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+Project Gutenberg's Men, Women and Guns, by H. C. (Herman Cyril) McNeile
+
+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: Men, Women and Guns
+
+Author: H. C. (Herman Cyril) McNeile
+
+Release Date: May 25, 2011 [EBook #36211]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MEN, WOMEN AND GUNS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Moti Ben-Ari and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
+produced from images generously made available by The
+Internet Archive)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+    MEN, WOMEN AND GUNS
+
+    "SAPPER"
+
+
+
+
+    MEN, WOMEN AND GUNS
+
+    BY
+    "SAPPER"
+    AUTHOR OF "MICHAEL CASSIDY, SERGEANT"
+
+    NEW YORK
+    GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY
+
+    COPYRIGHT, 1916,
+    BY GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY
+
+    PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
+
+    TO
+    MY WIFE
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+                                        PAGE
+    PROLOGUE                              xi
+
+    PART ONE
+    CHAPTER
+       I. THE MOTOR-GUN                   23
+      II. PRIVATE MEYRICK--COMPANY IDIOT  49
+     III. SPUD TREVOR OF THE RED HUSSARS  77
+      IV. THE FATAL SECOND                99
+       V. JIM BRENT'S V.C.               121
+      VI. RETRIBUTION                    155
+     VII. THE DEATH GRIP                 183
+    VIII. JAMES HENRY                    211
+
+    PART TWO
+    THE LAND OF THE TOPSY TURVY
+       I. THE GREY HOUSE                 237
+      II. THE WOMEN AND--THE MEN         243
+     III. THE WOMAN AND THE MAN          249
+      IV. "THE REGIMENT"                 257
+       V. THE CONTRAST                   265
+      VI. BLACK, WHITE, AND--GREY        271
+     VII. ARCHIE AND OTHERS              287
+    VIII. ON THE STAFF                   291
+      IX. NO ANSWER                      299
+       X. THE MADNESS                    305
+      XI. THE GREY HOUSE AGAIN           311
+
+
+
+
+PROLOGUE
+
+
+
+
+PROLOGUE
+
+
+Two days ago a dear old aunt of mine asked me to describe to her what
+shrapnel was like.
+
+"What does it feel like to be shelled?" she demanded. "Explain it to
+me."
+
+Under the influence of my deceased uncle's most excellent port I did so.
+Soothed and in that expansive frame of mind induced by the old and bold,
+I drew her a picture--vivid, startling, wonderful. And when I had
+finished, the dear old lady looked at me.
+
+"Dreadful!" she murmured. "Did I ever tell you of the terrible
+experience I had on the front at Eastbourne, when my bath-chair
+attendant became inebriated and upset me?"
+
+Slowly and sorrowfully I finished the decanter--and went to bed.
+
+But seriously, my masters, it is a hard thing that my aunt asked of me.
+There are many things worse than shelling--the tea-party you find in
+progress on your arrival on leave; the utterances of war experts; the
+non-arrival of the whisky from England. But all of those can be imagined
+by people who have not suffered; they have a standard, a measure of
+comparison. Shelling--no.
+
+The explosion of a howitzer shell near you is a definite, actual
+fact--which is unlike any other fact in the world, except the explosion
+of another howitzer shell still nearer. Many have attempted to describe
+the noise it makes as the most explainable part about it. And then
+you're no wiser.
+
+Listen. Stand with me at the Menin Gate of Ypres and listen. Through a
+cutting a train is roaring on its way. Rapidly it rises in a great
+swelling crescendo as it dashes into the open, and then its journey
+stops on some giant battlement--stops in a peal of deafening thunder
+just overhead. The shell has burst, and the echoes in that town of death
+die slowly away--reverberating like a sullen sea that lashes against a
+rock-bound coast.
+
+And yet what does it convey to anyone who patronises inebriated
+bath-chair men? ...
+
+Similarly--shrapnel! "The Germans were searching the road with
+'whizz-bangs.'" A common remark, an ordinary utterance in a letter,
+taken by fond parents as an unpleasing affair such as the cook giving
+notice.
+
+Come with me to a spot near Ypres; come, and we will take our evening
+walk together.
+
+"They're a bit lively farther up the road, sir." The corporal of
+military police stands gloomily at a cross-roads, his back against a
+small wayside shrine. A passing shell unroofed it many weeks ago; it
+stands there surrounded by débris--the image of the Virgin, chipped and
+broken. Just a little monument of desolation in a ruined country, but
+pleasant to lean against when it's between you and German guns.
+
+Let us go on, it's some way yet before we reach the dug-out by the third
+dead horse. In front of us stretches a long, straight road, flanked on
+each side by poplars. In the middle there is pavé. At intervals, a few
+small holes, where the stones have been shattered and hurled away by a
+bursting shell and only the muddy grit remains hollowed out to a depth
+of two feet or so, half-full of water. At the bottom an empty tin of
+bully, ammunition clips, numbers of biscuits--sodden and muddy.
+Altogether a good obstacle to take with the front wheel of a car at
+night.
+
+A little farther on, beside the road, in a ruined, desolate cottage two
+men are resting for a while, smoking. The dirt and mud of the trenches
+is thick on them, and one of them is contemplatively scraping his boot
+with his knife and fork. Otherwise, not a soul, not a living soul in
+sight; though away to the left front, through glasses, you can see two
+people, a man and a woman, labouring in the fields. And the only point
+of interest about them is that between you and them run the two
+motionless, stagnant lines of men who for months have faced one
+another. Those two labourers are on the other side of the German
+trenches.
+
+The setting sun is glinting on the little crumbling village two or three
+hundred yards ahead, and as you walk towards it in the still evening air
+your steps ring loud on the pavé. On each side the flat, neglected
+fields stretch away from the road; the drains beside it are choked with
+weeds and refuse; and here and there one of the gaunt trees, split in
+two half-way up by a shell, has crashed into its neighbour or fallen to
+the ground. A peaceful summer's evening which seems to give the lie to
+our shrine-leaner. And yet, to one used to the peace of England, it
+seems almost too quiet, almost unnatural.
+
+Suddenly, out of the blue there comes a sharp, whizzing noise, and
+almost before you've heard it there is a crash, and from the village in
+front there rises a cloud of dust. A shell has burst on impact on one of
+the few remaining houses; some slates and tiles fall into the road, and
+round the hole torn out of the sloping roof there hangs a whitish-yellow
+cloud of smoke. In quick succession come half a dozen more, some
+bursting on the ruined cottages as they strike, some bursting above them
+in the air. More clouds of dust rise from the deserted street, small
+avalanches of débris cascade into the road, and, above, three or four
+thick white smoke-clouds drift slowly across the sky.
+
+This is the moment at which it is well--unless time is urgent--to pause
+and reflect awhile. If you _must_ go on, a détour is strongly to be
+recommended. The Germans are shelling the empty village just in front
+with shrapnel, and who are you to interpose yourself between him and his
+chosen target? But if in no particular hurry, then it were wise to dally
+gracefully against a tree, admiring the setting sun, until he desists;
+when you may in safety resume your walk. _But_--do not forget that he
+may not stick to the village, and that whizz-bangs give no time. That is
+why I specified a tree, and not the middle of the road. It's nearer the
+ditch.
+
+Suddenly, without a second's warning, they shift their target.
+Whizz-bang! Duck, you blighter! Into the ditch. Quick! Move! Hang your
+bottle of white wine! Get down! Cower! Emulate the mole! This isn't the
+village in front now--he's shelling the road you're standing on! There's
+one burst on impact in the middle of the pavé forty yards in front of
+you, and another in the air just over your head. And there are more
+coming--don't make any mistake. That short, sharp whizz every few
+seconds--the bang! bang! bang! seems to be going on all around you. A
+thing hums past up in the air, with a whistling noise, leaving a trail
+of sparks behind it--one of the fuses. Later, the curio-hunter may find
+it nestling by a turnip. He may have it.
+
+With a vicious thud a jagged piece of shell buries itself in the ground
+at your feet; and almost simultaneously the bullets from a well-burst
+one cut through the trees above you and ping against the road, thudding
+into the earth around. No more impact ones--they've got the range. Our
+pessimistic friend at the cross-roads spoke the truth; they're quite
+lively. Everything bursting beautifully above the road about forty feet
+up. Bitter thought--if only the blighters knew that it was empty save
+for your wretched and unworthy self cowering in a ditch, with a bottle
+of white wine in your pocket and your head down a rat-hole, surely they
+wouldn't waste their ammunition so reprehensibly!
+
+Then, suddenly, they stop, and as the last white puff of smoke drifts
+slowly away you cautiously lift your head and peer towards the village.
+Have they finished? Will it be safe to resume your interrupted promenade
+in a dignified manner? Or will you give them another minute or two?
+Almost have you decided to do so when to your horror you perceive coming
+towards you through the village itself two officers. What a position to
+be discovered in! True, only the very young or the mentally deficient
+scorn cover when shelling is in progress. But of course, just at the
+moment when you'd welcome a shell to account for your propinquity with
+the rat-hole, the blighters have stopped. No sound breaks the stillness,
+save the steps ringing towards you--and it looks silly to be found in a
+ditch for no apparent reason.
+
+Then, as suddenly as before comes salvation. Just as with infinite
+stealth you endeavour to step out nonchalantly from behind a tree, as if
+you were part of the scenery--bang! crash! from in front. Cheer-oh! the
+village again, the church this time. A shower of bricks and mortar comes
+down like a landslip, and if you are quick you may just see two black
+streaks go to ground. From the vantage-point of your tree you watch a
+salvo of shells explode in, on, or about the temporary abode of those
+two officers. You realise from what you know of the Hun that this salvo
+probably concludes the evening hate; and the opportunity is too good to
+miss. Edging rapidly along the road--keeping close to the ditch--you
+approach the houses. Your position, you feel, is now strategically
+sound, with regard to the wretched pair cowering behind rubble heaps.
+You even desire revenge for your mental anguish when discovery in the
+rodent's lair seemed certain. So light a cigarette--if you didn't drop
+them all when you went to ground yourself; if you did--whistle some
+snappy tune as you stride jauntily into the village.
+
+Don't go too fast or you may miss them; but should you see a head peer
+from behind a kitchen-range express no surprise. Just--"Toppin' evening,
+ain't it? Getting furniture for the dug-out--what?" To linger is bad
+form, but it is quite permissible to ask his companion--seated in a
+torn-up drain--if the ratting is good. Then pass on in a leisurely
+manner, _but_--when you're round the corner, run like a hare. With these
+cursed Germans, you never know.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Night--and a working-party stretching away over a ploughed field are
+digging a communication trench. The great green flares lob up half a
+mile away, a watery moon shines on the bleak scene. Suddenly a noise
+like the tired sigh of some great giant, a scorching sheet of flame that
+leaps at you out of the darkness, searing your very brain, so close does
+it seem; the ping of death past your head; the clatter of shovel and
+pick next you as a muttered curse proclaims a man is hit; a voice from
+down the line: "Gawd! Old Ginger's took it. 'Old up, mate. Say, blokes,
+Ginger's done in!" Aye--it's worse at night.
+
+Shrapnel! Woolly, fleecy puffs of smoke floating gently down wind,
+getting more and more attenuated, gradually disappearing, while below
+each puff an oval of ground has been plastered with bullets. And it's
+when the ground inside the oval is full of men that the damage is done.
+
+Not you perhaps--but someone. Next time--maybe you.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+And that, methinks, is an epitome of other things besides shrapnel. It's
+_all_ the war to the men who fight and the women who wait.
+
+
+
+
+PART ONE
+
+
+
+
+PART ONE
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+THE MOTOR-GUN
+
+
+Nothing in this war has so struck those who have fought in it as its
+impersonal nature. From the day the British Army moved north, and the
+first battle of Ypres commenced--and with it trench warfare as we know
+it now--it has been, save for a few interludes, a contest between
+automatons, backed by every known scientific device. Personal rancour
+against the opposing automatons separated by twenty or thirty yards of
+smelling mud--who stew in the same discomfort as yourself--is apt to
+give way to an acute animosity against life in general, and the accursed
+fate in particular which so foolishly decided your sex at birth. But,
+though rare, there have been cases of isolated encounters, where
+men--with the blood running hot in their veins--have got down to
+hand-grips, and grappling backwards and forwards in some cellar or
+dugout, have fought to the death, man to man, as of old. Such a case has
+recently come to my knowledge, a case at once bizarre and unique: a case
+where the much-exercised arm of coincidence showed its muscles to a
+remarkable degree. Only quite lately have I found out all the facts, and
+now at Dick O'Rourke's special request I am putting them on paper. True,
+they are intended to reach the eyes of one particular person, but ...
+the personal column in the _Times_ interests others besides the lady in
+the magenta skirt, who will eat a banana at 3.30 daily by the Marble
+Arch!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+And now, at the very outset of my labours, I find myself--to my great
+alarm--committed to the placing on paper of a love scene. O'Rourke
+insists upon it: he says the whole thing will fall flat if I don't put
+it in; he promises that he will supply the local colour. In advance I
+apologise: my own love affairs are sufficiently trying without
+endeavouring to describe his--and with that, here goes.
+
+I will lift my curtain on the principals of this little drama, and open
+the scene at Ciro's in London. On the evening of April 21st, 1915, in
+the corner of that delectable resort, farthest away from the coon band,
+sat Dickie O'Rourke. That afternoon he had stepped from the boat at
+Folkestone on seven days' leave, and now in the boiled shirt of
+respectability he once again smelled the smell of London.
+
+With him was a girl. I have never seen her, but from his description I
+cannot think that I have lived until this oversight is rectified.
+Moreover, my lady, as this is written especially for your benefit, I
+hereby warn you that I propose to remedy my omission as soon as
+possible.
+
+And yet with a band that is second to none; with food wonderful and
+divine; with the choicest fruit of the grape, and--to top all--with the
+girl, Dickie did not seem happy. As he says, it was not to be wondered
+at. He had landed at Folkestone meaning to propose; he had carried out
+his intention over the fish--and after that the dinner had lost its
+savour. She had refused him--definitely and finally; and Dick found
+himself wishing for France again--France and forgetfulness. Only he knew
+he'd never forget.
+
+"The dinner is to monsieur's taste?" The head-waiter paused attentively
+by the table.
+
+"Very good," growled Dick, looking savagely at an ice on his plate. "Oh,
+Moyra," he muttered, as the man passed on, "it's meself is finished
+entoirely. And I was feeling that happy on the boat; as I saw the white
+cliffs coming nearer and nearer, I said to meself, 'Dick, me boy, in
+just four hours you'll be with the dearest, sweetest girl that God ever
+sent from the heavens to brighten the lives of dull dogs like
+yourself.'"
+
+"You're not dull, Dick. You're not to say those things--you're a dear."
+The girl's eyes seemed a bit misty as she bent over her plate.
+
+"And now!" He looked at her pleadingly. "'Tis the light has gone out of
+my life. Ah! me dear, is there no hope for Dickie O'Rourke? Me estate is
+mostly bog, and the ould place has fallen down, saving only the
+stable--but there's the breath of the seas that comes over the heather
+in the morning, and there's the violet of your dear eyes in the hills.
+It's not worrying you that I'd be--but is there no hope at all, at all?"
+
+The girl turned towards him, smiling a trifle sadly. There was woman's
+pity in the lovely eyes: her lips were trembling a little. "Dear old
+Dick," she whispered, and her hand rested lightly on his for a moment.
+"Dear old Dick, I'm sorry. If I'd only known sooner----" She broke off
+abruptly and fell to gazing at the floor.
+
+"Then there is someone else!" The man spoke almost fiercely.
+
+Slowly she nodded her head, but she did not speak.
+
+"Who is it?"
+
+"I don't know that you've got any right to ask me that, Dick," she
+answered, a little proudly.
+
+"What's the talk of right between you and me? Do you suppose I'll let
+any cursed social conventions stand between me and the woman I love?"
+She could see his hand trembling, though outwardly he seemed quite calm.
+And then his voice dropped to a tender, pleading note--and again the
+soft, rich brogue of the Irishman crept in--that wonderful tone that
+brings with it the music of the fairies from the hazy blue hills of
+Connemara.
+
+"Acushla mine," he whispered, "would I be hurting a hair of your swate
+head, or bringing a tear to them violet pools ye calls your eyes? 'Tis
+meself that is in the wrong entoirely--but, mavourneen, I just worship
+you. And the thought of the other fellow is driving me crazy. Will ye
+not be telling me his name?"
+
+"Dick, I can't," she whispered, piteously. "You wouldn't understand."
+
+"And why would I not understand?" he answered, grimly. "Is it something
+shady he has done to you?--for if it is, by the Holy Mother, I'll murder
+him."
+
+"No, no, it's nothing shady. But I can't tell you, Dick; and oh, Dick!
+I'm just wretched, and I don't know what to do." The tears were very
+near. A whimsical look came into his face as he watched her. "Moyra, me
+dear; 'tis about ten shillings apiece we're paying for them ices; and if
+you splash them with your darling tears, the chef will give notice and
+that coon with the banjo will strike work."
+
+"You dear, Dick," she whispered, after a moment, while a smile trembled
+round her mouth. "I nearly made a fool of myself."
+
+"Divil a bit," he answered. "But let us be after discussing them two
+fair things yonder while we gets on with the ices. 'Tis the most
+suitable course for contemplating the dears; and, anyway, we'll take no
+more risks until we're through with them."
+
+And so with a smile on his lips and a jest on his tongue did a gallant
+gentleman cover the ache in his heart and the pain in his eyes, and felt
+more than rewarded by the look of thanks he got. It was not for him to
+ask for more than she would freely give; and if there was another
+man--well, he was a lucky dog. But if he'd played the fool--yes, by
+Heaven! if he'd played the fool, that was a different pair of shoes
+altogether. His forehead grew black at the thought, and mechanically his
+fists clenched.
+
+"Dick, I'd like to tell you just how things are."
+
+He pulled himself together and looked at the girl.
+
+"It is meself that is at your service, my lady," he answered, quietly.
+
+"I'm engaged. But it's a secret."
+
+His jaw dropped, "Engaged!" he faltered. "But--who to? And why is it a
+secret?"
+
+"I can't tell you who to. I promised to keep it secret; and then he
+suddenly went away and the war broke out and I've never seen him since."
+
+"But you've heard from him?"
+
+She bit her lip and looked away. "Not a line," she faltered.
+
+"But--I don't understand." His tone was infinitely tender. "Why hasn't
+he written to you? Violet girl, why would he not have written?"
+
+"You see, he's a----" She seemed to be nerving herself to speak. "You
+see, he's a German!"
+
+It was out at last.
+
+"Mother of God!" Dick leaned back in his chair, his eyes fixed on her,
+his cigarette unheeded, burning the tablecloth. "Do you love him?"
+
+"Yes." The whispered answer was hardly audible. "Oh, Dick, I wonder if
+you can understand. It all came so suddenly, and then there was this
+war, and I know it's awful to love a German, but I do, and I can't tell
+anyone but you; they'd think it horrible of me. Oh, Dick! tell me you
+understand."
+
+"I understand, little girl," he answered, very slowly. "I understand."
+
+It was all very involved and infinitely pathetic. But, as I have said
+before, Dick O'Rourke was a gallant gentleman.
+
+"It's not his fault he's a German," she went on after a while. "He
+didn't start the war--and, you see, I promised him."
+
+That was the rub--she'd promised him. Truly a woman is a wonderful
+thing! Very gentle and patient was O'Rourke with her that evening, and
+when at last he turned into his club, he sat for a long while gazing
+into the fire. Just once a muttered curse escaped his lips.
+
+"Did you speak?" said the man in the next chair.
+
+"I did _not_," said O'Rourke, and getting up abruptly he went to bed.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At 3 p.m. on April 22nd Dick O'Rourke received a wire. It was short and
+to the point. "Leave cancelled. Return at once." He tore round to
+Victoria, found he'd missed the boat-train, and went down to Folkestone
+on chance. For the time Moyra was almost forgotten. Officers are not
+recalled from short leave without good and sufficient reason; and as yet
+there was nothing in the evening papers that showed any activity. At
+Folkestone he met other officers--also recalled; and when the boat came
+in rumours began to spread. The whole line had fallen back--the Germans
+were through and marching on Calais--a ghastly defeat had been
+sustained.
+
+The morning papers were a little more reassuring; and in them for the
+first time came the mention of the word "gas." Everything was vague, but
+that something had happened was obvious, and also that that something
+was pretty serious.
+
+One p.m. on the 23rd found him at Boulogne, ramping like a bull. An
+unemotional railway transport officer told him that there was a very
+nice train starting at midnight, but that the leave train was cancelled.
+
+"But, man!" howled O'Rourke, "I've been recalled. 'Tis urgent!" He
+brandished the wire in his face.
+
+The R.T.O. remained unmoved, and intimated that he was busy, and that
+O'Rourke's private history left him quite cold. Moreover, he thought it
+possible that the British Army might survive without him for another
+day.
+
+In the general confusion that ensued on his replying that the said
+R.T.O. was no doubt a perfect devil as a traveller for unshrinkable
+underclothes, but that his knowledge of the British Army might be
+written on a postage-stamp, O'Rourke escaped, and ensconcing himself
+near the barrier, guarded by French sentries, at the top of the hill
+leading to St. Omer, he waited for a motor-car.
+
+Having stopped two generals and been consigned elsewhere for his pains,
+he ultimately boarded a flying corps lorry, and 4 p.m. found him at St.
+Omer. And there--but we will whisper--was a relative--one of the exalted
+ones of the earth, who possessed many motor-cars, great and small.
+
+Dick chose the second Rolls-Royce, and having pursued his unit to the
+farm where he'd left it two days before, he chivied it round the
+country, and at length traced it to Poperinghe.
