe at Plymouth I have been in the Army, and I am afraid I have +not been a very sociable kind of character. I have lived with men all +that time, and have been somewhat of a hermit. Of course I have seen +women, in England and in France,' and he laughed nervously. +'But--but--no, I have never spoken to one.' + +'And how do I strike you?' + +'You seem like a being from another and a more beautiful world,' he +replied gravely. 'I don't know, though, the world as one sees it here +is very beautiful'; and he glanced quickly across the park away to the +moors in the distance, which the setting sun had lit up with a purple +glow. + +At that moment Sir Thomas Bolivick, Lorna's father, came to the door, +and in a hearty West Country fashion gave us both a warm welcome. + +'Awfully good of you to come, Captain Luscombe,' he said. 'Granville +has spoken so much about you, that I feel as though you were an old +friend. Nonsense, nonsense!'--this in reply to my apologies for +accepting the invitation. 'In times like these, we can't stand upon +ceremony. You are a friend of Granville's, and you are a British +soldier, that's enough for me. Whatever this war has done, it has +smashed up a lot of silly conventions, it has helped us to be more +natural, and when Lorna here told me about you, I wanted to see you. +You see, I have read reports of your speeches, and when I saw that you +were mentioned in the dispatches, I wanted to know you more than ever. +So let there be no nonsense about your being a stranger.' + +Soon after, we were shown to our bedrooms, and after dressing for +dinner I went to Edgecumbe's room. + +'I--I--had forgotten,' he gasped. 'How--long have I been here?' + +'Twenty minutes. Aren't you going to put on your new togs?' + +He looked at me like a man in a dream. 'I had forgotten everything,' +he said, 'except----' + +'Except what? What's the matter, old fellow?' + +'I have no business to be here. I ought not to have come. Who am +I?--what am I? Just a poor wreck without a memory.' + +'A poor wreck without a memory!' I laughed. 'Don't be an ass, man. +Look at that ribbon on your new tunic! Think of all the flattering +things that have been said about you, and then talk about being a poor +wreck without a memory!' + +'I am an old man before my time,' and his voice was unnatural as he +spoke. 'Look at my face, seamed and lined. I am here on sufferance, +here because you have been a friend to me. I have no name, no past, +and no--no future.' + +'That's not like you, Edgecumbe,' I protested. 'You've always been a +jolly, optimistic beggar, and now you talk like an undertaker. Future! +why, you're a young fellow barely thirty. As for your name, you've +made one, my boy, and you'll make a bigger one yet, if I'm not +mistaken. You are a welcome guest here, too,--there is not the +slightest doubt about that.' + +'Yes, but what have I?' + +'Come now, get into those togs quick; we mustn't keep them waiting, you +know; it would not be courteous on our part, after all their kindness, +too.' + +A sudden change swept across his face. 'You are right, Luscombe,' he +said; 'I'm ashamed of myself. After all---- I'll be ready in five +minutes. There's one thing about a soldier's togs, it doesn't take +long to put 'em on.' + +It was a very quiet dinner party. The two Bolivick boys were away at +the front, and Lorna was the only one of the children at home. Sir +Thomas and Lady Bolivick were there, but beyond Norah Blackwater, +Edgecumbe and I were the only guests. + +It was evident to me that Edgecumbe was an entire stranger to Norah +Blackwater. Her face did not move a muscle at his appearance; and +although he sat next to her at table, she seemed to find no interest in +his conversation. He was very quiet during dinner, and although Sir +Thomas tried to draw him out, and make him describe some of the scenes +through which he had passed, he was peculiarly reticent. + +As I sat at the opposite side of the table, I was able to watch his +face closely, and I could not help being impressed by the fact that, +although he was very quiet, he was evidently under great excitement. I +saw, too, that sometimes for seconds together he, forgetful of Norah +Blackwater, would gaze steadily at Lorna Bolivick, as though she +fascinated him. I was afraid Sir Thomas did not like him, and as +presently the conversation led to our experiences at the front, I +determined that, although Edgecumbe might feel uncomfortable, I would +show the baronet the kind of man he really was. + +'Talking about tight corners,' I said, 'I got out of one of the +tightest corners ever I was in, in a peculiar way.' + +'Do tell us, Captain Luscombe,' cried Lorna, who had evidently been +uncomfortable under Edgecumbe's gaze. 'We have heard nothing about +your experiences, and I should like to hear something.' + +'It's a story of how one Englishman took thirty Germans prisoners,' I +said with a laugh. + +'One Englishman took thirty German prisoners!' cried the squire. 'Good +old English bull-dog! But how did he do it? Man, it's impossible!' + +'Nothing is impossible to a man who keeps his head cool, and has a +ready wit,' was my answer. I thereupon, without mentioning Edgecumbe's +name, described how I had been taken prisoner, and how I found myself +in the German trenches. + +'But how did you get out of such a hole as that?' cried the squire. + +'As I told you,' I said, 'I found myself with my sergeant in a huge +dug-out with thirty Germans. Of course our position was apparently +hopeless. They had got us, and meant to keep us. I had been +unconscious for a long time owing to a nasty knock I had got, and +therefore I was tremendously surprised when I presently heard an +English voice talking to the Germans. Evidently another English +prisoner had been brought in.' + +'Then you were three against thirty,' laughed the squire. + +'Three against thirty if you will,' I replied, 'but only one in +reality. I was no good, and my sergeant had no other hope than to be +buried in a German prison. The new-comer, however, evidently meant +business. All the time the English guns were booming, and our +explosives were tearing the Boches' trenches to pieces. As it +happened, we were too deep for them to reach us, although the danger +was that we might be buried alive. That gave this chap, whose face I +could not see, his chance, and he began to tell the Germans what idiots +they were to stay there in imminent danger of death, when they could +get to safety. He described the jolly times which German prisoners had +in England, and of the absolute certainty of their being licked on the +battle-field. Of course at first the Germans laughed at him, but he +went on talking, and in a few minutes he had got every one of them to +surrender.' + +'But that's impossible!' cried the squire. + +'It's a fact,' I said. 'Never in my life had I realized the effect +which a cool, courageous man could have upon a crowd of men. Call it a +miracle if you like,--indeed I always shall think of it as a +miracle,--but without once losing his nerve, or once revealing the +slightest lack of confidence, he worked upon the fears and hopes of +those Boches in such a way that he persuaded them to follow him, and +give themselves up in a body as prisoners. It was one of the most +amusing things you ever saw in your life, to see this one man lead +those thirty Boches, while they held up their hands and cried +"Kamerad."' + +'By George, sir!' said the squire, 'that's great, great, sir! No one +but an Englishman could do a thing like that. Ah, the old country is +the old country still! But who was he, an officer or a private?' + +'A private,' I replied. + +'And he rescued you, and took the whole thirty Huns as prisoners? By +Jove, I should like to know that man! Is he alive now?' + +'Very much alive,' I laughed. + +'Where is he, then?' + +I nodded my head towards Edgecumbe, who all the time had been sitting +in silent protest. + +But my story had done its work. The squire's apparent dislike was +over, and, acting upon the generous impulse of the moment, he started +to his feet and rushed to Edgecumbe's side. + +'Give me your hand, sir,' he cried; 'I am proud to know you, proud to +have you sitting at my table!' + +What Edgecumbe would have said, I do not know. He had been protesting +all the time as much as a man could protest with his eyes, and I knew +that like all men of his class he hated to have such deeds dragged into +the light of day, although I had done it with a set purpose. But as it +happened, there was no need for him to say anything. At that moment +the butler came behind Lady Bolivick's chair and spoke to her. + +'Captain Springfield!' she cried, 'and Charlie Buller. Oh, I am so +glad. Charlie's evidently better, then. He wrote, telling me, when I +asked him to come over to-night, that he was afraid he wouldn't be well +enough.' + +I do not know why it was, but at that moment I looked towards Lorna +Bolivick, and I saw her face flush with excitement. Evidently the +mention of the new-comers' names meant a great deal to her. + +Then I looked at Edgecumbe, and I saw that he too had been watching her. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +A NEW DEVELOPMENT + +Charlie Buller, as Lady Bolivick had called him, was a young fellow +about twenty-four years of age, and was first lieutenant in the +Devonshire yeomanry. He had been wounded in France, and some time +before my return to England had been in a hospital in London. Only a +few days before he had been discharged from the hospital, and had now +returned to his Devonshire home on leave. He was the only son of a +squire whose lands joined those of Sir Thomas Bolivick, and was, as +Norah Blackwater told me during the evening, a suitor for Lorna +Bolivick's hand. + +'I think it is as good as settled,' she said to me, 'although no +engagement has been announced. He will be a splendid match for her, +too, and owns one of the finest estates in Devonshire. Didn't you see +how excited Lorna became when she heard that he had come?' + +This was the first time I had seen Springfield since I had helped +Edgecumbe to dig him from under a heap of rubbish in France. + +They had both dined early, they said, and the night being fine, had +motored over, Charlie Buller's home being only four miles from Bolivick. + +Buller was a good-looking boy, fresh-coloured, curly-haired, and +although in no way remarkable, quite likeable. Springfield I liked +less now than when I had first seen him. His face looked paler and +less wholesome than ever. The old scar which I had noticed on our +first meeting revealed itself more plainly, while his somewhat sinister +appearance repelled me. + +Sir Thomas, however, gave him a hearty greeting, and welcomed him to +his house with great cordiality. Sir Thomas had dined well, and was by +this time in great good humour. + +'This is splendid!' he cried, 'four men in khaki here all together! +Ah, don't I wish my boys were at home to complete the party! But +there, never mind, please God they'll come back.' + +Springfield was introduced to Edgecumbe as though he were an entire +stranger, and neither of them gave the slightest indication that they +had ever met before. I wondered, as I saw them, whether Springfield +had been aware of the name of the man who had, in all probability, +saved him from death. I did not quite see how he could have been +ignorant of it, and yet, from the way he greeted Edgecumbe, it might +have been that he was in entire ignorance. + +But one thing was evident to me. He hated him, and what was more, +feared him. I could see his face quite plainly, and there was no +mistaking the look in his eyes. The conversation I had heard while +lying in that copse in France months before flashed back to my mind, +and I knew that in some way the life of Captain Springfield was linked +to that of Edgecumbe, and that if the truth were known evil forces were +at work. What they were, I could not divine, but that they existed I +had no doubt whatever. + +I soon realized, too, that he exercised a great influence over young +Buller. That ruddy-faced, fair-haired young fellow was but as wax in +his hands. There seemed no reason why I should be disturbed at this, +but I was. I was apprehensive of the future. + +Another thing struck me, too. In a way, which I could not understand, +he was wearing down Lorna Bolivick's former repugnance to him. As my +readers may remember, she had greatly disliked him at their first +meeting, and had told me in confidence that he made her think of +snakes. Now she listened to him eagerly, and seemed fascinated by his +presence. I had to admit, too, that the fellow talked well, and +although he was anything but an Apollo in appearance, he possessed a +charm of manner which I could not deny. + +I must confess that I felt angry at this. In spite of my admiration of +his strength, I disliked him intensely. I was sure he wore a mask, and +that some dark mystery surrounded his life. So angry was I, that I +determined if possible to turn the tables upon him. And so, at the +close of one of his stories, I broke in upon the conversation. + +'Yes, Captain Springfield,' I said, 'what you say is quite true. The +quiet heroism shown by fellows whom the world regarded as entirely +commonplace is simply wonderful, and a great deal of it has never come +to light. By the way, you wouldn't have been here to-night but for the +heroism of a man whose action you seem to have forgotten.' + +'Is that so?' he asked. 'It is quite possible, although I am not aware +of what you are thinking.' + +'Surely you must be aware of it?' I replied. + +He looked at me curiously, as though he were in doubt whether I was +friendly disposed towards him. + +'I wish you'd tell me exactly what you mean,' he said. + +'Surely you are aware of what happened to you, and why you were sent to +hospital, and why you are home on sick leave now?' + +'To tell you the truth, I know precious little,' he replied. 'All I +remember is the shriek of a shell, the noise of ten thousand thunders, +absolute blackness, and then coming to consciousness in a hospital.' + +'Then you don't know what happened between the noise of the ten +thousand thunders and awaking in the hospital?' + +'No,' he replied, 'I don't. I do remember inquiring, but I was told to +be quiet, and when, on my becoming stronger, I was removed to the base, +no one seemed to be able to tell me what had happened to me. I should +be jolly glad to know. Perhaps you can tell me'; and there was a +suggestion of a sneer in his voice. + +'Yes,' I replied, 'I can.' + +By this time there was a deathly silence in the room. In a way which I +had not imagined I had changed the whole atmosphere of the place. + +'As it happened,' I said, 'I had a curious experience myself, close to +where you were. A shell had exploded not far from me, and I was half +buried, besides receiving a tremendous shock. I managed to drag myself +out from under the _debris_, however, and was in a confused kind of way +trying to find my men. You know what an awful day that was; the +Germans had located us to a nicety, and were sending tons of explosives +on us. It was one of the hottest times I have ever known.' + +'Heavens! it was,' he said, and I thought he shuddered. + +'We had passed the Germans' first line,' I continued, 'and I was +struggling along in the open, hardly knowing what I was doing, when I +saw some men whom I thought I recognized. I heard the awful whine of a +shell, which fell close by, and it was not a dud. It exploded with a +tremendous noise, and for some time I was wellnigh blinded by dust and +sulphurous smoke. A great hole had been torn in the ground, and a huge +heap of rubbish hurled up. After a bit I saw a man digging as if for +very life. He was right out in the open, and in the greatest danger a +man could be. The men who were still alive shouted to him to get into +the shell-hole, but he went on digging.' + +I was silent for a few seconds. I did not know how best to conclude +the story. + +'Well, what happened?' he asked. + +'He dug you out,' I replied. + +'How do you know it was I?' + +'Because I helped to carry you to a place of safety.' + +'By Jove! I knew nothing about it. But who was the chap who dug me +out? I should like to know.' + +'Surely you know?' + +'I told you I was unconscious for several days,' was his answer, 'and +when I asked questions, was told nothing. Who was the chap who dug me +out? I--I should like to thank him.' + +'He is there,' I replied, nodding towards Edgecumbe, who seemed to be +deeply interested in Bairnfather's _Five Months at the Front_. + +'What!' he cried. 'Did--did----' The sentence died in an +unintelligible mutter. He seemed to utter a name I could not catch. +All the time I was watching him intently, and never shall I forget the +look that passed over his face. He had been very pale before, but now +his pallor was ghastly. For a moment he looked almost like a dead man, +save for the gleam in his eyes. He was like one struggling with +himself, struggling to obtain the mastery over some passion in his own +heart. + +It was some seconds before he spoke again, and then, in spite of my +dislike for him, I could not help admiring him. The sinister gleam +passed away from his eyes, and a look of seemingly great gladness came +into his face. A second later, he had crossed the room to where +Edgecumbe was. + +'I say, Edgecumbe,' he said, 'was it you who did that for me?' and he +held out his hand with frank heartiness. + +'Did what?' asked Edgecumbe quietly. + +'What--what Luscombe has been talking about. You heard, of course?' + +For a moment Edgecumbe looked at him awkwardly. For the second time +during that evening I had subjected him to an experience which he hated. + +'I wish Luscombe wouldn't talk such rot,' he replied; 'after all, it +was nothing.' + +'Oh, but it was!' was Springfield's reply. 'Give me your hand, +man,--you saved my life. The doctors told me afterwards I had a near +shave, and--and--there, you understand, don't you?' + +Seemingly he was overcome with emotion, and for some time he lapsed +into silence. The others in the room were greatly moved, too--too +moved to speak freely. There were none of those effusive +congratulations which might seem natural under the circumstance. In a +way the situation was dramatic, and we all felt it. + +Although he promised to come over on the following day, he seemed very +subdued as he bade us good night, though I thought he struggled to +speak naturally. It was only when he parted with Edgecumbe, however, +that he showed any signs of emotion. + +'Good night,' he said, as he grasped his hand. 'I shan't pretend to +thank you. Words fail, don't they? But I shall never forget you, +never--never; and if ever I can pay you back----' + +He stopped short, and seemed to be struggling to say more, but no words +escaped him. A minute later he had left the house. + + +I had barely entered my room that night, when Edgecumbe knocked at the +door which led from his apartment to mine. 'May I come in?' he asked. + +I opened the door, and scarcely noticing me he staggered to an +arm-chair, and threw himself into it. + +'I want to tell you something,' he said. + +'Well, what is it?' + +But he did not speak. He sat staring into vacancy. + +'Come, old man,' I said, after a lapse of many minutes, 'what is it?' + +'If I weren't sure there was another life,' was his reply, 'I--I should +go mad.' + +'Go mad! Why?' + +'Because this life is such a mockery, such a ghastly, hollow mockery!' + +'Don't be silly. Why is it a mockery?' + +'I don't suppose you can understand,' he said, 'not even you. Oh, I am +a fool!' + +'How has that fact so suddenly dawned on you?' I asked with a laugh. + +'I was mad to come here, mad to see her. Why, just think,--here am I, +without name, without home, without--without anything! But how did _I_ +know! Am _I_ to blame? I couldn't help falling in love with her.' + +'Falling in love with her! With whom?' + +'You must know; you must have seen. It is driving me mad, Luscombe! I +would,--I would,--oh, God knows what I would do to get her! But think +of it! Think of the ghastly mockery of it! There she is, young, fair, +beautiful, a fit mate for the best in the world, and I--think of what I +am! Besides, there's that man,--I know him,--I know him, Luscombe.' + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +A TRAGIC HAPPENING + +I must confess I was staggered. The thought of Paul Edgecumbe falling +in love had never entered my mind. I do not know why it should have +been so, but so it was. He had seemed so far removed from all thoughts +of the tender passion, and had been so indifferent to the society of +women, that to think of him falling in love at first sight seemed pure +madness. But I did not doubt his words; the intensity of his voice, +the look in his eyes, the tremor of his lips, all told their tale. Of +course it was madness, but the fact was patent enough. + +'You can't be serious,' I said, although I knew I was speaking +foolishly. + +'Serious! It's a matter of life or death with me. Besides, there's +that man. I know him, I say,--I know him.' + +'Of course you know him,' I replied. 'You saved his life, and pretty +nearly got killed yourself in doing it.' + +'I wish I had been. But no, I don't; He must never have her, Luscombe, +never! It would be a crime, and worse than a crime. Why, he is----' +Then he stopped again, and with wild eyes seemed staring into vacancy. + +'Come, come,' I said, 'this won't do. He has no thoughts about Lorna +Bolivick.' + +'Did he tell you so?' + +'Of course he didn't; there is no reason why he should; but Miss +Blackwater told me it was as good as settled that she should marry +young Buller.' + +'No, the danger doesn't lie there. Why, you could see that, if you had +eyes. Didn't you watch him while he was talking during the early part +of the evening?--didn't you see how he looked at her? He's a bad man, +I tell you! Have you ever seen a serpent trying to fascinate a bird? +I have--where I don't know, but I have. He was just like that, and she +yielded to his fascination, too; you must have noticed it! Buller is a +nonentity, just a harmless, good-natured, weak boy. He could be a tool +in another man's hands, though,--Springfield could make him do +anything.' + +He did not look at me while he spoke; he seemed to be staring at some +far distant object. + +'You say you know Springfield,' I said; 'what did you mean by that?' + +'I mean,--I have met him before somewhere.' + +'Where?' + +'I don't know. I only know I have. Do you remember that time over in +France, when he made that strange noise?' + +I nodded. + +'It was an old Indian cry. It was a cry that always means vengeance. +It was he who made it,--do you remember? Afterwards I saw his face. I +knew then I had seen him somewhere, but where, I don't know. Oh, if +only this thick veil of the past could be turned aside, and I could +see! Oh, if I could only remember!--but I can't. I tell you, that man +knows me--he remembers. Did you watch his eyes when he looked at me? +And I am helpless, helpless!--and she is so young, so beautiful, so +pure. I can't understand it at all, and yet, when I saw her this +evening for the first time, as she stood in the doorway with the light +of the setting sun upon her face---- I am so helpless,' he continued. +'I can do nothing. Besides----' + +As I have said, I had learnt to love Paul Edgecumbe, and although I +realized his madness as much as he did, I wanted to lift the weight of +care from his life. + +'If what you told me some months ago is true, there is no room for +despair,' I urged. + +'What did I tell you?' + +'You told me you had found a great secret,' I replied; 'that you had +become sure of Almighty God. If that is true, there is no room for +hopelessness; despair's out of the question.' + +He sat quietly for a few seconds, and then leapt to his feet. 'You are +right,' he said; 'there is no chance in the world, there is no such +thing as luck. I can't explain it a bit, but there isn't. God never +makes a mistake. After all, I could not help falling in love with her, +and my love has a meaning. Of course she is not for me,--I am not +worthy of her; but I can defend her, I can see that no harm happens to +her. Yes, I see, I see. Good night, Luscombe, I--I want to be alone +now'; and without another word he passed back into his own room. + +The next day was Saturday, and we spent the morning roaming through the +countryside around Bolivick, and climbing a rugged tor which lay some +distance at the back of the house. + +As we neared the house after our long morning's walk, Lorna Bolivick +broke out abruptly: 'I am disappointed in your friend, Captain +Luscombe.' + +'Why?' I asked. + +'I don't know. I think I admire him--in fact I am sure I do. He +possesses a strange charm, and, in a way, he's just splendid. But why +does he dislike me?' + +'Does he dislike you?' I asked. + +'Can't you see? He avoids me. When for a few minutes we are together, +he never speaks.' + +'That doesn't prove he dislikes you.' + +'Oh, but he does! He acts so strangely, too.' + +'You must make allowances for him,' I said. 'You must remember his +history. He told you last night that you were the first lady he ever +remembered speaking to. It seemed an extravagant statement, but in a +way it is true. What his past has been I don't know, but since I knew +him his life has never been influenced by women. Think what that means +to a man! Besides, he is sensitive and shy. I can quite understand +his being uneasy in your presence.' + +'Am I such an ogress, then?' And she looked into my face with a laugh. +'Besides, why should he be sensitive about me?' + +'Might not his peculiar mental condition make him afraid of offending +you?' I asked. 'Of course it is not for me to say, but I can quite +understand his being very anxious to impress you favourably. And +because he thinks he is awkward, and uninteresting, he is afraid to be +natural, and to act as he would like to act.' + +'I wish you could let him know,' said Lorna in her childlike +outspokenness, 'that I admire him tremendously. I had no idea he had +been such a hero. The way he saved Captain Springfield was just beyond +words. Oh, it must have been horrible for you all!' + +'In a way it was,' I replied. 'But do you know, in spite of the horror +of everything, most of the men look upon it as great sport. You are +altering your opinion of Captain Springfield, aren't you?' + +'How do you know?' And I saw that her face flushed. + +'When we met him over at Granitelands, you told me that he made you +think of snakes.' + +'Yes, but I was silly, and impulsive. Even you can't deny that he is +fascinating. Besides, I always admire mysterious, strong men.' + +'Will you promise me something, Lorna?' I ventured after an awkward +silence. + +'Of course I will if I can. What is it?' + +But I had not time to tell her; we had come up to the house at that +moment, and I saw both Springfield and Buller, who had come over to +lunch, hurrying towards us. + +Our greetings were scarcely over, when Edgecumbe and Norah Blackwater +came up. Immediately Springfield saw them a change came over his face. +He had met Lorna Bolivick with a laugh, but as he saw Edgecumbe the +laugh died on his face, while the scar on his cheek became more +pronounced. + +As far as I can remember, nothing of special note happened during the +afternoon, but in the evening, just before dinner, I saw a ghastly +pallor creep over Edgecumbe's face, and then suddenly and without +warning he fell down like one dead. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +A MYSTERIOUS ILLNESS + +Of course Edgecumbe's sudden illness caused great commotion. Nearly +every member of the family was present at the time, and confusion +prevailed. Buller asked foolish questions, I was nearly beside myself +with anxiety, Sir Thomas hazarded all sorts of guesses as to the reason +of his malady, Norah Blackwater became nearly hysterical, while Lorna +Bolivick looked at him with horror-stricken eyes. + +The only two persons who seemed to retain their senses were Captain +Springfield and Lady Bolivick. The former suggested that in all +probability it was a sudden attack resulting from the life he had led +in India, and also suggesting that a doctor should be sent for at once, +while Lady Bolivick summoned the servants to carry him to bed +immediately. Both of these suggestions were immediately acted on. A +groom was dispatched to the nearest doctor, who lived at South +Petherwin village, while a few minutes later Edgecumbe lay in bed with +a look of death upon his face. + +The whole happening had been so sudden, that I was unable to view it +calmly. That morning he had looked more than usually well, so well +that I could not help reflecting how much younger he appeared than on +the day when I had first seen him. He had taken a long walk, too, and +showed not the slightest sign of fatigue on his return. He had eaten +sparingly, and had drunk nothing but water with his lunch, and a cup of +tea at four o'clock. Yet at half-past six he had the stamp of death +upon his face, he breathed with difficulty, and his features were drawn +and haggard. + +As I sat by his side, watching him until the doctor came, I remembered +that for perhaps an hour before his attack he was very silent, and had +moved around as though he were lacking in energy, but I had thought +little of it at the time. Now, however, his condition told its own +tale. To all appearances, he was dying, and we were all powerless to +help him. + +Of course dinner, as far as I was concerned, was out of the question, +although, as I was afterwards informed, Captain Springfield made an +excellent meal. + +It was nearly eight o'clock when the doctor arrived, and never surely +was a man greeted with more eagerness than I greeted him. For, as I +have already said, I had grown to love Edgecumbe with a great love; why +it was, I will not pretend to explain, but no man ever loved a brother +more than I loved him, and the thought of his death was simply horrible. + +Perhaps the suddenness of everything accounted for my intense feeling; +anyhow, my intense anguish cannot be explained in any other way. + +Dr. Merril did not inspire me with any great hope. He was a +middle-aged man of the country practitioner's type. I judged that he +could be quite useful in dealing with ordinary ailments, but he did not +strike me as a man who looked beneath the surface of things, and who +could deal successfully with a case like Edgecumbe's. Evidently no +particulars of the case had been given to him, and from the confident +way I heard him talking to Sir Thomas, who brought him up to the room, +he might have been called in to deal with a child who had a slight +attack of measles. + +When he saw Edgecumbe, however, a change passed over his face. The +sight of my friend, gasping for breath, with what looked like +death-dews on his agonized face, made him think that he had to deal +with a man in his death agony. + +A few minutes later I altered my opinion of Dr. Merril. He was not so +commonplace, or so unobservant as I had imagined. He examined +Edgecumbe carefully, and, as I thought, asked sensible questions, which +Sir Thomas and Lady Bolivick, both of whom had come into the room, +answered readily. Although he did not speak to me, he doubtless +noticed how interested I was in his patient, and more than once I saw +that he looked at me questioningly. + +'I admit I am baffled,' he said at length. + +I took this as a good sign as far as he was concerned; anyhow, he was +not a man who professed to be wise, while he was in actual ignorance. + +'I gather from what you say,' he went on, speaking to Sir Thomas, 'that +Captain Luscombe knows most about him.' + +'That is so, Merril,' replied Sir Thomas. 'I have explained to you the +circumstances under which he came here.' + +'That being so,' and the doctor spoke very gravely, 'I think it would +be best for you all to leave me, except Captain Luscombe.' + +'There is something here beneath the surface,' said Dr. Merril when we +were alone, 'something which I cannot grasp. Can you help me? +Evidently you have been thinking a great deal.' + +'I have,' I replied. + +'As far as I can judge, he has sufficient vitality to keep him alive +for a few hours. I should judge him to be a man of remarkable +constitution and great physical strength.' + +'You are quite right there. His power of endurance is extraordinary.' + +'What I can't understand,' said the doctor, 'is that there is no +apparent cause for this, and yet there is some force of which I am +ignorant undermining the very citadel of his life. I have never met +such a case before, and unless help comes, he will die in less than +twelve hours. I am speaking to you quite frankly, Captain Luscombe; +from what I know of you, you are quite aware of the limitations of a +medical man's power, and my experience during the time I have lived in +this district has not been of a nature to help me in such a case as +this. Will you tell me what you know of your friend?' + +As briefly as I could, I gave an outline of what I have written in +these pages, while the doctor, without asking a single question, +listened intently. + +'You say he does not drink?' he asked, when I had finished. 'He gives +not the slightest evidence of it, but it is necessary for me to know.' + +'Intoxicants have not passed his lips for more than a year,' I replied. + +'And his food?' + +I detailed to him the food which Edgecumbe had eaten since he came to +the house, and which he had partaken of in common with the rest of the +members of the household. + +'And you have been with him all the day?' + +'All the day.' + +'And you say you thought he became somewhat lethargic about five +o'clock?' + +'That is so. Not enough to take particular note of at the time, but in +the light of what has happened since, I recall it to mind.' + +'Now think,' he said presently, 'has he not, say since lunch, shown any +symptom of light-headedness or anything of that sort?' + +'Thank you for asking that, doctor,' I replied. 'You have reminded me +of something which I had forgotten. It may mean nothing, but at a time +like this one reflects upon the minutiae of life. We were walking +through a field this afternoon, which was dotted with rough granite +rocks. I fancy he must have hitched his foot in one of them; at any +rate, he would have fallen heavily but for Captain Springfield, who +just in the nick of time helped him up. But he showed no signs of +light-headedness, not the slightest. We were all acting like a lot of +children, and romped as though we were boys home from school. The +happening seemed perfectly natural to me at the time, and but for your +question I should not have mentioned it.' + +'I am going to speak to you in an entirely unprofessional way, Captain +Luscombe,' said the doctor. 'I am not sure, and therefore I speak with +hesitation. But it looks to me as though your friend had been +poisoned. I don't know how it could have happened, because, as far as +I can judge, you account for almost every minute of his time since this +morning. But all his symptoms point in that direction.' + +'May they not be the result of some slow-working malady which has been +in his system for years?' I asked. + +Dr. Merril shook his head. 'Hardly,' he replied; 'if the malady were +slow-working, it would not have expressed itself so suddenly. In the +case of a slow-working poison, too, his suffering would have been of a +long drawn-out nature. This is altogether different. A few hours ago +he was, according to your account, active, buoyant, strong. He was +playing games with you in the fields, as though he were a boy. +Now,'--and the doctor looked significantly at the bed. + +'Can you suggest nothing?' I asked again. + +The doctor shook his head. 'It is just as well to be frank,' he +replied. 'The thing is a mystery to me. His symptoms baffle me. He +has drunk nothing but what you have told me of, he has eaten nothing +except what has been consumed by the whole household. I don't know +what to say.' + +'And yet he'll die if nothing's done for him.' + +'If symptoms mean anything, they mean that,' he replied. 'Something +deadly is eating away at his vitals, and sapping the very foundations +of his life. You see, he can tell us nothing; he is unconscious.' + +'Is there no doctor for whom we could send, with whom you could confer?' + +Again Dr. Merril shook his head. 'We are away from everything here,' +he replied; 'it is fifty miles to Plymouth over rough, hilly roads, +and----' + +'I have it!' I cried, for the word Plymouth set my mind working. I had +spent some time there, and knew the town well. + +'Yes, what is it?' asked the doctor eagerly. + +'Do you happen to know Colonel McClure? He is chief of the St. +George's Military Hospital in Plymouth.' + +'An Army doctor,' said Merril; 'no, I don't know him. I have heard of +him. But how can he help? He has been most of his life in India. I +imagine, too, that while he may be very good for amputations and +wounds, he would have no experience in such cases as this. Of course I +shall be glad to meet him, if you can get him here; but that seems +impossible. No trains to Plymouth to-night, and to-morrow is Sunday.' + +'May I ring for Sir Thomas?' I asked. + +'By all means.' And a minute later not only Sir Thomas, but Lady +Bolivick, again entered the room. Evidently the old gentleman was much +moved. The thought of having a dying man in his house was like a +nightmare to him. + +'There's no getting to Plymouth to-night!' he cried. + +'Haven't you got a motor-car here?' + +'Yes, but no chauffeur. My car hasn't been used for weeks, as my man +has been called up. That is why I am obliged to use horses for +everything. You see, my coachman can't drive a car.' + +'Didn't Springfield and Buller come in a car?' I asked. + +'Yes. But if I remember right, it was in a two-seater.' + +'Never mind what it is, as long as it will get to Plymouth. Let us go +and speak to them.' + +We found the two men with Lorna Bolivick and Norah Blackwater in the +library. They had evidently finished dinner, and Springfield was in +the act of pouring a liqueur into his coffee as I entered. + +'How is the patient?' he asked almost indifferently. + +'Very ill indeed,' I replied. 'Unless something is done for him soon, +he will die. Could you,' and I turned to Buller, 'motor to Plymouth, +and fetch a doctor I will tell you of? I will give you a note for him.' + +'Awfully sorry,' said Buller, 'but I daren't drive. My left leg is so +weak that I couldn't work the clutch. Springfield had to run us over +here to-day. There's barely enough petrol to take us back, either.' + +'I have plenty of petrol,' interposed Sir Thomas. + +'I could never get that little bassinette of yours to Plymouth +to-night!' broke in Springfield. 'You see, I am still suffering from +my little stunt in France, and I am as weak as a rabbit. Besides, +Buller's machine isn't fit for such a journey.' + +'My car is all right,' cried Sir Thomas. 'But I can't drive, and I +haven't a man about the place who can.' + +'Do you know the road to Plymouth?' I asked Buller. + +'Every inch of it,' he replied. + +'Then I'll drive, if you will go with me to show me the way.' + +I felt miserable at the idea of leaving Edgecumbe, but there seemed no +other way out of it. + +'Surely you will not leave your friend?' interposed Springfield. 'He +may not be as bad as you think, and to-morrow the journey could easily +be managed.' + +'It is a matter of life and death,' was my reply. 'Merril says that +unless something is done for him at once there is no hope for him.' + +'What does he think is the matter with him?' + +I did not reply. Something seemed to seal my lips. I saw +Springfield's features working strangely, while the scar under his +right ear was very strongly in evidence. + +'Look here,' he said, as if with sudden decision, 'it's a shame for you +to leave your friend under such circumstances. If Sir Thomas will lend +his car, I will drive to Plymouth. You just write a letter, Luscombe, +giving your doctor friend full particulars, and I'll drag him here by +the hair of the head, if necessary.' + +I had not time to reflect on his sudden change of front, and I was +about to close with the offer, but something, I cannot tell what, +stopped me. + +'It's awfully good of you,' I said, 'but I think I'll go myself, if +Buller will go with me to show me the way.' + +I found Dr. Merril, who had been giving some instructions as to things +he wanted, and I led him aside. + +'You will keep near Edgecumbe, won't you?' I said hurriedly. 'Don't +let any one but Sir Thomas and Lady Bolivick enter the room. I have +particular reasons for asking this.' + +'What reasons?' And I could see he was surprised. + +'I can't tell you, but I don't speak without thought. Perhaps later I +may explain.' + +A few minutes later I had started for Plymouth. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +A STRANGE NIGHT + +'I say, Luscombe, you're a nice fellow to drag one out in the middle of +the night in this way!' + +Colonel McClure had just entered the room where I had been shown. + +'I wouldn't have done it without reason,' I said. 'I have travelled +fifty miles to-night to get to you, and I want you to come with me to Sir +Thomas Bolivick's at once.' + +'Sir Thomas Bolivick? I don't know him. Why should I come with you?' + +'At any rate, hear what I have to say, and then judge for yourself.' + +He listened attentively, while I told him my story. At first he seemed +to think lightly of it, and appeared to regard my visit to him as the act +of a madman; but when I related my conversation with Dr. Merril, I saw +that his face changed colour, and his eyes contracted. + +'Tell me the symptoms again,' he said abruptly. + +I described to him as minutely as I was able everything concerning my +friend, and then, without asking another question, he unlocked a cabinet, +took out a number of things which were meaningless to me, and put them in +a bag. + +'Go and get your car started again,' he said, 'and wait for me.' + +In an incredibly quick time, he had made himself ready for the journey, +and insisted on taking his seat by my side. + +'You sit behind,' he said to Buller, so peremptorily that he seemed like +a man in anger. Then turning to me, he said, 'Drive like blazes!' + +For the first hour of our return journey, he did not speak a word. He +was evidently in deep thought, and his face was as rigid as marble. +Then, suddenly, he began to ask questions, questions which at first +seemed meaningless. He asked me to describe the scenery around Bolivick, +and then he questioned me concerning Sir Thomas Bolivick's household, +after which he asked me to give him details concerning every member of +the family. + +'Have you made up your mind concerning the case?' I asked presently. + +'How can I tell until I have examined the man?' + +'But you heard what I have told you?' + +'And you have told me nothing.' + +'It seems to me I have told you a great deal, and I tell you this, +McClure,--if it is within human skill to save him, you must.' + +'Aren't I taking this long, beastly midnight journey,' he replied, like a +man in anger, 'do you think I am doing this for fun? I say, tell me more +about this Edgecumbe; it is necessary that I should have full +particulars.' + +After I had described our meeting, and our experiences in France, he +again sat for some time perfectly silent. He took no notice of what I +said to him, and did not even reply to direct questions. But that he was +thinking deeply I did not doubt. + +'That's South Petherwin church,' I said, as the car dashed through the +village; 'it's only a mile or two now.' + +'That Dr. Merril seems a sensible chap. You say you asked him to admit +no one into the room but Sir Thomas and Lady Bolivick. Why?' + +'I hardly know,' I replied. 'I think I acted on impulse.' + +'A very good thing, sometimes.' And after that he did not speak another +word till we reached the house. + +When I entered Edgecumbe's room I found him still alive, but weaker. I +noticed that a kind of froth had gathered around his mouth, and that his +eyes had a stony stare. He was still unconscious, and had not uttered a +coherent sentence since I had left. + +'Will every one kindly leave the room except Dr. Merril?' And Colonel +McClure looked towards Sir Thomas and Lady Bolivick as he spoke. + +'Do you wish me to go too, Colonel?' I said. + +'I think my words were plain enough,' and he spoke like a man in a temper. + +'I suppose every one has gone to bed,' I remarked to Sir Thomas. + +'No, Lorna is still up. She is a silly girl,--of course she can do no +good.' + +'And Captain Springfield?' + +'He left about midnight. He asked to be allowed to see the patient, but +Merril wouldn't let him go into the room. I thought he behaved to the +captain like a clown.' + +'In what way?' + +'Well, Springfield's a clever fellow, and has seen many curious cases of +illness while he has been in the East. He said that Edgecumbe's +condition reminded him of the illness of an orderly he once had, and +wanted to tell Merril about him. But doctors are all the same, they all +claim to be autocrats in a sick-room. My word, Luscombe, you must have +had a weary night. My advice to you is to go to bed immediately.' + +'Not until I have heard McClure's report.' + +When we came into the library, we found Buller and Lorna Bolivick there. +I thought the young squire seemed anxious and ill at ease, while Lorna +was much excited. On seeing me, however, she asked eagerly for news of +Edgecumbe. + +'There is nothing to tell as yet,' I replied. 'By the way, how did +Springfield get home?' + +'Oh, he took the car.' + +'And how did he imagine that Buller was to get back?' + +'I expect he forgot all about Charlie,' was the reply, 'but--he seemed +rather excited, and insisted that he must return at once. Charlie will +have to stay here until daylight, and then some one can drive him over.' + +As may be imagined, after driving a heavy car for over a hundred miles at +night-time, I was dead tired, but I offered to run Buller home. The +truth was, I was in such a state of nervous tension that I could not +remain inactive, and the thought of sitting still while McClure and +Merril consulted about my friend's condition drove me to madness. + +'Will you?' asked Buller. 'I--I think I should like to get back,' and I +could see that he also was nervous and ill at ease. + +'I can get you to your place in a few minutes,' I said, 'and by the time +I get back I hope the doctors will have something to tell us.' + +A few minutes later, as we were moving rapidly to Buller's house, I said +abruptly, 'Was it not rather strange that Springfield should take your +car?' + +'I suppose it was,' he replied, 'but he is a funny fellow.' + +'What do you know about him?' I asked. + +'There is not much to know, is there?' and he spoke hesitatingly. 'The +Army List will give you full particulars of his career. I believe he has +spent most of his time abroad.' + +'I have neither had time nor opportunity to study Army Lists. How long +was he in India?' + +'Not long; only two or three years, I think.' + +'Is he any one in particular?' I asked. + +I could see by the light of the moon, which was now high in the heavens, +that the young fellow looked at me attentively, as though he was trying +to read my motive in asking these questions. + +'I think he expects to be,' was his reply; 'he is as poor as a church +mouse now, but St. Mabyn says he is heir to a peerage, and that he will +have pots of money some time.' + +'What peerage?' + +'I really never asked him. It--it wasn't quite my business, was it? He +isn't the sort of chap to talk about himself.' + + +Sir Thomas was still up when I got back to the house, and the sight of +his face struck terror into my heart. He, who was usually so florid, +looked positively ghastly. His flesh hung loosely on his cheeks, while +he was very baggy around the eyes. + +'Have you heard anything?' I asked. + +'I don't know, I am not sure,' he replied, 'but I think it is all over.' + +'All over! What do you mean?' + +'As soon as you had gone, I sent my wife and Lorna to bed. I wouldn't +have them stay up any longer. You see, they could do no good.' + +'Have you seen the doctors?' + +'No. But I was frightfully nervous, and I crept up to the door of +Edgecumbe's room. I heard them talking together.' + +'What did they say?' + +'I could detect nothing plainly, but I am sure I heard one of them say, +"It's all over." Oh, it is positively awful! I never had such a thing +happen in my house before. Please don't think I blame you, Luscombe; you +didn't know that such a thing would happen when you brought him here. +But the thought of a guest dying in my house is--is--don't you see----?' + +'I am going to know the worst, anyhow,' I said, for, although I quite +understood his feelings and was naturally upset at the thought of my +being the occasion of his trouble, it was as nothing compared with my +anxiety about my friend. + +I therefore abruptly left him, and rushed upstairs to Edgecumbe's room. +I knocked, but receiving no answer I went in. + +'How is he?' I asked. + +Neither of them spoke, and from the look on their faces I judged that my +worst fears were realized. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +COLONEL McCLURE'S VERDICT + +I moved quickly towards the bed, and in the dim light of the lamp which +stood near saw that a change had come over my friend's face. A look of +perfect peace and tranquility had taken the place of anguish. + +'Tell me,' I cried, 'he isn't dead, is he?' + +'He is out of pain, at all events,' and Colonel McClure spoke abruptly. + +Unmindful of what they might say, I went close to Edgecumbe, and gazed at +him steadily. As far as I could judge, there was no sign of life. + +'Have--have you done anything for him?' I said, turning to the doctors. +But neither of them spoke. They might have been waiting for something. + +I noticed that Edgecumbe's hands were lying on the coverlet almost easily +and naturally. Why I should have done it, I cannot tell, but I seized +the lamp and held it close to them. They did not look like the hands of +a dead man. In spite of everything, there was a suggestion of nervous +energy in the long, capable-looking fingers. Then I put down the lamp, +and took one of the hands in mine. + +'He is alive,' I said; 'the right hand is warm, and it is not rigid.' + +Still the doctors did not speak, but each looked at the other as if +questioningly. They did not appear to resent my action; perhaps they +made allowances for my anxiety; both of them knew how dear he was to me. + +Then something struck me. I saw that one of his hands, although both +were browned by exposure and hardened by labour, was different in colour +from the other. + +'Have you noticed that?' I said. + +'Noticed what?' + +'That his left hand is slightly blue. You can see it beneath the tan.' + +'By gad, you are right!' It was Colonel McClure who whispered this +excitedly, and I saw that my words had a meaning to him. What was in his +mind I could not tell, but that he was thinking hard I was sure. + +'He isn't dead,' I said excitedly; 'I am sure he isn't!' And again I +took his left hand in mine, and lifted it. Then I saw something else. +It was very little, but it meant a great deal to me. I remembered how +that morning Edgecumbe had been using a pair of Indian clubs, and had +rolled up his shirt sleeves. I had remarked to myself at the time the +wonderful ease with which he had swung the clubs, and what perfectly +shaped arms he had. They were large and hard, and firm, without a mark +of any sort. Now, just below the elbow, in the lower part of the arm, +was a blue spot. It was so small that it might have been covered by a +threepenny-piece, and in the dim light of the lamp would not be easily +seen. + +'Did you see this? Did you do it?' I almost gasped. + +Colonel McClure examined the spot closely, and then nodded to Dr. Merril. + +'Did you see this, Merril?' he asked. + +'No,' replied Dr. Merril excitedly. 'As you know you--you----!' He +stopped suddenly like one afraid. + +Colonel McClure took a powerful glass from his case and examined the spot +closely for some seconds. Then he said to his fellow doctor, evidently +with satisfaction, 'By gad, we've done the right thing!' + +'What does it mean?' I asked. 'Tell me.' + +'I will tell you in an hour from now,' and I saw a new light in the +colonel's eyes. Then I heard him mutter to himself, 'I was an ass to +have missed that.' + +I put my hand upon Edgecumbe's forehead; and I could have sworn that it +was warm and moist. The moisture was different from the clammy sweat +which had poured out on his face when first we had brought him to bed +hours before. + +Excitedly I told the doctors of my impression, and then McClure commanded +me to stand aside, as if I were an interloper. Although I believe the +old military doctor was as excited as I, he made no sign, save that his +lips moved as if he were talking to himself. + +'Do you know what it means?' I asked, as he left the bed. + +'It means that you must get out of this,' he replied gruffly. + +'I won't,' I answered, for I had wellnigh lost control over myself. +Something, I could not tell what, made me sure that an important change +was taking place in my friend's condition, and I forgot all about the +etiquette of a sick-room. The experiences through which I had passed, my +long, midnight journey, together with the feverish anxiety under which I +was suffering, made me forget myself. + +'I am his only friend,' I went on, 'and I have a right to be here, and I +have a right to know everything. What is it? What have you done?' + +Scarcely realizing what I was doing, I went to the window and pulled up +the blinds. Day was breaking, the sky was clear, and the eastern horizon +was tinged with the light of the rising sun. In the light of the +new-born day, the lamp looked sickly and out of place. I remember, too, +that it made a strange impression upon me; it seemed as though light were +fighting with darkness, and that light was being triumphant. + +'Don't be an ass, Luscombe,' said the Scotchman; 'I will tell you +everything presently, but can't you see that----' + +'I can see that he's going to live,' I interrupted. 'His face is more +natural; it doesn't look so rigid. I believe there is colour coming into +his lips.' + +'Find your way into the kitchen, there are some servants there, and bring +some hot water immediately.' + +For the next hour, I scarcely remember anything that happened. I imagine +that I was so excited that my experiences left no definite impress upon +my brain. I have indistinct remembrances of alternating between hope and +despair, between joy and sorrow. I remember, too, that I was called upon +to perform certain actions, but to this day I do not know what they were. +I was more like an automaton than a man. + +At the end of the hour, however, Colonel McClure accompanied me into my +bedroom, which, as I have said, adjoined that of Edgecumbe. + +'We've done it, my boy,' he said, and I noted the satisfaction in his +voice. + +'He will live, then?' + +He nodded. 'Barring accidents, he will. But it's a mystery to me.' + +'What is a mystery?' + +'I hardly like to tell you. But you are no hysterical woman, and you +have a steady head on you. Until an hour and a half ago, I was acting in +the dark, acting blindly. Even now I have no proof of anything. You say +your friend was in India?' + +'I have told you all I know,' was my answer. + +'I spent twelve years there,' went on the colonel. 'A great part of the +time I was with native regiments, and I have had some peculiar +experiences. India's a strange country, and in many things the people +there can teach us Westerners a lot. Look here, why did you come for me?' + +'Instinct,' I replied. + +'But instinct has a basis in reason.' + +'Has it? I am not enough of a psychologist to answer that question. +Tell me why you are asking me all this.' + +'Because I am afraid to tell you what is in my mind. Do you remember +what Merril said?' + +'Yes,' I replied; 'he said that according to symptoms my friend had been +poisoned. But he didn't see how it could possibly be, and he said that +the case was completely beyond him.' + +'Exactly. When I went into that room, I of course had your words in my +mind. India has a hundred poisons unknown to the West, many of them are +subtle, almost undiscoverable. I called to my mind what I had learned in +India, what I had seen and done there. Frankly, I don't understand your +friend's case. Had it been in India, I should have understood it, and +what was possible, ay, what would have amounted to certainty there, was +utterly impossible in England--at least, so it seemed to me. But I acted +on the assumption that I was in India.' + +'You mean that you injected an antidote for a poison that you know of?' I +ventured. + +He looked at me steadily for a few seconds, but he did not speak. + +'Now look here, Luscombe,' he said, after a long silence, 'I hesitated to +tell you this, because it is a serious business.' + +I nodded. + +'You see,' he went on, 'we are not in the realm of proof. But as sure as +I am a living man, if your friend was poisoned, some one poisoned him, +unless he had a curious way of trying to commit suicide.' + +'He didn't try to commit suicide,' I replied. + +'You remember that mark in the arm?' + +I nodded. + +'In another hour it will be gone. If he had died, it would not be there. +I was a blind fool not to have seen it. I examined his arm just before +we came in here,--the discolourment has nearly passed away. In an hour +there'll be only a little spot about the size of a pin-prick. Do you +feel free to tell me anything of your suspicions? Remember, they can +only be suspicions. There can be no possible proof of anything, and even +although you may have drawn conclusions, which to you are unanswerable, +you might be committing the cruellest crime against another man by +speaking them aloud.' + +'Then I'll not tell you my suspicions,' I said. 'I will only recount +certain incidents.' + +Then I told him the things I remembered. + +Colonel McClure looked very grave. + +'No,' he said, at length, 'this is something which we dare not speak of +aloud. I must think this out, my boy, so must you, and when our minds +are settled a bit we can talk again.' + +When we returned to Edgecumbe's room, my friend was sleeping almost +naturally, while the relief of every member of the household, who had all +been informed of Edgecumbe's remarkable recovery, can be better imagined +than expressed. + +'Have the doctors told you what is the matter with him?' asked Sir Thomas +eagerly. + +'No,' I replied; 'perhaps they are not sure themselves.' + +'But they must know, man! I gather that they performed a certain +operation, and they wouldn't do that without some definite object.' + +'The ways of doctors are very mysterious,' I laughed; 'anyhow, we are +thankful that the danger is over. Merril tells me that Edgecumbe is +sleeping quite naturally, while McClure is quite sure that in a few hours +he will awake almost well.' + +'But that seems impossible, man! A few hours ago he despaired of his +life, and now----' + +'The great thing is he is better,' I interrupted. I did not want the old +baronet to have the least inkling of my suspicion. After all, I could +prove nothing, and indeed, as McClure had said, it might be a crime to +accuse any man of having anything to do with Edgecumbe's illness. + +During the time I had been in the Army, I had heard of cases of men +losing their memory, and of a sudden shock bringing their past back to +them. I wondered if this would be so in Edgecumbe's case. Might not the +crisis through which he had passed, the crisis which had brought him +close to the gates of death, tear aside the veil which hid his past from +him? Might not the next few hours reveal the mystery of his life, and +make all things plain? + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +EDGECUMBE'S RESOLVE + +Some hours later I saw Colonel McClure again. He had become so +interested in Edgecumbe's case, that he refused to go back to Plymouth +until he was certain that all was well; and although Dr. Merril had left +early that morning, in order to attend to his patients, he had arranged +to meet him at Bolivick later. + +'It's all right, Luscombe. Your friend's talking quite naturally with +Merril. He is rather weak, but otherwise he's splendid.' + +'May I see him?' I asked eagerly. + +'Oh, yes, certainly.' + +When I entered the bedroom, I found Edgecumbe sitting up in bed, and +although he looked rather tired, he spoke naturally. + +'I can't understand why I'm here,' he said, with a laugh, 'but I suppose +I must obey orders. I was tremendously surprised about half an hour ago +when on awaking I saw two men who told me they were doctors, and who +seemed frightfully interested in my condition.' + +Dr. Merril went out of the room as he spoke, leaving us together. + +'Has anything particular happened to me, Luscombe? You needn't be afraid +to tell me, man; I am all right.' + +'Have you no remembrance of anything yourself?' I said. + +'Nothing, except that I was attacked by a horrible pain, and that I +became blind. After that I think my senses must have left me, for I can +remember nothing more.' + +I looked at him eagerly. I remembered Colonel McClure's injunction, and +yet I was more anxious than I can say to ask him questions. + +'Did you feel nothing before the pain?' + +'I felt awfully languid,' he replied, after a few seconds' silence, 'but +nothing more.' + +He lifted himself up in the bed, and I could not help noticing that his +face looked younger, and that his skin was almost natural. The old, +parched look had largely passed away; it might have been as though a new +and rejuvenating force had entered his system. + +'Springfield and I are in for a big battle.' + +I wondered whether he knew anything of my suspicions, and whether by some +means or another the thoughts which haunted not only my mind, but that of +Colonel McClure, had somehow reached his. + +'Springfield means to have her, but I am not going to let him.' + +'You are thinking about Miss Bolivick,' I said. + +'Who else?' And his face flushed as he spoke. 'When I saw her first, I +was hopeless, but now----' + +'Yes, now,' I repeated, as I saw him hesitate, 'what now?' + +For the moment I had forgotten all about his illness. I did not realize +that I might be doing wrong by allowing him to excite himself. + +'Buller is not the danger,' he cried; 'he is but a puppet in +Springfield's hands. There's something between that man and me which I +can't explain; but there's going to be a battle royal between us. He +means to marry Lorna Bolivick. In his own way he has fallen in love with +her. But he shall never have her.' + +'How are you going to stop him?' I asked. + +I saw his lips quiver, while his eyes burnt with the light of resolution. + +'Surely you do not mean,' I went on, 'that you hope to marry her?' + +'I not only hope to,--I mean to,' he said. + +I was silent for a few seconds. I did not want to hinder his recovery, +by saying anything which might cause him to despair, but the thing which +had been born in his mind seemed so senseless, so hopeless, that I felt +it would be cruel on my part to allow him to entertain such a mad feeling. + +'Surely you have not considered the impossibility of such a thing,' I +said. + +'Nothing's impossible,' he cried. + +'But do you not see the insuperable barriers in the way?' + +'I see the barriers, but they must be swept aside. Why, man!' and his +voice became stronger, 'when I awoke a few hours ago, and saw those two +doctor chaps, I was first of all bewildered, I could not understand. +Then it suddenly came to me where I was, in whose house I was staying, +and in a flash I realized everything. As I said, when I saw her first, I +despaired; but no man who believes in God should despair. I tell you, +the thought of it means life, health, strength, to me! I have something +great to live for. Why, think, man, think!' + +'I am thinking hard,' I replied. 'I need hardly tell you, Edgecumbe, +that I am your friend, and that I wish you the best that you can hope +for. It seems cruel, too, after what you have gone through, to try to +destroy the thought which is evidently dear to you, but I must do it.' + +'But I love her, man!' and his voice trembled as he spoke. 'When I saw +her standing in the doorway, as we drove up the other night, she was a +revelation to me,--she made all the world new. One look into her eyes +was like opening the gates of heaven. Do you realize what a pure soul +she has?--how beautiful she is? She is a child woman. She has all the +innocence, all the artlessness of a child of ten, and all the resolution, +and the foresight, and the daring of a woman. She seemed to me like a +being from another world, like one sent to tell me what life should be. +She made everything larger, grander, holier, and before I had been in her +presence five seconds I knew that I was hers for ever and for ever.' + +'It is because she is so pure, and so innocent, that you should give up +all such thoughts at once,' I said. + +'But why should I? Tell me that.' + +'You will not think me harsh or unkind?' + +'I shall not think anything wrong,' and he laughed as he spoke. 'I will +tell you why. Nothing can destroy my resolve.' + +'My dear fellow,' I said, 'evidently you don't realize the situation.' + +'Well, help me to realize it; tell me what you have in your mind.' + +'First of all, a woman's love may not be won easily,--it may be she cares +for some one else.' + +'I will make her love me!' he cried; 'she will not be able to help +herself. She will see that my love for her fills my whole being, and +that I live to serve her, protect her, worship her.' + +'Many men have loved in vain,' I replied; 'but, assuming for the moment +that you could win her love, your hopes would be still as impossible as +ever.' + +'Rule out the word impossible. But tell me why you believe it is so.' + +'First of all, Lorna Bolivick is a young lady of position, she is a child +of an old family, and when she marries she will naturally marry into her +own class.' + +'Naturally; but what of that? Am I not of--of her class?' + +'Doubtless. But face facts. You have not a penny beyond your +pay;--would it be fair, would it be right of you, to go to such a girl as +she, reared as she has been, and offer her only poverty?' + +'I will make a position,' he cried enthusiastically. 'I'm not a fool!' + +'How? When?' I asked. + +'For the moment I don't know how, or when,' he replied, 'but it shall be +done.' + +'Then think again,' I went on, 'you could not marry her without her +parents' consent, and if they know your purposes they would close their +doors against you. Fancy Sir Thomas Bolivick allowing his daughter to +marry a man with only a subaltern's pay!' + +'Number two,' he replied with a laugh; 'go on,'--and I could see that he +regarded my words as of no more weight than thistledown. + +'Yes, that is number two,' I replied. 'Now to come to number three. Do +you think that you, alone, are strong enough to match yourself with your +rivals?' + +'You mean Buller and Springfield? I have told you what I think about +Buller; as for Springfield, he's a bad man. Besides, if I am poor, is he +not poor, too? He's only a captain.' + +'Buller tells me he's the heir to a peerage,' I replied, 'and that when +somebody dies he will come into pots of money. And whatever else you may +think about him, he is a strong man, capable and determined. If you are +right about him, and you think there's going to be a battle royal between +you two, you will have a dangerous enemy, an enemy who will stop at +nothing. But that is not all. The greatest difficulty has not yet been +mentioned.' + +'What is that?' + +I hesitated before replying. I felt I was going to be cruel, and yet I +could not help it. + +'You have no right to ask any woman to be your wife,' I urged--'least of +all a woman whom you love as you say you love Lorna Bolivick.' + +'Why?' and there was a tone of anxiety in his voice. + +'Because you don't know who you are, or what you are. You are, I should +judge, a man thirty years of age. What your history has been you don't +know. Possibly you have a wife somewhere.' + +I was sorry the moment I had uttered the words, for he gave a cry almost +amounting to agony. + +'No, no,' he gasped, 'not that!' + +'You don't know,' I said; 'the past is an utter blank to you; you have no +recollection of anything which happened before you lost your memory, +and----' + +'No, no, not that, Luscombe. I am sure that if I ever married, if I ever +loved a woman, I should know it,--I should feel it instinctively.' + +'I am not sure. You say you have no memory of your father or mother; +surely if you remembered anything you'd remember them? Now suppose,--of +course it is an almost impossible contingency, but suppose you won Lorna +Bolivick's consent to be your wife; suppose you obtained a position +sufficiently good for Sir Thomas and Lady Bolivick to consent to your +marrying her; and then suppose your memory came back, and the whole of +your past were made known to you, and you discovered that there was a +woman here in England, or somewhere else, whom you married years ago, and +whom you loved, and who had been grieving because of your loss? Can't +you see the situation?' + +I could see I had impressed him. Instead of the light of resolution, +there was a haunting fear in his eyes. + +'I had not thought of that,' he murmured. 'Of course it is not so,--I am +sure it is not so. Still, as you say, it would not be fair to submit her +to a suspicion of danger.' + +'Then of course you give up the thought?' + +'Oh, no,' he replied. 'Of course I must think it out, and I must meet +the situation; but I give up nothing--nothing.' + +As I rose to leave him, McClure stood in the door of the bedroom and +beckoned to me. + +'Springfield and Buller are downstairs,' he whispered to me; 'they have +come to lunch. Can you manage to get a chat with the fellow? It seems +horrible to have such suspicions, but----' + +'Yes, I understand,' I replied, noting his hesitation. + +'If what is in both our minds has any foundation in fact,' he went on, +'Edgecumbe should be warned. I hate talking like this, and it is just +horrible.' + +'I know what you feel,' I said, 'but what can we do? As we both have to +admit, nothing can be proved, and it would be a crime to accuse an +innocent man of such a thing.' + +'Yes, I know; but the more I have thought about the matter, the more I am +sure that--that--anyhow, get a chat with him. I must get back to +Plymouth soon, but before I go you and I must have a further talk. This +thing must be bottomed, man, must! I'll be down in a minute.' + +I made my way toward the dining-room, forming plans of action as I did +so. I had by this time made up my mind concerning Springfield. Whether +he were guilty of what Colonel McClure had hinted at, I was not sure, but +a thousand things told me that he both feared and hated my friend. How +could I pierce his armour, and protect Edgecumbe at the same time? + +When I entered the dining-room, he and Lorna Bolivick were talking +together. I watched their faces for a few seconds unheeded by them. I +do not know what he was saying to her, but she was listening to him +eagerly. In some way he had destroyed the instinctive feeling of +revulsion which he had created in her mind months before. She seemed +like one fascinated; he held her as though by a strong personality, a +strange fascination. There was no doubt in my mind, either, that +although he had come to Devonshire as the guest of young Buller, he was a +rival for Lorna Bolivick's hand. As much as such a man as he could love +a woman, he loved Lorna Bolivick, and meant to win her. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +SPRINGFIELD'S PROGRESS + +After lunch, I got my chance of a few minutes' chat with Springfield. I +think I managed it without arousing any suspicions; certainly he did not +manifest any, neither did he appear in the slightest degree ruffled when +I talked with him about Edgecumbe's strange illness. + +'You have been in India, I think, Springfield?' I said. + +'Who told you that?' + +'I have almost forgotten. Perhaps it was St. Mabyn, or it might have +been Buller. Were you there long?' + +'A couple of years,' he replied. 'I was glad to get away, too. It is a +beastly part of the world.' + +'I asked,' I said, 'because Edgecumbe had just come from India when I +first saw him, and I was wondering whether you could throw any light upon +his sudden illness.' + +'My dear chap, I'm not a doctor. What does McClure say?' + +'He's in a bit of a fog,' I replied, 'so is Merril.' + +'Doctors usually are,' he laughed. 'For my own part, I think that a +great deal of fuss has been made about the whole business. After all, +what did it amount to?' + +'It was a very strange illness,' I replied. + +'Was it? Certainly the fellow was taken bad suddenly, and he fell down +in a sort of fit, but that is nothing strange.' + +'It is to a man whose general health is as good as that of Edgecumbe.' + +'Yes, but India plays ducks and drakes with any man's constitution,' he +replied. 'You see, you know nothing about Edgecumbe, and his loss of +memory may be a very convenient thing to him.' + +'What do you mean? + +'I mean nothing, except this: Edgecumbe, I presume, has been a man of the +world; how he lost his memory--assuming, of course, that he _has_ lost +it--is a mystery. But he has lived in India, and possibly, while there, +went the whole hog. Excuse me, Luscombe, but I have no romantic notions +about him. He seems to be on the high moral horse just now, but what his +past has been neither of us know. As I said, life in India plays ducks +and drakes with a man's constitution, especially if he has been a bit +wild. Doubtless the remains of some old disease is in his system, +and--and--we saw the results.' He lit a cigarette as he spoke, and I +noticed that his hand was perfectly steady. + +'Is that your explanation?' I asked. + +'I have no explanation,' he replied, 'but that seems to me as likely as +any other.' + +'Because, between ourselves,' I went on, 'both McClure and Merril think +he was poisoned.' + +He was silent for a few seconds, as though thinking, then he asked quite +naturally, 'How could that be?' + +'McClure, as you know, was an Army doctor in India,' I said. + +'Well, then, if any one ought to know, he ought,' and he puffed at his +cigarette; 'but what symptoms did he give of being poisoned?' + +I detailed Edgecumbe's condition, his torpor, and the symptoms which +followed. + +'Is there anything suggestive of poisoning in that?' he asked, like a man +curious. + +'McClure seems to think so.' + +'Of course he may be right,' he replied carelessly, 'but I don't know +enough about the subject to pass an opinion worth having. All the same, +if he were poisoned, it is a wonder to me how he got well so quickly'; +and he hummed a popular music-hall air. + +'The thing which puzzles McClure,' I went on, 'and he seems to know a +good deal about Indian poisons, is the almost impossibility of such a +thing happening here in England. He says that the Indians have a trick +of poisoning their enemies by pricking them with some little instrument +that they possess, an instrument by which they can inject poison into the +blood. It leaves no mark after death, but is followed by symptoms almost +identical with those which Edgecumbe had. During the time the victim is +suffering, there is a little blue mark on the spot where the injection +was made.' + +I looked at him steadily as I spoke, trying to see whether he manifested +any uneasiness or emotion. But he baffled me. I thought I saw his lips +twitch, and his eyes contract, but I might easily have been mistaken. If +he were a guilty man, then he was the greatest actor, and had the most +supreme command over himself, of any one I had ever seen. + +'And did you find such a mark on your friend?' he asked, after a few +seconds' silence. + +'Yes,' I replied, 'close to the elbow.' + +He showed no emotion whatever, and yet I could not help feeling that he +was conscious of what was in my mind. Of course this might be pure +imagination on my part, and I do not think any detective of fiction fame +would have gained the slightest inkling from his face that he was in any +way connected with it. + +Springfield took his cigarette case-from his tunic, and extracted another +cigarette. 