+
+And there he found things moving. As yet no one was quite sure what had
+happened; but he found a solemn conclave of Army Service Corps officers
+attached to his division, and from them he gathered twenty or thirty of
+the conflicting rumours that were flying round. One thing, anyway, was
+clear: the Huns were not triumphantly marching on Calais--yet. It was
+just as a charming old boy of over fifty, who had perjured his soul over
+his age and had been out since the beginning--a standing reproach to a
+large percentage of the so-called youth of England--it was just as he
+suggested a little dinner in that hospitable town, prior to going up
+with the supply lorries, that with a droning roar a twelve-inch shell
+came crashing into the square....
+
+That night at 11 p.m. Dick stepped out of another car into a ploughed
+field just behind the little village of Woesten, and, having trodden on
+his major's face and unearthed his servant, lay down by the dying fire
+to get what sleep he could. Now and again a horse whinnied near by; a
+bit rattled, a man cursed; for the unit was ready to move at a moment's
+notice and the horses were saddled up. The fire died out--from close by
+a battery was firing, and the sky was dancing with the flashes of
+bursting shells like summer lightning flickering in the distance. And
+with his head on a sharp stone and another in his back Dick O'Rourke
+fell asleep and dreamed of--but dreams are silly things to describe. It
+was just as he'd thrown the hors-d'oeuvres at the head-waiter of Ciro's,
+who had suddenly become the hated German rival, and was wiping the
+potato salad off Moyra's face, which it had hit by mistake, with the
+table-cloth, that with a groan he turned on his other side--only to
+exchange the stones for a sardine tin and a broken pickle bottle. Which
+is really no more foolish than the rest of life nowadays....
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+And now for a moment I must go back and, leaving our hero, describe
+shortly the events that led up to the sending of the wire that recalled
+him.
+
+Early in the morning of April 22nd the Germans launched at that part of
+the French line which lay in front of the little villages of Elverdinge
+and Brielen, a yellowish-green cloud of gas, which rolled slowly over
+the intervening ground between the trenches, carried on its way by a
+faint, steady breeze. I do not intend to describe the first use of that
+infamous invention--it has been done too often before. But, for the
+proper understanding of what follows, it is essential for me to go into
+a few details. Utterly unprepared for what was to come, the French
+divisions gazed for a short while spellbound at the strange phenomenon
+they saw coming slowly towards them. Like some liquid the heavy-coloured
+vapour poured relentlessly into the trenches, filled them, and passed
+on. For a few seconds nothing happened; the sweet-smelling stuff merely
+tickled their nostrils; they failed to realise the danger. Then, with
+inconceivable rapidity, the gas worked, and blind panic spread.
+Hundreds, after a dreadful fight for air, became unconscious and died
+where they lay--a death of hideous torture, with the frothing bubbles
+gurgling in their throats and the foul liquid welling up in their lungs.
+With blackened faces and twisted limbs one by one they drowned--only
+that which drowned them came from inside and not from out. Others,
+staggering, falling, lurching on, and of their ignorance keeping pace
+with the gas, went back. A hail of rifle-fire and shrapnel mowed them
+down, and the line was broken. There was nothing on the British
+left--their flank was up in the air. The north-east corner of the
+salient round Ypres had been pierced. From in front of St. Julian, away
+up north towards Boesienge, there was no one in front of the Germans.
+
+It is not my intention to do more than mention the rushing up of the
+cavalry corps and the Indians to fill the gap; the deathless story of
+the Canadians who, surrounded and hemmed in, fought till they died
+against overwhelming odds; the fate of the Northumbrian division--fresh
+from home--who were rushed up in support, and the field behind Fortuin
+where they were caught by shrapnel, and what was left. These things are
+outside the scope of my story. Let us go back to the gap.
+
+Hard on the heels of the French came the Germans advancing. For a mile
+or so they pushed on, and why they stopped when they did is--as far as I
+am concerned--one of life's little mysteries. Perhaps the utter success
+of their gas surprised even them; perhaps they anticipated some trap;
+perhaps the incredible heroism of the Canadians in hanging up the German
+left caused their centre to push on too far and lose touch;
+perhaps--but, why speculate? I don't know, though possibly those in High
+Places may. The fact remains they did stop; their advantage was lost and
+the situation was saved.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Such was the state of affairs when O'Rourke opened his eyes on the
+morning of Saturday, April 24th. The horses were dimly visible through
+the heavy mist, his blankets were wringing wet, and hazily he wondered
+why he had ever been born. Then the cook dropped the bacon in the fire,
+and he groaned with anguish; visions of yesterday's grilled kidneys and
+hot coffee rose before him and mocked. By six o'clock he had fed, and
+sitting on an overturned biscuit-box beside the road he watched three
+batteries of French 75's pass by and disappear in the distance. At
+intervals he longed to meet the man who invented war. It must be
+remembered that, though I have given the situation as it really was, for
+the better understanding of the story, the facts at the time were not
+known at all clearly. The fog of war still wrapped in oblivion--as far
+as regimental officers were concerned, at any rate--the events which
+were taking place within a few miles of them.
+
+When, therefore, Dick O'Rourke perceived an unshaven and unwashed
+warrior, garbed as a gunner officer, coming down the road from Woesten,
+and, moreover, recognised him as one of his own term at the "Shop,"
+known to his intimates as the Land Crab, he hailed him with joy.
+
+"All hail, oh, crustacean!" he cried, as the other came abreast of him.
+"Whither dost walk so blithely?"
+
+"Halloa, Dick!" The gunner paused. "You haven't seen my major anywhere,
+have you?"
+
+"Not that I'm aware of, but as I don't know your major from Adam, my
+evidence may not be reliable. What news from the seat of war?"
+
+"None that I know of--except this cursed gun, that is rapidly driving me
+to drink."
+
+"What cursed gun? I am fresh from Ciro's and the haunts of love and
+ease. Expound to me your enigma, my Land Crab."
+
+"Haven't you heard? When the Germans----"
+
+He stopped suddenly. "Listen!" Perfectly clear from the woods
+to the north of them--the woods that lie to the west of the
+Woesten-Oostvleteren road, for those who may care for maps--there came
+the distinctive boom! crack! of a smallish gun. Three more shots, and
+then silence. The gunner turned to Dick.
+
+"There you are--that's the gun."
+
+"But how nice! Only, why curse it?"
+
+"Principally because it's German; and those four shots that you have
+just heard have by this time burst in Poperinghe."
+
+"What!" O'Rourke looked at him in amazement. "Is it my leg you would be
+pulling?"
+
+"Certainly not. When the Germans came on in the first blind rush after
+the French two small guns on motor mountings got through behind our
+lines. One was completely wrecked with its detachment The motor
+mounting of the other you can see lying in a pond about a mile up the
+road. The gun is there." He pointed to the wood.
+
+"And the next!" said O'Rourke. "D'you mean to tell me that there is a
+German gun in that wood firing at Poperinghe? Why, hang it, man! it's
+three miles behind our lines."
+
+"Taking the direction those shells are coming from, the distance from
+Poperinghe to that gun must be more than ten miles--if the gun is behind
+the German trenches. Your gunnery is pretty rotten, I know, but if you
+know of any two-inch gun that shoots ten miles, I'll be obliged if
+you'll give me some lessons." The gunner lit a cigarette. "Man, we know
+it's not one of ours, we know where they all are; we know it's a Hun."
+
+"Then, what in the name of fortune are ye standing here for talking like
+an ould woman with the indigestion? Away with you, and lead us to him,
+and don't go chivying after your bally major." Dick shouted for his
+revolver. "If there's a gun in that wood, bedad! we'll gun it."
+
+"My dear old flick," said the other, "don't get excited. The woods have
+been searched with a line of men--twice; and devil the sign of the gun.
+You don't suppose they've got a concrete mounting and the Prussian flag
+flying on a pole, do you? The detachment are probably dressed as Belgian
+peasants, and the gun is dismounted and hidden when it's not firing."
+
+But O'Rourke would have none of it. "Get off to your major, then, and
+have your mothers' meeting. Then come back to me, and I'll give you the
+gun. And borrow a penknife and cut your beard--you'll be after
+frightening the natives."
+
+That evening a couple of shots rang out from the same wood, two of the
+typical shots of a small gun. And then there was silence. A group of men
+standing by an estaminet on the road affirmed to having heard three
+faint shots afterwards like the crack of a sporting-gun or revolver; but
+in the general turmoil of an evening hate which was going on at the same
+time no one thought much about it. Half an hour later Dick O'Rourke
+returned, and there was a strange look in his eyes. His coat was torn,
+his collar and shirt were ripped open, and his right eye was gradually
+turning black. Of his doings he would vouchsafe no word. Only, as we sat
+down round the fire to dinner, the gunner subaltern of the morning
+passed again up the road.
+
+"Got the gun yet, Dick?" he chaffed.
+
+"I have that," answered O'Rourke, "also the detachment."
+
+The Land Crab paused. "Where are they?"
+
+"The gun is in a pond where you won't find it, and the detachment are
+dead--except one who escaped."
+
+"Yes, I don't think." The gunner laughed and passed on.
+
+"You needn't," answered Dick, "but that gun will never fire again."
+
+It never did. As I say, he would answer no questions, and even amongst
+the few people who had heard of the thing at all, it soon passed into
+the limbo of forgotten things. Other and weightier matters were afoot;
+the second battle of Ypres did not leave much time for vague conjecture.
+And so when, a few days ago, the question was once again recalled to my
+mind by no less a person than O'Rourke himself, I had to dig in the
+archives of memory for the remembrance of an incident of which I had
+well-nigh lost sight.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"You remember that gun, Bill," he remarked, lying back in the arm-chair
+of the farmhouse where we were billeted, and sipping some hot rum--"that
+German gun that got through in April and bombarded Poperinghe? I want to
+talk to you about that gun." He started filling his pipe.
+
+"'Tis the hardest proposition I've ever been up against, and sure I
+don't know what to do at all." He was staring at the fire. "You
+remember the Land Crab and how he told us the woods had been searched?
+Well, it didn't take a superhuman brainstorm to realise that if what he
+said was right and the Huns were dressed as Belgian peasants, and the
+gun was a little one, that a line of men going through the woods had
+about as much chance of finding them as a terrier has of catching a
+tadpole in the water. I says to myself, 'Dick, my boy, this is an
+occasion for stealth, for delicate work, for finesse.' So off I went on
+my lonesome and hid in the wood. I argued that they couldn't be keeping
+a permanent watch, and that even if they'd seen me come in, they'd think
+in time I had gone out again, when they noticed no further sign of me.
+Also I guessed they didn't want to stir up a hornet's nest about their
+ears by killing me--they wanted no vulgar glare of publicity upon their
+doings. So, as I say, I hid in a hole and waited. I got bored stiff;
+though, when all was said and done, it wasn't much worse than sitting in
+that blessed ploughed field beside the road. About five o'clock I
+started cursing myself for a fool in listening to the story at all, it
+all seemed so ridiculous. Not a sound in the woods, not a breath of wind
+in the trees. The guns weren't firing, just for the time everything was
+peaceful. I'd got a caterpillar down my neck, and I was just coming back
+to get a drink and chuck it up, when suddenly a Belgian labourer popped
+out from behind a tree. There was nothing peculiar about him, and if it
+hadn't been for the Land Crab's story I'd never have given him a second
+thought. He was just picking up sticks, but as I watched him I noticed
+that every now and then he straightened himself up, and seemed to peer
+around as if he was searching the undergrowth. The next minute out came
+another, and he started the stick-picking stunt too."
+
+Dick paused to relight his pipe, then he laughed. "Of course, the humour
+of the situation couldn't help striking me. Dick O'Rourke in a filthy
+hole, covered with branches and bits of dirt, watching two mangy old
+Belgians picking up wood. But, having stood it the whole day, I made up
+my mind to wait, at any rate, till night. If only I could catch the gun
+in action--even if the odds were too great for me alone--I'd be able to
+spot the hiding-place, and come back later with a party and round them
+up.
+
+"Then suddenly the evening hate started--artillery from all over the
+place--and with it the Belgian labourers ceased from plucking sticks.
+Running down a little path, so close to me that I could almost touch
+him, came one of them. He stopped about ten yards away where the dense
+undergrowth finished, and, after looking cautiously round, waved his
+hand. The other one nipped behind a tree and called out something in a
+guttural tone of voice. And then, I give you my word, out of the bowels
+of the earth there popped up a little gun not twenty yards from where
+I'd been lying the whole day. By this time, of course, I was in the same
+sort of condition as a terrier is when he's seen the cat he has set his
+heart on shin up a tree, having missed her tail by half an inch.
+
+"They clapped her on a little mounting quick as light, laid her, loaded,
+and, by the holy saints! under my very nose, loosed off a present for
+Poperinghe. The man on guard waved his hand again, and bedad! away went
+another. The next instant he was back, again an exclamation in German,
+and in about two shakes the whole thing had disappeared, and there were
+the two labourers picking sticks. I give you my word it was like a clown
+popping up in a pantomime through a trap-door; I had to pinch myself to
+make certain I was awake.
+
+"The next instant into the clearing came two English soldiers, the
+reason evidently of the sudden dismantling. Had they been armed we'd
+have had at them then and there; but, of course, so far behind the
+trenches, they had no rifles. They just peered round, saw the Belgians,
+and went off again. I heard their steps dying away in the distance, and
+decided to wait a bit longer. The two men seemed to be discussing what
+to do, and ultimately moved behind the tree again, where I could hear
+them talking. At last they came to a decision, and picking up their
+bundles of sticks came slowly down the path past me. They were not going
+to fire again that evening."
+
+Dick smiled reminiscently. "Bill, pass the rum. I'm thirsty."
+
+"What did you do, Dick?" I asked, eagerly.
+
+"What d'you think? I was out like a knife and let drive with my
+hand-gun. I killed the first one as dead as mutton, and missed the
+second, who shot like a stag into the undergrowth. Gad! It was great. I
+put two more where I thought he was, but as I still heard him crashing
+on I must have missed him. Then I nipped round the tree to find the gun.
+The only thing there was a great hole full of leaves. I ploughed across
+it, thinking it must be the other side, when, without a word of warning,
+I fell through the top--bang through the top, my boy, of the neatest
+hiding-place you've ever thought of. The whole of the centre of those
+leaves was a fake. There were about two inches of them supported on
+light hurdle-work. I was in the robber's cave with a vengeance."
+
+"Was the gun there?" I cried, excitedly.
+
+"It was. Also the Hun. The gun of small variety; the Hun of large--very
+large. I don't know which of us was the more surprised--him or me; we
+just stood gazing at one another.
+
+"'Halloa, Englishman,' he said; 'come to leave a card?'
+
+"'Quite right, Boche,' I answered. 'A p.p.c. one.'
+
+"I was rather pleased with that touch at the time, old son. I was just
+going to elaborate it, and point out that he--as the dear
+departing--should really do it, when he was at me.
+
+"Bill, my boy, you should have seen that fight. Like a fool, I never saw
+his revolver lying on the table, and I'd shoved my own back in my
+holster. He got it in his right hand, and I got his right wrist in my
+left. We'd each got the other by the throat, and one of us was for the
+count. We each knew that. At one time I thought he'd got me--we were
+crashing backwards and forwards, and I caught my head against a wooden
+pole which nearly stunned me. And, mark you, all the time I was
+expecting his pal to come back and inquire after his health. Then
+suddenly I felt him weaken, and I squeezed his throat the harder. It
+came quite quickly at the end. His pistol-hand collapsed, and I suppose
+muscular contraction pulled the trigger, for the bullet went through his
+head, though I think he was dead already." Dick O'Rourke paused, and
+looked thoughtfully into the fire.
+
+"But why in the name of Heaven," I cried, irritably, "have you kept this
+dark all the while? Why didn't you tell us at the time?"
+
+For a while he did not answer, and then he produced his pocket-book.
+From it he took a photograph, which he handed to me.
+
+"Out of that German's pocket I took that photograph."
+
+"Well," I said, "what about it? A very pretty girl for a German." Then I
+looked at it closely. "Why, it was taken in England. Is it an English
+girl?"
+
+"Yes," he answered, dryly, "it is. It's Moyra Kavanagh, whom I proposed
+to forty-eight hours previously at Ciro's. She refused me, and told me
+then she was in love with a German. I celebrate the news by coming over
+here and killing him, in an individual fight where it was man to man."
+
+"But," I cried, "good heavens! man--it was you or he."
+
+"I know that," he answered, wearily. "What then? He evidently loved her;
+if not--why the photo. Look at what's written on the back--'From
+Moyra--with all my love.' All her love. Lord! it's a rum box up." He
+sighed wearily and slowly replaced it in his case. "So I buried him, and
+I chucked his gun in a pond, and said nothing about it. If I had it
+would probably have got into the papers or some such rot, and she'd have
+wanted to know all about it. Think of it! What the deuce would I have
+told her? To sympathise and discuss her love affairs with her in
+London, and then toddle over here and slaughter him. Dash it, man, it's
+Gilbertian! And, mark you, nothing would induce me to marry her--even if
+she'd have me--without her knowing."
+
+"But---" I began, and then fell silent. The more I thought of it the
+less I liked it. Put it how you like, for a girl to take as her husband
+a man who has actually killed the man she loved and was engaged
+to--German or no German--is a bit of a pill to swallow.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+After mature consideration we decided to present the pill to her garbed
+in this form. On me--as a scribbler of sorts--descended the onus of
+putting it on paper. When I'd done it, and Dick had read it, he said I
+was a fool, and wanted to tear it up. Which is like a man....
+
+Look you, my lady, it was a fair fight--it was war--it was an Englishman
+against a German; and the best man won. And surely to Heaven you can't
+blame poor old Dick? He didn't know; how could he have known, how... but
+what's the use? If your heart doesn't bring it right--neither my pen nor
+my logic is likely to. Which is like a woman.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+PRIVATE MEYRICK--COMPANY IDIOT
+
+
+No one who has ever given the matter a moment's thought would deny, I
+suppose, that a regiment without discipline is like a ship without a
+rudder. True as that fact has always been, it is doubly so now, when men
+are exposed to mental and physical shocks such as have never before been
+thought of.
+
+The condition of a man's brain after he has sat in a trench and suffered
+an intensive bombardment for two or three hours can only be described by
+one word, and that is--numbed. The actual physical concussion, apart
+altogether from the mental terror, caused by the bursting of a
+succession of large shells in a man's vicinity, temporarily robs him of
+the use of his thinking faculties. He becomes half-stunned, dazed; his
+limbs twitch convulsively and involuntarily; he mutters foolishly--he
+becomes incoherent. Starting with fright he passes through that stage,
+passes beyond it into a condition bordering on coma; and when a man is
+in that condition he is not responsible for his actions. His brain has
+ceased to work....
+
+Now it is, I believe, a principle of psychology that the brain or mind
+of a man can be divided into two parts--the objective and the
+subjective: the objective being that part of his thought-box which is
+actuated by outside influences, by his senses, by his powers of
+deduction; the subjective being that part which is not directly
+controllable by what he sees and hears, the part which the religious
+might call his soul, the Buddhist "the Spark of God," others instinct.
+And this portion of a man's nature remains acutely active, even while
+the other part has struck work. In fact, the more numbed and comatose
+the thinking brain, the more clearly and insistently does subjective
+instinct hold sway over a man's body. Which all goes to show that
+discipline, if it is to be of any use to a man at such a time, must be a
+very different type of thing to what the ordinary, uninitiated, and
+so-called free civilian believes it to be. It must be an ideal, a thing
+where the motive counts, almost a religion. It must be an appeal to the
+soul of man, not merely an order to his body. That the order to his
+body, the self-control of his daily actions, the general change in his
+mode of life will infallibly follow on the heels of the appeal to his
+soul--if that appeal be successful--is obvious. But the appeal must come
+first: it must be the driving power; it must be the cause and not the
+effect. Otherwise, when the brain is gone--numbed by causes outside its
+control; when the reasoning intellect of man is out of action--stunned
+for the time; when only his soul remains to pull the quivering, helpless
+body through,--then, unless that soul has the ideal of discipline in it,
+it _will_ fail. And failure _may_ mean death and disaster; it _will_
+mean shame and disgrace, when sanity returns....
+
+To the man seated at his desk in the company office these ideas were not
+new. He had been one of the original Expeditionary Force; but a sniper
+had sniped altogether too successfully out by Zillebecke in the early
+stages of the first battle of Ypres, and when that occurs a rest cure
+becomes necessary. At that time he was the senior subaltern of one of
+the finest regiments of "a contemptible little army"; now he was a major
+commanding a company in the tenth battalion of that same regiment. And
+in front of him on the desk, a yellow form pinned to a white slip of
+flimsy paper, announced that No. 8469, Private Meyrick, J., was for
+office. The charge was "Late falling in on the 8 a.m. parade," and the
+evidence against him was being given by C.-S.-M. Hayton, also an old
+soldier from that original battalion at Ypres. It was Major Seymour
+himself who had seen the late appearance of the above-mentioned Private
+Meyrick, and who had ordered the yellow form to be prepared. And now
+with it in front of him, he stared musingly at the office fire....
+
+There are a certain number of individuals who from earliest infancy have
+been imbued with the idea that the chief pastime of officers in the
+army, when they are not making love to another man's wife, is the
+preparation of harsh and tyrannical rules for the express purpose of
+annoying their men, and the gloating infliction of drastic punishment on
+those that break them. The absurdity of this idea has nothing to do with
+it, it being a well-known fact that the more absurd an idea is, the more
+utterly fanatical do its adherents become. To them the thought
+that a man being late on parade should make him any the worse
+fighter--especially as he had, in all probability, some good and
+sufficient excuse--cannot be grasped. To them the idea that men may not
+be a law unto themselves--though possibly agreed to reluctantly in the
+abstract--cannot possibly be assimilated in the concrete.
+
+"He has committed some trifling offence," they say; "now you will give
+him some ridiculous punishment. That is the curse of militarism--a
+chosen few rule by Fear." And if you tell them that any attempt to
+inculcate discipline by fear alone must of necessity fail, and that far
+from that being the method in the Army the reverse holds good, they
+will not believe you. Yet--it is so....