'It seems a bit funny, doesn't it? but I don't pretend to +offer an explanation. By the way, will he be well enough to go back to +duty when his leave is up?' + +'I don't know,' I replied. 'McClure will have to decide that.' + +'I should think you will be glad to get rid of him, Luscombe.' + +'Why?' I asked. + +'The fellow seems such an impossible bounder. Excuse me, but that is how +he struck me.' + +'You didn't seem to think so when you thanked him for saving your life,' +was my reply. + +'No, of course that was different'; and his voice was somewhat strained +as he spoke. 'I--I ought not to have said that, Luscombe. When one man +owes another his life, he--he should be careful. If I can do the fellow +a good turn, I will; and since in these days anybody can become an +officer in the British Army, I--I----' He stammered uneasily, and then +went on: 'Of course it is different when you have to meet a man as an +equal in a friend's house. But there,--I must be going. I have to get +back to town to-night.' + +In spite of what I had said to Edgecumbe, I was angry at seeing that +Springfield spent two hours that afternoon with Lorna Bolivick. There +could be no doubt about it, the fellow had broken down all her antagonism +towards him, and was bent on making a good impression on her. I found, +too, that Sir Thomas Bolivick regarded him with great favour. By some +means or another, the news had come to him that Springfield was a +possible heir to a peerage, and that while he was at present poor, he +would on the death of a distant relative become a very rich man. This +fact had doubtless increased his interest in Springfield, and perhaps had +lessened his annoyance at the fact that Lorna had failed to fall in with +his previous wishes concerning her. + +'Remarkably clever fellow.' he confided in me; 'the kind of man who makes +an impression wherever he goes. When I saw him at St. Mabyn's more than +a year ago, I did not like him so much, but he grows on one.' + +'By the way, what peerage is he heir to?' I asked. 'I never heard of it +until yesterday.' + +'Oh, he'll come into Lord Carbis's title and estates.' + +'Carbis? Then it's not an old affair?' + +'Oh no,--the present Lord Carbis was created a peer in 1890.' + +'A brewer, isn't he?' I asked. + +'Yes,' and I thought Sir Thomas looked somewhat uneasy. 'Of course there +are very few old peerages now,' he went on; 'the old families have a way +of dying out, somehow. But Carbis is one of the richest men in the +country. I suppose he paid nearly a million for the Carbis estates. +Carbis Castle is almost medieval, I suppose, and the oldest part of the +building was commenced I don't know how many hundreds of years ago. Oh, +Springfield will be in a magnificent position when the present Lord +Carbis dies.' + +'Beer seems a very profitable thing,' I could not help laughing. + +'Personally I have no prejudice against these beer peerages,' replied Sir +Thomas somewhat warmly. 'Of course I would prefer a more ancient +creation, but these are democratic days. If a man creates a great +fortune by serving the State, why shouldn't he be honoured? When you +come to think about it, I suppose the brewing class has provided more +peerages than any other during the last fifty years. Come now, +Luscombe,' and Sir Thomas looked at me almost angrily. + + +Just before Colonel McClure left, he drew me aside, and asked me if I had +spoken to Springfield, and on my describing our conversation, he looked +very grave. + +'I can't make it out, Luscombe,' he said. 'If my twelve years' +experience in India goes for anything, your friend Edgecumbe was +poisoned. He had every symptom of a man who had a subtle and deadly +poison injected into his blood. And the way he responded to the +treatment I gave him coincided exactly with what I have seen a dozen +times in India.' + +'Might it not be merely a coincidence?' I asked. + +'Of course almost anything is possible,' he replied, 'and I could not +swear in a court of law that he had been poisoned. I gather you are fond +of Edgecumbe,' he added. + +'Yes,' I replied; 'it may be it is owing to the peculiar circumstances by +which we were brought together, and from the fact that more than once he +saved my life. And no man could love his brother more than I love him.' + +'Then,' said Colonel McClure earnestly, 'watch over him, my friend; guard +him as if he were your own son.' + +I spent a good deal of time in Edgecumbe's room that night, but we +scarcely spoke. He was sleeping most of the time, and I was warned +against exciting him. The following day, however, he was quite like his +natural self, and expressed his determination to get up. As Colonel +McClure had encouraged this, I made no attempt to oppose him, and the +afternoon of the Monday being fine and sunny, we walked in the park +together. + +'Springfield's gone to London, hasn't he?' he asked. + +'Yes,' I replied; and then I blurted out, 'He spent yesterday afternoon +with Miss Bolivick. I am inclined to think you are right about his +intentions concerning her.' + +'Do you think he has spoken to her?' + +'I shouldn't be surprised, and for that matter I am inclined to think he +has had a serious conversation with her father.' + +I was almost sorry, when I saw the look on his face, that I had spoken in +this way. He became very pale, and his lips quivered as though he were +much moved. 'Of course,' I went on, trying to make the best of my _faux +pas_, 'it may be a good thing for you.' + +'Why?' he asked. + +'If he has been successful, it will make you see how foolish your +thoughts are.' + +'Do you know me so little as that?' he asked. + +'But surely, my dear fellow,' I said, 'in the face of what I said +yesterday, you will not think of entertaining such impossible ideas?' + +'You mean about my having a wife somewhere,' and he laughed. + +'I mean that, under the most favourable circumstances, no honourable man +could, in your position, ask a woman to marry him.' + +'I mean to ask her, though,' was his reply. + +'But, my dear fellow----' + +'Luscombe,' and there was a steady look in his eyes as he spoke, 'I have +thought it all out. Almighty God never put such a love in a man's heart +as He has put in my heart for Lorna Bolivick, to laugh at him. At the +very first opportunity I shall tell her everything.' + +'And if she refuses you,' I said, 'as most likely she will?' + +'I shall still love her, and never give up hoping and striving.' + +'You mean----?' + +'I mean that nothing will turn me aside from my determination, +nothing,--nothing.' + +'But supposing you have a wife,--supposing that when you were a boy, +before you lost your memory, you married some one, what then?' + +'Don't talk rubbish, old man,' was his reply. + +'After all,' I reflected that night when I went to bed, 'perhaps it is +best that he should speak to her. She will regard his declaration as +madness, and will tell him so. He never saw her until three hours ago, +and if, as I suspect, Springfield has fascinated her, she will make him +see what a fool he has been. Then he will give up his madness.' + +That was why I left them together the next day. All the same, there was +a curious pain in my heart as I saw them walk away side by side, for I +knew by the light in his eyes that he meant to carry out his +determination. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +A STRANGE LOVE-MAKING + +Few men tell each other about their love-making, especially Englishmen. +Mostly we regard such things as too sacred to speak about, even to +those we trust and love the most. Besides, there is something in the +character of the normal Englishman which is reserved and secretive, and +the thought of telling about our love-making is utterly repugnant to +us. Nevertheless, Edgecumbe told me the story of their conversation +that afternoon almost word for word as it took place. + +He spoke of it quite naturally, too, as though it were the right thing +to do. He looked upon me as his one friend, and perhaps the abnormal +condition of his life made him do what under other circumstances he +would never have thought of. Anyhow, he told me, while I listened +incredulous, but almost spellbound. + +They had been but a few minutes together, when he commenced his +confession. They had left the lane in which they had been walking and +were crossing a field which led to a piece of woodland, now beginning +to be tinged by those autumn tints which are so beautiful in our +western counties. + +It was one of those autumn days, which are often more glorious than +even those of midsummer. The sweetness and freshness of summer had +gone, and the browning leaves and shortening days warned us that winter +was coming on apace. But as they walked, the sun shone in a cloudless +sky. The morning had been gloomy and showery, but now, as if by a +magician's wand, the clouds had been swept away, and nothing but the +great dome of blue, illumined by the brightness of the sun, was over +them. The rain, too, had cleared the air, and the raindrops which here +and there still hung on the grass sparkled in the sunlight. + +'It seems,' said Edgecumbe, 'as though the glory of yonder woods is +simply defying the coming of winter. Do you see the colouring, the +almost unearthly beauty, of the leaves? That is because the sun is +shining on them.' + +'Yes;' replied Lorna, 'but the winter is coming.' + +'Only for a little while, and it only means that nature will take a +rest. It's a glorious thing to live, Miss Bolivick.' + +She looked at him earnestly for a few seconds. Perhaps she was +thinking of the illness through which he had passed, and of his +thankfulness at his recovery. + +'I am so glad you're better,' she said. 'We were all heart-broken at +your illness. I hope----' + +But she did not finish the sentence. Perhaps she saw that he was not +heeding what she said,--saw, too, that his eyes were far away. + +For a few seconds they walked on in silence. Then he turned towards +her suddenly. + +'I have something to tell you,' he said,--'something very wonderful.' + +'You look awfully serious,' and she gave a nervous laugh as she spoke; +'I hope it is nothing to frighten me.' + +'Perhaps it is,' he replied, 'but it must be said,--the words would +choke me if I didn't utter them.' + +She looked at him like one frightened, but did not speak. + +'It is all summed up in three words,' he went on: 'I love you. No, +don't speak yet; it would not be right. I never saw you until Friday +night,--that is, I have no ordinary remembrance of seeing you until +then. My friend had spoken to me about you; he had told me of your +interest in me. He showed me the letter you wrote him. I did not want +to come here, but something, I don't know what it was, made me. When I +saw you on Friday evening, I knew. You stood at the doorway of your +father's house, with the light of the setting sun upon your face. I +could not speak at the time,--words wouldn't come. No wonder, for life +begun for me at that moment,--I mean full life, complete life. When I +saw you, the world became new. You thought I acted strangely, didn't +you? I told you that I never remembered speaking to a woman until +then. In a way, of course, it was foolishness, although in another it +was the truth. My past is a blank,--that is, up to the time I awoke to +a realization that I lived, away in India; and since then my life has +been with men. But that wasn't what I meant. When I saw you, you were +the only woman in the world,--you are now. You are the fulfilment of +my dreams, longing, hopes, ideals. You are all the world.' + +The two walked on side by side, neither speaking for some time after +this. Perhaps Lorna Bolivick was frightened,--perhaps she was +wondering how she could at once be kind, and still make him see the +foolishness of what he had said. + +'I am glad you are silent,' went on Edgecumbe, 'for your silence helps +me. Do you know, when I came to England,--that is, when I saw Luscombe +for the first time, I had no thought of God except in a vague, shadowy +way. Something, I don't know what, had obliterated Him from my +existence,--if ever He had an existence to me, and for months +afterwards I never thought of Him. Then I went into a Y.M.C.A. hut in +France, where a man spoke about Him, and I caught the idea. It was +wonderful,--wonderful! Presently I found Him, found Him in reality, +and He illumined the whole of my life. I read that wonderful story of +how He sent His Son to reveal Him,--I saw His love in the life and +death of Jesus Christ,--and life has never been the same to me since +then. But something was wanting, even then; something human, something +that was necessary to complete life. Then I saw you, and you completed +it. + +'I don't know whether men call you beautiful, or not,--that doesn't +matter. You have not come into my life like an angel, but as a woman, +a human woman. I know nothing about you, and yet I know everything. +You are the one woman God meant for me, you fill my life,--you +glorify it. You mustn't think of marrying anybody else, it would +be sacrilege if you did. Such a love as mine wasn't intended to be +discarded,--mustn't be,--can't be.' + +'Mr. Edgecumbe,' she said quietly, 'I think we had better return to the +house.' + +'No, don't let us go back yet; there are other things I want to say'; +and he walked steadily on. She still kept by his side,--perhaps she +was not so much influenced by his words, as the way he said them, for I +knew by the look in his eyes when he told me his story, and by what I +felt at the recital of it, that there was a strange intensity, a +wonderful magnetism, in his presence. + +'I am very ignorant,' he continued presently, 'about the ways of the +world. I suppose I must have known at one time, for Luscombe tells me +that I generally do what might be expected of a gentleman, although +sometimes I make strange mistakes. The loss of one's memory, I +suppose, has a curious effect, and I cannot explain it to you. There +are certain things which are very real, and very plain,--others are +obscure. For example, I speak German perfectly; but until I read it a +few months ago, I knew nothing of German history. Forgive me for +saying that,--it has nothing to do with what I want to tell you, and +yet perhaps it has. Anyhow, it makes plain certain things I do and +say. You are going to be my wife----' + +'Really, Mr. Edgecumbe,--please,--please----' + +'You are going to be my wife,' he went on, as if she had not spoken; +'some day, if not now, you are going to wake up to the fact that you +love me, as I love you,--that just as you are the only woman in the +world to me, so I am the only man in the world to you. That is not +because of my worthiness, because I am not worthy, but because the fire +which burns in my heart will be kindled in yours. This seems like +madness on my part, doesn't it?--but I am not mad. I am only speaking +because of a great conviction, and because my love envelops me, fills +me, overwhelms me. Don't you see? Then this has come to me: I am +poor, I am nameless, homeless,--but what of that? Love such as mine +makes everything possible, and I am going to make a name, make wealth, +make riches;--it won't take me long. Why,' and he laughed as he spoke, +'what is a great love for, but to conquer difficulties, to sweep away +impossibilities?' + +'But this is madness, Mr. Edgecumbe,' replied the girl, finding her +voice at last. 'I can't allow you to speak in such a way any longer; +it would be wrong for me to do so. I do not wish to hurt you, and +indeed I am very sorry for you. I never thought that you would think +of me in this way; if I had, I would never have asked you to come here. +But you must see how impossible everything is; our habits of life, our +associations, everything, make it impossible. Besides, I don't love +you,--never can love you.' + +'Oh, yes, you can,' replied Edgecumbe, 'and you will. It may be you +will have a great battle to fight,--I think you will; but you will love +me. When I am away from you,--when I am over in France, facing death, +you will think of me, think of this hour, and you will remember that +wherever I am, and whatever I am, I am thinking of you, loving +you,--that my one object in life will be to win a position for you, to +win a name for you. No, no, do not fear that I would ask you to marry +me until, even in that sense, I am worthy of you. But you are young, +and can wait, and, as you remember, perhaps in the silence of the +night, that there is a man whom God made for you, thinking for you, +striving for you,--you will learn the great secret.' + +I fancy at that time Lorna Bolivick really thought his mind was +unhinged; I imagine, too, that she was afraid, because Edgecumbe told +me that a look amounting almost to terror was in her eyes. But he +seems to have taken no notice of this, for he went on. + +'You are thinking of other men who love you; that young fellow Buller +is very fond of you in his own way, and perhaps Springfield has also +made love to you. Perhaps, too, he has fascinated you. But that will +not stop you from loving me. Even if you have promised him anything, +you must give him up.' + +'Perhaps you will finish your walk alone, Mr. Edgecumbe,' she said. +'I--I am going back to the house.' + +'Not yet,' he replied. 'In a few minutes I shall have finished. I did +not expect you to be as patient as you have been, and I thank you. But +if you _have_ any thoughts about Springfield, you will give them up. +He is no fit mate for you; he is as far removed from you as heaven is +from hell.' + +At this she spoke passionately. 'You doubtless have forgotten many +things,' she said, 'and one thing is that one gentleman never speaks +evil of another.' + +'I say what I have to say,' he replied, 'because life, and all it +means, trembles in the balance. I do not pretend to know anything +about Springfield, although I have a feeling that his life and my life +have been associated in the past, and will be again in the future. But +let that pass. You may be fascinated by him, but you can never love +him,--you simply can't. Your nature is as pure as those raindrops, as +transparent as the sky. You love things that are pure and +beautiful,--and that man's nature is dark and sinister, if not evil. +There is only one other thing I have to tell you, then we will return. +You see,' he added, 'I am not asking you to promise me anything, or to +tell me anything,--I only want to tell you. I suppose I am about +thirty years of age, I don't know; how long ago it was that I lost my +memory I can't tell; but my friend Luscombe tells me that perhaps, when +I was younger than I am now--that is in those days which are all dark +to me--I loved some woman and married her. Of course I didn't. But +even when I have won a position worthy of you, and when my name shall +be equal to yours, I will never think of asking you to wed me until +even all possibility of suspicion of such a thing is swept aside. I +thought it right to tell you this; how could I help it,--when the joy +that should fill your life, the light which you should rejoice in, are +all the world to me?' + +'Mr. Edgecumbe,' she said, 'you are my father's guest, and--and--I want +to think only kind thoughts of you,--but please drive away these +foolish fancies.' + +He laughed gaily. 'Foolish fancies! Is the sun foolish for shining? +Are the flowers foolish for blooming? No, no; I love you,--I love you, +and day and night, summer and winter, through shine and through storm, +my one thought will be of you, always of you, and then, in God's good +time, you will come to me, and we shall enter into joy.' + +During the greater part of their journey back scarcely a word passed +between them, and when at length they drew near the house again, he +spoke to her of other things, as though his mad confession had never +been uttered. He told her of the books he was trying to read, books +which were new to him, and yet which he felt he had read before; told, +too, of his thought about the war, and what we were fighting for, and +what the results would be. He spoke of his friendship with me, and of +what it meant to him; of his new life in the Artillery, and of his +progress as a gunner, and when he came up to the door where I was +waiting anxiously for them, he was telling her a humorous story about +two soldiers at the front. Indeed, so much had he erased the influence +of what he had at first said to her, that when Lorna Bolivick reached +the house she was laughing gaily. + +'Had a pleasant walk?' I asked. + +'Wonderful,' replied Edgecumbe; 'a walk never to be forgotten.' + +As for Lorna, she went away to her room, and did not appear again until +dinner-time. + +That night Edgecumbe revealed himself in a new light. No other +visitors were there, with the exception of Miss Blackwater. That was +the reason, perhaps, he was able to speak freely, and act naturally. +But, certainly, I never knew him such a pleasant companion as then, and +he revealed phases of character which I had never suspected him of. +This man, who was often wistful, and generally strenuous in his +earnestness, became humorous and gay. Sometimes he was almost +brilliant in his repartees, and revealed a fund of humour which +surprised me. Sometimes he grew quite eloquent in discussing the war, +and in telling what he believed the effects would be on the life of men +and nations. He showed an insight into the deeper movements of the +times, which revealed him as a thinker of no mean order, while his +idealism and his patriotism were contagious. + +Whether he had a purpose in all this, I cannot say, but certain it is +he simply captivated the old baronet. + +'Dash it, man!' cried Sir Thomas to me, just before I went to bed, 'the +fellow is a genius. I never dreamed of such a thing! With luck, he'll +make his mark. He--he might do anything. Upon my word, I am sorry +he's going to-morrow. I thought on Saturday he was nothing but a +teetotal fanatic, but the fellow is wonderful. He has a keen sense of +humour, too. I wonder who and what he really is. It is the most +remarkable case I ever heard of in my life.' + +'For my own part,' I said, 'I almost dread his memory coming back.' + +'Why?' + +'There are times when a man's past had better be buried and forgotten.' + +'On the other hand,' broke in Sir Thomas, 'it may be the beginning of a +new life to him. Perhaps he has a name, wealth, position.' + +Lorna Bolivick, who was standing by, did not speak, but I could see +that her father's words influenced her. Perhaps she was thinking of +the mad confession which Edgecumbe had made that day. + +The next day we returned to London. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +'WHY IS VICTORY DELAYED? + +'The war still drags on, Luscombe.' + +'Yes, it still drags on,' and I looked up from the copy of _The Times_ +which I had been reading. 'They seem to have had bad weather at the +front. From what I can judge, the Somme push is practically at an end +for this winter, unless better weather sets in.' + +The train by which we travelled had just left Bristol, and would not stop +until we arrived in London. + +'Of course,' I went on, 'it will be Haig's policy to keep the Germans +busy all the winter, but I don't imagine that much more advance will be +made before spring comes.' + +'That will mean another winter in the trenches, with its ghastly toll of +suffering and sacrifice of human life.' + +'I am afraid so,' I said, 'but then we are at war.' + +'How long is this going to last?' and there was a note of impatience in +his voice. + +'Until the Germans are brought to their knees,' I replied, 'and that will +be no easy matter. When a nation like Germany has spent forty years in +preparation for war, it isn't easily beaten. You see they were piling up +mountains of munitions, while the Krupp's factories were turning out +thousands of big guns all the time we were asleep. Now we are paying the +price for it.' + +'The same old tale,' he laughed, 'big guns, explosives, millions of men.' + +'It must be the same old tale,' I replied. 'This is a war of exhaustion, +and the nations which can hold out longest will win.' + +'Then where does God come in?' he asked. + +I was silent. For one thing, I did not wish to enter into a religious +argument, and for another I scarcely knew what to say. + +'You know those words in the Bible, Luscombe,--"Some trust in horsemen, +some in chariots, but we will trust in the strength of the Lord our God." +How much are we trusting in God?' + +'It seems to me,' I replied, 'that God gives the victory to the biggest +and best equipped armies.' + +'That's blank materialism, blank atheism!' he cried almost passionately. +'We don't give God a chance, that is why we haven't won the war before +now.' + +I laughed good-humouredly, for even yet the mental attitude he had taken +up seemed to me almost absurd. + +'I see what you are thinking, but I tell you what,--the materialism of +the country is adding to this frightful welter of blood, to this ghastly +holocaust. The destinies of men and nations are not decided primarily by +big guns, or mighty armies, and until we, as a nation, get back to a +realization of the necessity of God, the war will drag on. As I told you +before, when I was up at Ypres, I was convinced that if big armies, and +big guns, and poison gas shells, could have won the war, Germany would +have won long ago. But she was fighting the devil's battle, she was +trusting in "reeking tube and iron shard,"--as Rudyard Kipling puts it. +That is why she failed. With such a cause as ours, and with such heroism +as our men have displayed, we should, if we had claimed the help of +Almighty God, have won long since.' + +'Nonsense, my dear chap.' + +'Look here,' he cried, 'on what, in your opinion, do we depend for +victory?' + +I was silent for a few seconds before replying. + +'On the mobilization of all our Empire's forces,' I replied, 'on steady, +persevering courage, and on the righteousness of our cause.' + +'But supposing our cause hadn't been righteous, what then?' + +I saw what was in his mind, but I did not feel like yielding to him. +'It's no use talking this high-falutin stuff, Edgecumbe,' I said. 'We +are at war, and war means in these days, at all events, big guns. It +means the utilization of all the material forces at our command.' + +'Then you believe more in a big army, and in what they call our +unconquerable Navy, than in Almighty God? Do you believe in God at all, +Luscombe?' + +'Of course I do,' I replied; 'I am no atheist. All the same, it is our +Navy which has saved us.' + +'Admiral Beatty doesn't believe that,' he replied, 'and if any man knows +what a navy can do, he does. Your position is identical with that of the +Germans. Why, man, if God Almighty hadn't been very patient with us, we +should have been beaten long ago. Germany's materialism, Germany's +atheism, German devilry has been our salvation as a nation. If the logic +of big guns had been conclusive, we should have been annihilated. That +chap Rudyard Kipling saw a long way into the truth.' + +'When? Where?' I asked. + +'When he wrote that _Recessional_: + + Far-famed, our navies melt away, + On dune and headland sinks the fire, + Lo, all the pomp of yesterday + Is one with Nineveh and Tyre. + God of the nations, spare us yet! + Lest we forget, lest we forget. + + +'And mind you, Kipling is a believer in force, and a believer in the +utilization of all the Empire's resources; but he sees that these things +are not enough. Why, man, humanly speaking, we stand on the brink of a +volcano.' + +'Nonsense,' I replied. + +'Is it nonsense? Suppose, for example, that the Germans do what they +threaten, and extend their submarine menace? Suppose they sink all +merchant vessels, and thus destroy our food supplies? Where should we be +then? Or suppose another thing: suppose Russia were to negotiate a +separate peace, and free all the German and Austrian armies in the East, +which I think is quite probable--should we be able to hold them up?' + +'Do you fear these things?' I asked. + +'I fear sometimes lest, as a nation, because we have forgotten God to +such an extent, He has an awful lesson to teach us. In spite of more +than two years of carnage and misery, we still put our trust in the +things which are seen.' + +'How do you know?' I replied. 'Aren't you judging on insufficient +evidence?' + +'Perhaps I am,' he answered. 'As you said some time ago, I know very +little about England or English life, but I am going to study it.' + +'How?' I asked with a laugh. + +'As far as I can see, I shall be some months in England,' he went on, +'and as it happens, my brigade is situated near London. And London is +the centre of the British Empire; it is at the heart of it, and sends out +its life-blood everywhere. I am going to study London; I am going to the +House of Commons, and understand the feeling of our Government. I am +going to the places of amusements, the theatres, the music-halls, and see +what they really mean in the life of the people. I am going to visit the +churches, and try to understand how much hold religion has upon the +people. I am going to see London life, by night as well as by day.' + +'You'll have a big job.' + +'That may be, but I want to know, I want to understand. You don't seem +to believe me, Luscombe, but I am terribly in earnest. This war is +getting on my nerves, it is haunting me night and day, and I cannot +believe that it is the will of God it should continue. Mind you, Germany +must be beaten, _will_ be beaten,--of that I am convinced. That verse of +Kipling's is prophetic of our future,--it cannot be otherwise. The +nation which has depended upon brute force and lies, must sooner or later +crumble; the country guilty of what she has been guilty of must in some +way or another perish,--of that I am sure. Else God is a mockery, and +His eternal law a lie. Some day Germany, who years ago longed for war, +brought about war, and gloried in her militarism, will realize the +meaning of those words: + + "Lo, all the pomp of yesterday + Is one with Nineveh and Tyre." + +But we are paying the price of our materialism, too. Do you remember +those words of our Lord, Who, when speaking to the Jews about the +Galileans of olden times, said, "Suppose ye that these Galileans were +sinners above all the Galileans, because they suffered such things? I +tell you, nay, but except ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish." It +is not pleasant to talk about, is it? but Rome and Byzantium fell because +of their impurities, and they seemed as firmly established as the seven +hills on which Rome stood. Germany will fall, because she has trusted +supremely in the arm of flesh, with all that it means. Primarily it is +righteousness that exalteth a nation, while the nation which forgets God +is doomed to perish.' + +'I might be listening to a Revivalist preacher,' I laughed, 'some Jonah +or Jeremiah proclaiming the sins of a nation. But seriously, my dear +fellow, do you think that because we do not talk so much about these +things, that we have of necessity forgotten them? Besides, we have been +sickened by the Kaiser's pious platitudes; he has been continually using +the name of God, and claiming His protection, even when the country he +rules has been doing the most devilish things ever known in history. I +think that is why we have been sensitive about using the name of God. +Perhaps the nation is more religious than you think.' + +'I hope it is,' he replied, 'for of this I am sure, the secret of a +speedy and triumphant victory lies in the fact of our nation being linked +to God. The question with me is,--Germany is doomed, because it has +depended, and is depending, on brute force. That poem of Kipling's +describes them exactly. He might have had them in his mind when he wrote: + + If drunk with thought of power, we loose + Wild tongues that have not Thee in awe, + Such boasting as the Gentiles use, + Or lesser breeds without the law. + +That is their history. The question is, isn't there a danger that it is +becoming our history too?' + +'One line describes them very well,' I laughed; 'certainly they belong to +the "lesser breeds without the law."' + +'I don't know. Just think of it,--Germany's defying the whole world. +Speaking from the standpoint of a military power, Germany has reason for +her boastfulness. For more than two years she has been holding back and +withstanding the greatest nations of the world. Humanly speaking, they +are a great people, but they are scientific savages. If ever a people +lived according to the doctrine that might is right, they have, and if +that doctrine could be proved to be true, they'd have done it. But their +creed is as false as hell, that is why they are doomed. But what of +England, man, what of England?' + +'You wouldn't have this war conducted in the spirit of a Revival meeting, +would you?' I laughed. + +'Why not? If it is God's war, it should be fought in the spirit of God. +We are fighting to destroy what is opposed to God's will, therefore we +should fight as He would have us fight. But here comes the question. Is +it the supreme conviction of the nation that we are fighting God's +battles? Is it the uppermost thought in our mind? I hate as much as any +man the hypocrisy of calling upon God, while doing the devil's work; but +are we not denuding ourselves of power by fighting God's battles as +though He didn't exist?' + +The train presently drew up at Paddington station, where we alighted. + +'Look, Luscombe,' said Edgecumbe, nodding towards an officer, 'there's +Springfield. I wonder what he's doing here?' + +'Don't let him see us, anyhow,' I said quickly. 'Come this way.' And I +hurried to the passage which leads towards the departure platform. + +'Why didn't you want him to see us?' he asked. + +I did not reply till we reached the restaurant, and then I spoke to him +gravely. + +'Edgecumbe,' I said, 'you were telling me just now that you intended to +study the life of London, and that you meant to go to all sorts of +places.' + +'Yes,' he replied, 'what then?' + +'Only this: take care of yourself, and don't let any one know what your +plans are.' + +'You must have a reason for saying that.' + +'I have. You have told me more than once about your feeling that you and +Springfield knew each other before you lost your memory.' + +'Yes,' he replied, 'what then?' + +'You say you had the feeling that Springfield was your enemy?' + +'Yes, but I have no proof. Sometimes I am ashamed of harbouring such +thoughts.' + +'Self-preservation is the first law of life,' I said sententiously. +'Think, Edgecumbe,--some one shot at you in France,--why? You say you +don't know that you have a single enemy in the world. Then think of your +recent illness.' + +'But--but----' and I saw a look of wonder in his eyes. + +'I only tell you to be careful,' I interposed. 'Don't let any one know +your plans, and whatever you do, don't have anything to do with +Springfield.' + +The words had scarcely passed my lips, when Springfield entered the room. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +'WHERE DOES GOD COME IN?' + +Springfield glanced around as if looking for a table, and then seeing us, +came up quickly and held out his hand. + +'Awfully glad to see you,' he said heartily. 'I came to meet Buller, who +I thought might be in your train. But as he wasn't there, and as I saw +you two fellows come across here, I thought I'd follow you. Left them +all well down in Devonshire?' + +There was no suggestion of restraint or _arriere pensee_ in his tones; he +spoke in the most natural way possible, and seemed to regard us as +friends. + +'I will join you, if I may,' he went on; 'I hate feeding alone. By the +way, what are you fellows doing to-day? If you have nothing on hand, you +might come on to my club.' + +'I am afraid I can't,' I replied; 'I am fixed up. As for Edgecumbe, he +has to get back to duty.' + +'I am at a loose end,' he went on. 'Of course there are hosts of men I +know in London; all the same, it's a bit lonely here. I am staying at +the----' and he mentioned a well-known military club. Then he looked at +us, I thought, suspiciously. + +'Was Miss Bolivick well when you left?' he asked. 'I--I am more than +ordinarily interested in her'; and he glanced at Edgecumbe as he spoke. +But Edgecumbe's face did not move a muscle. Evidently he had taken my +words to heart. + +For a few seconds there was an awkward silence. Then he went on: + +'Edgecumbe, I feel I owe you an apology. It was only after I had left +Devonshire that I fully realized what you had done for me. But for you, +I should be a dead man, and I want to thank you. I am not much given to +sentiment, I am not built that way, but believe me I am not ungrateful. +At the risk of your own life you saved mine, and I feel it deeply.' + +He spoke so earnestly, and there was such a ring of sincerity in his +voice, that I felt ashamed of myself for thinking of him suspiciously. +Still I could not forget the conversation which took place between him +and St. Mabyn months ago, neither could I rid my mind of what had taken +place since. + +'If I can be of any service to you,' he continued, 'I should like to +be,--I should really. I happen to know your colonel, and I'd like to see +more of you. If you will let me know how you are fixed, I will look you +up. You haven't any friends in London, have you?' + +'No,' replied Edgecumbe; 'no one excepting Luscombe.' + +'And you don't know London?' + +'I am afraid not. I have no memory of it, anyhow.' + +'Then let me show you around. I could introduce you to a lot of men, +too. You see, as an old Army man, I know the ropes.' + +'It's awfully good of you, Springfield,' I said; 'but really I don't +think Edgecumbe is your sort, and it would be a shame to bother you.' + +I felt awkward in saying this, because I spoke as though I were +Edgecumbe's guardian. To my surprise, however, Edgecumbe eagerly +accepted Springfield's offer. + +'I'll let you know when I am free,' he said, 'and then, as you say, you +can introduce me to some of the sights of London. But we must be off +now, Luscombe, I have some things to do.' + +'What do you mean by that?' I said, when we were alone. + +He laughed gaily. 