+
+"Shall I bring in the prisoner, sir?" The Sergeant-Major was standing by
+the door.
+
+"Yes, I'll see him now." The officer threw his cigarette into the fire
+and put on his hat.
+
+"Take off your 'at. Come along there, my lad--move. You'd go to sleep at
+your mother's funeral--you would." Seymour smiled at the conversation
+outside the door; he had soldiered many years with that Sergeant-Major.
+"Now, step up briskly. Quick march. 'Alt. Left turn." He closed the door
+and ranged himself alongside the prisoner facing the table.
+
+"No. 8469, Private Meyrick--you are charged with being late on the 8
+a.m. parade this morning. Sergeant-Major, what do you know about it?"
+
+"Sir, on the 8 a.m. parade this morning, Private Meyrick came running on
+'alf a minute after the bugle sounded. 'Is puttees were not put on
+tidily. I'd like to say, sir, that it's not the first time this man has
+been late falling in. 'E seems to me to be always a dreaming,
+somehow--not properly awake like. I warned 'im for office."
+
+The officer's eyes rested on the hatless soldier facing him. "Well,
+Meyrick," he said quietly, "what have you got to say?"
+
+"Nothing, sir. I'm sorry as 'ow I was late. I was reading, and I never
+noticed the time."
+
+"What were you reading?" The question seemed superfluous--almost
+foolish; but something in the eyes of the man facing him, something in
+his short, stumpy, uncouth figure interested him.
+
+"I was a'reading Kipling, sir." The Sergeant-Major snorted as nearly as
+such an august disciplinarian could snort in the presence of his
+officer.
+
+"'E ought, sir, to 'ave been 'elping the cook's mate--until 'e was due
+on parade."
+
+"Why do you read Kipling or anyone else when you ought to be doing other
+things?" queried the officer. His interest in the case surprised
+himself; the excuse was futile, and two or three days to barracks is an
+excellent corrective.
+
+"I dunno, sir. 'E sort of gets 'old of me, like. Makes me want to do
+things--and then I can't. I've always been slow and awkward like, and I
+gets a bit flustered at times. But I do try 'ard." Again a doubtful
+noise from the Sergeant-Major; to him trying 'ard and reading Kipling
+when you ought to be swabbing up dishes were hardly compatible.
+
+For a moment or two the officer hesitated, while the Sergeant-Major
+looked frankly puzzled. "What the blazes 'as come over 'im," he was
+thinking; "surely he ain't going to be guyed by that there wash. Why
+don't 'e give 'im two days and be done with it--and me with all them
+returns."
+
+"I'm going to talk to you, Meyrick." Major Seymour's voice cut in on
+these reflections. For the fraction of a moment "Two days C.B." had been
+on the tip of his tongue, and then he'd changed his mind. "I want to try
+and make you understand why you were brought up to office to-day. In
+every community--in every body of men--there must be a code of rules
+which govern what they do. Unless those rules are carried out by all
+those men, the whole system falls to the ground. Supposing everyone came
+on to parade half a minute late because they'd been reading Kipling?"
+
+"I know, sir. I see as 'ow I was wrong. But--I dreams sometimes as 'ow
+I'm like them he talks about, when 'e says as 'ow they lifted 'em
+through the charge as won the day. And then the dream's over, and I know
+as 'ow I'm not."
+
+The Sergeant-Major's impatience was barely concealed; those returns were
+oppressing him horribly.
+
+"You can get on with your work, Sergeant-Major. I know you're busy."
+Seymour glanced at the N.C.O. "I want to say a little more to Meyrick."
+
+The scandalised look on his face amused him; to leave a prisoner alone
+with an officer--impossible, unheard of.
+
+"I am in no hurry, sir, thank you."
+
+"All right then," Seymour spoke briefly. "Now, Meyrick, I want you to
+realise that the principle at the bottom of all discipline is the motive
+that makes that discipline. I want you to realise that all these rules
+are made for the good of the regiment, and that in everything you do and
+say you have an effect on the regiment. You count in the show, and I
+count in it, and so does the Sergeant-Major. We're all out for the same
+thing, my lad, and that is the regiment. We do things not because we're
+afraid of being punished if we don't, but because we know that they are
+for the good of the regiment--the finest regiment in the world. You've
+got to make good, not because you'll be dropped on if you don't, but
+because you'll pull the regiment down if you fail. And because you
+count, you, personally, must not be late on parade. It _does_ matter
+what you do yourself. I want you to realise that, and why. The rules you
+are ordered to comply with are the best rules. Sometimes we alter
+one--because we find a better; but they're the best we can get, and
+before you can find yourself in the position of the men you dream
+about--the men who lift others, the men who lead others--you've got to
+lift and lead yourself. Nothing is too small to worry about, nothing too
+insignificant. And because I think, that at the back of your head
+somewhere you've got the right idea; because I think it's natural to you
+to be a bit slow and awkward and that your failure isn't due to laziness
+or slackness, I'm not going to punish you this time for breaking the
+rules. If you do it again, it will be a different matter. There comes a
+time when one can't judge motives; when one can only judge results. Case
+dismissed."
+
+Thoughtfully the officer lit a cigarette as the door closed, and though
+for the present there was nothing more for him to do in office, he
+lingered on, pursuing his train of thoughts. Fully conscious of the
+aggrieved wrath of his Sergeant-Major at having his time wasted, a
+slight smile spread over his face. He was not given to making
+perorations of this sort, and now that it was over he wondered rather
+why he'd done it. And then he recalled the look in the private's eyes as
+he had spoken of his dreams.
+
+"He'll make good that man." Unconsciously he spoke aloud. "He'll make
+good."
+
+The discipline of habit is what we soldiers had before the war, and that
+takes time. Now it must be the discipline of intelligence, of ideal. And
+for that fear is the worst conceivable teacher. We have no time to form
+habits now; the routine of the army is of too short duration before the
+test comes. And the test is too crushing....
+
+The bed-rock now as then is the same, only the methods of getting down
+to that bed-rock have to be more hurried. Of old habitude and constant
+association instilled a religion--the religion of obedience, the
+religion of esprit de corps. But it took time. Now we need the same
+religion, but we haven't the same time.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In the office next door the Sergeant-Major was speaking soft words to
+the Pay Corporal.
+
+"Blimey, I dunno what's come over the bloke. You know that there
+Meyrick..."
+
+"Who, the Slug?" interpolated the other.
+
+"Yes. Well 'e come shambling on to parade this morning with 'is puttees
+flapping round his ankles--late as usual; and 'e told me to run 'im up
+to office." A thumb indicated the Major next door. "When I gets 'im
+there, instead of giving 'im three days C.B. and being done with it, 'e
+starts a lot of jaw about motives and discipline. 'E hadn't got no ruddy
+excuse; said 'e was a'reading Kipling, or some such rot--when 'e ought
+to have been 'elping the cook's mate."
+
+"What did he give him?" asked the Pay Corporal, interested.
+
+"Nothing. His blessing and dismissed the case. As if I had nothing
+better to do than listen to 'im talking 'ot air to a perisher like that
+there Meyrick. 'Ere, pass over them musketry returns."
+
+Which conversation, had Seymour overheard it, he would have understood
+and fully sympathised with. For C.-S.-M. Hayton, though a prince of
+sergeant-majors, was no student of physiology. To him a spade was a
+spade only as long as it shovelled earth.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Now, before I go on to the day when the subject of all this trouble and
+talk was called on to make good, and how he did it, a few words on the
+man himself might not be amiss. War, the great forcing house of
+character, admits no lies. Sooner or later it finds out a man, and he
+stands in the pitiless glare of truth for what he is. And it is not by
+any means the cheery hail-fellow-well-met type, or the thruster, or the
+sportsman, who always pool the most votes when the judging starts....
+
+John Meyrick, before he began to train for the great adventure, had been
+something in a warehouse down near Tilbury. And "something" is about the
+best description of what he was that you could give. Moreover there
+wasn't a dog's chance of his ever being "anything." He used to help the
+young man--I should say young gentleman--who checked weigh bills at one
+of the dock entrances. More than that I cannot say, and incidentally the
+subject is not of surpassing importance. His chief interests in life
+were contemplating the young gentleman, listening open-mouthed to his
+views on life, and, dreaming. Especially the latter. Sometimes he would
+go after the day's work, and, sitting down on a bollard, his eyes would
+wander over the lines of some dirty tramp, with her dark-skinned crew.
+Visions of wonderful seas and tropic islands, of leafy palms with the
+blue-green surf thundering in towards them, of coral reefs and
+glorious-coloured flowers, would run riot in his brain. Not that he
+particularly wanted to go and see these figments of his imagination for
+himself; it was enough for him to dream of them--to conjure them up for
+a space in his mind by the help of an actual concrete ship--and then to
+go back to his work of assisting his loquacious companion. He did not
+find the work uncongenial; he had no hankerings after other modes of
+life--in fact the thought of any change never even entered into his
+calculations. What the future might hold he neither knew nor cared; the
+expressions of his companion on the rottenness of life in general and
+their firm in particular awoke no answering chord in his breast He had
+enough to live on in his little room at the top of a tenement house--he
+had enough over for an occasional picture show--and he had his dreams.
+He was content.
+
+Then came the war. For a long while it passed him by; it was no concern
+of his, and it didn't enter his head that it was ever likely to be until
+one night, as he was going in to see "Jumping Jess, or the Champion Girl
+Cowpuncher" at the local movies, a recruiting sergeant touched him on
+the arm.
+
+He was not a promising specimen for a would-be soldier, but that
+recruiting sergeant was not new to the game, and he'd seen worse.
+
+"Why aren't you in khaki, young fellow me lad?" he remarked genially.
+
+The idea, as I say, was quite new to our friend. Even though that very
+morning his colleague in the weigh-bill pastime had chucked it and
+joined, even though he'd heard a foreman discussing who they were to put
+in his place as "that young Meyrick was habsolutely 'opeless," it still
+hadn't dawned on him that he might go too. But the recruiting sergeant
+was a man of some knowledge; in his daily round he encountered many and
+varied types. In two minutes he had fired the boy's imagination with a
+glowing and partially true description of the glories of war and the
+army, and supplied him with another set of dreams to fill his brain.
+Wasting no time, he struck while the iron was hot, and in a few minutes
+John Meyrick, sometime checker of weigh-bills, died, and No. 8469,
+Private John Meyrick, came into being....
+
+But though you change a man's vocation with the stroke of a pen, you do
+not change his character. A dreamer he was in the beginning, and a
+dreamer he remained to the end. And dreaming, as I have already pointed
+out, was not a thing which commended itself to Company-Sergeant-Major
+Hayton, who in due course became one of the chief arbiters of our
+friend's destinies. True it was no longer coral islands--but such
+details availed not with cook's mates and other busy movers in the
+regimental hive. Where he'd got them from, Heaven knows, those tattered
+volumes of Kipling; but their matchless spirit had caught his brain and
+fired his soul, with the result--well, the first of them has been given.
+
+There were more results to follow. Not three days after he was again
+upon the mat for the same offence, only to say much the same as before.
+
+"I do try, sir--I do try; but some'ow----"
+
+And though in the bottom of his heart the officer believed him, though
+in a very strange way he felt interested in him, there are limits and
+there are rules. There comes a time, as he had said, when one can't
+judge by motives, when one can only judge by results.
+
+"You mustn't only try; you must succeed. Three days to barracks."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+That night in mess the officer sat next to the Colonel. "It's the
+thrusters, the martinets, the men of action who win the V.C.'s and
+D.C.M.'s, my dear fellow," said his C.O., as he pushed along the wine.
+"But it's the dreamers, the idealists who deserve them. They suffer so
+much more."
+
+And as Major Seymour poured himself out a glass of port, a face came
+into his mind--the face of a stumpy, uncouth man with deep-set eyes. "I
+wonder," he murmured--"I wonder."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The opportunities for stirring deeds of heroism in France do not occur
+with great frequency, whatever outsiders may think to the contrary. For
+months on end a battalion may live a life of peace and utter boredom,
+getting a few casualties now and then, occasionally bagging an unwary
+Hun, vegetating continuously in the same unprepossessing hole in the
+ground--saving only when they go to another, or retire to a town
+somewhere in rear to have a bath. And the battalion to which No. 8469,
+Private Meyrick, belonged was no exception to the general rule.
+
+For five weeks they had lived untroubled by anything except flies--all
+of them, that is, save various N.C.O.'s in A company. To them flies were
+quite a secondary consideration when compared to their other worry. And
+that, it is perhaps superfluous to add, was Private Meyrick himself.
+
+Every day the same scene would be enacted; every day some sergeant or
+corporal would dance with rage as he contemplated the Company Idiot--the
+title by which he was now known to all and sundry.
+
+"Wake up! Wake up! Lumme, didn't I warn you--didn't I warn yer 'arf an
+'our ago over by that there tree, when you was a-staring into the
+branches looking for nuts or something--didn't I warn yer that the
+company was parading at 10.15 for 'ot baths?"
+
+"I didn't 'ear you, Corporal--I didn't really."
+
+"Didn't 'ear me! Wot yer mean, didn't 'ear me? My voice ain't like the
+twitter of a grass'opper, is it? It's my belief you're balmy, my boy,
+B-A-R-M-Y. Savez. Get a move on yer, for Gawd's sake! You ought to 'ave
+a nurse. And when you gets to the bath-'ouse, for 'Eaven's sake pull
+yerself together! Don't forget to take off yer clothes before yer gets
+in; and when they lets the water out, don't go stopping in the bath
+because you forgot to get out. I wouldn't like another regiment to see
+you lying about when they come. They might say things."
+
+And so with slight variations the daily strafe went on. Going up to the
+trenches it was always Meyrick who got lost; Meyrick who fell into shell
+holes and lost his rifle or the jam for his section; Meyrick who forgot
+to lie down when a flare went up, but stood vacantly gazing at it until
+partially stunned by his next-door neighbour. Periodically messages
+would come through from the next regiment asking if they'd lost the
+regimental pet, and that he was being returned. It was always
+Meyrick....
+
+"I can't do nothing with 'im, sir." It was the Company-Sergeant-Major
+speaking to Seymour. "'E seems soft like in the 'ead. Whenever 'e does
+do anything and doesn't forget, 'e does it wrong. 'E's always dreaming
+and 'alf balmy."
+
+"He's not a flier, I know, Sergeant-Major, but we've got to put up with
+all sorts nowadays," returned the officer diplomatically. "Send him to
+me, and let me have a talk to him."
+
+"Very good, sir; but 'e'll let us down badly one of these days."
+
+And so once again Meyrick stood in front of his company officer, and was
+encouraged to speak of his difficulties. To an amazing degree he had
+remembered the discourse he had listened to many months previously; to
+do something for the regiment was what he desired more than anything--to
+do something big, really big. He floundered and stopped; he could find
+no words....
+
+"But don't you understand that it's just as important to do the little
+things? If you can't do them, you'll never do the big ones."
+
+"Yes, sir--I sees that; I do try, sir, and then I gets thinking, and
+some'ow--oh! I dunno--but everything goes out of my head like. I wants
+the regiment to be proud of me--and then they calls me the Company
+Idiot." There was something in the man's face that touched Seymour.
+
+"But how can the regiment be proud of you, my lad," he asked gently, "if
+you're always late on parade, and forgetting to do what you're told? If
+I wasn't certain in my own mind that it wasn't slackness and
+disobedience on your part, I should ask the Colonel to send you back to
+England as useless."
+
+An appealing look came into the man's eyes. "Oh! don't do that, sir. I
+will try 'ard--straight I will."
+
+"Yes, but as I told you once before, there comes a time when one must
+judge by results. Now, Meyrick, you must understand this finally. Unless
+you do improve, I shall do what I said. I shall tell the Colonel that
+you're not fitted to be a soldier, and I shall get him to send you away.
+I can't go on much longer; you're more trouble than you're worth. We're
+going up to the trenches again to-night, and I shall watch you. That
+will do; you may go."
+
+And so it came about that the Company Idiot entered on what was destined
+to prove the big scene in his uneventful life under the eyes of a
+critical audience. To the Sergeant-Major, who was a gross materialist,
+failure was a foregone conclusion; to the company officer, who went a
+little nearer to the heart of things, the issue was doubtful. Possibly
+his threat would succeed; possibly he'd struck the right note. And the
+peculiar thing is that both proved right according to their own
+lights....
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+This particular visit to the trenches was destined to be of a very
+different nature to former ones. On previous occasions peace had
+reigned; nothing untoward had occurred to mar the quiet restful
+existence which trench life so often affords to its devotees. But this
+time....
+
+It started about six o'clock in the morning on the second day of their
+arrival--a really pleasant little intensive bombardment. A succession of
+shells came streaming in, shattering every yard of the front line with
+tearing explosions. Then the Huns turned on the gas and attacked behind
+it. A few reached the trenches--the majority did not; and the ground
+outside was covered with grey-green figures, some of which were writhing
+and twitching and some of which were still. The attack had failed....
+
+But that sort of thing leaves its mark on the defenders, and this was
+their first baptism of real fire. Seymour had passed rapidly down the
+trench when he realised that for the moment it was over; and though
+men's faces were covered with the hideous gas masks, he saw by the
+twitching of their hands and by the ugly high-pitched laughter he heard
+that it would be well to get into touch with those behind. Moreover, in
+every piece of trench there lay motionless figures in khaki....
+
+It was as he entered his dugout that the bombardment started again.
+Quickly he went to the telephone, and started to get on to brigade
+headquarters. It took him twenty seconds to realise that the line had
+been cut, and then he cursed dreadfully. The roar of the bursting shells
+was deafening; his cursing was inaudible; but in a fit of almost
+childish rage--he kicked the machine. Men's nerves are jangled at
+times....
+
+It was merely coincidence doubtless, but a motionless figure in a gas
+helmet crouching outside the dugout saw that kick, and slowly in his
+bemused brain there started a train of thought. Why should his company
+officer do such a thing; why should they all be cowering in the trench
+waiting for death to come to them; why...? For a space his brain refused
+to act; then it started again.
+
+Why was that man lying full length at the bottom of the trench, with the
+great hole torn out of his back, and the red stream spreading slowly
+round him; why didn't it stop instead of filling up the little holes at
+the bottom of the trench and then overflowing into the next one? He was
+the corporal who'd called him balmy; but why should he be dead? He was
+dead--at least the motionless watcher thought he must be. He lay so
+still, and his body seemed twisted and unnatural. But why should one of
+the regiment be dead; it was all so unexpected, so sudden? And why did
+his Major kick the telephone?...
+
+For a space he lay still, thinking; trying to figure things out. He
+suddenly remembered tripping over a wire coming up to the trench, and
+being cursed by his sergeant for lurching against him. "You would," he
+had been told--"you would. If it ain't a wire, you'd fall over yer own
+perishing feet."
+
+"What's the wire for, sergint?" he had asked.
+
+"What d'you think, softie. Drying the washing on? It's the telephone
+wire to Headquarters."
+
+It came all back to him, and it had been over by the stunted pollard
+that he'd tripped up. Then he looked back at the silent, motionless
+figure--the red stream had almost reached him--and the Idea came. It
+came suddenly--like a blow. The wire must be broken, otherwise the
+officer wouldn't have kicked the telephone; he'd have spoken through it.
+
+"I wants the regiment to be proud of me--and then they calls me the
+Company Idiot." He couldn't do the little things--he was always
+forgetting, but...! What was that about "lifting 'em through the charge
+that won the day"? There was no charge, but there was the regiment. And
+the regiment was wanting him at last. Something wet touched his
+fingers, and when he looked at them, they were red. "B-A-R-M-Y. You
+ought to 'ave a nurse...."
+
+Then once again coherent thought failed him--utter physical weakness
+gripped him--he lay comatose, shuddering, and crying softly over he knew
+not what. The sweat was pouring down his face from the heat of the gas
+helmet, but still he held the valve between his teeth, breathing in
+through the nose and out through the mouth as he had been told. It was
+automatic, involuntary; he couldn't think, he only remembered certain
+things by instinct.
+
+Suddenly a high explosive shell burst near him--quite close: and a mass
+of earth crashed down on his legs and back, half burying him. He
+whimpered feebly, and after a while dragged himself free. But the action
+brought him close to that silent figure, with the ripped up back....
+
+"You ought to 'ave a nurse..." Why? Gawd above--why? Wasn't he as good a
+man as that there dead corporal? Wasn't he one of the regiment too? And
+now the Corporal couldn't do anything, but he--well, he hadn't got no
+hole torn out of his back. It wasn't his blood that lay stagnant,
+filling the little holes at the bottom of the trench....
+
+Kipling came back to him--feebly, from another world. The dreamer was
+dreaming once again.
+
+    "If your officer's dead and the sergeants look white,
+    Remember it's ruin to run from a fight."
+
+Run! Who was talking of running? He was going to save the regiment--once
+he could think clearly again. Everything was hazy just for the moment.
+
+    "And wait for supports like a soldier."
+
+But there weren't no supports, and the telephone wire was broken--the
+wire he'd tripped over as he came up. Until it was mended there wouldn't
+be any supports--until it was mended--until----
+
+With a choking cry he lurched to his feet: and staggering, running,
+falling down, the dreamer crossed the open. A tearing pain through his
+left arm made him gasp, but he got there--got there and collapsed. He
+couldn't see very well, so he tore off his gas helmet, and, peering
+round, at last saw the wire. And the wire was indeed cut. Why the
+throbbing brain should have imagined it would be cut _there_, I know
+not; perhaps he associated it particularly with the pollard--and after
+all he was the Company Idiot. But it was cut there, I am glad to say;
+let us not begrudge him his little triumph. He found one end, and some
+few feet off he saw the other. With infinite difficulty he dragged
+himself towards it. Why did he find it so terribly hard to move? He
+couldn't see clearly; everything somehow was getting hazy and red. The
+roar of the shells seemed muffled strangely--far-away, indistinct. He
+pulled at the wire, and it came towards him; pulled again, and the two
+ends met. Then he slipped back against the pollard, the two ends grasped
+in his right hand....