'I am not such a simpleton as I look, old man. I am +able to take care of myself.' + +'But do you really mean to say that you are going to let him show you +round London?' + +'Why not? He knows London in a way which you and I don't.' + +'But don't you feel that he is your enemy, and that he has some ulterior +purpose in all this?' + +'Of course I do, but it would be madness to let him know it. You needn't +fear, my friend; I will be a match for him. As I told you down in +Devonshire, there's going to be a battle royal between us. He looks upon +me as a kind of fool, who can be easily duped. But I shan't be.' + +It was some days after this before I heard anything of Edgecumbe again. +As I think I have mentioned, I was on sick leave at the time, and after +leaving him I went to see some friends in Oxford. While there I got a +letter from him, saying that he had been taken ill almost immediately on +his return to duty, and that a fortnight's leave had been granted to him. +He asked me when I should be returning to London, as he would like me to +accompany him on his peregrinations through the City. I curtailed my +visit to Oxford, so as to fall in with his plans, and found that he had +taken up his quarters at a Y.M.C.A. Hut, which had been erected +especially for the use of officers. + +He was looking somewhat pale and hollow-eyed, as I entered a comfortably +fitted-up lounge in the building. + +'What's the matter with you?' I asked. + +'Oh, nothing much. I had a sort of relapse after I got back to work, and +the M.O. declared me unfit for duty. Evidently Colonel McClure wrote to +him about me. He seems to think I was poisoned.' + +'Did your M.O. tell you that?' + +'Yes, and in his opinion the poison was not quite eradicated from my +system. Funny, isn't it? Anyhow, they wouldn't let me work, and here I +am. What we poor soldiers would do without the Y.M.C.A., Heaven only +knows! Anyhow, it shows that Christianity is not quite dead in the +country, for if ever there was a Christian body, the Y.M.C.A. is one.' + +'You can hardly call it a body,' I replied; 'it is an organization +representing the Christian spirit of the country.' + +'All right, old man; call it what you like. Anyhow, I am jolly thankful +to its promoters. What I should have done but for the Y.M.C.A., Heaven +knows, I don't!' + +'I know what you are going to do,' I replied. + +'What?' + +'You are coming with me to my hotel as a guest.' + +'You are awfully good, old man, but I am afraid I can't. You see, this +illness of mine has given me my opportunity, and I am going to take it.' + +'Opportunity for what?' + +'For seeing London, for studying its life. I mean to go everywhere, and +I don't want to interfere with your liberty in any way.' + +'Good,' I replied, 'I'll go with you; and as we shall be staying at the +same hotel, it will be more convenient to both of us.' + +'Do you really mean that, Luscombe?' + +'Of course I do. I, like you, am at a loose end, and I shall be only too +glad to have a pal until I am sent back to the front again. Now not +another word, Edgecumbe. I am not a Rothschild, but I have no one +dependent on me, and I have more money than I need to spend. So pack up +your traps, and come with me. + +'Have you seen Springfield since our meeting on Paddington station?' I +asked, when presently we had removed to the hotel. + +'Yes,' he replied; 'directly I got to the Y.M.C.A. Hostel, I wrote him at +his club.' + +'Well?' I asked. + +'Oh, he was jolly friendly, and seemed anxious to take me around.' + +'And have you been with him?' + +'Yes,' he replied. + +'With what results?' + +He hesitated a few seconds before answering me, and then he said quietly, +'Oh, nothing much out of the ordinary. It--it was rather funny.' + +'What was rather funny?' + +'Our conversation. He hates me, Luscombe; he positively loathes me; and +he fears me, too.' + +'You have discovered that, have you?' + +'Yes, there is no doubt about it.' + +'Did you go anywhere with him?' + +'Yes, a good many places.' + +'You ought not to have gone with him,' I said doubtfully. + +'Perhaps not. But I was anxious to see the phases of life with which he +is familiar; I wanted to know the class of men he meets with,--to +understand their point of view.' + +'And what was your impression?' + +'I am not going to tell you yet. During the four days I have been in +London I have been looking around, trying to understand the working +motives, the guiding principles, of this, the capital of the Empire. I +seem like a man in a strange country, and I am learning my way round. +Oh, I do hope I am wrong!' + +'Wrong,--how? What do you mean?' + +'This war is maddening. Last night I couldn't sleep for thinking of +it,--all the horror of it got hold of me. I fancied myself out at the +front again,--I heard the awful howls and shrieks of the shells, heard +the booming of the big guns, smelt the acids of the explosives, heard the +groans of the men, saw them lying in the trenches and on the No Man's +Land, torn, mutilated, mangled. It is positively ghastly,--war is hell, +man, hell!' + +'Yes,' I said, 'but we must see it through.' + +'I know, I know. But how far away is the end? How long is this carnage +and welter of blood to continue?' + +'Let's change the subject,' I said. 'We'll get a bit of dinner, and then +go to a place of amusement.' + +'I don't feel like it to-night. Do you know any members of Parliament, +any Cabinet Ministers?' + +'Yes, a few. Why?' + +'I want to go to the House of Commons. I want to know what those men who +are guiding our affairs are thinking.' + +'Oh, all right,' I laughed. 'I can easily get a permit to the House of +Commons. I'll take you. As it happens, too, I can get you an +introduction to one or two members of the Government.' + +Two hours later, we were sitting in the Strangers' Gallery of the House +of Commons. I could see that Edgecumbe was impressed, not by the +magnificence of the surroundings, for, as all the world knows, the +interior of the British House of Commons,--that is the great Legislative +Chamber itself,--is not very imposing, but he was excited by the fact +that he was there in the Mother of Parliaments, listening to a debate on +the Great War. + +'It's wonderful, isn't it?' he said to me. 'Here we are in the very hub +of the British Empire,--here decisions are come to which affect the +destiny of hundreds of millions of people. Here, as far as the +Government is concerned, we can look into the very inwardness of the +British mind, its hopes, its ideals. If this Assembly were so to decide, +the war could stop to-morrow, and every soldier be brought home.' + +'I don't know,' I laughed. 'Behind this Assembly is the voice of the +country. If these men did not represent the thoughts and feelings of the +nation, they'd be sent about their business,--there'd be a revolution.' + +'Yes, yes, I realize that. And the fact that there is no revolution +shows that they are doing, on the whole, what the country wishes them.' + +'I suppose so,' I replied. + +After that, he listened two hours without speaking. I never saw a man so +intent upon what was being said. Speaker after speaker expressed his +views, and argued the points nearest his heart. + +At the end of two hours, there was a large exodus of members, and then +Edgecumbe rose like a man waking out of a trance. + +'Have you been interested?' I asked. + +'Never so interested in my life,--it was wonderful! But look here, my +friend, do these men believe in Almighty God? Have they been asking for +guidance on their deliberations?' + +'I don't know. We English are not people who talk about that kind of +thing lightly.' + +'No, and I am glad of it,' he replied earnestly, 'but I must come again. +In a sense, this should be the Power-House of the nation.' + +'It is,' I replied; 'at this place supplies are voted.' + +'Supplies,' he repeated thoughtfully. + +'Come,' I said, 'I have arranged to meet Mr. ----; he is an important +member of the Government, and he said he would be good for half an hour's +chat after this Debate was over.' + +A few seconds later, the member who introduced us took us into the lobby, +where I met the Minister to whom I had referred, and who led the way to +his own room. As it happened, I had known this Minister for several +years. We had spent a holiday together before the war, and had often +played golf together. I had more than once seen him after he had become +a member of the Government, and he appeared very glad of a little +relaxation after the stress of his work. + +'What did you think of the Debate?' he asked. 'Of course things are +different now from what they used to be. The time for making an +impression by big speeches is over. I dare say, when the war comes to an +end, we shall have the old party fights again, although the country will +never be the same again, even in that way. Still, I thought it was +interesting.' + +'How do you think we are doing?' I asked presently. + +'What, at the front? Oh, fairly well. We have to keep hammering away, +you know, but the Germans are by no means done for yet. It is evidently +going to be a war of exhaustion, and we have only just come to our +strength. Of course the Germans have given up all hope of winning. One +of our weaknesses, if I may so say, lies in Russia. It is months now +since they did anything.' + +'Do you think there is any danger of their making a separate peace?' I +asked. + +'No, I don't think so; but there are some very uncertain elements to +contend with, and the corruption there has been frightful. I should not +be surprised at a big movement there in time. Still, we are doing very +well; our forces are becoming well organized, and in another year or so I +think the Boches'll begin to crumple up.' + +Knowing what was in Edgecumbe's mind, I asked him several questions, +which he, without betraying any Cabinet secrets, answered freely. He +discussed the question in all its bearings, and revealed remarkable +acumen and judgment. All the time Edgecumbe sat listening eagerly, +without speaking a word. Then, suddenly, he burst out with a question. + +'What do you think we must do to win this war?' he asked, and there was a +strange intensity in his voice. + +'I am afraid I don't quite understand.' + +'What do you think we must do to win this war?' Edgecumbe repeated. +'Have we left anything undone that we could have done? Are there any +forces to be brought into play which have not yet been used? Do you see +any great dangers ahead? What must we do more? You see, I have been a +long time at the front, and I know what fighting is; but naturally, as a +soldier, my standpoint of vision is small and circumscribed. How does it +appeal to you, who, as a statesman, must necessarily take a larger view?' + +The Cabinet Minister seemed to be collecting his thoughts for a few +seconds, then he said, 'Of course the question is a very big one. First +of all, take the East. If Russia is freed from traitors, and if she +holds together,--and if, with the help that we can give her, she can have +enough munitions, I don't think we need fear anything there. Then, while +our Salonica effort doesn't seem to amount to much, we are holding up a +vast number of men, and doing good work. But I do not expect anything +decisive from there. Then, in a way, we are doing valuable work in +Mesopotamia and Palestine; by that means we are gradually wearing down +the Turks. When we come nearer home,--Italy is doing very well. She'll +make a big push in a few months, and we shall be able to help her. +France is, of course, becoming a bit exhausted, but France is good for a +long while yet. It is we who have to play the decisive game, and if we +hold together, as I believe we shall if we have no Labour troubles, so +that munitions and supplies may be plentiful, we shall be stronger in the +field than the Germans are. We have beaten them in big guns, in +explosives, and in men. Of course it'll be a long, tough fight, for the +Germans realize that it is neck or nothing with them, and they'll hold +out to the last. But we are the strongest side, and in the end they'll +crumple up.' + +'Then you think,' asked Edgecumbe, 'that our victory will depend on these +things?--on stronger armies, and a bigger supply of munitions?' + +'That, and the ability of our generals. The German generals are very +able men, but I think we beat them even there.' + +'Then that is how you roughly outline our forces, and our hopes of +victory?' + +'Yes, that is it, roughly,' replied the Minister. + +'May I ask whether that is the view of the Government as a whole?' + +'What other view is there?' + +'Then where does God come in?' + +He asked the question simply, but evidently he was deeply in earnest. I +recognized the intensity of his voice, saw the flash of his eyes. + +The Minister looked towards me in a bewildered kind of way. I have an +idea that he thought Edgecumbe was mad. + +'I don't quite understand you,' he said. 'Will you tell me exactly what +you mean?' + +'I asked you,' said Edgecumbe, 'what you thought were the forces to be +used in order to win this war, and you told me; whereupon I asked you +where God came in.' + +'God!' repeated the Minister; 'why, we are at war!' + +'Exactly, that is why I ask. When the war commenced, the people of the +nation were informed that we were going to fight a holy war, that we were +going to crush militarism, do justice to small states, bring about an +abiding peace in the world. We were told that it was God's war. May I +ask where God comes in in your scheme of carrying it on?' + +The Minister smiled. Evidently he had come to the conclusion that +Edgecumbe was a harmless lunatic, and should not be taken seriously. + +'The fact that we are fighting for a just cause,' he said, 'is sufficient +to prove that it is God's war.' + +'But is that all?' + +The Minister looked at him helplessly. Evidently he did not think it +worth while to carry the conversation further. + +'Because,' went on Edgecumbe quietly, 'as far as I have watched the +course of events, we have been fighting, as far as the Government is +concerned, as though God did not exist. A great many appeals have been +made to the nation, yet think what they amount to! First of all the +country was appealed to for men, and the men volunteered. But that was +not enough. A certain section of the press cried out for conscription, +and demanded that Parliament should pass a Bill giving power to the +authorities to compel every man of military age to join the Forces. That +was done. Then there was the trouble about munitions, and power was +given whereby many works were controlled, and huge factories were built +all over the country for the production of big guns and explosives. In +addition to that, there was appeal after appeal for money, and still more +money. Then we were told that the whole nation should serve, and there +was a further appeal for a National Service. We were told that if these +things were done victory was certain.' + +'But surely you do not object to this?' said the Cabinet Minister in +astonishment. + +'Certainly not,' replied Edgecumbe. 'I agree with every one of them; but +I asked where God came in. We pretend to believe in God, don't we?' + +'Well, what then?' + +'Has there been any appeal to the nation to repent of its sins? There +have been Proclamations from the throne: has there ever been one calling +upon the people of the British Empire to pray? Have we, as a nation, +been asked to link ourselves to the power of Almighty God? Has the +Government ever endeavoured to make the people feel that our victory is +in God's hands, and that we must look to Him for help? Have we not, I +ask, as far as the Government is concerned, been fighting this war as +though God didn't exist?' + +'But, my dear man,' said the Cabinet Minister, 'you as a soldier must +know that chaplains are sent out with the Forces, that the soldiers have +to attend Church Parade, and that prayer is offered by the chaplains for +our victory? How can you say then that the war has been conducted as +though God didn't exist?' + +'I know what all that means,' replied Edgecumbe. 'I have been at the +front for a good many months, and I know what it means. I recognize, +too, all the splendid work that has been done by the chaplains; many of +them are fine fellows. But I want to get a bit deeper. I want to know +what steps have been taken to make the nation realize that primarily +victory is in the hands of Almighty God. I want to know, too, what steps +have been taken to make the soldiers know what they are fighting for. We +have in the Army now several millions, and they are all being instructed +in the use of rifle shooting, machine-guns, bayonet work, and so on. +Have any steps been taken to instruct them as to the nature of the cause +we are fighting for, and of our ultimate aims and purposes? Have they +ever been imbued with the idea of what Germanism means, and of our +ultimate aims and ideals? In a word, have the soldiers been instructed +that this is God's war, and that they are fighting for a holy cause?' + +The Cabinet Minister laughed. Edgecumbe's question seemed too absurd to +answer. Then he said somewhat uneasily, 'Prayers are said in the +churches every Sunday.' + +'And from what I hear, only about one person in ten goes to Church.' + +'What are you driving at?' and there was a touch of impatience in the +Minister's voice. + +'Only this,' replied Edgecumbe, 'if this is simply a war of brute force +against brute force, then doubtless the Government is going on the right +tack. But if it is more,--if it is a war of God against the devil, of +right against wrong, of the forces of heaven against the forces of hell, +then we are forgetting our chief Power, we are failing as a nation to +utilize the mightiest forces at our command. There might be no God, if +one were to judge from the way we are conducting this struggle.' + +'Nonsense!' + +'That is scarcely an answer. Mark you, I am looking at it from the +standpoint of the Government as expressing the thought and will of the +nation. The Government is supposed to be the mouthpiece of the nation, +and judging from the appeals of the men holding important offices under +the Government, and the general trend of the daily press, while appeals +are being made for all the material resources of the Empire, there has +never been one appeal to the nation to pray, and to lay hold of the power +which God is waiting to give.' + +'You do not seem to realize, my friend,' said the Cabinet Minister, 'that +war is primarily a contest between material forces.' + +'No,' said Edgecumbe, 'I don't, neither do I believe it.' + +'Our generals are not sentimentalists,' said the statesman; 'war is a +stern business, and they see that it is a matter of big guns.' + +'Not all,' replied Edgecumbe. 'If ever a man knew the meaning of big +guns, and what big guns can do, it is Admiral Beatty. Perhaps you +remember what he said: "England still remains to be taken out of the +stupor of self-satisfaction and complacency into which her great and +flourishing condition has steeped her, and until she can be stirred out +of this condition, and until a religious revival takes place at home, +just so long will the war continue."' + +For a moment the statesman seemed nonplussed, and I could see that +Edgecumbe was impressing him in spite of himself. He spoke quietly, but +with evident intense conviction, and there was something in his +personality that commanded respect. On his tunic, too, he wore his +decorations, the decorations which proved him to be a man of courage and +resource. There was no suggestion of weakness or of fanaticism in his +manner. Every word, every movement, spoke of a strong, brave, determined +man. + +'Then what would you do?' he asked almost helplessly. + +'It is scarcely a matter of what I would do,' replied Edgecumbe. 'I am +here as an inquirer, and I came to the House of Commons to-night in order +to understand the standpoint from which the Government looks at this +tremendous question.' + +'And your conclusion is----?' + +'That God's forgotten. It is not looked upon as a religious war at +all,--everything is reduced to the level of brute force. As far as I can +read the newspapers, never, since the first few months of the war, or at +least very rarely, has there been any endeavour to make the people +realize this ghastly business from a religious standpoint, while the +soldiers never hear a word from week end to week end of the purposes for +which they are fighting.' + +'You can't make soldiers religious if they don't want to be,' said the +Minister, weakly I thought. + +'I don't say you can,' replied Edgecumbe, 'but you can do something to +lift the whole thing above its present sordid level, and give them a high +and holy courage.' + +'They _have_ courage,' replied the Minister. 'As you have been at the +front, you know what a splendid lot of men they are.' + +'No man knows better,--a finer lot of fellows never breathed. But look +at facts, think of the forces which have opposed them, and remember how +they have been handicapped? Drink has been one of our great curses in +this country; it has been one of our greatest hindrances. Even the Prime +Minister insisted upon it almost pathetically. When we lacked munitions, +and our men were being killed for want of them, drink was the principal +interest to their manufacture. You of course know what Mr. Lloyd George +said in 1915: "Without spending one penny on additional structures, +without putting down a single additional machine, without adding to the +supervision of the men, but on the contrary lessening the supervision, we +could, by putting down the drink, by one act of sacrifice on the part of +the nation, win through to victory for our country." Yet the Government +has only played with the drink question, as far as the country is +concerned, and it has kept on supplying it to the boys abroad. Everyone +knows it has lowered the standard of our national life, intellectually, +morally, and spiritually. And yet the thing continues. Is that the way +to fight God's battles? Vested interests seem of more importance than +purity and righteousness, while the men who make huge fortunes out of +this traffic are coroneted.' + +'Good night, Luscombe,' said the Cabinet Minister rising. 'I must be +going now. This conversation has been very interesting, but I am afraid +I cannot see as your friend sees.' + +A few minutes later, we stood outside the great Government building. We +were in the heart of London, the great city which so largely focuses the +life of our world-wide Empire. Close to us, the towers of the Abbey +lifted their pinnacles into the grey sky, while St. Margaret's Church +looked almost small and diminutive by its side. Up Whitehall we could +see the dim outlines of the great Government buildings, while the broad +thoroughfare pulsated with the roaring traffic. + +For some seconds Edgecumbe did not speak, then he burst out excitedly. +'It's a wonderful old city, isn't it? The finest, grandest city in the +world! Do you know, it casts a kind of spell upon me. I sometimes think +there is more good in London than in any other place.' + +'Any one would not think so, judging by your conversation just now,' I +laughed. + +'But there is,' he said. 'Why, think of the kindness and loving service +shown to the returning soldiers! Think of the thousands of women who are +giving their lives to nursing them and caring for them! Come on,' and he +moved towards Westminster Bridge. + +'That's not the way back to the hotel.' + +'I am not going back to the hotel yet,' he said. + +'Where are you going, then?' + +'To Waterloo station. There will be trains coming in from the coast. I +want to see what happens to the soldiers who are coming back from the +front.' + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +SEEING LONDON + +I am not going to write at length on what we saw at Waterloo station, and +in its vicinity. In a way, our experiences were interesting beyond +words, and while there was much which made one rejoice, there was also +much to sadden. While we were there, a train came in laden with troops. +Hundreds of men had come home on leave, and they had now arrived at this +great terminus. What rejoiced me was to see the number of Y.M.C.A. +workers, as well as others from various Christian bodies, who met the men +and welcomed them. Of course there were numbers who were eagerly +welcomed by their friends; others had evidently made their plans to get +back to their homes quickly, while many more seemed bewildered and +lonely. Lads who had originally hailed from Canada and Australia, and +who knew nothing of London, looked around the huge station as though not +knowing what to do, and if ever I felt glad because of the work of the +Y.M.C.A., I felt it then. They seemed to have a kind of genius for +knowing the men who were without friends, and for giving them a hearty +welcome back. + +I knew that, scattered all over London, were Huts and Hostels which they +have provided for these lads who were strangers in a strange city, and +that many of them would be taken to these places, given a hot supper, and +provided with a comfortable bed. I know, too, while the lads were under +the influence of the Y.M.C.A., no harm would happen to them, that they +would be surrounded by good and healthy influences, and that as many of +them who had no homes in England could stay at the Hostels during their +leave. + +But there were other influences at work. Not only were there these noble +bands of workers, who existed for our soldiers' comfort and +salvation,--there were scores of evil women who hovered around waiting +like vultures to swoop upon their prey. + +It is difficult to write about, difficult to contemplate. Scores of +these boys, who for months had been away at the front, living without +many refining influences, living, too, under strict discipline amidst all +the stress and horror of war, were suddenly given their liberty, and let +loose in our great City. Most of them would have plenty of money, for +there are few opportunities of spending at the front, and they would be +freed from all restrictions. Then their danger began. Lads, many of +them inspired by no religious ideals, excited by their liberty, with no +restraint of any sort placed upon them, became an easy prey to those who +looked upon them as victims. The angels of light were there to help +them, but there were also many creatures of darkness who lured them to +destruction, and these creatures of darkness were allowed to ply their +ghastly trade often without let or hindrance. + +I could not help feeling the tragedy of it. These lads who had been +living from hour to hour, and from minute to minute, amidst the roar of +great guns, the shriek of shells, the pep-pep-pep of machine-guns, never +knowing when death would come, were suddenly and without preparation +thrown upon the bosom of our great modern Babylon; and on their return +they were met by these creatures. + +'It is ghastly, it is hellish!' said Edgecumbe, as we returned across +Waterloo Bridge. + +'What can be done?' I asked helplessly. + +'These fellows should be safeguarded,' he replied. 'Oh, I know the +difficulties, but those creatures should be dealt with with a strong +hand; they should not be allowed in such places. The boys coming home +from danger and death should be protected from such temptations. It is +not a thing to talk about, not a thing to discuss in public; but think of +the inwardness of it, think of the ghastly diseases, the loss of manhood, +the corruption of soul, that follows in the train of what we have +seen,--and it is going on all over London.' + +'You can't put down vice by Act of Parliament,' I replied. + +'No, but a great deal more can be done than is done,' was his answer. +'People don't talk about these things in their drawing-rooms, or in their +social circles, but they exist,--my God, they exist! And this is +supposed to be a holy war! Still, thank God for the good that is being +done, for the organizations which exist for men's comfort and salvation.' + +And then he did not speak another word until we reached the hotel. + +The next day was Saturday, and directly after lunch we started to go +together to a matinee, for Edgecumbe had stated his determination to +visit the places of amusement and see how London enjoyed itself. + +We begun by going to one of the largest and most popular music-halls in +the City, where a revue which was much commented on was produced for the +delectation of all who cared to see it. + +I was informed that this particular place was much patronized by +soldiers, and that the entertainment was one of the most popular in +London. The prices of the seats varied from half a guinea, plus the War +tax, to a shilling, and as we entered we found a vast concourse of +people, among whom were many men in khaki. I discovered too that the +management had been generous, for there were numbers of wounded soldiers, +many of them in the stalls, and who had been given free admission. + +'After all, it is fine,' I said, as we waited for the curtain to rise, +'that these lads should have a place of brightness and amusement to go +to.' + +'Yes,' replied Edgecumbe, 'in a way it is splendid.' + +'The people of the country are wonderfully good,' I went on; 'soldiers in +the hospitals, as well as others home on leave, are constantly being +given hospitality by the best and kindest people in England. I hope +these chaps'll have a good laugh this afternoon, and be able to forget +the horrors through which they have passed. They have had enough of the +tragedy of life, poor chaps. I hope they'll get some comedy this +afternoon.' + +'I hope they will,' he replied. + +I will not attempt to give a description of the revue they witnessed that +afternoon. I suppose it was similar to a score of others that might be +seen in various parts of the metropolis. There was an excellent +orchestra, the music was light and pleasing, the whole atmosphere of the +place was merry. The lights were dazzling, the dresses were gay, the +scenery almost magnificent. As a spectacle it would, I suppose, be +regarded as gorgeous. Apparently, too, most of the auditors enjoyed it, +although a look of boredom was on some faces. As to the revue itself, +while one could not help admitting that some of the songs were humorous, +and some of the repartee clever, the thing as a whole was cheap and silly +and vulgar. + +I do not say there was anything positively wrong in it, but there were a +great many vulgar suggestions and unpleasant innuendoes. As a dramatic +critic said in my hearing a day or two later, when discussing the popular +entertainments of London, 'Most of these shows consist of vulgar, +brainless twaddle.' Still, the audience laughed and cheered, and when +the curtain finally fell, there was a good deal of applause. Certainly +the entertainment would be a great contrast to the experiences which the +lads who were home on leave had been going through. But as I reflect on +it now, and think of the great struggle through which the nation was +going, and the ideals for which it was fighting, I cannot remember one +single word that would help or inspire. Of course places of amusement +are not intended to instruct or to fill one with lofty emotions. All the +same, I could not help feeling that laughter and enjoyment were in no way +incompatible with the higher aims of the drama. In fact, what we saw was +not drama at all; it was a caricature of life, and a vulgar one at that. +Indeed, the author's purpose seemed to be--that is, assuming he had a +purpose--to teach that virtue was something to be laughed at, that vice +was pleasant, and that sin had no evil consequences. + +Indeed, while I am anything but a puritan, I felt sorry that the hundreds +of lads home from the front, many of whom were wounded, had no better +fare offered to them. God knows I would be the last to detract from +their honest enjoyment, and I would make their leave bright and happy; +but after all, the nation was at war, life was a struggle, and death +stalked triumphant, and this was but a poor mental and moral food for men +who, for months, had been passing through an inferno, and many of whom +would, in a few weeks or days, go back again to see 'hell let loose.' If +those men had been merely fighting animals, if they were mere creatures +of a day, who went out of existence when the sun went down, then one +could understand; but they were men with hopes, and fears, and longings; +men into whose nostrils God had breathed the breath of His own life, men +destined for immortality. And this show was pagan from end to end. + +When the entertainment was over, I led the way to a fashionable hotel for +tea, where a large and handsomely decorated room was set apart for that +purpose. A gay crowd of some hundreds had already gathered when we +arrived, so that there was a difficulty in obtaining a table. This crowd +had evidently, like ours, come from the various places of amusement in +the immediate vicinity, and had managed to get there earlier than we. + +The men folk were mostly officers, while the women were, I imagine, in +the main their relatives and friends. The latter were very gaily and +expensively dressed. As far as I can remember, the cost of a very poor +tea was half a crown for each person. Every one appeared in great good +humour, and laughter was the order of the day. + +'Not much suggestion here that the country's at war, eh?' I said, looking +round the room, 'and but few evidences that the appeals to the public to +economize have been taken very deeply to heart.' + +'No,' replied Edgecumbe, 'except for the khaki, it would be difficult to +believe that the country is at war. Still, I suppose it is natural. +Most of these lads are home on leave, and their women folk want them to +enjoy themselves. This is their way of doing it.' + +'It shows that money is plentiful,' I said; 'we are a long way from +bankruptcy yet.' + +'But the big bill will have to be paid, my friend. There are no signs of +it now, but the country can't spend all these millions every day without +suffering for it later on,' and I saw a thoughtful look come into his +eyes as they wandered round the room. + +After tea we went for a walk along the streets, and then, at half-past +seven, I took him to another fashionable hotel, where I had ordered +dinner. Again we saw a similar crowd, met with similar scenes. Whatever +London might be feeling, the fashionable part of it had determined to +enjoy itself. At night we went to another theatre, which was also packed +to the ceiling with a gay throng. Here also were crowds of soldiers, +many of whom were, I judged, like ourselves, home from the front. + +Edgecumbe passed no opinion on the play, or on the spectators. That he +was deeply interested, was evident, although I think his interest was +more in the audience than the performers. + +'I am tired,' I said, when the entertainment was over; 'let's get to bed.' + +'No, not yet, I want to see London by night. All this, to you, Luscombe, +is commonplace. I dare say it would be to me if my memory came back. As +it is, it is all new and strange to me. It is exciting me tremendously. +I am like one seeing the show for the first time.' + +By this time London was at its busiest, crowds surged everywhere. +'Buses, taxi-cabs, and motors threaded their way through the streets, +while the foot pavements were crowded. Places of amusement were emptying +themselves on every hand, and although the streets were darkened, it +seemed to have no effect upon the spirits of the people. The night was +fairly clear, and a pale moon showed itself between the clouds. + +'What a city it is!' said Edgecumbe, after we had been walking some time. +'Think of it, the centre of the British Empire, the great heart which +sends its life-blood through the veins of a mighty people! But is the +life-blood pure, my friend?' + +We passed up Charing Cross to Leicester Square, and then on through +Piccadilly Circus up Regent Street, then we came down again, through the +Haymarket, into Pall Mall. I am not going to describe what we saw, nor +tell in detail the experiences through which we passed. That ghastly +story of gilded vice, and of corruption which is not ashamed, was too +sad, too pathetic. The Empire might be in danger, even then there might +be Zeppelins hovering in the near distance, waiting to drop missiles of +destruction and death. Less than two hundred miles away our armies were +fighting, guns were booming, shells were shrieking, men were dying. But +here in London, on the eve of the Day of Rest, the tide of iniquity +rolled. Young men were tempted, and falling; many of the very lads who +had done heroic deeds were selling their souls for half an hour's +pleasure. + +In spite of the drink regulations, too, it was easy to see that numbers, +both men and women, had been able to obtain it, often to their own +degradation. + +'Come on,' said Edgecumbe presently, 'let's get back to the hotel. I've +had enough.' + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +SUNSHINE AND SHADOW + +During the remainder of Edgecumbe's leave we spent our time in seeing and +trying to understand London. As he had insisted, London was the centre +of the British Empire; the great heart which sent its life-blood +throughout the veins of four hundred millions of people. To understand +London, therefore, was to understand the aims, hopes and ideals of the +British race. Of course I urged that London was not England, much less +the Empire; but I could not help admitting that there was much truth in +his contention. + +Naturally we did not see our metropolis in its entirety. To know London +means a lifetime's study; but we did get a superficial glimpse of its +life, and we tried to understand the inwardness of that life. + +On the day after the incidents described in the last chapter we visited +several churches; we also made our way into Hyde Park, and heard the +orators. We interviewed several ecclesiastics both of the Established +and Nonconformist order, and if ever a man was depressed it was Edgecumbe. + +'These religious organizations do not touch a tithe of the people,' he +said to me. 