+
+The regiment was safe at last. The officer would not have to kick the
+telephone again. The Idiot had made good. And into his heart there came
+a wonderful peace.
+
+There was a roaring in his ears; lights danced before his eyes; strange
+shapes moved in front of him. Then, of a sudden, out of the gathering
+darkness a great white light seared his senses, a deafening crash
+overwhelmed him, a sharp stabbing blow struck his head. The roaring
+ceased, and a limp figure slipped down and lay still, with two ends of
+wire grasped tight in his hand.
+
+"They are going to relieve us to-night, Sergeant-Major." The two men
+with tired eyes faced one another in the Major's dugout The bombardment
+was over, and the dying rays of a blood-red sun glinted through the
+door. "I think they took it well."
+
+"They did, sir--very well."
+
+"What are the casualties? Any idea?"
+
+"Somewhere about seventy or eighty, sir--but I don't know the exact
+numbers."
+
+"As soon as it's dark I'm going back to headquarters. Captain Standish
+will take command."
+
+"That there Meyrick is reported missing, sir."
+
+"Missing! He'll turn up somewhere--if he hasn't been hit."
+
+"Probably walked into the German trenches by mistake," grunted the
+C.-S.-M. dispassionately, and retired. Outside the dugout men had moved
+the corporal; but the red pools still remained--stagnant at the bottom
+of the trench....
+
+"Well, you're through all right now, Major," said a voice in the
+doorway, and an officer with the white and blue brassard of the signals
+came in and sat down. "There are so many wires going back that have been
+laid at odd times, that it's difficult to trace them in a hurry." He
+gave a ring on the telephone, and in a moment the thin, metallic voice
+of the man at the other end broke the silence.
+
+"All right. Just wanted to make sure we were through. Ring off."
+
+"I remember kicking that damn thing this morning when I found we were
+cut off," remarked Seymour, with a weary smile. "Funny how childish one
+is at times."
+
+"Aye--but natural. This war's damnable." The two men fell silent. "I'll
+have a bit of an easy here," went on the signal officer after a while,
+"and then go down with you."
+
+A few hours later the two men clambered out of the back of the trench.
+"It's easier walking, and I know every stick," remarked the Major. "Make
+for that stunted pollard first."
+
+Dimly the tree stood outlined against the sky--a conspicuous mark and
+signpost. It was the signal officer who tripped over it first--that
+huddled quiet body, and gave a quick ejaculation. "Somebody caught it
+here, poor devil. Look out--duck."
+
+A flare shot up into the night, and by its light the two motionless
+officers close to the pollard looked at what they had found.
+
+"How the devil did he get here!" muttered Seymour. "It's one of my men."
+
+"Was he anywhere near you when you kicked the telephone?" asked the
+other, and his voice was a little hoarse.
+
+"He may have been--I don't know. Why?"
+
+"Look at his right hand." From the tightly clenched fingers two broken
+ends of wire stuck out.
+
+"Poor lad." The Major bit his lip. "Poor lad--I wonder. They called him
+the Company Idiot. Do you think...?"
+
+"I think he came out to find the break in the wire," said the other
+quietly. "And in doing so he found the answer to the big riddle."
+
+"I knew he'd make good--I knew it all along. He used to dream of big
+things--something big for the regiment."
+
+"And he's done a big thing, by Jove," said the signal officer gruffly,
+"for it's the motive that counts. And he couldn't know that he'd got the
+wrong wire."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"When 'e doesn't forget, 'e does things wrong."
+
+As I said, both the Sergeant-Major and his officer proved right
+according to their own lights.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+SPUD TREVOR OF THE RED HUSSARS
+
+
+It would be but a small exaggeration to say that in every God-forsaken
+hole and corner of the world, where soldiers lived and moved and had
+their being, before Nemesis overtook Europe, the name of Spud Trevor of
+the Red Hussars was known. From Simla to Singapore, from Khartoum to the
+Curragh his name was symbolical of all that a regimental officer should
+be. Senior subalterns guiding the erring feet of the young and frivolous
+from the tempting paths of night clubs and fair ladies, to the
+infinitely better ones of hunting and sport, were apt to quote him.
+Adjutants had been known to hold him up as an example to those of their
+flock who needed chastening for any of the hundred and one things that
+adjutants do not like--if they have their regiment at heart. And he
+deserved it all.
+
+I, who knew him, as well perhaps as anyone; I, who was privileged to
+call him friend, and yet in the hour of his greatest need failed him; I,
+to whose lot it has fallen to remove the slur from his name, state this
+in no half-hearted way. He deserved it, and a thousand times as much
+again. He was the type of man beside whom the ordinary English
+gentleman--the so-called white man--looked dirty-grey in comparison. And
+yet there came a day when men who had openly fawned on him left the room
+when he came in, when whispers of an unsuspected yellow streak in him
+began to circulate, when senior subalterns no longer held him up as a
+model. Now he is dead: and it has been left to me to vindicate him.
+Perchance by so doing I may wipe out a little of the stain of guilt that
+lies so heavy on my heart; perchance I may atone, in some small degree,
+for my doubts and suspicions; and, perchance too, the whitest man that
+ever lived may of his understanding and knowledge, perfected now in the
+Great Silence to which he has gone, accept my tardy reparation, and
+forgive. It is only yesterday that the document, which explained
+everything, came into my hands. It was sent to me sealed, and with it a
+short covering letter from a firm of solicitors stating that their
+client was dead--killed in France--and that according to his
+instructions they were forwarding the enclosed, with the request that I
+should make such use of it as I saw fit.
+
+To all those others, who, like myself, doubted, I address these words.
+Many have gone under: to them I venture to think everything is now
+clear. Maybe they have already met Spud, in the great vast gulfs where
+the mists of illusion are rolled away. For those who still live, he has
+no abuse--that incomparable sportsman and sahib; no recriminations for
+us who ruined his life. He goes farther, and finds excuses for us; God
+knows we need them. Here is what he has written. The document is
+reproduced exactly as I received it--saving only that I have altered all
+names. The man, whom I have called Ginger Bathurst, and everyone else
+concerned, will, I think, recognise themselves. And, pour les
+autres--let them guess.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In two days, old friend, my battalion sails for France; and, now with
+the intention full formed and fixed in my mind, that I shall not return,
+I have determined to put down on paper the true facts of what happened
+three years ago: or rather, the true motives that impelled me to do what
+I did. I put it that way, because you already know the facts. You know
+that I was accused of saving my life at the expense of a woman's when
+the _Astoria_ foundered in mid-Atlantic; you know that I was accused of
+having thrust her aside and taken her place in the boat. That accusation
+is true. I did save my life at a woman's expense. But the motives that
+impelled my action you do not know, nor the identity of the woman
+concerned. I hope and trust that when you have read what I shall write
+you will exonerate me from the charge of a cowardice, vile and
+abominable beyond words, and at the most only find me guilty of a
+mistaken sense of duty. These words will only reach you in the event of
+my death; do with them what you will. I should like to think that the
+old name was once again washed clean of the dirty blot it has on it now;
+so do your best for me, old pal, do your best.
+
+You remember Ginger Bathurst--of course you do. Is he still a budding
+Staff Officer at the War Office, I wonder, or is he over the water? I'm
+out of touch with the fellows in these days--(_the pathos of it: Spud
+out of touch, Spud of all men, whose soul was in the Army_)--one doesn't
+live in the back of beyond for three years and find Army lists and
+gazettes growing on the trees. You remember also, I suppose, that I was
+best man at his wedding when he married the Comtesse de Grecin. I told
+you at the time that I was not particularly enamoured of his choice, but
+it was _his_ funeral; and with the old boy asking me to steer him
+through, I had no possible reason for refusing. Not that I had anything
+against the woman: she was charming, fascinating, and had a pretty
+useful share of this world's boodle. Moreover, she seemed
+extraordinarily in love with Ginger, and was just the sort of woman to
+push an ambitious fellow like him right up to the top of the tree. He,
+of course, was simply idiotic: he was stark, raving mad about her; vowed
+she was the most peerless woman that ever a wretched being like himself
+had been privileged to look at; loaded her with presents which he
+couldn't afford, and generally took it a good deal worse than usual. I
+think, in a way, it was the calm acceptance of those presents that first
+prejudiced me against her. Naturally I saw a lot of her before they were
+married, being such a pal of Ginger's, and I did my best for his sake to
+overcome my dislike. But he wasn't a wealthy man--at the most he had
+about six hundred a year private means--and the presents of jewellery
+alone that he gave her must have made a pretty large hole in his
+capital.
+
+However that is all by the way. They were married, and shortly
+afterwards I took my leave big game shooting and lost sight of them for
+a while. When I came back Ginger was at the War Office, and they were
+living in London. They had a delightful little flat in Hans Crescent,
+and she was pushing him as only a clever woman can push. Everybody who
+could be of the slightest use to him sooner or later got roped in to
+dinner and was duly fascinated.
+
+To an habitual onlooker like myself, the whole thing was clear, and I
+must quite admit that much of my first instinctive dislike--and dislike
+is really too strong a word--evaporated. She went out of her way to be
+charming to me, not that I could be of any use to the old boy, but
+merely because I was his great friend; and of course she knew that I
+realised--what he never dreamed of--that she was paving the way to pull
+some really big strings for him later.
+
+I remember saying good-bye to her one afternoon after a luncheon, at
+which I had watched with great interest the complete capitulation of two
+generals and a well-known diplomatist.
+
+"You're a clever man, Mr. Spud," she murmured, with that charming air of
+taking one into her confidence, with which a woman of the world routs
+the most confirmed misogynist. "If only Ginger----" She broke off and
+sighed: just the suggestion of a sigh; but sufficient to imply--lots.
+
+"My lady," I answered, "keep him fit; make him take exercise: above all
+things don't let him get fat. Even you would be powerless with a fat
+husband. But provided you keep him thin, and never let him decide
+anything for himself, he will live to be a lasting monument and example
+of what a woman can do. And warriors and statesmen shall bow down and
+worship, what time they drink tea in your boudoir and eat buns from your
+hand. Bismillah!"
+
+But time is short, and these details are trifling. Only once again, old
+pal, I am living in the days when I moved in the pleasant paths of
+life, and the temptation to linger is strong. Bear with me a moment. I
+am a sybarite for the moment in spirit: in reality--God! how it hurts.
+
+    "Gentlemen rankers out on the spree,
+    Damned from here to eternity:
+    God have mercy on such as we.
+      Bah! Yah! Bah!"
+
+I never thought I should live to prove Kipling's lines. But that's what
+I am--a gentleman ranker; going out to the war of wars--a private. I,
+and that's the bitterest part of it, I, who had, as you know full well,
+always, for years, lived for this war, the war against those cursed
+Germans. I knew it was coming--you'll bear me witness of that fact--and
+the cruel irony of fate that has made that very knowledge my downfall is
+not the lightest part of the little bundle fate has thrown on my
+shoulders. Yes, old man, we're getting near the motives now; but all in
+good time. Let me lay it out dramatically; don't rob me of my exit--I'm
+feeling a bit theatrical this evening. It may interest you to know that
+I saw Lady Delton to-day: she's a V.A.D., and did not recognise me,
+thank Heaven!
+
+(_Need I say again that Delton is not the name he wrote. Sufficient that
+she and Spud knew one another_ _very well, in other days. But in some
+men it would have emphasised the bitterness of spirit._)
+
+Let's get on with it. A couple of years passed, and the summer of 1912
+found me in New York. I was temporarily engaged on a special job which
+it is unnecessary to specify. It was not a very important one, but, as
+you know, a gift of tongues and a liking for poking my nose into the
+affairs of nations had enabled me to get a certain amount of more or
+less diplomatic work. The job was over, and I was merely marking time in
+New York waiting for the _Astoria_ to sail. Two days before she was due
+to leave, and just as I was turning into the doors of my hotel, I ran
+full tilt into von Basel--a very decent fellow in the Prussian
+Guard--who was seconded and doing military attaché work in America. I'd
+met him off and on hunting in England--one of the few Germans I know who
+really went well to hounds.
+
+"Hullo! Trevor," he said, as we met. "What are you doing here?"
+
+"Marking time," I answered. "Waiting for my boat."
+
+We strolled to the bar, and over a cocktail he suggested that if I had
+nothing better to do I might as well come to some official ball that was
+on that evening. "I can get you a card," he remarked. "You ought to
+come; your friend, Mrs. Bathurst--Comtesse de Grecin that was--is going
+to be present."
+
+"I'd no idea she was this side of the water," I said, surprised.
+
+"Oh, yes! Come over to see her people or something. Well! will you
+come?"
+
+I agreed, having nothing else on, and as he left the hotel, he laughed.
+"Funny the vagaries of fate. I don't suppose I come into this hotel once
+in three months. I only came down this evening to tell a man not to come
+and call as arranged, as my kid has got measles--and promptly ran into
+you."
+
+Truly the irony of circumstances! If one went back far enough, one might
+find that the determining factor of my disgrace was the quarrel of a
+nurse and her lover which made her take the child another walk than
+usual and pick up infection. Dash it all! you might even find that it
+was a spot on her nose that made her do so, as she didn't want to meet
+him when not looking at her best! But that way madness lies.
+
+Whatever the original cause--I went: and in due course met the Comtesse.
+She gave me a couple of dances, and I found that she, too, had booked
+her passage on the _Astoria_. I met very few people I knew, and having
+found it the usual boring stunt, I decided to get a glass of champagne
+and a sandwich and then retire to bed. I took them along to a small
+alcove where I could smoke a cigarette in peace, and sat down. It was as
+I sat down that I heard from behind a curtain which completely screened
+me from view, the words "English Army" spoken in German. And the voice
+was the voice of the Comtesse.
+
+Nothing very strange in the words you say, seeing that she spoke German,
+as well as several other languages, fluently. Perhaps not--but you know
+what my ideas used to be--how I was obsessed with the spy theory: at any
+rate, I listened. I listened for a quarter of an hour, and then I got my
+coat and went home--went home to try and see a way through just about
+the toughest proposition I'd ever been up against. For the
+Comtesse--Ginger Bathurst's idolised wife--was hand in glove with the
+German Secret Service. She was a spy, not of the wireless installation
+up the chimney type, not of the document-stealing type, but of a very
+much more dangerous type than either, the type it is almost impossible
+to incriminate.
+
+I can't remember the conversation I overheard exactly, I cannot give it
+to you word for word, but I will give you the substance of it. Her
+companion was von Basel's chief--a typical Prussian officer of the most
+overbearing description.
+
+"How goes it with you, Comtesse?" he asked her, and I heard the scrape
+of a match as he lit a cigarette.
+
+"Well, Baron, very well."
+
+"They do not suspect?"
+
+"Not an atom. The question has never been raised even as to my national
+sympathies, except once, and then the suggestion--not forced or
+emphasised in any way--that, as the child of a family who had lost
+everything in the '70 war, my sympathies were not hard to discover, was
+quite sufficient. That was at the time of the Agadir crisis."
+
+"And you do not desire revanche?"
+
+"My dear man, I desire money. My husband with his pay and private income
+has hardly enough to dress me on."
+
+"But, dear lady, why, if I may ask, did you marry him? With so many
+others for her choice, surely the Comtesse de Grecin could have
+commanded the world?"
+
+"Charming as a phrase, but I assure you that the idea of the world at
+one's feet is as extinct as the dodo. No, Baron, you may take it from me
+he was the best I could do. A rising junior soldier, employed on a staff
+job at the War Office, _persona grata_ with all the people who really
+count in London by reason of his family, and moreover infatuated with
+his charming wife." Her companion gave a guttural chuckle; I could feel
+him leering. "I give the best dinners in London; the majority of his
+senior officers think I am on the verge of running away with them, and
+when they become too obstreperous, I allow them to kiss my--fingers.
+
+"Listen to me, Baron," she spoke rapidly, in a low voice so that I could
+hardly catch what she said. "I have already given information about some
+confidential big howitzer trials which I saw; it was largely on my
+reports that action was stopped at Agadir; and there are many other
+things--things intangible, in a certain sense--points of view, the state
+of feeling in Ireland, the conditions of labour, which I am able to hear
+the inner side of, in a way quite impossible if I had not the entrée
+into that particular class of English society which I now possess. Not
+the so-called smart set, you understand; but the real ruling set--the
+leading soldiers, the leading diplomats. Of course they are
+discreet----"
+
+"But you are a woman and a peerless one, chčre Comtesse. I think we may
+leave that cursed country in your hands with perfect safety. And, sooner
+perhaps than even we realise, we may see der Tag."
+
+Such then was briefly the conversation I overheard. As I said, it is not
+given word for word--but that is immaterial. What was I to do? That was
+the point which drummed through my head as I walked back to my hotel;
+that was the point which was still drumming through my head as the dawn
+came stealing in through my window. Put yourself in my place, old man;
+what would you have done?
+
+I, alone, of everyone who knew her in London, had stumbled by accident
+on the truth. Bathurst idolised her, and she exaggerated no whit when
+she boasted that she had the entrée to the most exclusive circle in
+England. I know; I was one of it myself. And though one realises that it
+is only in plays and novels that Cabinet Ministers wander about
+whispering State secrets into the ears of beautiful adventuresses, yet
+one also knows in real life how devilish dangerous a really pretty and
+fascinating woman can be--especially when she's bent on finding things
+out and is clever enough to put two and two together.
+
+Take one thing alone, and it was an aspect of the case that particularly
+struck me. Supposing diplomatic relations became strained between us and
+Germany--and I firmly believed, as you know, that sooner or later they
+would; supposing mobilisation was ordered--a secret one; suppose any of
+the hundred and one things which would be bound to form a prelude to a
+European war--and which at all costs must be kept secret--had occurred;
+think of the incalculable danger a clever woman in her position might
+have been, however discreet her husband was. And, my dear old boy, you
+know Ginger!
+
+Supposing the Expeditionary Force were on the point of embarkation. A
+wife might guess their port of departure and arrival by an artless
+question or two as to where her husband on the Staff had motored to that
+day. But why go on? You see what I mean. Only to me, at that time--and
+now I might almost say that I am glad events have justified me--it
+appealed even more than it would have, say, to you. For I was so
+convinced of the danger that threatened us.
+
+But what was I to do? It was only my word against hers. Tell Ginger? The
+idea made even me laugh. Tell the generals and the diplomatists? They
+didn't want to kiss _my_ hand. Tell some big bug in the Secret Service?
+Yes--that anyway; but she was such a devilish clever woman, that I had
+but little faith in such a simple remedy, especially as most of them
+patronised her dinners themselves.
+
+Still, that was the only thing to be done--that, and to keep a look-out
+myself, for I was tolerably certain she did not suspect me. Why should
+she?
+
+And so in due course I found myself sitting next her at dinner as the
+_Astoria_ started her journey across the water.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I am coming to the climax of the drama, old man; I shall not bore you
+much longer. But before I actually give you the details of what occurred
+on that ill-fated vessel's last trip, I want to make sure that you
+realise the state of mind I was in, and the action that I had decided
+on. Firstly, I was convinced that my dinner partner--the wife of one of
+my best friends--was an unscrupulous spy. That the evidence would not
+have hung a fly in a court of law was not the point; the evidence was my
+own hearing, which was good enough for me.
+
+Secondly, I was convinced that she occupied a position in society which
+rendered it easy for her to get hold of the most invaluable information
+in the event of a war between us and Germany.
+
+Thirdly, I was convinced that there would be a war between us and
+Germany.
+
+So much for my state of mind; now, for my course of action.
+
+I had decided to keep a watch on her, and, if I could get hold of the
+slightest incriminating evidence, expose her secretly, but mercilessly,
+to the Secret Service. If I could not--and if I realised there was
+danger brewing--to inform the Secret Service of what I had heard, and,
+sacrificing Ginger's friendship if necessary, and my own reputation for
+chivalry, swear away her honour, or anything, provided only her capacity
+for obtaining information temporarily ceased. Once that was done, then
+face the music, and be accused, if needs be, of false swearing,
+unrequited love, jealousy, what you will. But to destroy her capacity
+for harm to my country was my bounden duty, whatever the social or
+personal results to me.
+
+And there was one other thing--and on this one thing the whole course of
+the matter was destined to hang: _I alone could do it, for I alone knew
+the truth._ Let that sink in, old son; grasp it, realise it, and read my
+future actions by the light of that one simple fact.
+
+I can see you sit back in your chair, and look into the fire with the
+light of comprehension dawning in your eyes; it does put the matter in a
+different complexion, doesn't it, my friend? You begin to appreciate the
+motives that impelled me to sacrifice a woman's life; so far so good.
+You are even magnanimous: what is one woman compared to the danger of a
+nation?
+
+Dear old boy, I drink a silent toast to you. Have you no suspicions?
+What if the woman I sacrificed was the Comtesse herself? Does it
+surprise you; wasn't it the God-sent solution to everything?
+
+Just as a freak of fate had acquainted me with her secret; so did a
+freak of fate throw me in her path at the end....
+
+We hit an iceberg, as you may remember, in the middle of the night, and
+the ship foundered in under twenty minutes.
+
+You can imagine the scene of chaos after we struck, or rather you
+can't. Men were running wildly about shouting, women were screaming, and
+the roar of the siren bellowing forth into the night drove people to a
+perfect frenzy. Then all the lights went out, and darkness settled down
+like a pall on the ship. I struggled up on deck, which was already
+tilting up at a perilous angle, and there--in the mass of scurrying
+figures--I came face to face with the Comtesse. In the panic of the
+moment I had forgotten all about her. She was quite calm, and smiled at
+me, for of course our relations were still as before.
+
+Suddenly there came the shout from close at hand, "Room for one more
+only." What happened then, happened in a couple of seconds; it will take
+me longer to describe.
+
+There flashed into my mind what would occur if I were drowned and the
+Comtesse was saved. There would be no one to combat her activities in
+England; she would have a free hand. My plans were null and void if I
+died; I must get back to England--or England would be in peril. I must
+pass on my information to someone--for I alone knew.