'London is called a Christian City, but it is far more pagan +than Christian. The people are not interested in religious things, and +even among churchgoers everything seems unreal.' + +He was led to modify this opinion later. He saw that while the City was +in one sense largely godless, it was in another deeply religious. He +realized that, in spite of apparent religious indifference, the teachings +of the Founder of Christianity, and the truths for which He lived and +died, had, through the centuries, created an atmosphere which influenced +every phase of thought and life. + +But he did not feel this during the two Sundays we spent together. As +far as we could see, only a small fragment of the people entered the +doors of the churches, and that even this fragment was filled with no +mighty religious hope or enthusiasm. + +One sermon, however, struck him forcibly. It was preached by a young man +who took for his text, 'And they that were ready went into the marriage +feast.' The argument of the sermon was that God gave neither individuals +nor nations the highest of blessings until they were ready, and he urged +that until England was ready for peace God would not give it her. That +until we became less materialistic, less selfish, until we ceased to +exploit the war as a means for advancing our own interest, and until we +turned to God and kept His commandments, real peace would be a far-off +dream. + +But I must not stay to describe this at length; indeed, a volume would be +necessary to give any true idea of our experiences. We saw London by +night as well as by day. We went to munition factories and to night +clubs, to hospitals and to music-halls, to seats of Government and to +haunts of vice. We talked with hundreds of people of all kinds, and from +the drift of their conversation tried to understand the spirit of the +City. + +I shall never forget the look on Edgecumbe's face after our visit to a +hospital for soldiers who suffered from a disease which shall be +nameless. The horror in his eyes and the absolute nausea and loathing +which possessed him has haunted me ever since. + +But there were sights which rejoiced him also. The splendid sacrifices +which unnumbered people, both men and women, were making, and the great +broad-hearted charity which abounded on every hand, made him realize not +only the bad but the good, and led him to realize that beneath the mad +whirl of evil passions which was too evident, was a life sacred and +sublime. + +Presently, however, our peregrinations came to an end. Edgecumbe had +appeared before a medical officer, and was declared fit for duty again. +He had also received orders to return to his battery, while I daily +waited instructions as to my future course of action. + +'We have had a wonderful time, Luscombe,' he said. 'I little dreamt, +when we started out to see London, what it would be like.' + +'Well, what do you think of it all?' + +'I am bewildered,' he replied; 'it is all too big to co-ordinate. I want +to get a grasp of everything. I want to see things in their true +proportion. I want to understand.' + +We had just come from the Crystal Palace, where so many thousands of our +sailors are quartered, and had been talking with the workers of the +Y.M.C.A. concerning their activities there. + +'You will never be able to co-ordinate it, Edgecumbe,' I said. 'No man +can understand fully the life of a great city like this.' + +'No, I suppose not. Still, I am trying to think my way through it.' + +'Anyhow,' I said, 'you have to return to duty tomorrow. Let us forget +the serious things of life for once. By the way,' I added, 'have you +heard from Miss Lorna Bolivick?' + +For some seconds he did not reply, and I thought he did not hear what I +said. His face was a curious study at the time, and I wondered what he +was thinking about. + +'No,' he replied presently, 'I have not heard from her. Naturally I did +not expect to.' + +During the whole time we had spent in London together, he had never once +referred to her, and I imagined, and almost hoped, that he had seen the +madness of the determination he had expressed when we were down in +Devonshire. + +'You have given up all thought of her, then?' + +'Given up all thought of her? Certainly not. You know what I told you?' + +'Yes, but I thought you might have seen how foolish you were.' + +'I shall never give up hope,' he replied; 'that is, until hope is +impossible. Whatever made you think of such a thing?' + +'But do you not see the madness of your plan?' + +'No, there is nothing mad in it. By the way, Luscombe, I am awfully +hungry. Let us go in here and get some dinner. Don't think, old man, +that I can't see your point of view,' he said when we had taken our seats +in the dining-room of the restaurant, 'I can. From your standpoint, for +a man in my position, without name, without home, without friends, +without money, to aspire to the hand of Lorna Bolivick, is to say that he +is fit for a lunatic asylum. But I can't see things as you do. God +Almighty didn't put this love in my heart for nothing, a love which has +been growing every day since I saw her. Why, man, although I have said +nothing to you, she is everything to me, everything! That is, from the +personal standpoint. If I did not believe in God, I should despair, but, +believing in Him, despair is impossible.' + +'God does not give us everything we want,' I replied; 'it would not be +good for us if He did. Possibly He has other plans for her.' + +'That may be so,' he replied calmly, 'but I am going to act as though He +meant her for me.' + +I looked across the dining-hall as he spoke, and saw, sitting not far +away from us, a party which instantly attracted my attention. + +'I should not, if I were you,' I said. + +'Why?' + +'Look!' I replied, nodding towards the table I had noticed. + +He gave a start, for sitting at the table were Sir Thomas and Lady +Bolivick and their daughter Lorna. Sitting beside the latter was +Springfield. + +'Does not that suggest the answer?' + +His face never moved a muscle, and he looked at them as though he were +but little interested. + +'If ever a man had the appearance of a successful lover,' I went on, +'Springfield has. There, do you see how he is looking at her? Do you +see how his every action suggests proprietorship? Then watch her face, +see how she smiles at him. It would seem, too, as though her father and +mother are very pleased.' + +He continued to look at them for several seconds, then he said quite +casually, 'They have no idea we are here.' + +'No, evidently not. But I think I will go and speak to them.' + +'Don't, Luscombe,' and he spoke quickly; 'it will be better not. I don't +want that man to know where I am.' + +'You are convinced that I was right about him, then?' + +'I am convinced there will be a battle royal between me and that man,' he +said, and there was a far-away look in his eyes. 'Perhaps--perhaps--I +don't know,--the ways of Providence are strange. There is going to be a +terrible fight; I can see it coming.' + +'What, between you and Springfield?' + +'Yes; but there is something more than that, something greater. But I +must fight,--I must fight.' + +I did not understand the look in his eyes, or the tone of his voice. + +'What, to protect yourself against Springfield?' I said. + +'To save a woman's soul,' was his reply. 'Would you mind if we didn't +talk about it any more just now?' He went on with his dinner as though +nothing had happened, and if a stranger had been sitting by, he would +have said that Edgecumbe had no interest in the party close by. + +'I think I must go and speak to them,' I said; 'it would seem +discourteous to be so near, and not speak to people who have shown me so +much kindness.' + +'Go if you like,' was his answer, 'but don't let them see me. I am going +back to the hotel.' + +I waited until he had left the room, and then turned towards Sir Thomas +Bolivick's table. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +CROSS CURRENTS + +I received a hearty welcome as I came up, and Sir Thomas tried to +persuade me to spend the evening with them, and to accompany them to the +theatre. As far as I could judge, however, neither Springfield nor Lorna +seconded his proposal. I thought she preferred Springfield's company to +my own. They were now sitting over their coffee. Sir Thomas was smoking +a huge cigar, while Springfield lit cigarette after cigarette and threw +them away before they were half consumed. + +'When did you come up?' I asked. + +'Oh, we have been here four days. Captain Springfield--oh, I beg his +pardon,--Colonel Springfield, has to go to the front the day after +to-morrow, and I was anxious to see him before he went.' + +'"Colonel"?' I said. 'Have you been gazetted?' and I turned to +Springfield as I spoke. + +'Sir Thomas is a little premature,' he replied with a smile. 'My name +was down for my majority before I returned home wounded, and I was +gazetted two months ago. As to my being colonel,--but there, it is no +use making a secret of it, I suppose I am to have my battalion +immediately on my return.' + +'Yes, I saw General ---- at the War Office yesterday,' and Sir Thomas +smiled benignantly. 'Such services as Springfield has rendered can't go +long unrewarded, and in these days seniority does not count so much. By +the way, what has become of our eccentric friend Edgecumbe?' + +'Don't you know. Have you heard nothing about him?' and I turned quickly +to Springfield as I spoke. + +'I saw him nearly three weeks ago,' he replied; 'it seems he was not fit +for work, and came to London on leave. I saw him twice, I think, and +took him to one or two clubs. Since then I have lost sight of him.' + +'And heard nothing about him?' I asked, looking at him steadily. + +'Nothing at all. Sir Thomas, it is nearly time for us to go, but there +is time for another liqueur. We can meet the ladies in the vestibule.' + +I accompanied Lorna Bolivick a few steps down the room, while Lady +Bolivick went a little ahead. + +'Am I to congratulate you, Lorna?' I said. 'Forgive me, I am taking you +at your word.' + +She gave me a quick look, which I could not understand, and then replied, +'I start nursing again next week.' + +'You know what I mean,' I persisted, and I laughed as I spoke. +'Springfield looks a very happy man.' + +'Don't speak that way.' she replied; 'at least not yet.' + +'Why?' I asked; and then, overstepping the bounds of good taste, I went +on, 'Edgecumbe told me all about it.' + +'Did he? I am so sorry. But--but--come and see us, won't you? We are +staying at the Carlton. We shall be there three days more. I want to +talk to you. Good night,' and she rushed away. + +When I returned to the table, I found that the waiter had replenished the +liqueur glasses, and I saw, not only by the empty champagne bottle, but +by Springfield's eyes, that his libations had been liberal. + +'By the way, Luscombe,' he said, 'do _you_ know where Edgecumbe is? Has +he returned to duty?' + +Before I could reply, Sir Thomas, fortunately I thought, burst in with +another question, 'What do you really make of that fellow Edgecumbe?' + +'One of the bravest, finest, and most conscientious men I ever met,' I +replied. + +Springfield laughed mockingly. + +'Why, is not that your opinion?' and I looked at him steadily. + +'A man is bound to think kindly of a man who has saved his life. Because +of that I tried to be friendly to him. He was staying at that Y.M.C.A. +show for penniless officers, and I thought I'd do him a good turn, +but--but----' he hesitated. + +'But what?' I asked. + +'Of course I know little of him. I never saw him until I met him down at +Sir Thomas's place. But if you weren't so certain about his sanctity, +Luscombe, I should be inclined to look upon him as a criminal madman'; +and there was a snarl in his voice. + +'Surely you must have reasons for that,' I said. + +'Yes, I have.' + +'What are they?' + +'I don't think I am obliged to tell,' he replied truculently. + +'I think you are,' I said. 'To say the least of it, you owe him your +life,--I can testify to that, for he exposed himself to almost certain +death while digging you out from under a big heap of _debris_; none of +the others who were there would have done it. And it is hardly decent to +call one who has done such a thing a criminal madman, without having the +strongest reasons.' + +'I _have_ the strongest reasons,' he replied, and I saw that his +libations had made him less cautious than usual. 'I do not think any one +can doubt his madness, whilst as for the criminality,' and he laughed +again, 'evidently he does the pious when he is with _you_; but when he +gets among men of his own ilk, his piety is an unknown quantity. But the +ladies are waiting, Sir Thomas; we must be off.' + +I did not seek to pursue the conversation further. I did not think it +wise. And certainly the dining-room of a popular restaurant was not the +place for a scene. + +I went back to the hotel very slowly, and having taken a somewhat +roundabout course it was not until an hour after I had left the +restaurant that I arrived there. I went into all the public rooms, and +looked for my friend. But he was nowhere visible. Then, feeling +somewhat uneasy, I went to his bedroom door, and was much relieved at +hearing him bid me enter. I found him sitting in an easy chair with a +handful of notes, which he had evidently been reading. + +'What have you got there?' I asked. + +'Oh, each night after we came back I wrote down my impressions,' he +replied, 'and I have been looking at them.' + +'Well, you are a cool customer!' I laughed. + +'Thank you. But what has led you to that tremendous conclusion?' + +'Why, you see the woman with whom you pretend to be in love taken away by +another man, and never show the least desire to play your game! If it +were any one else but Springfield, I should not wonder so much, but +knowing your opinion of him, I can hardly understand it.' + +'Yes, I hardly understand myself,' he replied; 'in fact, I am rather a +mystery to myself.' + +'Do you really love Lorna Bolivick?' I asked. + +'Excuse me, old man, but I don't quite understand you.' + +He looked at me steadily for a few seconds, and then went on quietly, 'I +fancy there is no need to tell you about that.' + +'And yet you stand by and see Springfield carry her off before your eyes, +and Springfield is a rotter.' + +'Yes, that's just what he is. But he can't harm her yet.' + +'What do you mean by "_yet_"?' + +'I can't put it into words, Luscombe. My first impulse when I saw them +together just now was to go to the table and denounce him,--to warn her +against him. But it would have been madness. The time is not yet come.' + +'Meanwhile, he will marry her,' I said. + +'No, he won't. I am afraid he has fascinated her, and I am sure he means +to marry her,--I saw it down in Devonshire. But there is no danger yet; +the danger will come by and by,--when or how I don't know. It will come, +and I must be ready for it. I will be ready, too. Meantime, I have +other things to think about. I am worried, my friend, worried.' + +'What is worrying you?' + +'I am going back to duty to-morrow, but from what I can hear I am to be +treated as a special case. My colonel has said all sorts of kind things +about me, I find. But that's not what I am thinking about now. This war +is maddening me,--this constant carnage, with all the misery it entails. +You asked me some time ago what I thought about the things we had +seen,--what my impressions were, and I told you that I could not +co-ordinate my ideas, could not look at things in their true perspective. +I say, Luscombe, Admiral Beatty was right.' + +'What do you mean?' + +'Do you remember what he said?--"Just so long as England remains in a +state of religious indifference, just so long as the present conditions +obtain, will the war continue."' + +'Don't let us talk about that now.' + +'But I must, my dear chap. I am going back to duty to-morrow, and I want +to realize the inwardness of all we have seen. One thing I am determined +on.' + +'What is that?' + +'To fight this drink business as long as I have breath. It is doing us +more harm than Germany. I am told there is danger of a food famine. It +is said that bread is going to be scarce,--that people may be put on +short rations. Of course we only hear hints now, but there are +suggestions that Germany is going to pursue her submarine policy with +more vigour, so as to starve us. A man I met in the hotel a little while +ago told me that they were going to sink all merchant ships at sight, +regardless of nationality. Of course you know what that means.' + +'There are always rumours afloat,' I said. + +'They _might_ do it. Germany is capable of anything. But we could laugh +at that, but for this drink business. Think of it! Four million tons of +grain wasted in making drink since the beginning of the war, and there is +a talk about a shortage of bread. Three hundred thousand tons of sugar +have been used in making drink since the beginning of the war, and it is +difficult for people to buy sugar for the common necessities of life! +And that is not the worst of it. Why, man, you know what we have seen +during these last weeks,--all the horror, all the misery, all the +devilry! What has been at the bottom of nine-tenths of it? Night after +night, when we have come back from seeing what we _have_ seen, I have +been studying these questions, I have been reading hours while you +thought I was asleep. And I tell you, it would not be good for us to +have victory, until this thing is destroyed. And I doubt whether God +Almighty ever _will_ give us victory, until we have first of all +strangled once and for ever this drink fiend.' + +'Don't talk nonsense! You are becoming a teetotal fanatic.' + +'Think, Luscombe,' and he rose from his chair as he spoke, 'suppose God +were to give us victory to-night? Suppose the Germans were to cave in, +and tell us that we could dictate the terms of peace? Suppose our armies +were to come back while things are as they are, and while the thought and +feeling of the nation is as it is? Don't you see what would follow? +When trouble was first in the air, Asquith said that "war was hell let +loose." Would not hell be let loose if victory were to be declared? +Think of the drunkenness, the devilry, the bestiality that you and I saw! +Think what those streets round Waterloo station are like! Think of the +places we went to, and remember what took place! And these are grave +times,--times of struggle and doubt, and there are only a few odd +thousands home on leave. But what would happen, with all these +public-houses standing open, if hundreds of thousands, intoxicated with +the thought of victory, came back? You have told me what took place +during the Boer War; that would be nothing to the Bacchanalian orgies we +should see if victory were to come now.' + +'Then you don't want victory?' + +'Don't want victory! I long for it! Why--why I get almost mad as I +think of what is daily taking place. Here in England people don't really +know what is happening. No hell ever invented is as bad as war. It is +the maddest and ghastliest crime ever known, the greatest anachronism +ever conceived. It mocks everything high and holy; it is the devil +incarnate! But one can't close one's eyes to facts. You remember what +that preacher man said in his sermon. He told us that Almighty God often +kept things from men and nations until they were ready, and that if, as +sometimes happened, things came before a people were ready, they proved +curses and not blessings. For my own part I believe we shall have +victory as soon as we are ready for it; but are we ready?' + +'Then what do you believe will happen?' + +'I am afraid we have dark days before us. As a nation we are putting +material gain before moral fitness. The people who are making fortunes +out of our national curses are fighting like death for their hand, and +the nation seems to believe in a policy of _laissez faire_. If a man is +in earnest about these things, he is called a fanatic. Purge England of +her sins, my friend, and God will give us the victory.' + +'That's as shadowy as a cloud, and has about as much foundation as a +cloud,' I retorted. + +'Perhaps events will prove that I am right. Don't let us imagine that +God has no other means of working except through big guns. I have read a +good deal of history lately, and I have seen that, more than once, when +men and nations have been sure that certain things would happen, Almighty +God has laughed at them. God answered Job out of the whirlwind; that's +what He'll do to England.' + +I laughed incredulously. + +'All right,' he went on. 'It is very easy to laugh, but I should not be +at all surprised if Russia were to make a separate peace with Germany, or +if something were to happen to disorganize her forces. Would not that +make a tremendous difference to the war?' + +'Of course it would, but Russia will make no separate peace, and nothing +will happen. Russia's as safe as houses, and as steady as a rock. Don't +talk nonsense, old man, and don't conjure up impossible contingencies to +bolster up your arguments.' + +He was silent a few seconds, then he turned to me and said quietly, 'You +know the country pretty well, don't you?' + +'Pretty well, I think.' + +'Do you think the condition of London represents the nation as a whole?' + +'Yes, I think so. I don't say that such things as we witnessed down by +Waterloo or in those so-called studios around Chelsea can be seen +anywhere except in the big towns and cities, but otherwise I should say +that London gives a fair idea of the condition of the country.' + +'Let me ask you this, then. Bearing what we have seen in mind, the good +as well as the bad, do you think we are ready for victory?' + +I was silent for some seconds, then I said somewhat weakly I am afraid, +'You cannot expect us all to be saints, Edgecumbe. Human nature is human +nature, and--and--but there is a great deal of good in the country.' + +'Doubtless there is. When I think of the quiet determination, the +splendid sacrifices, the magnificent confidence of our people, added to +the unwearying kindness to the wounded and the needy, I feel like saying +we are ready for victory. But could not all that be matched in Germany? +With the world against them they have gone straight on. Have we been +determined? So have they. Have we made sacrifices? So have they. Have +we been confident? They have been more so. I dare say too that with +regard to kindness and care for their wounded and dying they could match +us. But Germany can't win; if they did, it would be victory for the +devil. It would mean a triumph for all that was worst in human life. +God Almighty is in His Heaven, therefore whatever else happens German +militarism will be crushed, and the world rid of an awful menace. But +this is what has impressed me. We as a nation have a unique position in +the world, and if history ever meant anything at all, we are called to +lead the world to higher things. Our opportunity is tremendous; are we +ready for it? I do not close my eyes to all the good there is in the +country, and I am sure there are millions who are leading godly, sober +lives. But as far as the Government and the great bulk of the country +are concerned, we are spiritually dead. I have been studying the +utterances of our statesmen, and I have looked too often in vain for +anything like idealism and for a vision. You know what the old proverb +says, "Where there is no vision, the people perish," and that is what we +lack.' + +'You are very hopeless,' I laughed. + +'No, I am not. I can see that out of this upheaval will come a new +England, a new world. But not yet. We are not ready for the Promised +Land, not ready for the higher responsibilities to which God is calling +us. That is why the victory is delayed. Great God! I wish we had a few +men like Admiral Beatty in the Government. We want to be roused out of +our sleep, our indifference, our lethargy. When the nation gives itself +to God, victory will come.' + +I did not pursue the conversation any further. I could see what was in +his mind, and I did not think that he looked at facts in their right +perspective, although I could not help feeling the tremendous amount of +truth in what he said. + +The next day he went back to duty, while I was informed that for some +time my work would lie at home. A fortnight later Edgecumbe wrote me a +letter, telling me that he was ordered to the front. It seems that his +colonel was more than ever impressed by his evident knowledge of +artillery work, and he was made a special case. + +A week later he had left England, while I, little dreaming of what the +future would bring forth, remained at home. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +THE MARCH OF EVENTS + +The events which I have now to record bring this narrative into this +present year of grace 1917. When I started writing, I had but little +idea of the things I should have to narrate. The drama was then only +partially acted, the story was not complete. As the reader may remember, +when I was in Exeter, shortly after I had first met Edgecumbe, and had +been telling Sir Roger Granville what little I knew of his history. Sir +Roger was much interested. He said that the whole case promised great +things, and that anything might happen to him, that he might have a wife +living, and that he might be heir to big possessions, and that when some +day his memory was restored to him many romantic things might come to +pass. + +Although I did not say so at the time, his words aroused my imagination, +and when, months later, I fell in with Edgecumbe again, having some +little time at my disposal, I set down as well as my memory would serve +the story of our meeting, and what had happened subsequently. + +The remainder of this narrative will, to an extent, be in the nature of a +diary, for so close are some of the events at the time of which I am +writing, that their recital becomes a record of what took place only a +few weeks ago. It is many months ago since first I took pen in hand to +set forth Edgecumbe's story, and now, as I draw near to what, as far as +this history is concerned, is its ending, I am almost afraid to write of +certain things in detail, for fear of wounding some of the people who are +yet alive, and who may feel sensitive that I am making their doings +public. + +The year 1916 was drawing to an end when I received Edgecumbe's first +letter after he had returned to the front. + +'It's miserably cold, miserably wet, and frightfully unpleasant out +here,' he wrote; 'still, it is better for me than it is for many others. +Would you believe it, Luscombe, but Colonel ---- has said so many kind +things about me that I find myself a marked man. I have already got my +full lieutenancy, and am down for my captaincy. Not long after I came +here, I was brought before a very "big pot," whose name I dare not +mention, but who is supposed to be the greatest artillery officer in the +British Army. He put me through the severest examination I have ever +had, and I scarcely knew whether I was standing on my head or my heels. +He was very kind, however, and by and by we got talking freely, and I +suppose I must have interested him in certain theories I had formed about +artillery work. Anyhow, I am to be given my captaincy, and all sorts of +important work is being put in my hands. There are big movements on +foot, my friend,--what they are, I dare not tell you, but if they are +successful they will, from a military standpoint, form an epoch in the +history of this war. + +'With regard to our prospects out here, I am exceedingly optimistic. The +men are splendid, and although the conditions are hard, our health sheet +is exceedingly good. From the standpoint of military preparedness, +things look very rosy; but concerning the other things about which you +and I did not agree I am not at all happy. I am a soldier, and I am +inclined to think that as a boy I was trained for a soldier. I judge, +too, that I have some aptitude in that direction. I believe, too, that +the Almighty is using our military powers for a purpose, but I am sure +that if England believes that this tremendous upheaval is going to be +settled by big guns,--much as I realize the power of big guns, England +will be mistaken. Unless we recognize the moral forces which are always +at work, we shall not be ready in the hour of crisis.' + +When I replied to this letter, I took no notice whatever of these +reflections; indeed, I scarcely saw what he meant. I congratulated him +most heartily on his phenomenally rapid promotion, and told him that he +would soon be colonel, and that this was only a step to higher things. + +As all the world knows, the events of the 1917 have followed each other +with startling and almost bewildering rapidity. Indeed, from the time +when Edgecumbe returned to the front, it is almost impossible to estimate +the far-reaching results of what was taking place. The evacuation of +large tracts of land by the Germans, the giving up of their Somme front, +was more significant than we at the time realized. Then came the +fulfilment of the German threat that on February 1 there would be +unrestricted murder at sea, when vessels of all nationality, whether +neutral or otherwise, would be attacked. At first we could scarcely +believe it, it seemed too horrible to contemplate. War had ceased to be +war; 'rules of the game' were no longer known as far as the Germans were +concerned. Then came the Prime Minister's statement that the food +supplies of the country had become very low, and that the strictest +economy would have to be used. Appeals were made to the nation to +conserve all our food resources, while the Germans jubilantly proclaimed +that in three months we should be starved into submission. + +'I suppose,' Edgecumbe wrote, 'that it is bad form on my part to say "I +told you so"; but I saw this coming months ago. Indeed, no one could +have an intelligent appreciation of German psychology without knowing +that it must come. I am told that food is now only obtainable at famine +prices at home, and that there is a cry on every hand,--"Eat less bread." +But think of the mockery of it, my friend! While there is a threatened +bread famine, beer is still manufactured. And that which was intended to +provide food for the people is being used to make beer. If the Germans +bring us to our knees, it will be our own fault. If the resources of the +nation had not been squandered in this way, we could laugh at all the +Germans say they are going to do.' + +Then news came which staggered Europe and set the world wondering. The +Revolution had broken out in Russia,--the Czar and Czarina became +practically prisoners, the Russian bureaucracy fell, and although the +Revolution was practically bloodless, that great Empire was reduced to a +state of chaos. Of course our newspapers made it appear as though +everything were in our favour; that the old days of corruption and +Czardom were over, and that the people, freed from the tyranny and the +ghastly incubus of autocracy, would now rise in their might and their +millions, and would retrieve what they had lost in the Eastern lines. +Some prophesied that the Revolution in Russia was but the beginning of a +movement which should destroy all autocratic Governments and, with the +establishment of that movement, the end of war would come. Then little +by little it leaked out that liberty had become a licence,--that the +Russian Army had become disorganized,--that the Socialistic element among +the Russians had demanded peace at any price. Soldiers refused to fight, +men deserted by the thousand, while Russian soldiers fraternized with the +Germans. + +'Aren't we living in great times,' Edgecumbe wrote to me,--'surely the +greatest times ever known! They stagger the imagination,--they leave our +minds bewildered,--they shatter our little plans like a strong wind +destroys castles of cards made by children. God is speaking, my friend. +Will England be wise, and hear His voice? Will we learn that, although +the voice of great guns is loud, and the power of explosives mighty, yet +they are not final in the affairs of men and nations? Why, our plans out +here have been blown to smithereens by what has taken place many hundreds +of miles away! We had everything in readiness, and, humanly speaking, it +seemed as though nothing could have stopped our advance. We had the +Germans on toast,--we took Vimy Ridge, and Lens was in our grasp,--we had +advanced miles along the Douay road, and Lille seemed but the matter of a +few days. Then God spoke, and Ecco! what were the plans of men? The +Huns, of course, took advantage of the new situation, and removed vast +hordes of men and guns from the East to the West, and now we are held up. +Of course I am disappointed;--looking at the matter from the standpoint +of a soldier, it seemed as though nothing could withstand us. But what +are the plans of men when God speaks? + +'Of course you will say that I am seeming to prove that God is on the +side of the Germans and, seeing this Russian Revolution has meant our +being held up here, that God Almighty meant that we should not advance. +No, my friend, I am not such a fool as to pretend to understand the ways +of the Omnipotent, but I have no doubt that this wide and far-reaching +movement in Russia will eventually be on our side. It must be. But why +will not England learn the lesson which is so plainly written from sky to +sky? Why do not the people turn to God,--look to Him for wisdom, and +fight in His strength? Then victory would come soon, and gloriously. + +'As I said, I am disappointed at our temporary check, but I am convinced +it is only temporary. God does things in a big way. He staggers our +poor little puny minds by His acts. The world is being re-made; old +systems, hoary with age, are being destroyed. The birth of new movements +is on foot, new thoughts are in the air, new dreams are being dreamed, +and the new age is surely coming. But sometimes it seems as though we +have ears, and hear not,--eyes, and see not. God is speaking to us +aloud, calling us to repentance, and yet we do not hear His voice, or +seek His guidance. Still, we are on the eve of new movements, and out of +all the confusion will come a great order, and men will yet see the hand +of the Lord.' + +His letter had scarcely reached me, when the news came that America had +declared war on Germany, and was to act on the side of the Allies. This +great free people, numbering a hundred million souls, made up of all +nationalities, yet welded into one great nation, had spoken, and had +spoken on the side of freedom and righteousness. Even the few who had +been downhearted took fresh courage at America's action. The thought +that the United States, with its almost illimitable resources of men, of +money, and of potentialities, was joining hands with us, made everything +possible. I was not surprised at receiving another letter from Edgecumbe. + +'At last we have had a prophetic utterance,' he wrote. 'Wilson has +spoken, not merely as a politician, or as the head of the American +nation, but as a prophet of God. His every word made my nerves tingle, +my heart warm. As an Englishman, I felt jealous, and I asked why, during +these last months, there had been no voice heard in England, proclaiming +the idealism, the inwardness of this gigantic struggle? But as a citizen +of the world, I rejoiced with a great joy. I am inclined to think that +Wilson's speech will form a new era in the history of men. That for +which he contends will slowly percolate through the nations, and peoples +of every clime will know and understand that nothing can resist the will +of Almighty God. + +'What pigmies we are, and for how little do the plans of individuals +count! God speaks, and lo the pomp of the Czar becomes but as chaff +which the wind drives away! Who would have believed a few months ago +that all the so-called glory of the Imperial House of the Romanoffs would +become the dream of yesterday? All the long line of Royal sons no longer +counts. Czardom with all it meant has gone for ever. The man, whose +word a few weeks ago meant glory or shame, life or death, is to-day an +exile, a prisoner. His word no more than the cry of a puling child! And +to-morrow? God may speak again, and then Kaiserism will fall with all +its pomp and vanity. + +'Of course I am but a poor ignorant soldier, and my word cannot count for +much; but I have a feeling that before many years are over,--perhaps it +may be only a matter of months--the Kaiser will either die by his own +hand, or else God, through the millions of bereaved and heart-broken +people, will hurl him from his throne. + +'What is the power of autocratic kings? Only the moaning of night winds. +Yesterday it was not, and tomorrow it will not be. But God lives through +His people, and that people is slowly moving on to liberty and power. +That is why I believe the end of war is drawing near. It is never the +_people_ who long for war; it is the kings, the potentates who are ever +guilty of making it. Thus when they cease to rule, war will cease, and +there will be peace and brotherhood. + +'Anyhow, President Wilson has spoken, and he has expressed the highest +feelings of the American nation, and although the end of this war may not +come as we expect, it will come in the overthrow of Junkerdom and +military supremacy.' + +After this I did not hear from Edgecumbe for some time, and I began to +grow anxious at his long continued silence, then when June of this year +arrived, an event took place which overcame me with astonishment. + +I had had a hard day at the training camp, and was sitting outside the +mess tent, when I felt a hand upon my shoulder, and heard a cheery voice +close by me. + +'Hulloa, Luscombe, why that pensive brow?' + +I looked up and saw my friend standing by me, with his left arm in a +sling, looking pale and somewhat haggard, but with a bright light in his +eyes. + +'Edgecumbe!' I cried. 'Ay, but I am glad to see you! Where did you +spring from, and what have you been doing?' + +'That's what I've come to tell you,' he said quietly. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +EDGECUMBE'S RETURN + +'You are wounded,' I stammered, scarcely knowing what I was saying. +His appearance was so sudden, and unexpected, that I could scarcely +believe that it was really he who stood there before me. 'It's not bad +I hope?' + +'No, not bad. Not enough to make a fuss about;--it might have been, +though'; and I noticed that his voice became grave. + +'How? What do you mean?' + +'I'll tell you some day--soon perhaps. Are you busy?' + +'No, my work is over for the day. I _am_ glad to see you, old man. +Are you home for long?' + +'Yes, a few weeks I expect. You see--I've had a rough time rather--and +am a bit knocked about. But I shall pull through.' + +His manner was strange; and while he spoke quietly, I felt rather than +thought that something out of the ordinary had happened. + +He dragged a rough seat up to the side of the tent, and looked across +the field where a number of men were encamped. + +'Have you heard from _her_?' he asked suddenly. 'Do you know how she +is?' + +'No. Directly after we saw her last she returned to her hospital work. +I wrote to her once; but she has not replied.' + +'Have you heard anything?' + +'I know Springfield has been home, and that he's been to see her. I +heard from Buller that they were engaged.' + +'You mean that it's settled? Has it been publicly announced?' His +voice was tense. + +'I don't think so. At any rate, I've not seen it in the papers.' + +Again he was silent for a few seconds, and noting the far-away look in +his eyes, I waited in silence. + +'Springfield is still afraid of me,' he said presently. + +'Why? Have you seen him?' + +'Yes. He and St. Mabyn are still as thick as peas in a pod. They were +both at Vimy Ridge, and afterwards at Ypres and Messines. + +'Did you speak to them?' + +'Rather,' and he laughed curiously. 'I had to.' + +'How? What do you mean?' + +'You asked me just now why I had not written you for some time. I had +my reasons for silence. I was under a cloud for a time, and I wanted +things cleared up before telling you anything.' + +'Don't speak in riddles, Edgecumbe. What has been the trouble? Tell +me quickly.' + +'Oh, it's all over now, so I can speak fairly plainly, but for some +days it was touch and go with me. Of course they kept in the +background, but I was able to trace their handiwork.' + +'What handiwork? Come, old man, don't keep me in suspense.' + +'Oh, it was the old game. You remember how it was when you were in +France, and some fellows shot at me. You remember, too, how I nearly +died of poisoning at Bolivick, and that but for you I should have been +done for. You said you traced Springfield's hands in everything. He's +been trying on the same thing again,--only in another way.' + +'What other way?' + +He laughed quietly. 'I fancy he thought that when you weren't by I +should be easy game, that I should be too simple to see through his +plans. But I happened to keep my eyes skinned, as the Americans say. +It was this way: by some means or another, some important information +went astray, and got into the German lines. Of course the Huns made +the most of it, and we suffered pretty heavily. As it happened I was +at that time in the confidence of the General in command of the D.H.Q., +and there seemed no one else on whom suspicion could fall. But I was +warned in time. I had been told that both Springfield and St. Mabyn +had been in close confab with the General, and I knew that if they +could do me a nasty turn, they would. So I checkmated them.' + +'How? Tell me the details.' + +'I'm afraid I mustn't do that. You know how military secrets are +regarded, and as even yet the scheme I discussed with the General is +not completed, my lips are sealed. But I found that Springfield had +suggested to the General that my loss of memory was very fishy--a mere +blind in fact to cover up a very suspicious past. He also told him he +was sure he had seen me, in pre-war days, in Berlin, wearing the +uniform of a German officer. Had I not been able to show an absolutely +clean sheet I should have been done for. As it was, there was a time +when I wouldn't have given a sou for my life. I was, of course, shut +off from the General's confidence, and pending the results of the +inquiry was practically a prisoner.' + +'I say, old man, you can't mean that?' + +'Fact, I assure you. Still as nothing, absolutely _nothing_ wrong +could be traced to me, and as----' + +'Yes, what,' I said as he hesitated. + +'Oh, a little thing I was mixed up in came off rather well--very well +in fact.' + +'What? Don't keep me in suspense, old man.' + +'Oh, nothing much; nothing worth talking about. Still I may as well +tell you as it's bound to come out. It seems I am to get the D.S.O.' + +'The D.S.O.! Great, old man! I congratulate you with all my heart. +Tell me about it,' I cried. + +'It was really nothing. Still I had concocted a scheme which gave us a +big advantage. It was rather risky, but it came off so well +that--that--it got to the notice of the G.H.Q. and--and--there you are. +When the details of my little stunt became known to the Chief he--he +said it was impossible for its author to be anything but a loyal +Englishman, that I was a valuable man, and all that sort of rot.' + +Of course I read between the lines. I knew Edgecumbe's reticence about +anything he had done, and I was sure he had accomplished a big thing. + +'It came in jolly handy to me,' he went on, 'for it spiked +Springfield's guns right away, and I was regarded as sort of tin god. +Congratulations poured in on every hand and--and, but there's no need +to say any more about it.' + +'And what did Springfield say then?' + +'Oh, he was louder in his congratulations than any one. It makes me +sick to think of it!' + +'But didn't you expose him?' + +'I couldn't. You see, I only learnt in a roundabout way that he had +tried to poison the General's mind against me, and he very nearly +covered his traces everywhere. Oh, he's a clever beggar. Still, you +see the situation. It was jolly sultry for a time.' + +'I see you have had another move,' I said looking at his uniform. + +'Yes, I've had great luck; but don't let's talk any more about me. How +are _you_ getting on? And can't you get some leave?' + +'I have some due,' I replied, noting the far-away look in his eyes, and +wondering what was in his mind. 'Why do you ask?' + +'Big things are going to happen,' he said after a long silence. + +'What do you mean? Tell me, Edgecumbe, has your memory come back? +Have you learnt anything--in--in that direction?' + +He shook his head sadly. 'No, nothing. The past is blank, blank. And +yet I think sometimes----I say, Luscombe, I wonder who I am? I +wonder----' + +'And do you still persist in your mad fancies?' I blurted out after a +long silence. + +'Persist! Mad fancies!' he cried passionately. 'As long as my heart +beats, as long as I have consciousness, I shall never cease to--to----I +say, old man, get some leave and go with me.' + +'Why?' I asked. 'If your mind is made up, seek her out wherever she +is. I know she is at a V.A.D. Hospital not far from her home; so your +way is plain. You can go to her on more equal terms now. You are a +distinguished man now. In a few months you have risen from obscurity +to eminence.' + +'Don't talk rot. I can never meet her on equal terms.' + +'Then why bother about her?' + +'Because God has decreed that I shall. But you must go with me, my +dear fellow. In ways I can't understand, your life is linked to mine. +It was not for nothing that we met down at Plymouth Harbour; it was not +without purpose that I was led to love you like a brother.' + +'Well, what then?' + +'You must go with me. In some way or another, your life is linked to +mine, and you must go with me.' + +Of course I applied for leave right away, and as I had been working +hard all the while Edgecumbe had been in France I was able to get it +without difficulty. + +'My word, have you seen this, Edgecumbe?' I cried the next afternoon, +immediately we had left Salisbury Plain, where I had been stationed. + +'What?' he asked. + +'This in _The Times_. They've been cracking you up to the skies.' + +'Oh, that,' he replied. 'Yes, I saw it this morning. I see they've +made quite a sensational paragraph. I hardly recognize myself.' + +As I read the article a second time, I wondered at his indifference. +Seldom had such a eulogy appeared in that great newspaper. Evidently +the writer had taken considerable pains to get at the facts, and had +presented them in glowing colours. There could be no doubt about it +that from the standpoint of the Army, his future, if his life was +spared, was assured. Not only was he spoken of as a man whose courage +was almost unparalleled, but his abilities as a strategist, and his +grasp of the broad issues of military affairs were discussed, and +recognized in no sparing terms. It seemed impossible that a man who a +few months before was a simple private, should now be discussed in such +glowing panegyrics. + +Greatly elated as I was at the praise bestowed upon my friend, I little +realized what it would mean to him during the next few hours. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + +THE GREAT MEETING + +'Can't we go down to Devonshire to-night?' cried Edgecumbe, as our +train reached London. + +'Impossible, my dear fellow,' I replied. + +'But why not?' and I could see by the wild longing look in his eyes +what he was thinking of. + +'Oh, there are a dozen reasons. For one thing, she may not be able to +get away from the hospital; for another--I don't think it would be +wise.' + +'I simply must go, Luscombe! I tell you something's going to happen, +something great. I feel it in every breath I draw. We must go--go at +once.' + +'No,' I replied. 'I wrote her last night, and told her that we should +step in London at the National Hotel till we heard from her. If she +wants us to come we shan't be long in getting her reply.' + +He gave a long quivering sigh, and I could see how disappointed he was, +but he said no more about the matter, and when we arrived at the hotel +he had seemed to have forgotten all about it. + +'Look here,' he cried, pointing to a paragraph in an evening newspaper, +'that's on the right lines. I'm going.' + +The paragraph which interested him was a notice of a big meeting that +was to be held that night for the purpose of discussing certain phases +of the Army, and consequently of the war, about which newspapers were +usually silent. The fact that a Cabinet Minister of high rank, as well +as a renowned general, were announced to speak, however, caused the +news editor to give it prominence. + +'It's on the right lines,' he repeated. 'Yes, I'm going.' + +'Better go to some place of amusement,' I suggested. + +'Nero fiddled while Rome was burning,' was his reply. + +A little later we found our way to a huge hall where some thousands of +people had gathered. It was evident that the subject to be discussed +appealed strongly to a large portion of the population, and that the +audience was much interested in the proceedings. + +I could see, however, that Edgecumbe was disappointed in the meeting. +None of the speakers spoke strongly and definitely. Each enlarged on +the difficulties of the situation, and spoke of the impossibility of +making men pure by Act of Parliament, but no suggestion was made +whereby the evils mentioned might be grappled with and strangled. +While all admitted that a frightful state of things existed, and +declared that something ought to be done, no one had the courage to +demand drastic reforms, or strike a prophetic note. The Cabinet +Minister enlarged in a somewhat stilted fashion upon what the +Government had done to check drunkenness, while another speaker told of +the magnificent work of the Y.M.C.A., and of the hostels and huts which +had been provided, both in England and on the Continent; but all felt +that the heart of the matter had not been touched. It was not until +the General spoke that the audience was anything like aroused, and even +he failed to get at close quarters with the evils which all admitted. + +Indeed I, who could not see how more could be done than had been done, +felt that the meeting was a failure, and as, when the General sat down, +the reporters were preparing to leave, and the audience grew restless, +I felt that the whole thing was in the nature of a fiasco. + +'Let's go, Edgecumbe,' I said. + +'No, not yet,' and I saw that he was much excited. + +'But the meeting is practically over. There, the chairman is going to +call on somebody to propose the usual vote of thanks.' + +But he took no notice of me. Instead he rose to his feet, and his +voice rang clearly throughout the hall. + +'My lord,' he said addressing the chairman, 'I am a soldier just home +from the front. May I say a few words?' + +It was only then that I realized what a striking figure Edgecumbe was, +and although I was almost stunned by his sudden action, I could not +help comparing him, as he was now, with the first occasion on which I +had seen him. Then, with his nondescript garments, his parchment-like +skin, and the look of wistful indecision in his eyes, he was a creature +to be pitied. Now, in the uniform of a major, he stood stalwart and +erect. In spite of the fact that his left arm was in a sling, there +was something commanding in his attitude. His eyes no longer suggested +indecision, and his bronzed skin was no longer wrinkled and parchment +like. He looked what he was--a tall, strong, capable man, instinct +with life and energy. + +There was something, too, in the tones of his voice that aroused the +interest of the audience, and thousands of eyes were turned towards him. + +The chairman adjusted his eye-glasses, and looked at Edgecumbe, who +still stood erect, the cynosure of all eyes. + +'I am sure,' said the chairman, 'that in spite of the fact that it is +growing late, we shall be glad to hear a few words from a soldier just +back from the front. Will he kindly come to the platform.' + +The audience, doubtless noting Edgecumbe's wounded arm, gave him a +cheer as he left his seat, while the reporters, probably hoping for +something good in the way of copy, again opened their note-books. + +'I asked permission to say a few words, my lord,' he said, 'because I +have been deeply disappointed in this meeting. This is a great +audience, and it is a great occasion; that is why the lack of an +overwhelming conviction, the lack too of anything like vision of the +inwardness of the problem under discussion is so saddening. I had +hoped for a message to the heart of the nation; I had waited to hear +the Voice of God, without which all such gatherings as this must be in +vain.' + +He hesitated a second, and I feared lest he had lost thread of his +thought, feared too lest after his somewhat flamboyant commencement his +appearance would be only a fiasco. I saw, too, that the chairman +looked at him doubtfully, and I had a suspicion that he was on the +point of asking him to sit down. + +But his hesitation was only for a moment. He threw back his shoulders +as though he were on the battlefield and was about to give an important +command. + +'I speak as one who has been a soldier in the ranks, and who knows the +soldier's hardships, his temptations, his sufferings. I also speak as +one who knows what a fine fellow the British soldier is, for believe me +there are no braver men beneath God's all-beholding sun than our lads +have proved themselves to be.' + +He had struck the right note now, and the audience responded warmly. +There was something magnetic in Edgecumbe's presence, too, something in +his voice which made the people listen. + +'I want to say something else, before getting to that which is in my +heart to say,' he went on. 'We are fighting for something great, and +high and holy. We are contending against tyranny, lies, savagery. +Never did a nation have a greater, grander cause than we, and if +Germany were to win----' + +In a few sentences he outlined the great issues at stake and made the +audience see as he saw. It was evident, too, that the occupants of the +platform became aware that a new force was at work. + +Then followed the greatest scene I have ever seen at any public +gathering. For some time Edgecumbe seemed to forget who he was, or to +whom he spoke; he was simply carried away by what seemed to him the +burning needs of the times. He spoke of the way thousands of young +fellows were ruined, and of the facilities which existed for their +ruin. He told of scenes he had seen in France, scenes which took place +when the men were 'back for rest,' and were 'out for a good time.' He +described what we had witnessed together in London. He showed, too, in +burning words that the two outstanding evils, 'Drink and Impurity,' +were indissolubly associated, and that practically nothing was done to +stem the tide of impurity and devilry which flowed like a mighty flood. + +'I say this deliberately,' he said, 'it is nothing short of a blood-red +crime, it is blasphemy against the Holy Spirit of God, to call men from +the four corners of the earth to fight for a great cause like ours, and +then to allow temptations to stand at every corner to lure them to +destruction. Some one has described in glowing terms the work of the +Y.M.C.A., and I can testify the truth of those terms, but ask Y.M.C.A. +workers what is the greatest hindrance to their work, and they will +tell you it is the facilities for drink, drink which so often leads to +impurity, and all the ghastly diseases that follows in its train. + +'How can you expect God's blessing to rest upon us, while the souls of +men are being damned in such a way?' + +'What would you do?' cried some one, when the wild burst of cheering +which greeted his words ceased. + +'Do?' he cried. 'At least every man here can determine, God helping +him, to fight against the greatest foe of our national life. You can +determine that you will leave nothing undone to strangle this deadly +enemy. Personally, after seeing what I have seen, and knowing what I +know, I will make no terms with it. Even now, if a fortune were +offered me, made by drink, I would not benefit by it. But more, you +can besiege the Government, you can give it no rest until it has +removed one of the greatest hindrances to victory. + +'What England needs is to realize that God lives, and to turn to Him in +faith and humility. Just so long as we remain in a state of religious +indifference, just so long will the war continue; and just so soon as +we give our lives to Him, and put our trust in Him, just so soon will +victory be seen. God has other ways of speaking than by big guns. God +spoke, and lo, all the pomp of the Czars became the byword of children! +God will speak again, and all the vain glory of the Kaiser will become +as the fairy stories of the past!' + +I know that what I have written gives no true idea of Edgecumbe's +message. The words I have set down give but faint suggestions of the +outpourings of a heart charged with a mighty purpose. For he spoke +like a man inspired, and he lifted the whole audience to a higher level +of thought, and life, and purpose. People who had listened with a +bored expression on their faces during the other speeches, were moved +by his burning words. Club loungers who had been cynical and +unbelieving half an hour before, now felt the reality of an unseen +Power. + +Then came the climax to all that had gone before. No sooner had +Edgecumbe sat down than the chairman rose again. + +'You wonder perhaps,' he said, 'who it is that has been speaking to us. +You know by his uniform that he is a soldier, and you know he is a +brave man by the decoration on his tunic, but few I expect know, as I +have just learnt, that this is Major Edgecumbe, the story of whose +glorious career is given in to-day's newspapers.' + +If the meeting was greatly moved before, it now became frenzied in its +enthusiasm. Cheer after cheer rose, while the great audience rose to +its feet. All realized that he spoke not as a theorist and a dreamer, +but as a man who had again and again offered his life for the country +he loved, and the cause in which he believed--a man, not only great in +courage, but skilful in war, and wise in counsel. + +When the excitement had somewhat ceased, an old clergyman, who had been +sitting at the back of the platform, came to the front. + +'Let us pray,' he said, and a great hush rested on every one, while he +led the multitude in prayer. + +When the meeting finally broke up, the General who had spoken earlier +in the evening came and shook Edgecumbe by the hand. + +'This meeting is worth more to win the war than an army corps,' he said. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + +THE LIFTED CURTAIN + +The following morning the papers contained lengthy reports of the +meeting, and spoke in no sparing terms of the influence of Edgecumbe's +words on the great crowd. He appeared to be depressed, however. + +'It may be only a passing sensation,' he said. 'Still, I couldn't help +doing what I did.' + +We had barely finished breakfast when a telegram was brought to me, + + +'Come at once and bring your friend. Wire time I may expect +you.--BOLIVICK.' + + +'There,' I said, passing it to Edgecumbe, 'there's dispatch for you.' + +A few minutes later we were in a taxi, on our way to Paddington, and a +few hours later we arrived at Bolivick. + +We had barely alighted from the conveyance when Edgecumbe gave a start. + +'Look,' he said, 'both Springfield and St. Mabyn are there.' + +'Yes,' I replied lightly, 'and Lorna too. Don't you see her in her +nurse's uniform?' + +His face was set and rigid as the greetings took place; but he had +evidently put a strong check upon himself, and spoke naturally. + +'Glad to see you, Luscombe,' cried Sir Thomas, 'and you too, Major +Edgecumbe. Let me congratulate you on your wonderful career. It's +almost like a fairy story!' + +'Let me add my congratulations,' cried Springfield. 'I pay my tribute, +not only to the soldier, but to the orator.' + +I could not fail to detect the sneer in his voice, even although he +seemed to speak heartily. A copy of _The Times_ was lying on the lawn, +and I imagined that Edgecumbe's speech had been read and discussed. + +'We shall be quite a party to dinner to-night,' said Sir Thomas to me +presently. 'Of course you must expect scanty fare, as we are carrying +out the rationing order to the very letter. But it's an important +occasion all the same. Lord Carbis is coming by the next train. +Please don't say anything about it. No one knows but my wife and +myself. I want to give a surprise to both Lorna and Springfield.' + +My heart became as heavy as lead, for I knew what he had in his mind, +and I looked towards Edgecumbe, wondering if he had heard anything. It +was evident he had heard nothing, however; he was talking to Norah +Blackwater, who was again a visitor to Bolivick. + +'By the way,' went on Sir Thomas, 'that fellow Edgecumbe has developed +wonderfully, hasn't he? Of course what he said last night was so much +nonsense. I quite agree that it's very sad about--that--is--some of +the things he talked about, but as to the rest,--it was moonshine.' + +'You wouldn't have said so if you'd been there, Sir Thomas,' I ventured. + +'Something's going to happen, Luscombe,' Edgecumbe said to me as +presently we found our way to our rooms. + +'Why do you say so?' + +'I don't know. But there is. It's in the air we breathe. I know I'm +right.' + +'What's the matter with you?' I asked, looking at him intently. + +'Nothing. Yes there is though. I'm feeling mighty queer.' + +'Are you ill?' + +'No, nothing of the sort. But I'm nervous. I feel as though great +things were on foot. The air is charged with great things. Something +big is going to take place.' + +He was silent a few seconds, and then went on, 'I had a long talk with +a doctor in France a few days ago.' + +'What doctor? What did he tell you?' I asked eagerly. + +'One of our men out there. He had a big practice as a consulting +physician in Harley Street until a few months ago, when he offered +himself to the Army. He is a nerve specialist, and years ago paid +great attention to brain troubles. He was so kind to me, and was such +an understanding fellow that I told him my story. He was awfully +interested, and said that he never knew but one case where loss of +memory had continued so long as it had with me.' + +'Did he give you any hope?' I asked. + +He shook his head doubtfully. 'He would not say anything definite. He +seemed to think that as my general health had been good for so long, +and as my memory had not come back, it might be a very long time before +there was any change. All the same, he felt sure that it was only a +matter of time. He seemed to regard my trouble as a kind of artificial +barrier which divided the past from the present, but that time would +constantly wear away the barrier. He also said that if some very vivid +and striking happening were to take place, something that was vitally +connected with my past, it might suddenly pierce it--tear it aside, and +let in the light.' + +'And--and----?' + +'No, Luscombe,' he interrupted, as if divining my thoughts, 'I know of +nothing, I remember nothing. But there was something else he told me +which makes me have faith in him. It was so true.' + +'What was that?' + +'That loss of memory often gave a kind of sixth sense. He said he +should not be surprised if I had very vivid premonitions of the future. +That I had a kind of knowledge when something out of the common were +going to happen. That's what makes me afraid.' + +'Afraid?' + +'Yes, afraid. I seem to be on the brink of a great black chasm. I +feel that I am able to save myself from falling, only I won't. I say, +what's that?' + +'It's a motor-car,' I replied. 'Sir Thomas told me he had other guests +coming.' + +'What guests? Who are they?' + +'How can I know?' I replied, for I feared to tell him what our host had +told me about Lord Carbis's relations to Springfield, and that probably +Lorna's engagement might be announced in a few hours. + +We were both dressed ready for dinner a quarter of an hour before the +time announced, and together we found our way downstairs into the +reception hall. Early as we were, we found that not only was Lorna +Bolivick there, but George St. Mabyn was also present and was talking +eagerly to Norah Blackwater. Springfield also came a few seconds +later, and went straight to Lorna's side and spoke to her with an air +of proprietorship. + +I felt that Edgecumbe and I were _de trop_, and I moved away from them, +but Edgecumbe went to St. Mabyn and Norah Blackwater, as if with the +purpose of speaking to them. I thought, too, that there was a strange +look in his eyes. + +'You are not much like your brother Maurice,' he said suddenly. + +'My brother Maurice!' said St. Mabyn, and I thought his voice was +hoarse. 'What do you know of him?' + +'What do I know of him?' repeated Edgecumbe, and he spoke as though his +mind were far away. + +'Yes. You can know nothing of him. He's dead.' + +'No,' replied Edgecumbe, 'he's not dead.' + +'Not dead!' and St. Mabyn almost gasped the words, while his face +became as pale as ashes. 'Not dead! You must be mad!' Then he +laughed uneasily. + +'Oh, no,' and Edgecumbe still spoke in the same toneless voice. 'I +knew him well. He was--where did I see him last?' + +Before we could recover from the effect of what he said, I knew that +we were joined by others. In a bewildered kind of way I noticed +that Sir Thomas and Lady Bolivick were accompanied by a tall, +distinguished-looking man about fifty-five years of age, by whose side +stood a sweet-faced, motherly-looking woman. + +'Lorna, my dear,' said Sir Thomas, 'I want you to know Lord and Lady +Carbis.' + +Lorna moved forward to speak to her visitors, but they did not notice +her. Both of them had fixed their gaze on Edgecumbe, who stood looking +at them with a light in his eyes which made me afraid. + +'John!' cried Lady Carbis, her voice almost rising to a scream. 'Why, +it's Jack! our Jack!' + +Never shall I forget the look on my friend's face. He seemed to be in +agony. It might be that he was striving to keep himself from going +mad. His eyes burnt with a red light, his features were drawn and +contorted. Then suddenly he heaved a deep sigh, and lifted his +shoulders, as though he were throwing a heavy weight from him. + +'Mother!' he said hoarsely. 'Mother! When----? that is---- Why, I'm +home again!--and the little mater----' + +Unheeding the fact of his damaged arm, he held out both his hands and +staggered towards her. + +A second later, unconscious of watching eyes, they were in each other's +arms, while Lady Carbis murmured all sorts of fond endearments. + +'My dead boy come back to life!' she cried. 'My little Jack +who--who--oh, thank God, thank God! Speak to me, Jack, my darling, +speak to your mother! Oh, help! What's the matter? Can't you see +that----' + +I was only just in time to keep my friend from falling heavily on the +floor, and when a few seconds later I succeeded in lifting him to a +sofa, he lay like a dead man. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + +MEMORY + +For some minutes wild confusion prevailed. Lady Carbis knelt by the +sofa, and called wildly on my friend to speak to her. Lord Carbis +talked incoherently, and made all sorts of impossible suggestions. +Evidently he was beside himself with joy and fear. Sir Thomas Bolivick +looked from one to another as if asking for explanations, while Lorna +Bolivick, with pale, eager face and wild eyes, stood like one +transfixed. + +But she was the first to recover herself. Swiftly she went to the +sofa, and caught Edgecumbe's hand. Then she knelt down and placed her +ear to his heart. + +'He is alive,' she said; 'his heart beats. I think he will soon be +better.' + +'Yes, yes,' stammered Lord Carbis. 'He was always a strong boy--hard +as nails, hard as nails. Oh, it's wonderful, wonderful! It's my son, +my only son, Sir Thomas. I'd given him up for dead. It's years now +since--since he was last seen. Ah, look, his eyelids are quivering! +Stand back and give him air. But I can't understand. Where's he been +all this time? Why hasn't he let us know where he was? It's not like +him. He was always such a good boy, and so fond of his mother. I got +a paper from India, too; announcing his death. I can't understand it +all. Perhaps you can explain, Sir Thomas----' + +Thus he went on talking, scarcely conscious of what he was saying. +Evidently the shock had almost unhinged his mind, and he was merely +giving expression to the fugitive thoughts that came to him. + +As Edgecumbe's eyes opened, I felt a strange quiver of joy in my heart. +What I saw was no madman's stare, rather it suggested placid +contentment. For a few seconds he glanced from one to another, as if +trying to comprehend, and co-ordinate what had taken place; then he +heaved a deep sigh, half of satisfaction, half of weariness. + +'It's all gone,' he murmured like one speaking to himself. + +'What is gone, my darling?' asked Lady Carbis. + +'The mists, the cobwebs, the black curtain,' he replied. + +I heard her gasp as if in fear. I knew of what she was thinking; but +she spoke no word. Instead she continued looking at him with love-lit +eyes. + +For a few seconds he lay like one thinking, then he rubbed the back of +his right-hand across his eyes, and laughed like one amused. + +'Oh, little mother,' he said, 'it is good to see you again! Good to +know--there kiss me. That's right; it makes me feel as though I were a +kid again, and you were putting me to bed like you did in the old days.' + +Lady Carbis kissed him eagerly, calling him all sorts of endearing +names. + +'It's your old mother!' she murmured. 'Are you better, Jack, my +darling?' + +'Yes, heaps better. Why, there you are, dad! You see I've turned up +again. Oh, I _am_ glad to see you!' and he held out his hand. + +'Jack, Jack,' sobbed his father, 'tell me you are all right.' + +On considering it all, afterwards, it seemed to me that it was not a +bit what I should have expected him to say, but facts have a wonderful +way of laughing at fancies. + +'I feel better every second,' he said. 'Everything came back so +suddenly that I felt like a man bowled over. You see, I couldn't grasp +it all. But--but I'm settling down now. I--I--oh, I'm afraid I'm an +awful nuisance. Forgive me. Thank you all for being so good.' + +I saw his eyes rest on Lorna, and his lips twitched as if in pain, but +only for a moment. + +'Where's Luscombe?' he asked. 'Ah, there you are, old man. You must +know Luscombe, little mother. He's the truest pal a chap ever had. +But for him--but there we'll talk about that later.' + +A minute later Edgecumbe was led by his mother into the library, while +Lord Carbis walked on the other side of his newly-found son. + +Never in all my experience have I sat down to such a strange dinner +party as on that night. We were all wild with excitement, and yet we +appeared to talk calmly about things that didn't matter a bit. What we +ate, or whether we ate, I have not the slightest remembrance. +Personally I felt as though I were dreaming, and that I should +presently wake up and find things in their normal condition again. But +it was easy to see that each was thinking deeply. Especially did Sir +Thomas and Springfield show that they were considering what the +evening's happenings might mean. + +Strange as it may seem, little was said about the happening which had +created such a consternation. Of course it was in all our minds, but +to speak about it seemed for some time like trespassing on forbidden +ground. + +'Anyhow,' said Lady Bolivick presently, 'the dear things will want some +dinner, James,' and she turned to the butler, 'see that something fit +to eat is kept for Lord and Lady Carbis, and Major----that is their +son.' + +'Yes, my lady.' + +'It's all very wonderful, I'm sure,' went on Lady Bolivick. 'I +hope--that is--they won't be disappointed in him. Of, course he's had +a wonderful career, and done unheard-of things, but if he sticks to +what he said about never taking a penny of money made by +drink--there--there'll be all sorts of difficulties.' + +'Yes, but I imagine he'll chuck all that,' and Springfield seemed like +a man speaking to himself. + +'Oh, I hope not,' said Lorna. + +'You hope not!' and her father spoke as if in astonishment. + +'Yes,' cried the girl. 'It was so fine--and so true. When I read his +speech in _The Times_, I felt just as he did.' + +'Nonsense, Lorna! Why, if he stands by his crazy words, he'll still be +a poor man with nothing but his pay to live on. He'll sacrifice one of +the finest fortunes in England.' + +Almost unconsciously I looked towards George St. Mabyn, whom I had +almost forgotten in my excitement, and I saw that he looked like a +haunted man. His face was drawn and haggard, although I judged he had +been drinking freely through dinner. I called to mind the words +Edgecumbe had uttered just before Lord and Lady Carbis came into the +room, and I wondered what they meant. + +'No,' said Sir Thomas, who was evidently thinking of his daughter's +words, 'he'll not be fool enough for that. What do you think, +Luscombe?' + +I was silent, for in truth I did not know what to say. In one sense +Sir Thomas had reason on his side, for such an act would seem like +madness. But I was by no means sure. I had known Edgecumbe for more +than two years, and I did not believe that even the shock which led him +to recover his memory, could change his strong determined nature. + +The ladies left the room just then, but a few seconds later Lorna +Bolivick returned and came straight towards me. + +'He wants you,' she said, and I saw that her eyes burnt with excitement. + +I made my way to the library, where my friend met me with a laugh. +'You mustn't keep away from me, old man,' he said, 'I want you--want +you badly.' + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + +AFTERWARDS + +We were alone in the library, Lord Carbis, Lady Carbis, Edgecumbe and +myself, and certainly it was one of the strangest gatherings ever I +experienced. + +The excitement was intense, and yet we spoke together quietly, as +though we lived in a world of commonplaces. But nothing was +commonplace. Never in my life did I realize the effect which joy can +have, as I realized it then. Years before, Lord and Lady Carbis had +received news that their son had died in India. What that news had +meant to them at the time I had no idea. He was their only son, and on +him all their hopes had centred. They had mourned for him as dead, and +his loss had meant a blank in their lives which no words can describe. + +Then, suddenly and without warning, they had come into a strange house, +and found their son standing before them. As I think of it now, I +wonder that the shock did not do them serious harm, and I can quite +understand the incoherent, almost meaningless words they uttered. + +To Edgecumbe the shock must have been still greater. For years the +greatest part of his life had been a blank to him. As I have set forth +in these pages, all his life before the time when he awoke to +consciousness in India had practically no meaning to him. And then, +suddenly, the thick, dark curtain was torn aside, and he woke to the +fact that his memory was restored, that he was not homeless or +nameless, but that his father and mother stood before him.' + +'Jack has told me all about you,' Lord Carbis said, as I entered the +room; 'told me what you did for him, what a friend you have been to +him! God bless you, sir! I don't know how to express my feelings, +I--I hardly know what I am saying, but you understand,--I am sure you +understand.' + +'Isn't it a lark, old man,' Edgecumbe said with a laugh, 'isn't +it,--isn't it?