+
+"Hurry up! one more." Another shout from near by, and looking round I
+saw that we were alone. It was she or I.
+
+She moved towards the boat, and as she did so I saw the only possible
+solution--I saw what I then thought to be my duty; what I still
+consider--and, God knows, that scene is never long out of my mind--what
+I still consider to have been my duty. I took her by the arm and twisted
+her facing me.
+
+"As Ginger's wife, yes," I muttered; "as the cursed spy I know you to
+be, no--a thousand times no."
+
+"My God!" she whispered. "My God!"
+
+Without further thought I pushed by her and stepped into the boat, which
+was actually being lowered into the water. Two minutes later the
+_Astoria_ sank, and she went down with her....
+
+That is what occurred that night in mid-Atlantic. I make no excuses, I
+offer no palliation; I merely state facts.
+
+Only had I not heard what I did hear in that alcove she would have been
+just--Ginger's wife. Would the Expeditionary Force have crossed so
+successfully, I wonder?
+
+As I say, I did what I still consider to have been my duty. If both
+could have been saved, well and good; but if it was only one, it _had_
+to be me, or neither. That's the rub; should it have been neither?
+
+Many times since then, old friend, has the white twitching face of that
+woman haunted me in my dreams and in my waking hours. Many times since
+then have I thought that--spy or no spy--I had no right to save my life
+at her expense; I should have gone down with her. Quixotical, perhaps,
+seeing she was what she was; but she was a woman. One thing and one
+thing only I can say. When you read these lines, I shall be dead; they
+will come to you as a voice from the dead. And, as a man who faces his
+Maker, I tell you, with a calm certainty that I am not deceiving myself,
+that that night there was no trace of cowardice in my mind. It was not a
+desire to save my own life that actuated me; it was the fear of danger
+to England. An error of judgment possibly; an act of cowardice--no. That
+much I state, and that much I demand that you believe.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+And now we come to the last chapter--the chapter that you know. I'd been
+back about two months when I first realised that there were stories
+going round about me. There were whispers in the club; men avoided me;
+women cut me. Then came the dreadful night when a man--half drunk--in
+the club accused me of cowardice point-blank, and sneeringly contrasted
+my previous reputation with my conduct on the _Astoria_. And I realised
+that someone must have seen. I knocked that swine in the club down; but
+the whispers grew. I knew it. Someone had seen, and it would be sheer
+hypocrisy on my part to pretend that such a thing didn't matter. It
+mattered everything: it ended me. The world--our world--judges deeds,
+not motives; and even had I published at the time this document I am
+sending to you, our world would have found me guilty. They would have
+said what you would have said had you spoken the thoughts I saw in your
+eyes that night I came to you. They would have said that a sudden wave
+of cowardice had overwhelmed me, and that brought face to face with
+death I had saved my own life at the expense of a woman's. Many would
+have gone still further, and said that my black cowardice was rendered
+blacker still by my hypocrisy in inventing such a story; that first to
+kill the woman, and then to blacken her reputation as an excuse, showed
+me as a thing unfit to live. I know the world.
+
+Moreover, as far as I knew then--I am sure of it now--whoever it was who
+saw my action, did not see who the woman was, and therefore the
+publication of this document at that time would have involved Ginger,
+for it would have been futile to publish it without names. Feeling as I
+did that perhaps I should have sunk with her; feeling as I did that, for
+good or evil, I had blasted Ginger's life, I simply couldn't do it. You
+didn't believe in me, old chap; at the bottom of their hearts all my old
+pals thought I'd shown the yellow streak; and I couldn't stick it. So I
+went to the Colonel, and told him I was handing in my papers. He was in
+his quarters, I remember, and started filling his pipe as I was
+speaking.
+
+"Why, Spud?" he asked, when I told him my intention.
+
+And then I told him something of what I have written to you. I said it
+to him in confidence, and when I'd finished he sat very silent.
+
+"Good God!" he muttered at length. "Ginger's wife!"
+
+"You believe me, Colonel?" I asked.
+
+"Spud," he said, putting his hands on my shoulders, "that's a damn
+rotten thing to ask me--after fifteen years. But it's the regiment." And
+he fell to staring at the fire.
+
+Aye, that was it. It was the regiment that mattered. For better or for
+worse I had done what I had done, and it was my show. The Red Hussars
+must not be made to suffer; and their reputation would have suffered
+through me. Otherwise I'd have faced it out. As it was, I had to go; I
+knew it. I'd come to the same decision myself.
+
+Only now, sitting here in camp with the setting sun glinting through the
+windows of the hut, just a Canadian private under an assumed name,
+things are a little different. The regiment is safe; I must think now of
+the old name. The Colonel was killed at Cambrai; therefore you alone
+will be in possession of the facts. Ginger, if he reads these words,
+will perhaps forgive me for the pain I have inflicted on him. Let him
+remember that though I did a dreadful thing to him, a thing which up to
+now he has been ignorant of, yet I suffered much for his sake after.
+During my life it was one thing; when I am dead his claims must give way
+to a greater one--my name.
+
+Wherefore I, Patrick Courtenay Trevor, having the unalterable intention
+of meeting my Maker during the present war, and therefore feeling in a
+measure that I am, even as I write, standing at the threshold of His
+Presence, do swear before Almighty God that what I have written is the
+truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. So help me, God.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The fall-in is going, old man. Good-bye.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+THE FATAL SECOND
+
+
+It was in July of 1914--on the Saturday of Henley Week. People who were
+there may remember that, for once in a way, our fickle climate was
+pleased to smile upon us.
+
+Underneath the wall of Phyllis Court a punt was tied up. The prizes had
+been given away, and the tightly packed boats surged slowly up and down
+the river, freed at last from the extreme boredom of watching crews they
+did not know falling exhausted out of their boats. In the punt of which
+I speak were three men and a girl. One of the men was myself, who have
+no part in this episode, save the humble one of narrator. The other
+three were the principals; I would have you make their acquaintance. I
+would hurriedly say that it is not the old, old story of a woman and two
+men, for one of the men was her brother.
+
+To begin with--the girl. Pat Delawnay--she was always called Pat, as she
+didn't look like a Patricia--was her name, and she was--well, here I
+give in. I don't know the colour of her eyes, nor can I say with any
+certainty the colour of her hair; all I know is that she looked as if
+the sun had come from heaven and kissed her, and had then gone back
+again satisfied with his work. She was a girl whom to know was to
+love--the dearest, most understanding soul in God's whole earth. I'd
+loved her myself since I was out of petticoats.
+
+Then there was Jack Delawnay, her brother. Two years younger he was, and
+between the two of them there was an affection and love which is
+frequently conspicuous by its absence between brother and sister. He was
+a cheery youngster, a good-looking boy, and fellows in the regiment
+liked him. He rode straight, and he had the money to keep good cattle.
+In addition, the men loved him, and that means a lot when you size up an
+officer.
+
+And then there was the other. Older by ten years than the boy--the same
+age as myself--Jerry Dixon was my greatest friend. We had fought
+together at school, played the ass together at Sandhurst, and entered
+the regiment on the same day. He had "A" company and I had "C," and the
+boy was one of his subalterns. Perhaps I am biassed, but to me Jerry
+Dixon had one of the finest characters I have ever seen in any man. He
+was no Galahad, no prig; he was just a man, a white man. He had that
+cheerily ugly face which is one of the greatest gifts a man can have,
+and he also had Pat as his fiancée, which was another.
+
+My name is immaterial, but everyone calls me Winkle, owing to---- Well,
+some day I may tell you.
+
+The regiment, our regiment, was the, let us call it the Downshires.
+
+We had come over from Aldershot and were week-ending at the Delawnays'
+place--they always took one on the river for Henley. At the moment Jerry
+was holding forth, quite unmoved by exhortations to "Get out and get
+under" bawled in his ears by blackened gentlemen of doubtful voice and
+undoubted inebriation.
+
+As I write, the peculiar--the almost sinister--nature of his
+conversation, in the light of future events, seems nothing short of
+diabolical. And yet at the time we were just three white-flannelled men
+and a girl with a great floppy hat lazing over tea in a punt. How the
+gods must have laughed!
+
+"My dear old Winkle"--he was lighting a cigarette as he spoke--"you
+don't realise the deeper side of soldiering at all. The subtle nuances
+(French, Pat, in case my accent is faulty) are completely lost upon
+you."
+
+I remember smiling to myself as I heard Jerry getting warmed up to his
+subject, and then my attention wandered, and I dozed off. I had heard it
+all before so often from the dear old boy. We always used to chaff him
+about it in the mess. I can see him now, after dinner, standing with his
+back to the ante-room fire, a whisky-and-soda in his hand and a dirty
+old pipe between his teeth.
+
+"It's all very well for you fellows to laugh," he would say, "but I'm
+right for all that. It is absolutely essential to think out beforehand
+what one would do in certain exceptional eventualities, so that when
+that eventuality does arise you won't waste any time, but will
+automatically do the right thing."
+
+And then the adjutant recalled in a still small voice how he first
+realised the orderly-room sergeant's baby was going to be sick in his
+arms at the regiment's Christmas-tree festivities, and, instead of
+throwing it on the floor, he had clung to it for that fatal second of
+indecision. As he admitted, it was certainly not one of the things he
+had thought out beforehand.
+
+He's gone, too, has old Bellairs the adjutant. I wonder how many fellows
+I'll know when I get back to them next week? But I'm wandering.
+
+"Winkle, wake up!" It was Pat speaking. "Jerry is being horribly
+serious, and I'm not at all certain it will be safe to marry him; he'll
+be experimenting on me."
+
+"What's he been saying?" I murmured sleepily.
+
+"He's been thinking what he'd do," laughed Jack, "if the stout female
+personage in yonder small canoe overbalanced and fell in. There'll be no
+fatal second then, Jerry, my boy. It'll be a minute even if I have to
+hold you. You'd never be able to look your friends in the face again if
+you didn't let her drown."
+
+"Ass!" grunted Jerry. "No, Winkle, I was just thinking, amongst other
+things, of what might very easily happen to any of us three here, and
+what did happen to old Grantley in South Africa." Grantley was one of
+our majors. "He told me all about it one day in one of his expansive
+moods. It was during a bit of a scrap just before Paardeburg, and he had
+some crowd of irregular Johnnies. He was told off to take a position,
+and apparently it was a fairly warm proposition. However, it was
+perfectly feasible if only the men stuck it. Well, they didn't, but they
+would have except for his momentary indecision. He told me that there
+came a moment in the advance when one man wavered. He knew it and felt
+it all through him. He saw the man--he almost saw the deadly contagion
+spreading from that one man to the others--and he hesitated and was
+lost. When he sprang forward and tried to hold 'em, he failed. The fear
+was on them, and they broke. He told me he regarded himself as every bit
+as much to blame as the man who first gave out."
+
+"But what could he have done, Jerry?" asked Pat.
+
+"Shot him, dear--shot him on the spot without a second's thought--killed
+the origin of the fear before it had time to spread. I venture to say
+that there are not many fellows in the Service who would do it--without
+thinking: and you can't think--you dare not, even if there was time. It
+goes against the grain, especially if you know the man well, and it's
+only by continually rehearsing the scene in your mind that you'd be able
+to do it."
+
+We were all listening to him now, for this was a new development I'd
+never heard before.
+
+"Just imagine the far-reaching results one coward--no, not coward,
+possibly--but one man who has reached the breaking-point, may have.
+Think of it, Winkle. A long line stretched out, attacking. One man in
+the centre wavers, stops. Spreading outwards, the thing rushes like
+lightning, because, after all, fear is only an emotion, like joy and
+sorrow, and one knows how quickly they will communicate themselves to
+other people. Also, in such a moment as an attack, men are particularly
+susceptible to emotions. All that is primitive is uppermost, and their
+reasoning powers are more or less in abeyance."
+
+"But the awful thing, Jerry," said Pat quietly, "is that you would never
+know whether it had been necessary or not. It might not have spread; he
+might have answered to your voice--oh! a thousand things might have
+happened."
+
+"It's not worth the risk, dear. One man's life is not worth the risk.
+It's a risk you just dare not take. It may mean everything--it may mean
+failure--it may mean disgrace." He paused and looked steadily across the
+shifting scene of gaiety and colour, while a long bamboo pole with a
+little bag on the end, wielded by some passing vocalist, was thrust
+towards him unheeded. Then with a short laugh he pulled himself
+together, and lit a cigarette. "But enough of dull care. Let us away,
+and gaze upon beautiful women and brave men. What's that little tune
+they're playing?"
+
+"That's that waltz--what the deuce is the name, Pat?" asked Jack,
+untying the punt.
+
+"'Destiny,'" answered Pat briefly, and we passed out into the stream.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A month afterwards we three were again at Henley, not in flannels in a
+punt on the river, but in khaki, with a motor waiting at the door of the
+Delawnays' house to take us back to Aldershot. I do not propose to dwell
+over the scene, but in the setting down of the story it cannot be left
+out. Europe was at war; the long-expected by those scoffed-at alarmists
+had actually come. England and Germany were at each other's throats.
+
+Inside the house Jack was with his mother. Personally, I was standing in
+the garden with the grey-haired father; and Jerry was--well, where else
+could he have been?
+
+As is the way with men, we discussed the roses, and the rascality of the
+Germans, and everything except what was in our hearts. And in one of the
+pauses in our spasmodic conversation we heard her voice, just over the
+hedge:
+
+"God guard and keep you, my man, and bring you back to me safe!" And the
+voice was steady, though one could feel those dear eyes dim with tears.
+
+And then Jerry's, dear old Jerry's voice--a little bit gruff it was, and
+a little bit shaky: "My love! My darling!"
+
+But the old man was going towards the house, blowing his nose; and
+I--don't hold with love and that sort of thing at all. True, I blundered
+into a flower-bed, which I didn't see clearly, as I went towards the
+car, for there are things which one may not hear and remain unmoved.
+Perhaps, if things had been different, and Jerry--dear old
+Jerry--hadn't---- But there, I'm wandering again.
+
+At last we were in the car and ready to start.
+
+"Take care of him, Jerry; he and Pat are all we've got." It was Mrs.
+Delawnay speaking, standing there with the setting sun on her sweet
+face and her husband's arm about her.
+
+"I'll be all right, mater," answered Jack gruffly. "Buck up! Back for
+Christmas!"
+
+"I'll look after him, Mrs. Delawnay," answered Jerry, but his eyes were
+fixed on Pat, and for him the world held only her.
+
+As the car swung out of the gate, we looked back the last time and
+saluted, and it was only I who saw through a break in the hedge two
+women locked in each other's arms, while a grey-haired gentleman sat
+very still on a garden-seat, with his eyes fixed on the river rolling
+smoothly by.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was on the Aisne I took it. Through that ghastly fourteen days we had
+slogged dully south away from Mons, ever getting nearer Paris. Through
+the choking dust, with the men staggering as they walked--some asleep,
+some babbling, some cursing--but always marching, marching, marching;
+digging at night, only to leave the trenches in two hours and march on
+again; with ever and anon a battery of horse tearing past at a gallop,
+with the drivers lolling drunkenly in their saddles, and the guns
+jolting and swaying behind the straining, sweating horses, to come into
+action on some ridge still further south, and try to check von Kluck's
+hordes, if only for a little space. Every bridge in the hands of
+anxious-faced sapper officers, prepared for demolition one and all, but
+not to be blown up till all our troops were across. Ticklish work, for
+should there be a fault, there is not much time to repair it.
+
+But at last it was over, and we turned North. A few days later, in the
+afternoon, my company crossed a pontoon bridge on the Aisne, and two
+hours afterwards we dug ourselves in a mile and a half beyond it. The
+next morning, as I was sitting in one of the trenches, there was a
+sudden, blinding roar--and oblivion.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I will pass rapidly over the next six weeks--over my journey from the
+clearing hospital to the base at Havre, of my voyage back to England in
+a hospital ship, and my ultimate arrival at Drayton Hall, the Delawnays'
+place in Somerset, where I had gone to convalesce.
+
+During the time various fragments of iron were being picked from me and
+the first shock of the concussion was wearing off, we had handed over
+our trenches on the Aisne to the French, and moved north to Flanders.
+
+Occasional scrawls came through from Jack and Jerry, but the people in
+England who had any knowledge at all of the fighting and of what was
+going on, grew to dread with an awful dread the sight of the
+telegraph-boy, and it required an effort of will to look at those
+prosaic casualty lists in the morning papers.
+
+Then suddenly without warning, as such news always does, it came. The
+War Office, in the shape of a whistling telegraph-boy, regretted to
+inform Mr. Delawnay that his son, Lieutenant Jack Delawnay of the Royal
+Downshire Regiment, had been killed in action.
+
+Had it been possible during the terrible days after the news came, I
+would have gone away, but I was still too weak to move; and I like to
+think that, perhaps, my presence there was some comfort to them, as a
+sort of connection through the regiment with their dead boy. After the
+first numbing shock, the old man bore it grandly.
+
+"He was all I had," he said to me one day as I lay in bed, "but I give
+him gladly for his country's sake." He stood looking at the broad
+fields. "All his," he muttered; "all would have been the dear lad's--and
+now six inches of soil and a wooden cross, perhaps not that."
+
+And Pat, poor little Pat, used to come up every day and sit with me,
+sometimes in silence, with her great eyes fixed on the fire, sometimes
+reading the paper, because my eyes weren't quite right yet.
+
+For about a fortnight after the news we did not think it strange; but
+then, as day by day went by, the same fear formulated in both our minds.
+I would have died sooner than whisper it; but one afternoon I found her
+eyes fixed on mine. We had been silent for some time, and suddenly in
+the firelight I saw the awful fear in her mind as clearly as if she had
+spoken it.
+
+"You're thinking it too, Winkle," she whispered, leaning forward. "Why
+hasn't he written? Why hasn't Jerry written one line? Oh, my God! don't
+say that _he_ has been----"
+
+"Hush, dear!" I said quietly. "His people would have let you know if
+they had had a wire."
+
+"But, Winkle, the Colonel has written that Jack died while gallantly
+leading a counter attack to recover lost trenches. Surely, Jerry would
+have found time for a line, unless something had happened to him; Jack
+was actually in his company."
+
+All of which I knew, but could not answer.
+
+"Besides," she went on after a moment, "you know how dad is longing for
+details. He wants to know everything about Jack, and so do we all. But
+oh, Winkle! I want to know if my man is all right. Brother and
+lover--not both, oh, God--not both!" The choking little sobs wrung my
+heart.
+
+The next day we got a wire from him. He was wounded slightly in the arm,
+and was at home. He was coming to us. Just that--no more. But, oh! the
+difference to the girl. Everything explained, everything clear, and the
+next day Jerry would be with her. Only as I lay awake that night
+thinking, and the events of the last three weeks passed through my mind,
+the same thought returned with maddening persistency. Slightly wounded
+in the arm, evidently recently as there was no mention in the casualty
+list, and for three weeks no line, no word. And then I cursed myself as
+an ass and a querulous invalid.
+
+At three o'clock he arrived, and they all came up to my room. The first
+thing that struck me like a blow was that it was his left arm which was
+hit--and the next was his face. Whether Pat had noticed that his writing
+arm was unhurt, I know not; but she had seen the look in his eyes, and
+was afraid.
+
+Then he told the story, and his voice was as the voice of the dead. Told
+the anxious, eager father and mother the story of their boy's heroism.
+How, having lost some trenches, the regiment made a counter attack to
+regain them. How first of them all was Jack, the men following him, as
+they always did, until a shot took him clean through the heart, and he
+dropped, leaving the regiment to surge over him for the last forty
+yards, and carry out gloriously what they had been going to do.
+
+And then the old man, pulling out the letter from the Colonel, and
+trying to read it through his blinding tears: "He did well, my boy," he
+whispered, "he did well, and died well. But, Jerry, the Colonel says in
+his letter," and he wiped his eyes and tried to read, "he says in his
+letter that Jack must have been right into their trenches almost, as he
+was killed at point-blank range with a revolver. One of those swine of
+German officers, I suppose." He shook his fist in the air. "Still he was
+but doing his duty. I must not complain. But you say he was forty yards
+away?"
+
+"It's difficult to say, sir, in the dark," answered Jerry, still in the
+voice of an automatic machine. "It may have been less than forty."
+
+And then he told them all over again; and while they, the two old dears,
+whispered and cried together, never noticing anything amiss, being only
+concerned with the telling, and caring no whit for the method thereof,
+Pat sat silently in the window, gazing at him with tearless eyes, with
+the wonder and amazement of her soul writ clear on her face for all to
+see. And I--I lay motionless in bed, and there was something I could not
+understand, for he would not look at me, nor yet at her, but kept his
+eyes fixed on the fire, while he talked like a child repeating a lesson.
+
+At last it was over; their last questions were asked, and slowly,
+arm-in-arm, they left the room, to dwell alone upon the story of their
+idolised boy. And in the room the silence was only broken by the
+crackling of the logs.
+
+How long we sat there I know not, with the firelight flickering on the
+stern set face of the man in the chair. He seemed unconscious of our
+existence, and we two dared not speak to him, we who loved him best, for
+there was something we could not understand. Suddenly he got up, and
+held out his arms to Pat. And when she crept into them, he kissed her,
+straining her close, as if he could never stop. Then, without a word, he
+led her to the door, and, putting her gently through, shut it behind
+her. Still without a word he came back to the chair, and turned it so
+that the firelight no longer played on his face. And then he spoke.
+
+"I have a story to tell you, Winkle, which I venture to think will
+entertain you for a time." His voice was the most terrible thing I have
+ever listened to.... "Nearly four weeks ago the battalion was in the
+trenches a bit south of Ypres. It was bad in the retreat, as you know;
+it was bad on the Aisne; but they were neither of them in the same
+county as the doing we had up north. One night--they'd shelled us off
+and on for three days and three nights--we were driven out of our
+trenches. The regiment on our right gave, and we had to go too. The next
+morning we were ordered to counter attack, and get back the ground we
+had lost. It was the attack in which we lost so heavily."
+
+He stopped speaking for a while, and I did not interrupt.
+
+"When I got that order overnight Jack was with me, in a hole that passed
+as a dugout. At the moment everything was quiet; the Germans were
+patching up their new position; only a maxim spluttered away a bit to
+one flank. To add to the general desolation a steady downpour of rain
+drenched us, into which, without cessation the German flares went
+shooting up. I think they were expecting a counter attack at once...."
+
+Again he paused, and I waited.
+
+"You know the condition one gets into sometimes when one is heavy for
+sleep. We had it during the retreat if you remember--a sort of coma, the
+outcome of utter bodily exhaustion. One used to go on walking, and all
+the while one was asleep--or practically so. Sounds came to us dimly as
+from a great distance; they made no impression on us--they were just a
+jumbled phantasmagoria of outside matters, which failed to reach one's
+brain, except as a dim dream. I was in that condition on the night I am
+speaking of; I was utterly cooked--beat to the world; I was finished for
+the time. I've told you this, because I want you to understand the
+physical condition I was in."
+
+He leaned forward and stared at the fire, resting his head on his hands.
+
+"How long I'd dozed heavily in that wet-sodden hole I don't know, but
+after a while above the crackle of the maxim, separate and distinct from
+the soft splash of the rain, and the hiss of the flares, and the hundred
+and one other noises that came dimly to me out of the night, I heard
+Jack's voice--at least I think it was Jack's voice."
+
+Of a sudden he sat up in the chair, and rising quickly he came and leant
+over the foot of the bed.
+
+"Devil take it," he cried bitterly, "I know it was Jack's voice--_now_.
+I knew it the next day when it was too late. What he said exactly I
+shall never know--at the time it made no impression on me; but at this
+moment, almost like a spirit voice in my brain, I can hear him. I can
+hear him asking me to watch him. I can hear him pleading--I can hear his
+dreadful fear of being found afraid. As a whisper from a great distance
+I can hear one short sentence--'Jerry, my God, Jerry--I'm frightened!'
+
+"Winkle, he turned to me in his weakness--that boy who had never failed
+before, that boy who had reached the breaking-point--and I heeded him
+not. I was too dead beat; my brain couldn't grasp it."
+
+"But, Jerry," I cried, "it turned out all right the next day; he..."
+The words died away on my lips as I met the look in his eyes.
+
+"You'd better let me finish," he interrupted wearily. "Let me get the
+whole hideous tragedy off my mind for the first and the last time. Early
+next morning we attacked. In the dim dirty light of dawn I saw the boy's
+face as he moved off to his platoon; and even then I didn't remember
+those halting sentences that had come to me out of the night. So instead
+of ordering him to the rear on some pretext or other as I should have
+done, I let him go to his platoon.
+
+"As we went across the ground that morning through a fire like nothing I
+had ever imagined, a man wavered in front of me. I felt it clean through
+me. I knew fear had come. I shouted and cheered--but the wavering was
+spreading; I knew that too. So I shot him through the heart from behind
+at point-blank range as I had trained myself to do--in that eternity
+ago--before the war. The counter attack was successful."
+
+"Great Heavens, Jerry!" I muttered, "who did you shoot?" though I knew
+the answer already.
+
+"The man I shot was Jack Delawnay. Whether at the time I was actively
+conscious of it, I cannot say. Certainly my training enabled me to act
+before any glimmering of the aftermath came into my mind. _This_ is the
+aftermath."
+
+I shuddered at the utter hopelessness of his tone, though the full
+result of his action had not dawned on me yet; my mind was dazed.
+
+"But surely Jack was no coward," I said at length.
+
+"He was not; but on that particular morning he gave out. He had reached
+the limit of his endurance."
+
+"The Colonel's letter," I reminded him; "it praised the lad."
+
+"Lies," he answered wearily, "all lies, engineered by me. Not because I
+am ashamed of what I did, but for the lad's sake, and hers, and the old
+people. I loved the boy, as you know, but he failed, and _there was no
+other way_. And where the fiend himself is gloating over it is that he
+knows it was the only time Jack did fail. If only I hadn't been so beat
+the night before; if only his words had reached my brain before it was
+too late. If only ... I think," he added, after a pause, "I think I
+shall go mad. Sometimes I wish I could."
+
+"And what of Pat?" I asked, at length breaking the silence.
+
+The hands grasping the bed tightened, and grew white.
+
+"I said 'Good-bye' to her before your eyes, ten minutes ago. I shall
+never see her again."
+
+"But, Great Heavens, Jerry!" I cried, "you can't give her up like that.
+She idolises the ground you walk on, she worships you, and she need
+never know. You were only doing your duty after all."
+
+"Stop!" he cried, and his voice was a command. "As you love me, old
+friend, don't tempt me. For three weeks those arguments have been
+flooding everything else from my mind. Do you remember at Henley, when
+she said, 'He might have answered to your voice?' Winkle, it's true,
+Jack might have. And I killed him. Just think if I married her, and she
+did find out. Her brother's murderer--in her eyes. The man who has
+wrecked her home, and broken her father and mother. It's inconceivable,
+it's hideous. Ah! don't you see how utterly final it all is? She may
+have been right; and if she was, then I, who loved her better than the
+world, have murdered her brother, and broken the old people's hearts for
+the sake of a theory. The fact that my theory has been put into
+practice, at the expense of everything I have to live for, is full of
+humour, isn't it?" And his laugh was wild.
+
+"Steady, Jerry," I said sternly. "What do you mean to do?"
+
+"You'll see, old man, in time," he answered. "First and foremost, get
+back to the regiment, arm or no arm. I would not have come home, but I
+had to see her once more."
+
+"You talk as if it was the end." I looked at him squarely.
+
+"It is," he answered. "It's easy out there."
+
+"Your mind is made up?"
+
+"Absolutely." He gave a short laugh. "Good-bye, old friend. Ease it to
+her as well as you can. Say I'm unstrung by the trenches, anything you
+like; but don't let her guess the truth."
+
+For a long minute he held my hand. Then he turned away. He walked to the
+mantelpiece, and there was a photograph of her there. For a long time he
+looked at it, and it seemed to me he whispered something. A sudden
+dimness blinded my eyes, and when I looked again he had gone--through
+the window into the night.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I did not see Pat until I left Drayton Hall after that ghastly night,
+save only once or twice with her mother in the room.
+
+But an hour before I left she came to me, and her face was that of a
+woman who has passed through the fires.
+
+"Tell me, Winkle, shall I ever see him again? You know what I mean."
+
+"You will never see him again, Pat," and the look in her eyes made me
+choke.
+
+"Will you tell me what it was he told you before he went through the
+window? You see, I was in the hall waiting for him," and she smiled
+wearily.
+
+"I can't, Pat dear; I promised him," I muttered. "But it was nothing
+disgraceful."
+
+"Disgraceful!" she cried proudly. "Jerry, and anything disgraceful. Oh,
+my God! Winkle dear," and she broke down utterly, "do you remember the
+waltz they were playing that day--'Destiny'?"
+
+And then I went. Whether that wonderful woman's intuition has told her
+something of what happened, I know not. But yesterday morning I got a
+letter from the Colonel saying that Jerry had chucked his life away,
+saving a wounded man. And this morning she will have seen it in the
+papers.
+
+God help you, Pat, my dear.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+JIM BRENT'S V.C.
+
+
+If you pass through the Menin-Gate at Ypres, and walk up the slight rise
+that lies on the other side of the moat, you will come to the parting of
+the ways. You will at the same time come to a spot of unprepossessing
+aspect, whose chief claim to notoriety lies in its shell-holes and
+broken-down houses. If you keep straight on you will in time come to the
+little village of Potige; if you turn to the right you will eventually
+arrive at Hooge. In either case you will wish you hadn't.
+
+Before the war these two roads--which join about two hundred yards east
+of the rampart walls of Ypres--were adorned with a fair number of
+houses. They were of that stucco type which one frequently sees in
+England spreading out along the roads that lead to a largish town.
+Generally there is one of unusually revolting aspect that stands proudly
+by itself a hundred yards or so from the common herd and enclosed in a
+stuccoesque wall. And there my knowledge of the type in England ends.
+
+In Belgium, however, my acquaintance with this sort of abode is
+extensive. In taking over a house in Flanders that stands unpleasantly
+near the Hun, the advertisement that there are three sitting, two bed,
+h. and c. laid on, with excellent onion patch, near railway and good
+golf-links, leaves one cold. The end-all and be-all of a house is its
+cellar. The more gloomy, and dark, and generally horrible the cellar,
+the higher that house ranks socially, and the more likely are you to
+find in it a general consuming his last hamper from Fortnum & Mason by
+the light of a tallow dip. And this applies more especially to the Hooge
+road.
+
+Arrived at the fork, let us turn right-handed and proceed along the
+deserted road. A motor-car is not to be advised, as at this stage of the
+promenade one is in full sight of the German trenches. For about two or
+three hundred yards no houses screen you, and then comes a row of the
+stucco residences I have mentioned. Also at this point the road bends to
+the left. Here, out of sight, occasional men sun themselves in the
+heavily-scented air, what time they exchange a little playful badinage
+in a way common to Thomas Atkins. At least, that is what happened some
+time ago; now, of course, things may have changed in the garden city.
+
+And at this point really our journey is ended, though for interest we
+might continue for another quarter of a mile. The row of houses stops
+abruptly, and away in front stretches a long straight road. A few
+detached mansions of sorts, in their own grounds, flank it on each side.
+At length they cease, and in front lies the open country. The
+poplar-lined road disappears out of sight a mile ahead, where it tops a
+gentle slope. And half on this side of the rise, and half on the other,
+there are the remnants of the tit-bit of the whole bloody charnel-house
+of the Ypres salient--the remnants of the village of Hooge. A closer
+examination is not to be recommended. The place where you stand is known
+in the vernacular as Hell Fire Corner, and the Hun--who knows the range
+of that corner to the fraction of an inch--will quite possibly resent
+your presence even there. And shrapnel gives a nasty wound.
+
+Let us return and seek safety in a cellar. It is not what one would call
+a good-looking cellar; no priceless prints adorn the walls, no Turkey
+carpet receives your jaded feet. In one corner a portable gramophone
+with several records much the worse for wear reposes on an upturned
+biscuit-box, and lying on the floor, with due regard to space economy,
+are three or four of those excellent box-mattresses which form the
+all-in-all of the average small Belgian house. On top of them are laid
+some valises and blankets, and from the one in the corner the sweet
+music of the sleeper strikes softly on the ear. It is the senior
+subaltern, who has been rambling all the preceding night in Sanctuary
+Wood--the proud authors of our nomenclature in Flanders quite rightly
+possess the humour necessary for the production of official communiqués.
+
+In two chairs, smoking, are a couple of officers. One is a major of the
+Royal Engineers, and another, also a sapper, belongs to the gilded
+staff. The cellar is the temporary headquarters of a field
+company--office, mess, and bedroom rolled into one.
+
+"I'm devilish short-handed for the moment, Bill." The Major thoughtfully
+filled his pipe. "That last boy I got a week ago--a nice boy he was,
+too--was killed in Zouave Wood the day before yesterday, poor devil.
+Seymour was wounded three days ago, and there's only Brent, Johnson, and
+him"--he indicated the sleeper. "Johnson is useless, and Brent----" He
+paused, and looked full at the Staff-captain. "Do you know Brent well,
+by any chance?"
+
+"I should jolly well think I did. Jim Brent is one of my greatest pals,
+Major."
+
+"Then perhaps you can tell me something I very much want to know. I have
+knocked about the place for a good many years, and I have rubbed
+shoulders, officially and unofficially, with more men than I care to
+remember. As a result, I think I may claim a fair knowledge of my
+fellow-beings. And Brent--well, he rather beats me."
+
+He paused as if at a loss for words, and looked in the direction of the
+sleeping subaltern. Reassured by the alarming noise proceeding from the
+corner, he seemed to make up his mind.
+
+"Has Brent had some very nasty knock lately--money, or a woman, or
+something?"
+
+The Staff-captain took his pipe from his mouth, and for some seconds
+stared at the floor. Then he asked quietly, "Why? What are you getting
+at?"
+
+"This is why, Bill. Brent is one of the most capable officers I have
+ever had. He's a man whose judgment, tact, and driving power are
+perfectly invaluable in a show of this sort--so invaluable, in fact"--he
+looked straight at his listener--"that his death would be a very real
+loss to the corps and the Service. He's one of those we can't replace,
+and--he's going all out to make us have to."
+
+"What do you mean?" The question expressed no surprise; the speaker
+seemed merely to be demanding confirmation of what he already knew.
+
+"Brent is deliberately trying to get killed. There is not a shadow of
+doubt about it in my mind. Do you know why?"
+
+The Staff-officer got up and strolled to a table on which were lying
+some illustrated weekly papers. "Have you last week's _Tatler_?" He
+turned over the leaves. "Yes--here it is." He handed the newspaper to
+the Major. "That is why."
+
+"_A charming portrait of Lady Kathleen Goring; who was last week married
+to that well-known sportsman and soldier Sir Richard Goring. She was, it
+will be remembered, very popular in London society as the beautiful Miss
+Kathleen Tubbs--the daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Silas P. Tubbs, of
+Pittsburg, Pa._"
+
+The Major put down the paper and looked at the Staff-captain; then
+suddenly he rose and hurled it into the corner. "Oh, damn these women,"
+he exploded.
+
+"Amen," murmured the other, as, with a loud snort, the sleeper awoke.
+
+"Is anything th' matter?" he murmured, drowsily, only to relapse at once
+into unconsciousness.
+
+"Jim was practically engaged to her; and then, three months ago, without
+a word of explanation, she gave him the order of the boot, and got
+engaged to Goring." The Staff-captain spoke savagely. "A damn rotten
+woman, Major, and Jim's well out of it, if he only knew. Goring's a
+baronet, which is, of course, the reason why this excrescence of the
+house of Tubbs chucked Jim. As a matter of fact, Dick Goring's not a bad
+fellow--he deserves a better fate. But it fairly broke Jim up. He's not
+the sort of fellow who falls in love easily; this was his one and only
+real affair, and he took it bad. He told me at the time that he never
+intended to come back alive."
+
+"Damn it all!" The Major's voice was irritable. "Why, his knowledge of
+the lingo alone makes him invaluable."
+
+"Frankly, I've been expecting to hear of his death every day. He's not
+the type that says a thing of that sort without meaning it."
+
+A step sounded on the floor above. "Look out, here he is. You'll stop
+and have a bit of lunch, Bill?"
+
+As he spoke the light in the doorway was blocked out, and a man came
+uncertainly down the stairs.
+
+"Confound these cellars. One can't see a thing, coming in out of the
+daylight. Who's that? Halloa, Bill, old cock, 'ow's yourself?"
+
+"Just tottering, Jim. Where've you been?"
+
+"Wandered down to Vlamertinghe this morning early to see about some
+sandbags, and while I was there I met that flying wallah Petersen in the
+R.N.A.S. Do you remember him, Major? He was up here with an armoured car
+in May. He told me rather an interesting thing."
+
+"What's that, Jim?" The Major was attacking a brawn with gusto. "Sit
+down, Bill. Whisky and Perrier in that box over there."
+
+"He tells me the Huns have got six guns whose size he puts at about
+9-inch; guns, mark you, not howitzers--mounted on railway trucks at
+Tournai. From there they can be rushed by either branch of the line--the
+junction is just west--to wherever they are required."
+
+"My dear old boy," laughed Bill, as he sat down. "I don't know your
+friend Petersen, and I have not the slightest hesitation in saying that
+he is in all probability quite right. But the information seems to be
+about as much use as the fact that it is cold in Labrador."
+
+"I wonder," answered Brent, thoughtfully--"I wonder." He was rummaging
+through a pile of papers in the stationery box.
+
+The other two men looked at one another significantly. "What
+hare-brained scheme have you got in your mind now, Brent?" asked the
+Major.
+
+Brent came slowly across the cellar and sat down with a sheet of paper
+spread out on his knee. For a while he examined it in silence, comparing
+it with an ordnance map, and then he spoke. "It's brick, and the drop is
+sixty feet, according to this--with the depth of the water fifteen."
+
+"And the answer is a lemon. What on earth are you talking about, Jim?"
+
+"The railway bridge over the river before the line forks."
+
+"Good Lord! My good fellow," cried the Major, irritably, "don't be
+absurd. Are you proposing to blow it up?" His tone was ponderously
+sarcastic.
+
+"Not exactly," answered the unperturbed Brent, "but something of the
+sort--if I can get permission."
+
+The two men laid down their knives and stared at him solemnly.
+
+"You are, I believe, a sapper officer," commenced the Major. "May I ask
+first how much gun-cotton you think will be necessary to blow up a
+railway bridge which gives a sixty-foot drop into water; second, how you
+propose to get it there; third, how you propose to get yourself there;
+and fourth, why do you talk such rot?"
+
+Jim Brent laughed and helped himself to whisky. "The answer to the first
+question is unknown at present, but inquiries of my secretary will be
+welcomed--probably about a thousand pounds. The answer to the second
+question is that I don't. The answer to the third is--somehow; and for
+the fourth question I must ask for notice."
+
+"What the devil are you driving at, Jim?" said the Staff-captain,
+puzzled. "If you don't get the stuff there, how the deuce are you going
+to blow up the bridge?"
+
+"You may take it from me, Bill, that I may be mad, but I never
+anticipated marching through German Belgium with a party of sappers and
+a G.S. wagon full of gun-cotton. Oh, no--it's a one-man show."
+
+"But," ejaculated the Major, "how the----"
+
+"Have you ever thought, sir," interrupted Brent, "what would be the
+result if, as a heavy train was passing over a bridge, you cut one rail
+just in front of the engine?"
+
+"But----" the Major again started to speak, and was again cut short.
+
+"The outside rail," continued Brent, "so that the tendency would be for
+the engine to go towards the parapet wall. And no iron girder to hold it
+up--merely a little brick wall"--he again referred to the paper on his
+knee--"three feet high and three bricks thick. No nasty parties of men
+carrying slabs of gun-cotton; just yourself--with one slab of gun-cotton
+in your pocket and one primer and one detonator--that and the
+psychological moment. Luck, of course, but when we dispense with the
+working party we lift it from the utterly impossible into the realm of
+the remotely possible. The odds are against success, I know; but----" He
+shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"But how do you propose to get there, my dear chap?" asked the Major,
+peevishly. "The Germans have a rooted objection to English officers
+walking about behind their lines."
+
+"Yes, but they don't mind a Belgian peasant, do they? Dash it, they've
+played the game on us scores of times, Major--not perhaps the bridge
+idea, but espionage by men disguised behind our lines. I only propose
+doing the same, and perhaps going one better."
+
+"You haven't one chance in a hundred of getting through alive." The
+Major viciously stabbed a tongue.
+
+"That is--er--beside the point," answered Brent, shortly.
+
+"But how could you get through their lines to start with?" queried Bill.
+
+"There are ways, dearie, there are ways. Petersen is a man of much
+resource."
+
+"Of course, the whole idea is absolutely ridiculous." The Major snorted.
+"Once and for all, Brent, I won't hear of it. We're far too short of
+fellows as it is."
+
+And for a space the subject languished, though there was a look on Jim
+Brent's face which showed it was only for a space.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Now when a man of the type of Brent takes it badly over a woman, there
+is a strong probability of very considerable trouble at any time. When,
+in addition to that, it occurs in the middle of the bloodiest war of
+history, the probability becomes a certainty. That he should quite fail
+to see just what manner of woman the present Lady Goring was, was
+merely in the nature of the animal. He was--as far as women were
+concerned--of the genus fool. To him "the rag, and the bone, and the
+hank of hair" could never be anything but perfect. It is as well that
+there are men like that.
+
+All of which his major--who was a man of no little understanding--knew
+quite well. And the knowledge increased his irritation, for he realised
+the futility of trying to adjust things. That adjusting business is
+ticklish work even between two close pals; but when the would-be
+adjuster is very little more than a mere acquaintance, the chances of
+success might be put in a small-sized pill-box. To feel morally certain
+that your best officer is trying his hardest to get himself killed, and
+to be unable to prevent it, is an annoying state of affairs. Small
+wonder, then, that at intervals throughout the days that followed did
+the Major reiterate with solemnity and emphasis his remark to the
+Staff-captain anent women. It eased his feelings, if it did nothing
+else.
+
+The wild scheme Brent had half suggested did not trouble him greatly. He
+regarded it merely as a temporary aberration of the brain. In the South
+African war small parties of mounted sappers and cavalry had undoubtedly
+ridden far into hostile country, and, getting behind the enemy, had
+blown up bridges, and generally damaged their lines of communication.
+But in the South African war a line of trenches did not stretch from
+sea to sea.
+
+And so, seated one evening at the door of his commodious residence
+talking things over with his colonel, he did not lay any great stress on
+the bridge idea. Brent had not referred to it again; and in the cold
+light of reason it seemed too foolish to mention.
+
+"Of course," remarked the C.R.E., "he's bound to take it soon. No man
+can go on running the fool risks you say he does without stopping one.
+It's a pity; but, if he won't see by himself that he's a fool, I don't
+see what we can do to make it clear. If only that confounded girl--" He
+grunted and got up to go. "Halloa! What the devil is this fellow doing?"
+
+Shambling down the road towards them was a particularly decrepit and
+filthy specimen of the Belgian labourer. In normal circumstances, and in
+any other place, his appearance would have called for no especial
+comment; the brand is not a rare one. But for many months the salient of
+Ypres had been cleared of its civilian population; and this sudden
+appearance was not likely to pass unnoticed.
+
+"Venez, ici, monsieur, tout de suite." At the Major's words the old man
+stopped, and paused in hesitation; then he shuffled towards the two men.
+
+"Will you talk to him, Colonel?" The Major glanced at his senior
+officer.