--but there--I can't put it into words. Half the time I +seem to be dreaming. Things which happened years ago are coming in +crowds back to me, until half the time I am wondering whether after all +I am not somebody else. And yet I know I am not somebody else. Why, +here's dad, and here's the little mater'; and he looked at them +joyfully. + +I could not help watching him anxiously, for after all he had just gone +through an experience which happens to but one man in a million. It +seemed to me as though I dimly understood the strange processes through +which his brain must have gone in order to bring about the present +state of things. During the earlier part of the day, all his past had +been a blank, now much of it was real to him. He had been like a man +with his life cut in two, one half being unknown to him; and now, as if +by a miracle, that half was restored. I wondered how he felt. I +feared he would not be able to stand the shock, and that he would +suffer a terrible reaction afterwards. + +'You are all right, aren't you, old man?' I said. 'You--you don't feel +ill or anything of that sort?' + +'Right as a skylark,' he said gaily, 'except that I am a bit tired.' + +'You are sure, Jack, my darling?' said his mother, looking at him +anxiously. 'Sure there is nothing we can do for you? Oh, I wish we +were home!' + +'Do you?' he said. 'I am not sure I agree with you.' + +'Oh, but I do. You see, we don't know the Bolivicks very well, +and--and--we didn't come expecting anything like this, did we, John?' + +'Anything like this!' ejaculated Lord Carbis, 'anything like this! +Why--why,--Jack, my boy!'--and he rubbed his eyes vigorously. + +'I am sure Sir Thomas and Lady Bolivick are only too glad to have you +here,' I said, 'and nothing will be regarded as a trouble. Besides, I +am not sure that your son does not want to be here. But tell me, old +fellow, don't you think you ought to get to bed?' + +A look of fear came into his eyes. 'No, not yet, not yet,' he said. +'I think I am afraid to go to sleep; afraid lest when I wake up I shall +find that great black cloud lying at the back of my mind again.' + +'Then wouldn't it be wise to send for a doctor? The man who lives here +is not at all a bad chap;--you know that.' + +Again he laughed gaily. 'I want no doctor. The little mother is all +the doctor I want.' + +Lady Carbis leant over him and kissed him, just as I have seen young +mothers kiss their firstborn babies. + +'I will sit by your bed all the night, my darling,' she said, 'and no +harm shall come to you while you are asleep.' + +'But I don't want to sleep just yet,' went on Edgecumbe. 'I feel as +though I must tell you all I can tell you, for fear,--that is, suppose +when I wake the old black cloud is there? I--I want you to know +things'; and there was a look in his eyes which suggested that wistful +expression I had noticed at Plymouth Harbour when we first met. + +'You felt something was going to happen, you know,' I said. + +'Yes, I did. All through the day it felt to me as though some great +change were coming. I did not know what it was, and the curtain which +hid the past was as black as ever, but I had a kind of feeling that +everything was hanging as in a balance, that--that--eh, mother, it is +good to see you! to know you, to--to--have a past! It was just like +this,' he went on: 'when I came downstairs, and saw George St. Mabyn, I +felt that the curtain was getting thinner. I remembered Maurice St. +Mabyn,--it was only dimly, and I could not call to mind what happened +to him; but something impelled me to speak to him.' + +'Don't talk about it any more, old fellow,' I said; 'you are not well +enough yet. To-morrow, after you have had a good night's rest, +everything will seem normal and natural.' + +'It is normal and natural now,' he laughed; 'besides, it does me good +to talk about it to you. It is not as though you were a stranger.' + +'No,' cried his mother, 'he has told us all about you, sir, and what +you did for him.' + +'Perhaps, after all,' went on Edgecumbe, 'I had better not talk any +more to-night. You--you think I'll be all right in the morning, don't +you? And I am feeling tired and sleepy. Besides, I feel like a kid +again;--the idea of going to bed with the little mother holding my hand +makes me think of----' + +'There now, old man,' I interrupted, 'let me go with you to your room. +You are a bit shaky, you know, and you must look upon me as a stern +male nurse.' + +Half an hour later, when I left him, he was lying in bed, and as he had +said, his mother sat by his side, holding his hand, while Lord Carbis +was in a chair close by, watching his son with eager, anxious eyes. + +After a few words with Sir Thomas, I made my way to the village of +South Petherwin to find the doctor. Truth to tell, I felt more than a +little anxious, and although I had persuaded Edgecumbe that when +morning came everything would be well, I dreaded his awakening. + +As good fortune would have it, I found the doctor at home, who listened +with great eagerness and attention to my story. + +'It is the strangest thing I have ever heard of,' he said, when I had +finished. + +'Do you fear any grave results?' I asked. + +'Luscombe,' he replied, 'I can speak to you freely. I will go with you +to see him, but the whole business is out of my depth. For the matter +of that, I doubt if any doctor in England could prophesy what will +happen to him. All the same, I see no reason why everything should not +be right.' + +Without waking him, Dr. Merril took his temperature, felt his pulse, +listened to the beating of his heart. + +'Everything is right, isn't it?' asked Lord Carbis anxiously. + +'As far as I can tell, yes.' + +'And there is nothing you can do more than has been done?' + +'Nothing,' replied the doctor; 'one of the great lessons which my +profession has taught me is, as far as possible, to leave Nature to do +her own work.' + +'And you think he will awake natural and normal to-morrow morning?' +whispered the older man. + +'I see no reason why he should not,' he said. All the same, there was +an anxious look in his eyes as he went away. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + +EDGECUMBE'S RESOLUTION + +In spite of my excitement, I slept heavily and late, and when I awoke I +found that it was past ten o'clock. Dressing hurriedly, I rushed to +Edgecumbe's bedroom and found him not only awake, but jubilant. + +'It's all right, old man,' he said. 'I am a new man. Merril has +already been here. He advises me to be quiet for a day or two, but I +am going to get up.' + +'And there are no ill effects? Your mind is quite clear?' + +'Clear as a bell. There is just one black ugly spot; but it doesn't +affect things.' + +'Black ugly spot?' I asked anxiously. + +'Yes, I'll tell you about it presently. Not that it matters.' + +Throughout the day I saw very little of him, as neither his father nor +mother would allow him out of their sight. It was pathetic the way +they followed him wherever he went. I saw, too, that they were +constantly watching him, as if looking for some sign of illness or +trouble. I imagine that their joy was so sudden, so wonderful, that +they could scarcely believe their own senses. It was evident, too, +that they gloried in his career since I had met him more than two years +ago. The thought that he should have, without influence or position, +surmounted so many difficulties, and become the hero of the hour, was +wonderful beyond words. More than once I caught Lord Carbis scanning +the newspapers which contained references to him, his eyes lit up with +pride. + +In spite of all this, however, I foresaw difficulties, saw, too, that +if Edgecumbe had not become radically changed, he would be a great +disappointment to his father. Would he, I wondered, stand by the words +he had uttered at the great public meeting? Would he refuse to +participate in the wealth which his father had amassed through his +connection with the trade which he believed was one of the great curses +of humanity? For it was evident that Lord Carbis was a man of strong +opinions. He had built up a great and prosperous business by +enterprise, foresight and determination. To him that business was +doubtless honourable. Through the wealth he had amassed by it, he had +become a peer of the realm. What would he say and do if his son took +the stand which, in spite of everything, I imagined he would? + +Other things troubled me, too. Springfield, who was staying with St. +Mabyn, motored over early, and immediately sought Lorna Bolivick's +society. Of course Edgecumbe saw this, and I wondered how it would +affect him. I wondered, too, how Sir Thomas would regard Springfield's +suit, now that the future of his life was so materially altered. I +tried, by a study of Lorna Bolivick's face, to understand the condition +of her heart. I wondered whether she really cared for the tall, +sinister-looking man who, I judged, had evidently fascinated her. + +It was not until after tea that I was able to get a few minutes' chat +with her alone. Indeed, I had a suspicion that she rather avoided me. +But seeing Springfield and St. Mabyn evidently in earnest conversation +together, I made my way to her, and asked her to come with me for a +stroll through the woods. + +'Real life makes fiction tame and commonplace,' I said, as I nodded +toward Lady Carbis and Edgecumbe, who were walking arm in arm on the +lawn. + +'Real life always does that,' was her reply; 'the so-called +impossibilities of melodrama are in reality the prosiest of realism.' + +'I can't quite settle down to it yet,' I said. 'I can't think of +Edgecumbe as Lord Carbis's son, in spite of all we have seen. To begin +with, his name isn't Edgecumbe at all.' + +'No,' she replied; 'don't you know what it is? You know who Lord +Carbis was, I suppose?' + +'I know he was a brewer; but really I have not taken the trouble to +study his antecedents.' + +'He was called Carbis before he was made a peer,' she replied. 'I +suppose he was largely influenced to buy the Carbis estates by the fact +that they bore his own name.' + +'So that my friend is called Jack Carbis. There is so much +topsy-turvyism in it that I can hardly realize it.' + +'I think Paul Edgecumbe is a much nicer name,' she said suddenly. 'I +hope--I hope----; but if--if----' + +'Do you realize,' I said, 'what it will mean to him if he stands by +what he said at that meeting the other night?' + +'Yes, he will still be a poor man, I suppose. But what then? Isn't he +a thousand times bigger man now than he was as the fashionable Captain +Jack Carbis?' + +'Perhaps you don't realize how he would wound his father,---destroy all +his hopes and ambitions.' + +'Yes, that would be rather sad; but doesn't it depend what his father's +hopes and ambitions are?' + +'Lorna,' I said, 'are you and Springfield engaged?' + +She did not answer me for a few seconds; then, looking at me steadily, +she said, 'Why do you ask that?' + +For the moment I almost determined to tell her what I believed I knew +about Springfield, and about the things of which I had accused him. +But I felt it would not be fair. If that time ever came, he must be +there to answer my accusations. + +'I think you know why,' I replied. 'The change in my friend's +circumstances has not changed my love for him. Do you know, Lorna, +that he loves you like his own life?' + +She was silent at this, and I went on, 'He spoke to you about it months +ago; there in yonder footpath, not half a mile away,--he told you he +had given his heart to you. It was madness then, madness,--because he +had no name, no career, no position to offer you. His past lay in a +mist,--indeed his past might have made it impossible for him to marry +you, even if you had loved him. You refused him, told him that what he +asked was impossible; but things have changed since then,--now he is a +rich man's son,--he can come to you as an equal.' + +'But--but----' and then noticing the curious look on her face, I +blurted out: + +'You're not going to marry Springfield, are you?' + +'Yes,' she replied, 'I shall marry Colonel Springfield, if--if----but +there,'--and she stopped suddenly,--'I think it is scarcely fair to +discuss such things.' + +After that she refused to talk about Springfield at all,--indeed I +could not understand her. She seemed as though she had a great problem +to solve, and was unable to see her way through it. + +I had no opportunity of talking with my friend till the next day. His +father and mother monopolized him so completely that there was no +chance of getting a word alone with him. But when Lord Carbis informed +me that he had made arrangements for Lady Carbis and his son to return +home, I made my way to him. + +'Do you feel well enough for a chat?' I asked. + +'Oh, quite,' he replied. 'I was waiting all yesterday for an +opportunity, but none came.' + +'Edgecumbe,' I said,--'you will forgive me for still calling you that, +won't you?--but for the life of me I can't fasten on that new name of +yours.' + +'Can't you? It's as natural as anything to me now. But call me Jack, +will you? I wish you would. Do you know, when I heard the old name +the night before last, I--I--but there, I can't tell you. It seemed to +open a new world to me,--all my boyhood came back, all those things +which made life wonderful. Yes, that's it, call me Jack.' + +'Well, then, Jack,' I said, 'I have been wondering. Are your +experiences at that Y.M.C.A. hut real to you now?' + +'Of course,' he replied quietly; 'why, they are not a matter of memory, +you know; they went down to the very depths of life.' + +'And the convictions which were the result of those experiences? Do +you feel as you did about drink and that sort of thing?' + +'Exactly.' + +'And you will stand by what you said in London the other night?' + +'Of course,--why shouldn't I?' + +'I was only wondering. Do you know, Jack,--you will forgive me for +saying so, I am sure, but you present a kind of problem to me.' + +'Do I?' and he laughed merrily as he spoke. 'You are wondering whether +my early associations, now that they have come back to me, are stronger +than what I have experienced since? Not a bit of it. I did a good +deal of thinking last night, after I had got to bed. You see, I tried +to work things out, and--and--it is all very wonderful, you know. I +wasn't a bad chap in the old days, by no means a pattern young man, but +on the whole I went straight,--I wasn't immoral, but I had no +religion,--I never thought about it. I had a good house-master when I +went to school, and under him I imbibed a sort of code of honour. It +didn't amount to very much, and yet it did, for he taught me to be an +English gentleman. I was always truthful, and tried to do the straight +thing. You know the kind of thing a chap picks up at a big public +school. But that night, at the Y.M.C.A. hut, I got down deep. No, +no,--early associations can't destroy that.' + +'And you still hold to what you said at the meeting?' + +'Absolutely. Why?' + +'I was wondering how it would appeal to your father. You remember you +said that you would never benefit by, or participate in, any gain made +by drink, and your father has made most of his money as a brewer and +distiller. I wondered how you regarded it now?' + +'That is quickly settled,' he replied; 'I shall not benefit by it, of +course.' + +'Do you mean that?' + +'Of course I mean it. Mind, I don't want it talked about,--that is a +matter between my father and my own conscience, and one can't talk +about such things freely.' + +'Surely you are very foolish,' I said. 'Why should you not use the +money which will naturally come to you?' + +'I don't say I won't _use_ it,' he replied, 'but I will not benefit by +it.' + +'You mean, then----?' + +'I mean that I was a poor man, with nothing but my pay, and that I _am_ +a poor man, with nothing but my pay. Thinking as I think, and feeling +as I feel, I could not become a rich man by money got in--that is, by +such means.' + +He spoke quietly and naturally, although he seemed a little surprised +by my question. + +'What will your father say when he knows?' + +'I think he _does_ know. He asked me whether I stood by what I said in +London.' + +'And you told him?' + +'Of course I told him.' + +'And he,--what did he say?' + +'He didn't say anything.' + +'Jack,' I went on, 'you must forgive me talking about this, but I only +do it, because--you see, we are pals.' + +'Of course we are pals. Say what you like.' + +'It is all summed up in one name--Lorna.' + +A new light came into his eyes immediately, and I saw that his lips +became tremulous. + +'Yes, what of her?' + +'Springfield still means to have her,' I blurted out. + +A curious look passed over his face, a look which I could not +understand. 'Do you know,' he asked eagerly, 'if she is engaged to +him?' + +'I gather, that so far, there is no engagement, but I believe there is +an understanding. He had obtained Sir Thomas's consent, but they were +both under the impression at the time that Springfield was your +father's heir. Of course, your turning up in such a way makes it a bit +rough on Springfield.' + +'I shall have a good deal to tell you about Springfield presently,' he +said, 'but you have something in your mind. What is it?' + +'It is very simple,' I replied. 'If there is no engagement between +Lorna and Springfield, and if you come to her as your father's heir, +you will of course be an eligible suitor. If you hold by your +determination, you are just where you were. How could you ask her to +marry you on the pay of a major in the Army? It would not be fair; it +would not be honourable.' + +'If she loves me, it would be honourable,' he said. + +'How could it be honourable for you, with just a major's pay, to go to +a girl reared as she has been,--a girl as attractive as she is, and who +has only to hold up her finger to a man like Buller, who will own one +of the finest estates in Devonshire? You have no right to drag her +into poverty, even if she cared for you.' + +He rose to his feet, and took a turn across the lawn. 'I see what is +in your mind, but my dear Luscombe,'--and then he burst out into a +laugh, a laugh that was sad, because it had a touch of hopelessness in +it,--'I am afraid we are talking in the clouds,--I am afraid Lorna +doesn't love me. If she does, she has shown no sign of it.' + +'But are you going to let her go without a struggle?' + +He looked at me with flashing eyes. 'I thought you knew me better than +that,' he said. 'No, I am going to fight for her, fight to the very +last. But if she will not have me as I am,--if she will not have me +without my father's money, which I will not take, then--then----' + +'You'll see her marry Springfield? I say, Jack, you know all we have +thought and said about Springfield?' + +'I have something to tell you about Springfield,' he said quietly. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII + +MAURICE ST. MABYN + +'You don't know Maurice St. Mabyn, do you?' + +I shook my head. + +'Spent all his life soldiering in the East, and knows more about +Eastern affairs than any living man. Yes, I mean it. He knows any +amount of Eastern dialects; speaks Arabic and Turkish like a native, +and has a regular passion for mixing himself up in Eastern matters. He +can pass himself off as a Fakir, a Dervish--anything you like. He +knows the byways of Eastern cities and Eastern life better than any man +I know of, and obtained a great reputation in certain official quarters +for discovering plots inimical to British interests. That's Maurice +St. Mabyn. A jolly chap, you understand, as straight as a die, and as +fearless as a lion. A diplomatist too. He can be as secret as an +oyster, and as stealthy as a sleuth-hound. He has been used more than +once on delicate jobs.' + +'But--but----' I interjected. + +'In the July of 1914,' he went on without noticing my interruption, 'I +was sitting alone in my show in Bizna where I was then stationed, when +who should come in but Maurice. He looked as I thought a bit anxious +and out of sorts. I hadn't seen him for more than a year, and he +startled me. + +'I asked him what he was doing in India, and he told me a curious yarn. +He said that he'd been mixed up in a skirmish in Egypt, and that +Springfield had tried to murder him.' + +'You are sure of this?' I gasped. + +'Sure! Of course I'm sure. He said that Springfield, who was also in +the show, had for some time acted in a very suspicious way, and that +during the row with the natives, the greater part of which had taken +place during the night, Springfield had pounced upon him, stabbed +him--and--and left him for dead. By one of those flukes which +sometimes takes place, St. Mabyn didn't die. He turned up, weeks +afterwards, and saw General Gregory. + +'Now follow me closely here. It so happened that only that day Gregory +had received a message telling him that German trouble was probable, +and that reports were wanted from certain quarters where it was feared +the Huns were trying to stir up trouble.' + +'In India?' I asked. + +'In the East; it was not for me to know where; and Gregory wanted a man +who knew the East, in whom he could trust lock, stock and barrel. +Directly he saw St. Mabyn, he fastened on him as his man, and he clung +to him all the more tightly when St. Mabyn told him his story. + +'"I'll keep Springfield, and his little game in mind, St. Mabyn," he +said; "but for the time you must remain dead. This is an important +job, and it must be done quietly." + +'That was why he came to India, and why the story which I imagine +Springfield got into the papers was never contradicted. On his way to +his job, however, he got thinking things over. Naturally he wanted not +only his brother to know, but his fiancee, Miss Blackwater. So knowing +where I was, he looked me up and told me what I have told you. It +seems he had heard I was due to return home, and he asked me to look up +his brother and Miss Blackwater, and to tell them that his death was by +no means certain, and that he might turn up all right. + +'Not long after, fresh drafts of men came to Bizna, and on the day they +arrived I asked a young chap called Dawkins who they were. He +mentioned several names, and among them was Springfield's. + +'"What Springfield?" I asked, for I remembered I had a distant relative +of that name. + +'"Oh, he was in Upper Egypt. His family came from Devonshire, and he +was a great friend of Maurice St. Mabyn who was killed. Poor chap, +when he told us the story he nearly broke down. I never knew he had so +much feeling in him." + +'I don't know why it was, but I lost my head. I suppose the fellow's +hypocrisy disgusted me so that I blurted out what St. Mabyn told me to +keep quiet. + +'"The blackguard," I said "he deserves to be shot, and will be shot, or +hanged!" + +'"Who's a blackguard?" asked Dawkins. + +'"Springfield," I replied. "Grieving about the death of Maurice St. +Mabyn! Why, the coward, he--he--; but Maurice St. Mabyn will turn up +again, and--and----" + +'"But St. Mabyn's dead!" cried Dawkins. "I saw it reported myself." + +'"He isn't dead?" I blurted out. + +'"But how can that be?" asked Dawkins. + +'"Because I believe in my own eyes and ears," I replied. + +'After that, I was under the impression that I was watched and +followed. More than once when I thought I was alone I heard stealthy +footsteps behind me, but although I tried to verify my suspicions I +could not. However, I did not trouble, for in due time I started for +home. I arranged to break my journey to Bombay at a place where I had +been stationed for six months. It was only a one horse sort of a show, +but I had some pals there, and they had insisted on my spending a day +or two with them. It took me three days to get there, and on my +arrival I found a long telegram purporting to be from my colonel, +requesting me to go to an outpost station where important information +would be given me. It also urged me to be silent about it. + +'Of course, although I was on leave, I was anxious to fall in with my +colonel's wishes, and so, instead of going straight on to Bombay, when +I left my pals, I went towards this outpost station.' + +'Were you alone?' I asked. + +'Except for my native servant whom I had arranged to take back to +England with me. We had not gone far when my servant stopped. "There +is something wrong, master," he said. "Let us go back." + +'He had scarcely spoken, when there was the crack of a pistol, and +several men pounced upon me. I was thrown from my horse, and very +roughly handled.' + +'Did you see the men?' I asked. + +My friend was silent for a few seconds, then he replied, 'I can swear +that one of them was Springfield. Some one had given me a blow on the +head, and I was a bit dizzy and bewildered; but I am certain that +Springfield was there.' + +'Then you believe----' + +'The thing's pretty evident, isn't it?' he said. 'He had a double +purpose to accomplish. If I were dead I could no longer be a danger to +him as far as St. Mabyn was concerned, and----' + +'He was the next in succession to your father's title, and would +naturally be his heir,' I interrupted. 'But what happened to you after +that?' + +He shuddered like a man afraid. 'I don't like to think of it,' he +said. 'As I told you there was one black spot in my past which I +couldn't remember clearly. That's it. But I have dim memories of +torture and imprisonment. I know I suffered untold agonies. I have +only fitful glimpses of that time, but in those glimpses I see myself +fighting, struggling, suffering until a great blackness fell upon me. +Then I remember nothing till I came to myself on the road to Bombay, +with my memory gone. The rest you know.' + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII + +A BOMBSHELL + +After this followed a series of events, startling, almost unbelievable +and utterly unexpected, such as only take place in real life. Had this +story been the outcome of my own imagination, I should never dare to +relate them; but because I have undertaken the task of writing what +actually took place I can do no other. + +This was how they happened: + +We were sitting together after dinner that night in the most +commonplace fashion imaginable. Lord and Lady Carbis had announced +their intention to leave early on the following morning, and their son +had promised to go with them. George St. Mabyn and Springfield were +there, having accepted Lady Bolivick's invitation to spend the evening +with them. Norah Blackwater, who had been a guest at the house for +some days, was also there. + +'I think as I am leaving to-morrow,' and Jack only slightly raised his +voice, 'that I ought to tell you all something, something--important.' + +Instantly there was a deathly silence, and with a quick movement every +one turned to the speaker. + +'I imagine my motives may be questioned,' he went on. 'I am sure, too, +that what I say will be denied; but that doesn't matter.' + +He hesitated a second as if doubtful how he had best continue, but the +tone of his voice and the purport of his words had done their work. +Even Lady Bolivick dropped her knitting, and looked quite disturbed. + +'This is what I have to tell you,' he said. 'Maurice St. Mabyn is +alive; at least he was in July, 1914, months after he was announced to +be dead.' + +I saw George St. Mabyn start to his feet, his lips livid, while Norah +Blackwater gave a cry which was not far removed from a scream. + +'Perhaps I ought to have told this in a different way,' went on my +friend. 'Perhaps, directly my memory came back to me, and the events +of the past became clear again, I ought to have sought out George St. +Mabyn, and especially Colonel Springfield, and told them privately what +I know. However, I have thought a good deal before speaking, and--and +as this is a family party, I have adopted this method.' + +'Why should you tell Colonel Springfield?' and George St. Mabyn seemed +to be speaking against his will. + +'Because he is most deeply implicated, and because he will have most to +explain.' + +I heard Springfield laugh at this, a laugh half of derision, half of +anger. + +'I am afraid,' he said quietly, 'that although we have all +congratulated Lord and Lady Carbis on the return of their son, that his +loss of memory has disturbed his mental equilibrium in other ways.' + +'Oh, no,' said Jack quietly, 'I am quite sane. No doubt it would +simplify your course of action very much if I were not, but as a matter +of fact my mind was never clearer. My father and mother will tell you +that I was never given to hysterics, and I am no great hand at +imagination.' + +'But--but if you have--have proof of this,'--it was George St. Mabyn +who spoke, and his voice was hoarse and unnatural,--'why--why'----? by +heaven, it's monstrous!' + +Springfield laughed like one amused. + +'I do not wish to wound any one's feelings,' he said, 'but I suppose +many madmen think they are sane. Of course we sympathize with Lord and +Lady Carbis, but I am afraid there is only one conclusion that we can +come to. Only on the night when his father and mother came here, +before this marvellous change in his memory took place, he said +something similar to this, and--and of course we can only regard it as +the hallucination of an unbalanced mind. Let us hope after a few +months' quiet, things will be normal again.' + +'Of course I knew you would take this attitude, Colonel Springfield,' +replied Jack quietly. 'You have reason to.' + +'What reason?' he snarled. + +'Are you sure you wish me to tell?' + +'Yes, tell anything, everything you can! Only be sure it's the truth. +Else by----!' he remembered himself suddenly and then went on: 'But +this is madness, pure madness!' + +'I'll not deal with motives,' went on my friend, still speaking +quietly; 'they will doubtless come out in good time. For that matter I +would rather say no more at present. I have only said what I have to +give you a chance--of--of clearing out.' + +Springfield gave me a quick glance, and then for a moment lost control +of himself. + +'Oh, I see,' he said. 'This is a plot. Luscombe is in it. He has +been discussing things with this--this lunatic, and this hatched-up +absurdity is the result.' + +I think Springfield felt he had made a false move the moment he had +spoken. Directly my name was mentioned, it became evident that the +plea of my friend's madness broke down. + +'At any rate,' he went on, 'I am not to be intimidated, and I will not +listen to any hysterical slanderings.' + +'Pardon me,' said Jack quietly, 'but Luscombe knew nothing whatever of +my intentions. You are sure you want me to go on?' he added quietly. + +'Go on by all means. Doubtless you will be amusing. But mind,' and +Springfield's voice became threatening, 'I am a dangerous man to trifle +with.' + +'I have grave reasons for knowing that,' was Jack's reply; 'but let +that pass. About three years ago news arrived in England that Maurice +St. Mabyn was dead--killed in a skirmish in Egypt. Some time +afterwards Colonel or Captain Springfield as he was then, came to +Devonshire, and gave a detailed account of his death. He said he was +with him during his last moments, together with--other interesting +things. From the account given Maurice St. Mabyn died in April, 1914, +and Colonel Springfield came, I think, in September, or October. By +this time George St. Mabyn had not only taken possession of his +brother's estates, but had also become the suitor for the hand of his +brother's fiancee.' + +'Surely,' cried Springfield, as if in protest, 'there is no need to +distress us all by probing the wounds made three years ago. Personally +I think it is cruel.' + +'It would be cruel but for what I am going to say,' replied Jack +Carbis. 'As it happens, Maurice St. Mabyn was not dead at the time. I +saw him,--spoke with him in Bizna in the July of that year.' + +'You saw Maurice in July, although he was reported dead in April!' +cried Sir Thomas. 'Why--why----; but it can't be true! That is--are +you sure? I say, George, wasn't the news definite--concise? Yes, I +remember it was. I saw the Egyptian newspaper account.' + +'I suppose you don't expect any one here to believe in this +cock-and-bull story,' and Springfield laughed uneasily. 'But may one +ask,' he continued, 'why we are regaled with this--this romance?' + +'Yes,' replied Jack, 'you may ask; but if I were you I wouldn't. I'd +make myself scarce.' + +I saw Springfield's eyes contract, and his whole attitude reminded me +of an angry dog. + +'You must tell us all what you mean by that,' he snarled. 'I'm sorry, +Lady Bolivick, that such a scene as this should take place in your +house, but I must defend myself.' + +'Against whom? Against what? What charges have been made?' and Jack +Carbis still spoke quietly and naturally. + +Again Springfield lost control of himself. 'Oh, I know,' he cried, +'that you and Luscombe have been plotting against me for years. I know +that you would poison the mind of----; that is--why should I deny it? +I love Miss Bolivick. I have loved her from the first hour I saw her. +I have sought her honourably. I would give my immortal soul to win +her, such is my love for her. I know, too, that you, Edgecumbe, or +Carbis, or whatever you may call yourself, are jealous of me, because +you are madly in love with her yourself. By unproved, unprovable +because they are lying, statements, you are trying to poison the mind +of the women I love against me. You are suggesting that I sent home +and brought home false accounts of Maurice St. Mabyn's death for some +sinister purpose. You are hinting at all sorts of horrible things. +Great God, haven't you done enough to thwart me? Oh, yes--I'll admit +it, I expected to be Lord Carbis's heir. I had reason. But for you +I--I----but there, seeing you have robbed me of what I thought was my +legitimate fortune, don't try to rob me of my good name. It's--it's +all I have!' + +At that moment I looked at Lorna Bolivick, and I thought I saw +admiration in her eyes; I felt that never was Springfield's hold upon +her stronger than now. + +'Tell us plainly what you want to say,' continued Springfield; +'formulate your charges. Tell me of what I am guilty. But by the God +who made us, you shall prove your words. I will not be thrust into a +hopeless hell by lying innuendos and unproved charges.' + +For the first time I thought my friend looked confused and frightened. +It might be that the personality of the other had mastered him, and +that although he had gone several steps forward in his attack, he now +desired to turn back. He seemed about to speak, then hesitated and was +silent. + +'Why force me to tell the truth?' he said lamely. 'I do not wish to +say more. Take my advice, and leave while you may.' + +'I am a soldier,' cried Springfield, 'and I am not one to run +away--especially from vague threats. Nay, more,' and he turned to +Lorna Bolivick, 'Miss Bolivick--Lorna, to prove how I scorn these vague +threats, I ask you here and now, although I am only a poor man, and +have nothing to offer you but the love of a poor soldier, to give me +the happiness I have so longed and prayed for.' + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX + +SPRINGFIELD AT BAY + +But Lorna did not speak. That she realized the situation no one could +doubt. The sea in which the bark of her life was sailing was full of +cross currents, and in her excitement she did not know the course she +ought to steer. + +It was here that Sir Thomas Bolivick thought it right to speak. I +gathered that he was not pleased at Springfield's avowal, for while he +doubtless favoured his suit while he was to all appearances the heir to +Lord Carbis, events had changed everything. + +'Why have you told us this now, and--and in such a way?' he asked, +turning to my friend. + +Jack hesitated a second before replying. He realized that nothing +could prejudice his cause in Lorna's eyes more than by attacking his +rival. + +'Because I want to save Miss Bolivick,' he said. + +'From what? Tell us plainly what you mean!' + +'From promising to marry a man who is unworthy of her, and who would +blacken her life.' + +'Prove it. You have said too much or too little. Either prove what +you have said, or withdraw it.' + +Springfield laughed aloud. 'Surely,' he said, 'we have had enough of +this! You see, after all his bluster, what it really amounts to.' + +'Just a minute, please,' and Jack's voice became almost menacing. 'I +am not in the habit of blustering. I have warned you to go away from +here, and as you have forced me to go into details I will do so. You +insist, then, that I lie when I say that I saw Maurice St. Mabyn alive +in the July of 1914?' + +'I do not say that, but I do say that you are suffering from an +hallucination,' replied Springfield. 'You may have recovered your +memory, but in doing so you suffer from remembering more than ever took +place.' + +'You insist on that?' + +'Certainly I do. I can do no other. If you are not mentally deranged, +you are a---- I would rather not use the word,' he added with a laugh. + +'You see,' went on Jack, 'that he is very anxious to prove Maurice St. +Mabyn to have been killed in a native uprising. I'll tell you why. He +tried to murder him, and it was only by the mercy of God that he failed +to do so.' + +'Murder him! How dare you say such a thing?' gasped Sir Thomas. + +'Maurice told me so himself--told me in India in 1914.' + +'Great God, you shall prove this!' and now Springfield was really +aroused. 