+
+"Er--I think not; my--er--French, don't you know--er--not what it was."
+The worthy officer retired in good order, only to be overwhelmed by a
+perfect deluge of words from the Belgian.
+
+"What's he say?" he queried, peevishly. "That damn Flemish sounds like a
+dog fight."
+
+"Parlez-vous Français, monsieur?" The Major attempted to stem the tide
+of the old man's verbosity, but he evidently had a grievance, and a
+Belgian with a grievance is not a thing to be regarded with a light
+heart.
+
+"Thank heavens, here's the interpreter!" The Colonel heaved a sigh of
+relief. "Ask this man what he's doing here, please."
+
+For a space the distant rattle of a machine-gun was drowned, and then
+the interpreter turned to the officers.
+
+"'E say, sare, that 'e has ten thousand franc behind the German line,
+buried in a 'ole, and 'e wants to know vat 'e shall do."
+
+"Do," laughed the Major. "What does he imagine he's likely to do? Go and
+dig it up? Tell him that he's got no business here at all."
+
+Again the interpreter spoke.
+
+"Shall I take 'im to Yper and 'and 'im to the gendarmes, sare?"
+
+"Not a bad idea," said the Colonel, "and have him----"
+
+What further order he was going to give is immaterial, for at that
+moment he looked at the Belgian, and from that villainous old ruffian he
+received the most obvious and unmistakable wink.
+
+"Er--thank you, interpreter; I will send him later under a guard."
+
+The interpreter saluted and retired, the Major looked surprised, the
+Colonel regarded the Belgian with an amazed frown. Then suddenly the old
+villain spoke.
+
+"Thank you, Colonel. Those Ypres gendarmes would have been a nuisance."
+
+"Great Scot!" gasped the Major. "What the----"
+
+"What the devil is the meaning of this masquerade, sir?" The Colonel was
+distinctly angry.
+
+"I wanted to see if I'd pass muster as a Belgian, sir. The interpreter
+was an invaluable proof."
+
+"You run a deuced good chance of being shot, Brent, in that rig. Anyway,
+I wish for an explanation as to why you're walking about in that get-up.
+Haven't you enough work to do?"
+
+"Shall we go inside, sir? I've got a favour to ask you."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+We are not very much concerned with the conversation that took place
+downstairs in that same cellar, when two senior officers of the corps
+of Royal Engineers listened for nearly an hour to an apparently
+disreputable old farmer. It might have been interesting to note how the
+sceptical grunts of those two officers gradually gave place to silence,
+and at length to a profound, breathless interest, as they pored over
+maps and plans. And the maps were all of that country which lies behind
+the German trenches.
+
+But at the end the old farmer straightened himself smartly.
+
+"That is the rough outline of my plan, sir. I think I can claim that I
+have reduced the risk of not getting to my objective to a minimum. When
+I get there I am sure that my knowledge of the patois renders the chance
+of detection small. As for the actual demolition itself, an enormous
+amount will depend on luck; but I can afford to wait. I shall have to be
+guided by local conditions. And so I ask you to let me go. It's a long
+odds chance, but if it comes off it's worth it."
+
+"And if it does, what then? What about you?" The Colonel's eyes and Jim
+Brent's met.
+
+"I shall have paid for my keep, Colonel, at any rate."
+
+Everything was very silent in the cellar; outside on the road a man was
+singing.
+
+"In other words, Jim, you're asking me to allow you to commit suicide."
+
+He cleared his throat; his voice seemed a little husky.
+
+"Good Lord! sir--it's not as bad as that. Call it a forlorn hope, if you
+like, but ..." The eyes of the two men met, and Brent fell silent.
+
+"Gad, my lad, you're a fool, but you're a brave fool! For Heaven's sake,
+give me a drink."
+
+"I may go, Colonel?"
+
+"Yes, you may go--as far, that is, as I am concerned. There is the
+General Staff to get round first."
+
+But though the Colonel's voice was gruff, he seemed to have some
+difficulty in finding his glass.
+
+As far as is possible in human nature, Jim Brent, at the period when he
+gained his V.C. in a manner which made him the hero of the hour--one
+might almost say of the war--was, I believe, without fear. The blow he
+had received at the hands of the girl who meant all the world to him had
+rendered him utterly callous of his life. And it was no transitory
+feeling: the mood of an hour or a week. It was deeper than the ordinary
+misery of a man who has taken the knock from a woman, deeper and much
+less ostentatious. He seemed to view life with a contemptuous toleration
+that in any other man would have been the merest affectation. But it was
+not evinced by his words; it was shown, as his Major had said, by his
+deeds--deeds that could not be called bravado because he never
+advertised them. He was simply gambling with death, with a cool hand and
+a steady eye, and sublimely indifferent to whether he won or lost. Up to
+the time when he played his last great game he had borne a charmed life.
+According to the book of the words, he should have been killed a score
+of times, and he told me himself only last week that he went into this
+final gamble with a taunt on his lips and contempt in his heart. Knowing
+him as I do, I believe it. I can almost hear him saying to his grim
+opponent, "Dash it all! I've won every time; for Heaven's sake do
+something to justify your reputation."
+
+But--he didn't; Jim won again. And when he landed in England from a
+Dutch tramp, having carried out the maddest and most hazardous exploit
+of the war unscathed, he slipped up on a piece of orange-peel and broke
+his right leg in two places, which made him laugh so immoderately when
+the contrast struck him that it cured him--not his leg, but his mind.
+However, all in due course.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The first part of the story I heard from Petersen, of the Naval Air
+Service. I ran into him by accident in a grocer's shop in
+Hazebrouck--buying stuff for the mess.
+
+"What news of Jim?" he cried, the instant he saw me.
+
+"Very sketchy," I answered. "He's the worst letter-writer in the world.
+You know he trod on a bit of orange-peel and broke his leg when he got
+back to England."
+
+"He would." Petersen smiled. "That's just the sort of thing Jim would
+do. Men like him usually die of mumps, or the effects of a bad oyster."
+
+"Quite so," I murmured, catching him gently by the arm. "And now come to
+the pub over the way and tell me all about it. The beer there is of a
+less vile brand than usual."
+
+"But I can't tell you anything, my dear chap, that you don't know
+already!" he expostulated. "I am quite prepared to gargle with you,
+but----"
+
+"Deux bičres, ma'm'selle, s'il vous plaît." I piloted Petersen firmly to
+a little table. "Tell me all, my son!" I cried. "For the purposes of
+this meeting I know nix, and you as part hero in the affair have got to
+get it off your chest."
+
+He laughed, and lit a cigarette. "Not much of the heroic in my part of
+the stunt, I assure you. As you know, the show started from Dunkirk,
+where in due course Jim arrived, armed with credentials extracted only
+after great persuasion from sceptical officers of high rank. How he ever
+got there at all has always been a wonder to me: his Colonel was the
+least of his difficulties in that line. But Jim takes a bit of stopping.
+
+"My part of the show was to transport that scatter-brained idiot over
+the trenches and drop him behind the German lines. His idea was novel, I
+must admit, though at the time I thought he was mad, and for that matter
+I still think he's mad. Only a madman could have thought of it, only Jim
+Brent could have done it and not been killed.
+
+"From a height of three thousand feet, in the middle of the night, he
+proposed to bid me and the plane a tender farewell and descend to terra
+firma by means of a parachute."
+
+"Great Scot," I murmured. "Some idea."
+
+"As you say--some idea. The thing was to choose a suitable night. As Jim
+said, 'the slow descent of a disreputable Belgian peasant like an angel
+out of the skies will cause a flutter of excitement in the tender heart
+of the Hun if it is perceived. Therefore, it must be a dark and overcast
+night.'
+
+"At last, after a week, we got an ideal one. Jim arrayed himself in his
+togs, took his basket on his arm--you know he'd hidden the gun-cotton in
+a cheese--and we went round to the machine. By Jove! that chap's a
+marvel. Think of it, man." Petersen's face was full of enthusiastic
+admiration. "He'd never even been up in an aeroplane before, and yet the
+first time he does, it is with the full intention of trusting himself to
+an infernal parachute, a thing the thought of which gives me cold feet;
+moreover, of doing it in the dark from a height of three thousand odd
+feet behind the German lines with his pockets full of detonators and
+other abominations, and his cheese full of gun-cotton. Lord! he's a
+marvel. And I give you my word that of the two of us--though I've flown
+for over two years--I was the shaky one. He was absolutely cool; not the
+coolness of a man who is keeping himself under control, but just the
+normal coolness of a man who is doing his everyday job."
+
+Petersen finished his beer at a gulp, and we encored the dose.
+
+"Well, we got off about two. We were not aiming at any specific spot,
+but I was going to go due east for three-quarters of an hour, which I
+estimated should bring us somewhere over Courtrai. Then he was going to
+drop off, and I was coming back. The time was chosen so that I should be
+able to land again at Dunkirk about dawn.
+
+"I can't tell you much more. We escaped detection going over the lines,
+and about ten minutes to three, at a height of three thousand five
+hundred, old Jim tapped me on the shoulder. He understood exactly what
+to do--as far as we could tell him: for the parachute is still almost in
+its infancy.
+
+"As he had remarked to our wing commander before we started: 'A most
+valuable experiment, sir; I will report on how it works in due course.'
+
+"We shook hands. I could see him smiling through the darkness; and then,
+with his basket under his arm, that filthy old Belgian farmer launched
+himself into space.
+
+"I saw him for a second falling like a stone, and then the parachute
+seemed to open out all right. But of course I couldn't tell in the dark;
+and just afterwards I struck an air-pocket, and had a bit of trouble
+with the bus. After that I turned round and went home again. I'm looking
+forward to seeing the old boy and hearing what occurred."
+
+And that is the unvarnished account of the first part of Jim's last game
+with fate. Incidentally, it's the sort of thing that hardly requires any
+varnishing.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The rest of the yarn I heard later from Brent himself, when I went round
+to see him in hospital, while I was back on leave.
+
+"For Heaven's sake, lady, dear," he said to the sister as I arrived,
+"don't let anyone else in. Say I've had a relapse and am biting the
+bed-clothes. This unpleasant-looking man is a great pal of mine, and I
+would commune with him awhile."
+
+"It's appalling, old boy," he said to me as she went out of the room,
+"how they cluster. Men of dreadful visage; women who gave me my first
+bath; unprincipled journalists--all of them come and talk hot air until
+I get rid of them by swooning. My young sister brought thirty-four
+school friends round last Tuesday! Of course, my swoon is entirely
+artificial; but the sister is an understanding soul, and shoos them
+away." He lit a cigarette.
+
+"I saw Petersen the other day in Hazebrouck," I told him as I sat down
+by the bed. "He wants to come round and see you as soon as he can get
+home."
+
+"Good old Petersen. I'd never have brought it off without him."
+
+"What happened, Jim?" I asked. "I've got up to the moment when you left
+his bus, with your old parachute, and disappeared into space. And of
+course I've seen the official announcement of the guns being seen in the
+river, as reported by that R.F.C. man. But there is a gap of about three
+weeks; and I notice you have not been over-communicative to the
+half-penny press."
+
+"My dear old man," he answered, seriously, "there was nothing to be
+communicative about. Thinking it over now, I am astounded how simple the
+whole thing was. It was as easy as falling off a log. I fell like a
+stone for two or three seconds, because the blessed umbrella wouldn't
+open. Then I slowed up and floated gently downwards. It was a most
+fascinating sensation. I heard old Petersen crashing about just above
+me; and in the distance a search-light was moving backwards and forwards
+across the sky, evidently looking for him. I should say it took me about
+five minutes to come down; and of course all the way down I was
+wondering where the devil I was going to land. The country below me was
+black as pitch: not a light to be seen--not a camp-fire--nothing. As the
+two things I wanted most to avoid were church steeples and the temporary
+abode of any large number of Huns, everything looked very favourable. To
+be suspended by one's trousers from a weathercock in the cold, grey
+light of dawn seemed a sorry ending to the show; and to land from the
+skies on a general's stomach requires explanation."
+
+He smiled reminiscently. "I'm not likely to forget that descent,
+Petersen's engine getting fainter and fainter in the distance, the first
+pale streaks of light beginning to show in the east, and away on a road
+to the south the headlamps of a car moving swiftly along. Then the
+humour of the show struck me. Me, in my most picturesque disguise,
+odoriferous as a family of ferrets in my borrowed garments, descending
+gently on to the Hun like the fairy god-mother in a pantomime. So I
+laughed, and--wished I hadn't. My knees hit my jaw with a crack, and I
+very nearly bit my tongue in two. Cheeses all over the place, and there
+I was enveloped in the folds of the collapsing parachute. Funny, but for
+a moment I couldn't think what had happened. I suppose I was a bit dizzy
+from the shock, and it never occurred to me that I'd reached the ground,
+which, not being able to see in the dark, I hadn't known was so close.
+Otherwise I could have landed much lighter. Yes, it's a great machine
+that parachute." He paused to reach for his pipe.
+
+"Where did you land?" I asked.
+
+"In the middle of a ploughed field. Couldn't have been a better place if
+I'd chosen it. A wood or a river would have been deuced awkward. Yes,
+there's no doubt about it, old man, my luck was in from the very start.
+I removed myself from the folds, picked up my cheeses, found a
+convenient ditch alongside to hide the umbrella in, and then sat tight
+waiting for dawn.
+
+"I happen to know that part of Belgium pretty well, and when it got
+light I took my bearings. Petersen had borne a little south of what we
+intended, which was all to the good--it gave me less walking; but it was
+just as well I found a sign-post almost at once, as I had no map, of
+course--far too dangerous; and I wasn't very clear on names of villages,
+though I'd memorized the map before leaving. I found I had landed
+somewhere south of Courtrai, and was about twelve kilometres due north
+of Tournai.
+
+"And it was just as I'd decided that little fact that I met a horrible
+Hun, a large and forbidding-looking man. Now, the one thing on which I'd
+been chancing my arm was the freedom allowed to the Belgians behind the
+German lines, and luck again stepped in.
+
+"Beyond grunting 'Guten Morgen' he betrayed no interest in me whatever.
+It was the same all along. I shambled past Uhlans, and officers and
+generals in motor-cars--Huns of all breeds and all varieties, and no one
+even noticed me. And after all, why on earth should they?
+
+"About midday I came to Tournai; and here again I was trusting to luck.
+I'd stopped there three years ago at a small estaminet near the station
+kept by the widow Demassiet. Now this old lady was, I knew, thoroughly
+French in sympathies; and I hoped that, in case of necessity, she would
+pass me off as her brother from Ghent, who was staying with her for a
+while. Some retreat of this sort was, of course, essential. A homeless
+vagabond would be bound to excite suspicion.
+
+"Dear old woman--she was splendid. After the war I shall search her out,
+and present her with an annuity, or a belle vache, or something dear to
+the Belgian heart. She never even hesitated. From that night I was her
+brother, though she knew it meant her death as well as mine if I was
+discovered.
+
+"'Ah, monsieur,' she said, when I pointed this out to her, 'it is in the
+hands of le bon Dieu. At the most I have another five years, and these
+Allemands--pah!' She spat with great accuracy.
+
+"She was good, was the old veuve Demassiet."
+
+Jim puffed steadily at his pipe in silence for a few moments.
+
+"I soon found out that the Germans frequented the estaminet; and, what
+was more to the point--luck again, mark you--that the gunners who ran
+the battery I was out after almost lived there. When the battery was at
+Tournai they had mighty little to do, and they did it, with some skill,
+round the beer in her big room.
+
+"I suppose you know what my plan was. The next time that battery left
+Tournai I proposed to cut one of the metals on the bridge over the River
+Scheldt, just in front of the engine, so close that the driver couldn't
+stop, and so derail the locomotive. I calculated that if I cut the
+outside rail--the one nearest the parapet wall--the flange on the inner
+wheel would prevent the engine turning inwards. That would merely cause
+delay, but very possibly no more. I hoped, on the contrary, to turn it
+outwards towards the wall, through which it would crash, dragging after
+it with any luck the whole train of guns.
+
+"That being the general idea, so to speak, I wandered off one day to see
+the bridge. As I expected, it was guarded, but by somewhat
+indifferent-looking Huns--evidently only lines of communication troops.
+For all that, I hadn't an idea how I was going to do it. Still, luck,
+always luck; the more you buffet her the better she treats you.
+
+"One week after I got there I heard the battery was going out: and they
+were going out that night. As a matter of fact, that hadn't occurred to
+me before--the fact of them moving by night, but it suited me down to
+the ground. It appeared they were timed to leave at midnight, which
+meant they'd cross the bridge about a quarter or half past. And so at
+nine that evening I pushed gently off and wandered bridgewards.
+
+"Then the fun began. I was challenged, and, having answered thickly, I
+pretended to be drunk. The sentry, poor devil, wasn't a bad fellow, and
+I had some cold sausage and beer. And very soon a gurgling noise
+pronounced the fact that he found my beer good.
+
+"It was then I hit him on the base of his skull with a bit of gas-pipe.
+That sentry will never drink beer again." Brent frowned. "A nasty blow,
+a dirty blow, but a necessary blow." He shrugged his shoulders and then
+went on.
+
+"I took off his top-coat and put it on. I put on his hat and took his
+rifle and rolled him down the embankment into a bush. Then I resumed his
+beat. Discipline was a bit lax on that bridge, I'm glad to say; unless
+you pulled your relief out of bed no one else was likely to do it for
+you. As you may guess, I did not do much pulling.
+
+"I was using two slabs of gun-cotton to make sure--firing them
+electrically. I had two dry-cells and two coils of fine wire for the
+leads. The cells would fire a No. 13 Detonator through thirty yards of
+those leads--and that thirty yards just enabled me to stand clear of the
+bridge. It took me twenty minutes to fix it up, and then I had to wait.
+
+"By gad, old boy, you've called me a cool bird; you should have seen me
+during that wait. I was trembling like a child with excitement:
+everything had gone so marvellously. And for the first time in the whole
+show it dawned on me that not only was there a chance of getting away
+afterwards, but that I actually wanted to. Before that moment I'd
+assumed on the certainty of being killed."
+
+For a moment he looked curiously in front of him, and a slight smile
+lurked round the corners of his mouth. Then suddenly, and apropos of
+nothing, he remarked, "Kathleen Goring tea'd with me yesterday. Of
+course, it was largely due to that damned orange-skin, but I--er--did
+not pass a sleepless night."
+
+Which I took to be indicative of a state of mind induced by the rind of
+that nutritious fruit, rather than any reference to his broken leg. For
+when a man has passed unscathed through parachute descents and little
+things like that, only to lose badly on points to a piece of peel, his
+sense of humour gets a jog in a crucial place. And a sense of humour is
+fatal to the hopeless, undying passion. It is almost as fatal, in fact,
+as a hiccough at the wrong moment.
+
+"It was just about half-past twelve that the train came along. I was
+standing by the end of the bridge, with my overcoat and rifle showing in
+the faint light of the moon. The engine-driver waved his arm and shouted
+something in greeting and I waved back. Then I took the one free lead
+and waited until the engine was past me. I could see the first of the
+guns, just coming abreast, and at that moment I connected up with the
+battery in my pocket. Two slabs of gun-cotton make a noise, as you know,
+and just as the engine reached the charge, a sheet of flame seemed to
+leap from underneath the front wheels. The driver hadn't time to do a
+thing--the engine had left the rails before he knew what had happened.
+And then things moved. In my wildest moments I had never expected such a
+success. The engine crashed through the parapet wall and hung for a
+moment in space. Then it fell downward into the water, and by the mercy
+of Allah the couplings held. The first two guns followed it, through the
+gap it had made, and then the others overturned with the pull before
+they got there, smashing down the wall the whole way along. Every single
+gun went wallop into the Scheldt--to say nothing of two passenger
+carriages containing the gunners and their officers. The whole thing was
+over in five seconds; and you can put your shirt on it that before the
+last gun hit the water yours truly had cast away his regalia of office
+and was legging it like a two-year-old back to the veuve Demassiet and
+Tournai. It struck me that bridge might shortly become an unhealthy
+spot."
+
+Jim Brent laughed. "It did. I had to stop on with the old lady for two
+or three days in case she might be suspected owing to my sudden
+departure--and things hummed. They shot the feldwebel in charge of the
+guard; they shot every sentry; they shot everybody they could think of;
+but--they never even suspected me. I went out and had a look next day,
+the day I think that R.F.C. man spotted and reported the damage. Two of
+the guns were only fit for turning into hairpins, and the other four
+looked very like the morning after.
+
+"Then, after I'd waited a couple of days, I said good-bye to the old
+dear and trekked off towards the Dutch frontier, gaining immense
+popularity, old son, by describing the accident to all the soldiers I
+met.
+
+"That's all, I think. I had words with a sentry at the frontier, but I
+put it across him with his own bundook. Then I wandered to our
+Ambassador, and sailed for England in due course. And--er--that's that."
+
+Such is the tale of Jim Brent's V.C. There only remains for me to give
+the wording of his official report on the matter.
+
+"I have the honour to report," it ran, "that at midnight on the 25th
+ult., I successfully derailed the train conveying six guns of calibre
+estimated at about 9-inch, each mounted on a railway truck. The engine,
+followed by the guns, departed from sight in about five seconds, and
+fell through a drop of some sixty feet into the River Scheldt from the
+bridge just west of Tournai. The gunners and officers--who were in two
+coaches in rear--were also killed. Only one seemed aware that there was
+danger, and he, owing to his bulk, was unable to get out of the door of
+his carriage. He was, I think, in command. I investigated the damage
+next day when the military authorities were a little calmer, and beg to
+state that I do not consider the guns have been improved by their
+immersion. One, at least, has disappeared in the mud. A large number of
+Germans who had no connection with this affair have, I am glad to
+report, since been shot for it.