'If he was not dead in July, 1914, where has he been these +three years? Why has he sent no word? What has become of him? Who +has seen him since April of that year when he was killed?--I mean +besides this madman?' + +'General Gregory, to whom he reported himself.' + +'Do you mean to say that he reported himself to General Gregory?' His +voice was hoarse, and I saw him reel as though some one had struck him. + +'I do mean to say so. He told me so himself. If I have told a lie, +you can easily prove it by communicating with him.' + +Springfield laughed again, and in his laugh was a ring of triumph. + +'It is easy to say that, because Gregory is dead. He died two years +ago. A dead man is a poor witness.' + +'I don't ask any one to accept my words without proof,' said Jack +Carbis. 'Proof will not be wanting. You say that Maurice St. Mabyn +was killed in a skirmish, that you saw his dead body, and that you had +no hand whatever in it?' + +'I _do_ say it,' cried Springfield hoarsely. 'I swear by Almighty God +that your charges are venomous lies, and----' + +But he did not finish the sentence. At that moment I heard the murmur +of voices outside the room, the door opened, and a tall, bronzed but +somewhat haggard-looking man entered the room. + +'Maurice!' + +It was George St. Mabyn who uttered the word, but it was not like his +voice at all. + +The new-comer gave a quick glance around the room, as though he wanted +to take in the situation, then he took a quick step towards Lady +Bolivick. + +'Will you forgive me for coming in this way, Lady Bolivick?' he said +quietly. 'But I could not help myself. I only got back an hour or two +ago, and the servants were so upset that they lost their heads +entirely. But they did manage to tell me that George was here, so I +took the liberty of an old friend and----; but what's this? Is +anything the matter? George, old man, why--why----' and he looked at +George St. Mabyn and Norah Blackwater inquiringly. + +But George St. Mabyn did not speak; instead, he stood staring at his +brother with terror-stricken eyes. + +'You thought I was dead, eh?' and there was a laugh in Maurice St. +Mabyn's voice. 'I'm worth a good many dead men yet.' + +Again he looked around the room until his eyes rested upon Springfield, +who had been watching his face from the moment of his entrance. + +'By Jove, St. Mabyn,' he cried, and I could see he was fighting for +self-mastery; 'but you have played us a trick. Here have we all been +wasting good honest grief on you. But--but--I am glad, old man. +I--I----' + +His speech ended in a gasp. His words seemed to be frozen by the cold +glitter of Maurice St. Mabyn's eyes. Never in my whole life have I +seen so much contempt, so much loathing in a man's face as I saw in the +face of the new-comer at that moment. But he did not speak. He simply +turned on his heel, and addressed Sir Thomas Bolivick. + +'You seem surprised, and something more than surprised at seeing me, +Sir Thomas,' he said; 'but you are glad to see me, aren't you?' + +'Glad!' cried the old man. 'Glad! Why, God bless my soul, Maurice! +I--I--but--but glad?'--and he began to mop his eyes vigorously. + +'I think there'll be a lot of explanations by and by,' went on +Maurice,' especially after I've had a chat with my old friend, Jack +Carbis, over there. Jack, you rascal, you've a lot to tell me, haven't +you? By the way, George,'--and he gave Springfield a glance,--'I +understand that this fellow is a guest at St. Mabyn. Will you tell +him, as you seem friendly with him, that my house is not good for his +health.' + +Springfield looked from one to another like a man in despair. The +coming of Maurice St. Mabyn had been such a confirmation of all that +Jack Carbis had said, that he saw no loophole of escape anywhere. But +this was only for a moment. Even in his defeat the man's character as +a fighter was evident. + +'St. Mabyn,' he said hoarsely, 'I swear by Heaven that you are +mistaken! Of course I was mistaken--and--and no one is gladder than +I--that you have turned up. Give me fair play,--give me a chance--give +me time, and I'll clear up everything!' + +'Will you tell the fellow,' and Maurice St. Mabyn still spoke to his +brother, 'that a motor-car will be placed at his disposal to take him +to any place he chooses to go. Tell him, too, that I do not propose +to--to have anything to do with him in any way unless he persists in +hanging on to you; but that if he does, the War Office and the world +shall know what he is, and what he has done.' + +Still Springfield did not give in. He turned again to Lorna Bolivick, +and as he did so I realized, as I never realized before, that the man +really loved her. I believed then, as I believe now, that all his +hopes, all his plottings, were centred in one desire, and that was to +win the love of this girl. + +'Miss Bolivick, Lorna,' he said hoarsely, 'you do not tell me to go, do +you? You believe in me? I will admit that things look against me; but +I swear to you that I am as innocent of their charges as you are; +that--that----' He ceased speaking suddenly, as though his words were +frozen on his lips, then he burst out like a man in agony, 'Why do you +look at me like that?' he gasped. + +But she did not speak. Instead, she stood still, and looked at him +steadily. There was an unearthly expression in her eyes; she seemed to +be trying to look into his soul, to read his innermost thoughts. For a +few seconds there was a deathly silence, then with a quick movement she +turned and left the room. + +Again Springfield looked from face to face as if he were hoping for +support; then I saw pride flash into his eyes. + +'Lady Bolivick, Sir Thomas,' he said quietly, 'I am deeply sorry that +this--this scene should have taken place. As you know I am not +responsible. Thank you for your kind hospitality.' Then he turned and +left the room, and a few seconds later we heard his footsteps on the +gravel outside. + + + + +CHAPTER XL + +MAURICE ST. MABYN'S GENEROSITY + +Of what happened afterwards, and of the explanations which were given, +it is not for me to write. They do not come within the scope of this +history, and would be scarcely of interest to the reader. One thing, +however; specially interested me, and that was the large-heartedness of +Maurice St. Mabyn. He refused to allow his brother to attempt any +explanation, although I felt sure he understood what his brother had +done. + +'Of course you could not help believing me dead, George,' he said with +a laugh. 'That fellow Springfield sent home and brought home all sorts +of circumstantial evidence, and you naturally took things over. No, +not another word. The fellow has gone, and I'll see that he stays +away.' + +'But--but why didn't you write, Maurice?' stammered the other. + +'Couldn't, my dear chap. For more than two years I was away from +civilization; for six months I was a prisoner among the Turks; and when +at length, after the taking of Baghdad I was released, I was too ill to +do anything, Besides, I thought Jack Carbis would have set your minds +at rest. But there, I shall have a great yarn to tell you later.' + +To Norah Blackwater he was coldly polite. That she had become his +brother's fiancee within a few months of his reported death evidently +wounded him deeply, although he made not the slightest reference to it. +For my own part I was almost sorry for the girl. I do not believe she +had ever cared for George St. Mabyn, although there could be no doubt +of his fondness for her. Even when she had accepted him, her heart +belonged to Maurice, but being desperately poor, and believing George +to be the true heir to the St. Mabyn estates, she had given her +promise. But this is only conjecture on my part. Nevertheless, it was +impossible not to pity her. Her eyes, as she looked at Maurice, told +their own story; she knew that she loved him; knew, too, that she had +lost him for ever. + +I was not present during the long conversation Maurice St. Mabyn and +Jack Carbis had together that night, but before I went to sleep the +latter came into my room. + +'This has been a great night, Luscombe,' he said. + +'Great night!' I repeated. 'I can hardly believe that I have not been +dreaming all the time.' + +'But you haven't,' he replied with a laugh. 'All the same, I almost +believed I was losing my head when Maurice St. Mabyn came into the +room. Isn't he a splendid chap though? No noise, no bluster, no +accusations. But he understood.' + +'Understood what?' + +'Everything.' + +'And you believe that Maurice knows of George's complicity in +Springfield's plans?' + +'Of course he knows. But he'll not let on to George. He realizes that +Springfield played on his brother's weakness and made his life one long +haunting fear.' + +'But what about Norah Blackwater?' + +'Ah, there we have the tragedy!' + +'Why, do you think Maurice cares for her still?' + +'I'm sure she cares for him. But he's adamant. He'll never forgive +her, never. I wonder--I wonder----' + +'What?' + +He started to his feet and left the room. + +I hadn't a chance of speaking with him the next day, for he left by an +early train with his father and mother. They had naturally insisted on +his returning to his home with them, and although they asked me to +accompany them, I was unable to do so, as I had to report myself to my +C.O. on the following day. I had arranged to catch the afternoon train +to London, and then motor to the camp in time for duty. + +About eleven o'clock I saw Lorna Bolivick leave the house and make her +way towards a rosery which had been made some little distance away. + +'Lorna,' I said, 'I have to leave directly after lunch; you don't mind +my inflicting myself on you, do you?' + +She looked at me with a wan smile. + +'It's splendid about Maurice St. Mabyn, isn't it?' + +'It's wonderful,' she replied, but there was no enthusiasm in her tones. + +There was a silence between us for some seconds, then I said awkwardly, +'His--his--coming was a wonderful vindication of my friend, wasn't it?' + +'Did he need any vindication?' she asked. + +'I imagined you thought so last night--forgive me,' I replied, angry +with myself for having blurted out the words. + +I saw the colour mount to her cheeks, and I thought her eyes flashed +anger. + +'It might seem as though everything had been pre-arranged,' I went on, +'but I'm sure he could not help himself. Never did a man love a woman +more than Edgecumbe--that is Jack Carbis, loves you. He felt it to be +his duty to you to expose Springfield. He knew all along that he was +an evil fellow.' + +She did not speak, and again I went on almost in spite of myself. + +'I have thought a good deal about what you said. Surely you never +thought of marrying him?' + +'Yes, I did.' + +'Because you loved him?' + +She shook her head. 'No, I never loved him,' she replied quickly, +angrily. 'The very thought of----' she stopped suddenly, and was +silent for a few seconds; and then went on, 'I cannot tell you. It +would----; no, I cannot tell you.' + +'I know it's no business of mine,' I continued,' and yet it is. No man +had a better friend than Jack, and--and--owing to the peculiar way we +were brought together perhaps, no man ever felt a deeper interest in +another man than I feel in him. That is why----; I say, Lorna, I'm +afraid he'd be mad with me for telling you, but--but--he'd give the +world to marry you.' + +'I shall never marry him,' and her words were like a cry of despair. + +'But--but----' + +'I shall never marry him,' she repeated, still in the same tones. + +At that moment we heard Sir Thomas Bolivick's voice, and turning, saw +him coming towards us with a look of horror on his face. + +'I say, this is ghastly,' he said. + +'What is it, dad?' asked Lorna anxiously. + +'It's terrible, simply terrible,--and yet--you see--Maurice St. Mabyn +has just telegraphed me. He says he has just received a message from +Plymouth. That man Springfield was found dead an hour or so ago.' + +'Found dead!' I gasped. + +'Yes, in his room in the ---- Hotel. Committed suicide.' + +I looked at Lorna's face almost instinctively. It was very pale, and +there could be no doubt but that she was terribly shocked by the news. +And yet I felt sure I saw a look on her face which suggested relief. +But beyond her quick breathing she uttered no sound. + +'It's terrible,' went on Sir Thomas, 'but after--after last night I'm +not sure--it's--it's not a relief to us all. Evidently the fellow----; +but--but it's terrible, isn't it? Of course the hotel people wired St. +Mabyn, as he told them at the bureau that he had just come from his +house.' + +'How did he die?' I asked. + +'Poison,' replied Sir Thomas. 'He seems to have injected some sort of +Indian poison into his veins. Evidently he had it with him, as the +doctor says it is unobtainable anywhere in England. He left a letter, +too.' + +'A letter? To whom?' + +'I don't quite know. To George St. Mabyn I expect. Awful, isn't it?' + +I saw him look at Lorna; but her face told him nothing. She appeared +perfectly calm, although I felt sure she was suffering. + +'I am awfully sorry your visit should have ended like this, Luscombe,' +said Sir Thomas three hours later; 'but you must come down again when +you can get a day or two off. Don't wait for a formal invitation; we +shall always be glad to see you.' + +'Thank you, I'll take you at your word, Sir Thomas; meanwhile you'll +keep me posted up with the news, won't you?' + +'You mean about---- Yes, I'll let you know what happens. Where are +you going, Lorna?' + +'I'm going with Major Luscombe to the station, if he'll let me,' was +her reply. + +'You've something to tell me, Lorna,' I said when we had started. + +She shook her head. + +'You are sure? Has Springfield's death made no difference?' + +'No,' she replied, then she hesitated, and repeated the word. + +'Jack'll ask you again, Lorna. Of course he's not told me; but he +will. He is one who never gives up. Never.' + +'It's no use,' she said wearily. 'It's impossible, everything's +impossible.' + +'Nothing's impossible to a chap like Jack. You don't mean to say that +Springfield----' + +'Don't,' she pleaded. 'You don't know; he--he doesn't know; if he +did----,' and then she lapsed into silence. + +'I'm coming down again soon,' I said as I entered the train. 'I +promised your father I would.' + +'Do, do,' and she held my hand almost feverishly. + + + + +CHAPTER XLI + +THE NEW HOPE + +Nothing more than was absolutely necessary appeared in the newspapers +about Springfield's death. In a letter which he wrote before taking +his life he explained his action in a few characteristic words. + +'Life's not worth living, that's why I'm going to die. I do not wish +any question asked of any one why I intend to solve the "great secret," +very suddenly. I'm tired of the whole show. That's enough explanation +for any one. I am quite sane, and I hope no fool set of jurymen will +bring in a verdict about my taking my life while in an unsound mind. I +am reaping as I've sown, and I dare say if I had been a pattern young +man things might have ended differently. But there it is. The game, +as far as I am concerned, is not worth the candle. Besides, the game's +played out. I am grateful to those of my friends who have been kind to +me. The personal letters I am writing must be regarded as private and +confidential. By that I mean they must not be read to satisfy the +vulgar curiosity of the gaping crowd, and no questions must be asked of +their recipients. Their contents are meant only for those to whom they +are addressed.' + +According to the newspaper reports, no awkward questions were asked of +Sir Thomas Bolivick, or any members of the party with whom he had dined +the night before he died, and the twelve jurymen who brought in a +verdict of suicide said nothing about an 'unsound mind.' + +Mention was made, however, of a sealed letter, placed by the side of +the one I have copied. This letter bore no address, and nothing was +written on the envelope but the words: 'This package must _not_ be +opened within a week of my burial.' + +Comparing this instruction with the 'open letter,' I judged that the +package contained more than one letter, but no further information was +given. + +At the beginning of August two letters arrived by the same post. One +was from Lorna Bolivick, and the other was from my friend. The latter +was simply a command to get a few days off, and to come and see him. +He wanted a chat badly, he said, and if I could not get away, he would +come to me, but surely I was not so important that I couldn't be spared +for a week-end, if not more. He also insisted that I must send him a +wire at once. + +On opening Lorna's letter, I found practically the same request. The +doctor had forbidden her resuming her nursing work for some months, she +said, and had suggested that she should go to the seaside. But this +she had refused to do, as she hated leaving her home. Besides, her +brother Tom might come home on leave almost any day, and she wanted to +be there to meet him. + +'But you said you promised dad to pay us another visit as soon as you +could,' her letter concluded, 'and I am writing to remind you of your +promise. You told me you had some leave still due to you after your +last visit, so why not come at once? The sooner the better.' + +She gave no special reason for asking me to come, but I read into her +appeal a desire to tell me something, and perhaps to ask my advice. I +therefore had a chat with my C.O., with the result that I started to +see my friend the same day. + +On arriving at the station I found him on the platform awaiting me. + +'Now this is sensible,' he cried with a laugh. 'This is something like +dispatch. Come on, I have a motor outside. I suppose you will trust +me to drive you.' + +'You look fit, anyhow,' I said. + +'Fit as a fiddle,' he replied. 'I go back to the front in four days.' + +He looked years younger than when I had first seen him. The old +wistful look in his eyes had almost entirely gone, while the +parchment-like skin had become almost as smooth and ruddy as that of a +boy. + +'Oh, it has been glorious,' he said. 'I've taken the little mother to +all sorts of places, and dad declares she looks twenty years younger. +More than once we've been taken for lovers.' + +'And your memory, Jack?' + +'Sound as a bell. Wonderful, isn't it? Sometimes I'm almost glad I +went through it all. After--after--years of darkness and loneliness, +to emerge suddenly into the light! To have a mother, and a father, +and--a home!' + +'And you and your father get on well together?' + +'Yes, in a way. But I have a lot to tell you about that. Here we are!' + +I shall not attempt to describe Jack Carbis's home, nor the welcome I +received. Had I been their son, Lord and Lady Carbis could not have +received me with greater joy. + +It was not until late that Jack and I were able to be alone, but at +length when the others had gone to bed we found ourselves in a kind of +snuggery which had been especially set apart for his own personal use. + +'It's great, having you here,' he cried, as he threw himself into an +arm-chair; 'great to feel alive, and to remember things. Have you +heard from Bolivick?' + +'Yes, Sir Thomas sent me a line, also a newspaper containing a report +of the inquest. Have you?' + +He shook his head. 'We wrote immediately after we left, and Lady +Bolivick has written to mother, but--nothing more.' + +'Of course you got particulars about Springfield. It seems he left a +sealed packet. Did it contain a letter for you?' + +'No, nothing. I often wonder who he wrote to. Do you know anything?' + +'Nothing. But I propose going to Bolivick to-morrow; perhaps they'll +tell me.' + +'To-morrow! I say, old man, have you heard from her?' + +I nodded. 'No, her letter contained nothing that would interest you,' +I continued as I noted the look of inquiry in his eyes. 'Why don't you +go with me? It would seem quite natural, seeing you are off to the +front so soon.' + +He hesitated a second, and then shook his head. 'No, Luscombe,' he +said, 'she'll send for me if she wants me.' + +'That's not the way to win a girl. How can she send for you?' + +'I seem to have lost confidence since my memory came back,' he replied. +'When I told her I loved her, although I didn't seem to have the ghost +of a chance, I felt confident, serene. Now I'm sure of nothing.' + +'Nothing?' I queried. 'Do you mean to say that--that your faith in God +and that kind of thing is gone?' + +'No, no,' he replied quickly. 'That remains. It's the foundation of +everything, everything. But God doesn't do things in the way we +expect, and when we expect. After all, our life here is only a +fragment, and God has plenty of time. He's never in a hurry. It's all +right, old man. She'll be mine some time. If not in this world, in +another.' + +'If I loved a girl, I'd move heaven and earth to get her in this life.' + +'Yes, don't fear that I'm not going to do my bit; but I've had a little +time for thinking, and I've had to adjust myself to--to my new +conditions.' + +'With what results? How do things strike you now?' + +'What things? The war?' + +'Yes, that among others. Have you the same views you had? After our +peregrinations through London, you were not optimistic, I remember. +You seemed to regard England as in a bad way. You said we were not fit +for victory. What are your views now?' + +He was silent a few seconds before replying. + +'I expect I was a bit of a fool,' he said presently. 'I'm afraid my +outlook was narrow and silly. You see, I had no experience to go on. +I had no standards.' + +'No standards?' I repeated. 'You mean, then, that you've given all +your fine sentiments the go-by?' + +'And if I had?' he said with a smile. 'Should you be sorry or glad?' + +I was silent. As I have stated I had not agreed with him, and yet I +should have been sorry had he become like many another of his class. + +'I see,' and he laughed gaily. 'No, old man, I've given nothing the +go-by. No doubt, I overstated things a bit. No wonder. I saw things +only in the light of the present. But in the main I was right.' + +'Then what do you mean by saying that your outlook was narrow and +silly?' + +'I mean this. I looked on life without being able to compare it with +what it was before the war. When I went with you through London, and +saw the things I saw, when I saw the basest passions pandered to, when +I saw vice walking openly, and not ashamed, I said, "God is keeping +victory from us because we are not fit for it." In a sense I believe +it still. Admiral Beatty was right. "Just so long as England remains +in a state of religious indifference, just so long will the war +continue. When the nation, the Empire comes to God with humility and +with prayer on her lips, then we can begin to count the days towards +the end." And that's right. The nation itself, by its lack of faith +in God, by its materialism, by its want of prayer, by its greed, and +its sin, has kept victory from coming. I tell you the great need of +the age is prophets, men of God, calling us to God.' + +'And do you stand by what you said about drink?' + +'To every word. That phase of our national life has been and is +horrible. While vested interests in this devilish thing remain +paramount, we are partly paralysed. You see, it is the parent of a +great part of the crime of the country. Oh, yes, I stand by that. All +the same I was wrong.' + +'Why wrong?' + +'Because I did not look deep enough. Because I was not able to see the +tremendous change that has been wrought.' + +'I don't understand,' I said. + +'It's this way. You, because the change which has come over the land +has come slowly and subtly, have hardly been able to see it. But when, +a few weeks ago, my memory came back to me, I realized a sort of shock. +I saw how tremendous the change was, and is. A few years ago I was +home for a long leave, and I went a good deal into society. What did I +see? I saw that the women of England were in the main a mass of +useless, purposeless butterflies. I saw that the great mass of the +young men of our class were mere empty-headed, worthless parasites. +The whole country was given over to money getting and pleasure seeking. +I didn't realize it then; but I do now. On every hand they were +craving for unnatural excitement, and doubtless there was a great +danger of our race becoming decadent. But these last few weeks I've +realized the difference. Why, our people have been glorious, simply +glorious! See what an earnest tone pervades all life. Think of what +the women of all classes have done, and are doing! Think of their +change of outlook! Instead of being mere bridge-playing, gambling, +purposeless things, finding their pleasures in all sorts of silly fads +and foolishness, they've given themselves to service--loyal, noble +service. The young fellows who filled up their time by being mere +club-loungers, empty-headed society dudes, whose chief talk was women, +the latest thing in neckties, or their handicap at golf, are now doing +useful work, or fighting for the best in life. As for the rank and +file, life has a new meaning to them, and they've become heroes. + +'Mind you, we've still a long way to go; but we are on the right road. +God is speaking out of the whirlwind and the fire. Religion may not be +expressing itself in Church-going, but it is expressing itself in +deeper, grander ways. I failed to see it; but I see it now. Oh, man, +if England will only be true to the call of God, we can become the +wonder and glory of the world!' + +'Then you believe we are ready for victory?' + +'I do not say that; but we are getting ready. God has been putting us +through the refining fires, and I can see such a democracy emerging out +of this world upheaval as was never known before.' + +'And yet the war does not appear to be coming to an raid,' I urged. +'Think of Russia. Russia is a wild chaos, the victim of every passing +fancy. Anarchy is triumphant, and the great army which should be a +tower of strength is a rope of sand. If Russia had been true, we +should have been----' + +'Don't be in a hurry, my friend. God never is. Things will brighten +in that direction. I don't say the war will be ended on the +battlefield. Sometimes I think it won't. God does things in big ways. +Surely the history of the last few months has taught us that. With Him +nothing is impossible. People say that Kaiserdom stands more firmly +than ever. What of that? The Kaiser may become more autocratic than +ever, but his doom is written for all that. What is happening to his +invincible legions? They will never save him. We are going to have a +new world, my friend, and the pomp of the Kaiser will become a thing of +yesterday.' + +He was silent a few seconds, and then went on. + +'There is something else, too. Russia has failed us, failed us because +of corruption, and injustice. But God does not fail. No sooner did +Russia yield, than America spoke. Her voice was the voice of the new +Democracy. America's action is one of the greatest things in the +world. Without thought of gain and realizing her sacrifice she has +answered the call of God, and thrown herself into this struggle for the +liberty and justice of the world. Had our cause not been righteous +America would not have done this, but because it is God's Cause she +could not resist the call to give her all. Yes, my friend, + + 'The mills of God grind slowly, + But they grind exceeding small.' + + + + +CHAPTER XLII + +AN UNFINISHED STORY + +I left Jack Carbis the following day, and made my way to Bolivick. I +did my best to persuade him to come with me; but he would not. + +'No, not yet,' he said in answer to my entreaties, and yet I knew that +he longed to come. + +We had talked far into the night, and he had opened his heart to me as +never before; but it is not for me to tell all he said. + +When I reached Bolivick I found Lorna looking pale and ill, and I felt +sure something was preying on her mind. The house was nearly empty, +too. Her brother had not yet arrived from the front, and there were no +visitors. I was glad of this, however, as it gave me a chance of +talking with her alone. + +'I have just come from Jack,' I said, as we left the house for a walk +after dinner. + +She did not speak, but I knew by the quick catch in her breath what +interest my words had to her. + +'He's going to France in three days,' I went on. 'He is reported fit +for general service. I tried to persuade him to come with me.' + +'I dare say he has much to occupy him,' she said coldly. + +'It's not that,' I replied. 'He wanted to come; but he thinks you do +not want him. He said he would not come till you sent for him.' + +'And does he think I'll do that?' she asked, a little angrily I thought. + +'No, I don't think he does. But he's sensitive, and--and of course he +heard what Springfield said. He remembers, too, what you told +him--that is, just before Maurice St. Mabyn came.' + +'Does he think I--I cared for--for that man?' + +'I don't know. It would be no wonder if he did. I say, Lorna, I don't +understand your relations to Springfield. Was there anything between +you?' + +'Yes,' she replied. + +'He asked you to marry him; of course that's no secret. You'll forgive +my speaking plainly, won't you?' + +'What do you want to say?' + +'What was his power over you? I am taking advantage of our friendship, +even at the risk of being rude and impertinent.' + +'He had no power over me,--in the way you think.' + +'That sounds like an admission. Is it?' + +'Yes, if you like.' + +'Then what was his power?' + +She looked at me for a few seconds without speaking. + +'I can't tell you,' she replied presently. + +For some time we walked on in silence; I thinking what her words might +mean, she apparently deep in thought. + +'According to the newspaper,' I said after we had gone some distance, +'Springfield left a sealed packet containing letters. Was one of them +for you?' + +'Yes.' + +'You do not feel disposed to tell me what it contained?' + +'I would if I could, but I--can't.' + +'Then I'm going to see George St. Mabyn, and get it out of him.' + +'George does not know.' + +Again there was a painful silence between us, and again I tried to +understand what was in her mind. + +'Lorna,' I said, 'I want to tell you something. It has been in my mind +a long time, but if there's one thing you and I both despise it's +speaking ill of another. But I can't help myself. You must know the +truth.' + +Thereupon I told her the whole of Springfield's story as I knew it. I +related to her the conversation I had heard between Springfield and +George St. Mabyn. I described the attempts made to kill Jack Carbis. +I told her what Colonel McClure had said, both in our conversations and +in the letter he wrote me after Springfield's death. + +'Why have you told me all this?' she asked, and her voice was hard, +almost bitter. + +'Because I do not think you understand the kind of man Springfield was.' + +'Excuse me, I understand perfectly.' + +'You knew all the time! Knew what I have just told you?' + +'No, I knew nothing of that; but I knew he was a bad man, knew it +instinctively from the first. That's what makes everything impossible +now.' + +'I don't understand.' + +'No, of course you don't. Oh, I wish I could tell you.' + +'Then do. I wouldn't ask you, only my friend's happiness means a lot +to me.' + +She caught my arm convulsively. 'Do you think he cares for me still?' +she asked. 'Do you really?' + +'I'm sure he does,' I replied. + +'And you do not believe that the change in his life has made any +difference to--to that?' + +'Not a bit.' + +'Oh, I have been mad--criminally mad!' she burst out passionately. 'No +one despises me more than I despise myself. You say he loves me, but +he would hate me, scorn me if--if he knew.' + +'Knew what?' + +'I can't tell you. I simply can't.' + +'But you _will_!' I said grimly; 'you will tell me now.' + +'Major Luscombe!' + +'Yes, be as angry as you like, I am angry too. And I tell you plainly +that I am not going to allow my friend's life to be ruined because of +the vagaries of a silly child. For you _are_ a silly child. You have +got hold of some hare-brained fancy, and you are magnifying it into a +mountain. You've got to tell me all about it, because I'm sure it +stands in the way of my friend's happiness.' + +'But you don't understand. I've been--oh, I'm ashamed of myself!' + +Some men perhaps would, on listening to this outburst, have imagined +some guilty secret on her part. But knowing her as I did, it was +impossible for me to do so. + +'You are going to tell me about it,' I said. 'What is it?' + +'But you'll not tell him; promise me that.' + +'You must trust me,' I replied, 'and your trust must be complete. What +power had Springfield over you? What did he say to you in that letter?' + +She was silent for a few seconds, then she said, 'You remember what I +said about him when I first saw him?' + +'Yes, you said he made you think of snakes. You told me you disliked +him.' + +'That's why I'm so ashamed. I knew he was a bad man, and yet he +fascinated me. I was afraid of him, and yet he almost made me promise +to marry him.' + +'Go on,' I said when she hesitated, 'tell me the rest.' + +'When--when--your friend came here for the first time, he--he----' + +'Fell in love with you. Yes, it is no use mincing words. The moment +he saw you, he gave his life to you. He told me so. He told you so.' + +'I knew it before he told me.' + +'How did you know?' + +Her tell-tale blush, her quivering lips, told their own story, and I +could not help laughing aloud. + +'Don't be cruel!' she cried. + +'I am not cruel, I am only very happy. I am happy because my friend is +going to be happy.' + +'But you don't know all.' + +'I know that love overcomes all difficulties, and I know that you love +each other.' + +'Yes, but listen. He--that is, that man--told me that although you did +not know who your friend was, he knew. He said that he had been guilty +of deeds in India, which if made known would mean life-long disgrace. +That he, that is Colonel Springfield, had only to speak and--and oh, I +can't tell you! I'm too ashamed!' + +'I don't need telling,' I laughed. 'I know. He bound you to secrecy +before telling you anything. He found out that you loved Jack, and he +used your love as a lever. Like the mean scoundrel he was, he tried to +make you promise to marry him, by threatening to expose Jack if you +wouldn't. And you, because you were a silly girl, were afraid of him. +You were the victim of an Adelphi melodrama plot.' + +'Oh, I am ashamed,' she cried; 'but--he showed me proofs, or what +seemed to be proofs of his guilt. He said his loss of memory was real, +but that he, Colonel Springfield, knew who he was, and--oh, I am mad +when I think of it!' + +'And that's all!' I laughed, 'Why, little girl, when Jack knows, he'll +rejoice in what you've told me.' + +'No, he won't,' she cried piteously. 'Don't you see, he made me +believe it! That is why--why I'm so ashamed. What will he think when +he knows I believed him guilty of the most horrible things?' + +'I know what he'll think when he knows that in order to save him you +were ready to----' + +'Besides, don't you see?' she interrupted, 'I refused him when he was +nameless, and--and all that sort of thing, while now as Lord Carbis's +son----' + +But she did not finish the sentence. At that moment Jack Carbis leapt +over a stile into the lane where we were walking. + +With that quick intuition which I had so often noticed, he seemed to +divine in a moment what we were talking about. He looked at us both +for a few seconds without speaking, while both of us were so startled +by his sudden appearance, that I think we were both incapable of +uttering a word. + +'How did you get here?' I gasped presently. + +'I motored over,' he said. 'After you had left this +morning--I--I--thought I would. It was only a hundred and fifty miles. +They told me at the house which way you had gone, and----' + +'You followed us,' I interjected. 'Jack, I think you have something to +say to Lorna, and I fancy Sir Thomas and Lady Bolivick may be lonely. +I shall see you presently, shan't I?' + +Lorna looked at me with frightened eyes, as if in protest, then she +turned towards my friend. + +'Will you come with me?' said Jack, and his voice was tremulous, 'I +say, you will come, won't you?' + +She hesitated a second, and then the two walked away together in the +quiet Devonshire lane, while the shadows of evening gathered. + + * * * * * + +I did not go into the house on my return. Instead I sat on the lawn +and awaited them. Darker and darker the night shadows fell, while the +sky became star-spangled. Away, two hundred miles distant, the guns +were booming, but here was peace. + +The mystery, the wonder of it all came to me as I sat thinking. On the +long battle line the armies of Empires were engaged in a deadly +struggle, while close by a man was telling a girl that he loved her, +while she would be foolishly trying to explain what required no +explanation. + +The moon was rising as they came back. The first beams were shining +through the trees as I saw them approach. + +'Well, Lorna?' I said as they came close to where I was. + +She looked at me shyly, and then lifted her eyes to Jack's. In the +pale moonlight I saw the look of infinite happiness on her face. + +'May I, Jack?' I said. 'This morning you called me your brother, and +as Lorna is to be my sister, may I claim a brother's privilege?' + +For answer, she threw her arms around my neck and kissed me. + +'I say,' cried Jack with a happy laugh, 'you are coming it a bit thick, +aren't you? I didn't get one as easily as that.' + +'Of course not--you didn't deserve to. But where are you off to? + +'I'm going to beard the lion in his den. 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