+
+"I regret that I am unable to report in person, but I am at present in
+hospital with a broken leg, sustained by my inadvertently stepping on a
+piece of orange-peel, which escaped my notice owing to its remarkable
+similarity to the surrounding terrain. This similarity was doubtless due
+to the dirt on the orange-peel."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Which, I may say, should not be taken as a model for official reports by
+the uninitiated.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+RETRIBUTION
+
+
+On the Promenade facing the Casino at Monte Carlo two men were seated
+smoking. The Riviera season was at its height, and passing to and fro in
+front of them were the usual crowd of well-dressed idlers, who make up
+the society of that delectable, if expensive, resort. Now and again a
+casual acquaintance would saunter by, to be greeted with a smile from
+one, and a curt nod from the other, who, with his eyes fixed on the
+steps in front of him, seemed oblivious of all else.
+
+"Cheer up, Jerry; she won't be long. Give the poor girl time to digest
+her luncheon." The cheerful one of the twain lit a cigarette; and in the
+process received the glad eye from a passing siren of striking aspect.
+"Great Cćsar, old son!" he continued, when she was swallowed up in the
+crowd, "you're losing the chance of a lifetime. Here, gathered together
+to bid us welcome, are countless beautiful women and brave men. We are
+for the moment the star turn of the show--the brave British sailors whom
+the ladies delight to honour. Never let it be said, old dear, that you
+failed them in this their hour of need."
+
+"Confound it, Ginger, I know all about that!" The other man sighed and,
+coming suddenly out of his brown study, he too leant forward and fumbled
+for his cigarette-case. "But it's no go, old man. I'm getting a deuced
+sight too old and ugly nowadays to chop and change about. There comes a
+time of life when if a man wants to kiss one particular woman, he might
+as well kiss his boot for all the pleasure fooling around with another
+will give him."
+
+Ginger Lawson looked at him critically. "My lad, I fear me that Nemesis
+has at length descended on you. No longer do the ortolans and caviare of
+unregenerate bachelorhood tempt you; rather do you yearn for ground rice
+and stewed prunes in the third floor back. These symptoms----"
+
+"Ginger," interrupted the other, "dry up. You're a dear, good soul, but
+when you try to be funny, I realise the type of man who writes mottoes
+for crackers." He started up eagerly, only to sit down again
+disappointed.
+
+"Not she, not she, my love," continued the other imperturbably. "And, in
+the meanwhile, doesn't it strike you that you are committing a bad
+tactical error in sitting here, with a face like a man that's eaten a
+bad oyster, on the very seat where she's bound to see you when she does
+finish her luncheon and come down?"
+
+"I suppose that means you want me to cocktail with you?"
+
+"More impossible ideas have fructified," agreed Ginger, rising.
+
+"No, I'm blowed if----!"
+
+"Come on, old son." Lawson dragged him reluctantly to his feet. "All the
+world loves a lover, including the loved one herself; but you look like
+a deaf-mute at a funeral, who's swallowed his fee. Come and have a
+cocktail at Ciro's, and then, merry and bright and caracoling like a
+young lark, return and snatch her from under the nose of the accursed
+Teuton."
+
+"Do you think she's going to accept him, Ginger?" he muttered anxiously,
+as they sauntered through the drifting crowd.
+
+"My dear boy, ask me another. But she's coming to the ball dance on
+board to-night, and if the delicate pink illumination of your special
+kala jugger, shining softly on your virile face, and toning down the
+somewhat vivid colour scheme of your sunburned nose, doesn't melt her
+heart, I don't know what will----"
+
+Which all requires a little explanation. Before the war broke out it was
+the custom each year for that portion of the British Fleet stationed in
+the Mediterranean, and whose headquarters were at Malta, to make a
+cruise lasting three weeks or a month to some friendly sea-coast, where
+the ports were good and the inhabitants merry. Trieste, perhaps, and up
+the Adriatic; Alexandria and the countries to the East; or, best of all,
+the Riviera. And at the time when my story opens the officers of the
+British Mediterranean Fleet, which had come to rest in the wonderful
+natural anchorage of Villefranche, were doing their best to live up to
+the reputation which the British naval officer enjoys the world over.
+Everywhere within motor distance of their vessels they were greeted with
+joy and acclamation; there were dances and dinners, women and wine--and
+what more for a space can any hard-worked sailor-man desire? During
+their brief intervals of leisure they slept and recuperated on board,
+only to dash off again with unabated zeal to pastures new, or renewed,
+as the case might be.
+
+Foremost amongst the revellers on this, as on other occasions, was Jerry
+Travers, torpedo-lieutenant on the flagship. Endowed by Nature with an
+infinite capacity for consuming cocktails, and with a disposition which
+not even the catering of the Maltese mess man could embitter, his sudden
+fall from grace was all the more noticeable. From being a tireless
+leader of revels, he became a mooner in secret places, a melancholy
+sigher in the wardroom. Which fact did not escape the eyes of the
+flagship wardroom officers. And Lawson, the navigating lieutenant, had
+deputed himself as clerk of the course.
+
+Staying at the Hôtel de Paris was an American, who was afflicted with
+the dreadful name of Honks; with him were his wife and his daughter
+Maisie. Maisie Honks has not a prepossessing sound; but she was the girl
+who was responsible for Jerry Travers's downfall. He had met her at a
+ball in Nice just after the Fleet arrived, and, from that moment he had
+become a trifle deranged. Brother officers entering his cabin unawares
+found him gazing into the infinite with a slight squint. His Marine
+servant spread the rumour on the lower deck that "'e'd taken to poetry,
+and 'orrible noises in his sleep." Like a goodly number of men who have
+walked merrily through life, sipping at many flowers, but leaving each
+with added zest for the next, when he took it he took it hard. And
+Maisie had just about reduced him to idiocy. I am no describer of girls,
+but I was privileged to know and revere the lady from afar, and I can
+truthfully state that I have rarely, if ever, seen a more absolute dear.
+She wasn't fluffy, and she wasn't statuesque; she did not have violet
+eyes which one may liken to mountain pools, or hair of that colour
+described as spun-gold. She was just--Maisie, one of the most adorable
+girls that ever happened. And Jerry, as I say, had taken it very badly.
+
+Unfortunately, there was a fly in the ointment--almost of bluebottle
+size--in the shape of another occupant of the Hôtel de Paris, who had
+also taken it very badly, and at a much earlier date. The Baron von
+Dressler--an officer in the German Navy, and a member of one of the
+oldest Prussian families--had been staying at Monte Carlo for nearly a
+month, on sick leave after a severe dose of fever. And he, likewise,
+worshipped with ardour and zeal at the Honks shrine. Moreover, being
+apparently a very decent fellow, and living as he did in the same hotel,
+he had, as Jerry miserably reflected, a bit of a preponderance in
+artillery, especially as he had opened fire more than a fortnight before
+the British Navy had appeared on the scene. This, then, was the general
+situation; and the particular feature of the moment, which caused an
+outlook on life even more gloomy than usual in the heart of the
+torpedo-lieutenant, was that the Baron von Dressler had been invited to
+lunch with his adored one, while he had not.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Something potent, Fritz." Lawson piloted him firmly to the bar and
+addressed the presiding being respectfully. "Something potent and heady
+which will make this officer's sad heart bubble once again with the joie
+de vivre. He has been crossed in love."
+
+"Don't be an ass, Ginger," said the other peevishly.
+
+"My dear fellow, the credit of the Navy is at stake. Admitted that
+you've had a bad start in the Honks stakes, nevertheless--you never
+know--our Teuton may take a bad fall. And, incidentally, there they both
+are, to say nothing of Honks pčre et mčre." He was peering through the
+window. "No, you don't, my boy!" as the other made a dash for the door.
+"The day is yet young. Lap it up; repeat the dose; and then in the
+nonchalant style for which our name is famous we will sally forth and
+have at them."
+
+"Confound it, Ginger! they seem to be on devilish good terms. Look at
+the blighter, bending towards her as if he owned her." Travers stood in
+the window rubbing his hands with his handkerchief nervously.
+
+"What d'you expect him to do? Look the other way?" The navigating
+officer snorted. "You make me tired, Torps. Come along if you're ready;
+and try and look jaunty and debonair."
+
+"Heavens! old boy; I'm as nervous as an ugly girl at her first party."
+They were passing into the street. "My hands are clammy and my boots are
+bursting with feet."
+
+"I don't mind about your boots; but for goodness' sake dry your hands.
+No self-respecting woman would look at a man with perspiring palms."
+
+Ten minutes later three pairs of people might have been seen strolling
+up and down the Promenade. And as the arrangement of those pairs was
+entirely due to the navigating lieutenant, their composition is perhaps
+worthy of a paragraph. At one end, as was very right and proper, Jerry
+and Miss Honks discussed men and matters--at least, I assume so--with a
+zest that seemed to show his nervousness was only transient. In the
+middle the stage-manager and Mrs. Honks discussed Society, with a
+capital "S"--a subject of which the worthy woman knew nothing and talked
+a lot. At the other end Mr. Honks poured into the unresponsive ear of an
+infuriated Prussian nobleman his new scheme for cornering sausages.
+Which shows what a naval officer can do when he gets down to it.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Now, it is certainly not my intention to recount in detail the course of
+Jerry Travers's love affair during his stay on the Riviera. Sufficient
+to say, it did not run smoothly. But there are one or two things which I
+must relate--things which concern our three principals. They cover the
+first round in the contest--the round which the German won on points.
+And though they have no actual bearing on the strange happenings which
+brought about the second and last round, in circumstances nothing short
+of miraculous at a future date, yet for the proper understanding of the
+retribution that came upon the Hun at the finish it is well that they
+should be told.
+
+They occurred that same evening, at the ball given by the British Navy
+on the flagship. Few sights, I venture to think, are more imposing, and
+to a certain extent more incongruous, than a battleship in gala mood.
+For days beforehand, men skilled in electricity erect with painstaking
+care a veritable fairyland of coloured lights, which shine softly on the
+deck cleared for dancing, and discreet kala juggers prepared with equal
+care by officers skilled in love. Everywhere there is peace and luxury;
+the music of the band steals across the silent water; the engine of
+death is at rest. Almost can one imagine the mighty turbines, the great
+guns, the whole infernal paraphernalia of destruction, laughing grimly
+at their master's amusements--those masters whose brains forged them and
+riveted them and gave them birth; who with the pressure of a finger can
+launch five tons of death at a speck ten miles away; whose lightest
+caprice they are bound to obey--and yet who now cover them with flimsy
+silks and fairy lights, while they dance and make love to laughing,
+soft-eyed girls. And perhaps there was some such idea in the
+gunnery-lieutenant's mind as he leant against the breech of a
+twelve-inch gun, waiting for his particular guest. "Not yet, old man,"
+he muttered thoughtfully--"not yet. To-night we play; to-morrow--who
+knows?"
+
+Above, the lights shone out unshaded, silhouetting the battle-cruiser
+with lines of fire against the vault of heaven, sprinkled with the
+golden dust of a myriad stars; while ceaselessly across the violet water
+steam-pinnaces dashed backwards and forwards, carrying boatloads of
+guests from the landing-stage, and then going back for more. At the top
+of the gangway the admiral, immaculate in blue and gold, welcomed them
+as they arrived; the flag-lieutenant, with the weight of much
+responsibility on his shoulders, having just completed a last lightning
+tour of the ship, only to discover a scarcity of hairpins in
+the ladies' cloak-room, stood behind him. And in the wardroom the
+engineer-commander--a Scotsman of pessimistic outlook--reviled with
+impartiality all ball dances, adding a special clause for the one now
+commencing. But then, off duty, he had no soul above bridge.
+
+In this setting, then, appeared the starters for the Honks stakes on the
+night in question, only, for the time being, the positions were
+reversed. Now the Baron was the stranger in a strange land; Jerry was at
+home--one of the hosts. Moreover, as has already been discreetly hinted,
+there was a certain and very particular kala jugger. And into this very
+particular kala jugger Jerry, in due course, piloted his adored one.
+
+I am now coming to the region of imagination. I was not in that dim-lit
+nook with them, and therefore I am not in a position to state with any
+accuracy what occurred. But--and here I must be discreet--there was a
+midshipman, making up in cheek and inquisitiveness what he lacked in
+years and stature. Also, as I have said, the Honks stakes were not a
+private matter--far from it. The prestige of the British Navy was at
+stake, and betting ran high in the gunroom, or abode of "snotties."
+Where this young imp of mischief hid, I know not; he swore himself that
+his overhearing was purely accidental, and endeavoured to excuse his
+lamentable conduct by saying that he learned a lot!
+
+His account of the engagement was breezy and nautical; and as there is,
+so far as I know, no other description of the operations extant, I give
+it for what it is worth.
+
+Jerry, he told me in the Union Club, Valetta, at a later date, opened
+the action with some tentative shots from his lighter armament. For ten
+minutes odd he alternately Honked and Maisied, till, as my ribald
+informant put it, the deck rang with noises reminiscent of a jibbing
+motor-car. She countered ably with rhapsodies over the ship, the band,
+and life in general, utterly refusing to be drawn into personalities.
+
+Then, it appeared, Jerry's self-control completely deserted him, and
+with a hoarse and throaty noise he opened fire with the full force of
+his starboard broadside; he rammed down the loud pedal and let drive.
+
+He assured her that she was the only woman he could ever love; he seized
+her ungloved hand and fervently kissed it; in short, he offered her his
+hand and heart in the most approved style, the while protesting his
+absolute unworthiness to aspire to such an honour as her acceptance of
+the same.
+
+"Net result, old dear," murmured my graceless informant, pressing the
+bell for another cocktail, "nix--a frost absolute, a frost complete."
+
+"She thought he and the whole ship were bully, and wasn't that little
+boy who'd brought them out in the launch the cutest ever, but she
+reckoned sailors cut no ice with poppa. She was just too sorry for words
+it had ever occurred, but there it was, and there was nothing more to be
+said."
+
+For the truth of these statements I will not vouch. I do know that on
+the night in question Jerry was refused by the only woman he'd ever
+really cared about, because he told me so, and the method of it is of
+little account. And if there be any who may think I have dealt with this
+tragedy in an unfeeling way, I must plead in excuse that I have but
+quoted my informant, and he was one of those in the gunroom who had lost
+money on the event.
+
+Anyway, let me, as a sop to the serious-minded, pass on to the other
+little event which I must chronicle before I come to my finale. In this
+world the serious and the gay, the tears and the laughter, come to us
+out of the great scroll of fate in strange, jumbled succession. The
+lucky dip at a bazaar holds no more variegated procession of surprises
+than the mix up we call life brings to each and all. And so, though my
+tone in describing Jerry's proposal has perhaps been wantonly flippant,
+and though the next incident may seem to some to savour of
+melodrama--yet, is it not life, my masters, is it not life?
+
+I was in the wardroom when it occurred. Jerry, standing by the
+fireplace, was smoking a cigarette, and looking like the proverbial
+gentleman who has lost a sovereign and found sixpence. There were
+several officers in there at the time, and--the Baron von Dressler. And
+the Prussian had been drinking.
+
+Not that he was by any means drunk, but he was in that condition when
+some men become merry, some confidential, some--what shall I say?--not
+exactly pugnacious, but on the way to it. He belonged to the latter
+class. All the worst traits of the Prussian officer, the domineering,
+sneering, aggressive mannerisms--which, to do him justice, in normal
+circumstances he successfully concealed, at any rate, when mixing with
+other nationalities--were showing clearly in his face. He was once again
+the arrogant, intolerant autocrat--truly, _in vino veritas_. Moreover,
+his eyes were wandering with increasing frequency to Jerry, who, so far,
+seemed unconscious of the scrutiny.
+
+After a while I caught Ginger Lawson's eye and he shrugged his shoulders
+slightly. He told me afterwards that he had been fearing a flare-up for
+some minutes, but had hoped it would pass over. However, he strolled
+over to Jerry and started talking.
+
+"Mop that up, Jerry," he said, "and come along and do your duty. Baron,
+you don't seem to be dancing much to-night. Can't I find you a partner?"
+
+"Thank you, but I probably know more people here than you do." The tone
+even more than the words was a studied insult. "Lieutenant Travers's
+duty seems to have been unpleasant up to date, which perhaps accounts
+for his reluctance to resume it. Are you--er--lucky at cards?" This time
+the sneer was too obvious to be disregarded.
+
+Jerry looked up, and the eyes of the two men met. "It is possible, Baron
+von Dressier," he remarked icily, "that in your navy remarks of that
+type are regarded as witty. Would it be asking you too much to request
+that you refrain from using them in a ship where they are merely
+considered vulgar?"
+
+By this time a dead silence had settled on the wardroom, one of those
+awkward silences which any scene of this sort produces on those who are
+in the unfortunate position of onlookers.
+
+Von Dressler was white with passion. "You forget yourself, lieutenant. I
+would have you to know that my uncle is a prince of the blood royal."
+
+"That apparently does not prevent his nephew from failing to remember
+the customs that hold amongst gentlemen."
+
+"Gentlemen!" The Prussian looked round the circle of silent officers
+with a scornful laugh; the fumes of the spirits he had drunk were
+mounting to his head with his excitement. "You mean--shopkeepers."
+
+With a muttered curse several officers started forward; no ball is a
+teetotal affair, I suppose, and scenes of this sort are dangerous at any
+time. Travers held up his hand, sharply, incisively.
+
+"Gentlemen, remember this--er--Prussian officer and gentleman is our
+guest. That being the case, sir"--he turned to the German--"you are
+quite safe in insulting us as much as you like."
+
+"The question of safety would doubtless prove irresistible to an
+Englishman." The face of the German was distorted with rage, he seemed
+to be searching in his mind for insults; then suddenly he tried a new
+line.
+
+"Bah! I am not a guttersnipe to bandy words with you. You will not have
+long to wait, you English, and then--when the day does come, my friends;
+when, at last, we come face to face, then, by God! then----"
+
+"Well, what then, Baron von Dressler?" A stern voice cut like a whiplash
+across the wardroom; standing in the door was the admiral himself, who
+had entered unperceived.
+
+For a moment the coarse, furious face of the Prussian paled a little;
+then with a supreme effort of arrogance he pulled himself together.
+"Then, sir, we shall see--the world will see--whether you or we will be
+the victor. The old and effete versus the new and efficient. Der Tag."
+He lifted his hand and let it drop; in the silence one could have heard
+a pin drop.
+
+"The problem you raise is of interest," answered the admiral, in the
+same icy tone. "In the meanwhile any discussion is unprofitable; and in
+the surroundings in which you find yourself at present it is more than
+unprofitable--it is a gross breach of all good form and service
+etiquette. As our guest we were pleased to see you; you will pardon my
+saying that now I can no longer regard you as a guest. Will you kindly
+give orders, Lieutenant Travers, for a steam-pinnace? Baron von Dressler
+will go ashore."
+
+Such was the other matter that concerned my principals, and which, of
+necessity, I have had to record. Such an incident is probably almost
+unique; but when there's a girl at the bottom of things and wine at the
+top, something is likely to happen. The most unfortunate thing about it
+all, as far as Jerry was concerned, was an untimely indisposition on the
+part of Honks mčre. As a coincidence nothing could have been more
+disastrous.
+
+The pinnace was at the foot of the gangway, and the Baron--his eyes
+savage--was just preparing to take an elaborate and sarcastic farewell
+of the silent torpedo-lieutenant, who was regarding him with an air of
+cold contempt, when Mr. Honks appeared on the scene.
+
+"Say, Baron, are you going away?"
+
+"I am, Mr. Honks. My presence seems distasteful to the officers."
+
+The American seemed hardly to hear the last part of the remark. "I guess
+we'll quit too. My wife's been taken bad. Can we come in your boat,
+Baron?"
+
+"I shall be more than delighted." His eyes came round with ill-concealed
+triumph to Travers's impassive face as the American bustled away. "I
+venture to think that the Honks stakes are still open."
+
+"By Heaven! You blackguard!" muttered Jerry, his passion overcoming him
+for a moment. "I believe I'd give my commission to smash your damned
+face in with a marline-spike and chuck you into the sea."
+
+"I won't forget what you say," answered the German vindictively, "One
+day I'll make you eat those words; and then when I've sunk your
+rat-eaten ship, it will be me that uses the marline-spike--you swine."
+
+It was as well for Jerry, and for the Baron too, that at this
+psychological moment the Honks ménage arrived, otherwise that German
+would probably have gone into the sea.
+
+"Good night, lady," murmured Jerry, when he had solicitously inquired
+after her mother's health. "Is there no hope?" He was desperately
+anxious to seize the second or two left; he knew she would not hear the
+true account of what had happened from the Baron.
+
+"I guess not," she answered softly. "But come and call." With a smile
+she was gone, and from the boat there came the Baron's voice mocking
+through the still air, "Good night, Lieutenant Travers. Thank you so
+much."
+
+And, drowned by the band that started at that moment, the wonderful and
+fearful curse that left the torpedo-lieutenant's lips drifted into the
+night unheard.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Let us go on a couple of years. The moment thought of by the
+gunnery-lieutenant, the day acclaimed by the Prussian officer had come.
+England was at war. Der Tag was a reality. No longer did silks and
+shaded lights form part of the equipment of the Navy, but grim and
+sombre, ruthlessly stripped of everything not absolutely necessary, the
+great grey monsters watched tirelessly through the flying scud of the
+North Sea for "the fleet that stayed at home." Only their submarines
+were out, and these, day by day, diminished in numbers, until the men
+who sent them out looked at one another fearfully--so many went out, so
+few came back.
+
+Tearing through the water one day, away a bit to the south-west of
+Bantry Bay, with the haze of Ireland lying like a smudge on the horizon,
+was a lean, villainous-looking torpedo-boat-destroyer. She was plunging
+her nose into the slight swell, now and again drenching the oilskinned
+figure standing motionless on the bridge. Behind her a great cloud of
+black smoke drifted across the grey water, and the whole vessel was
+quivering with the force of her engines. She was doing her maximum and a
+bit more, but still the steady, watchful eyes of the officer on the
+bridge seemed impatient, and every now and again he cursed softly and
+with wonderful fluency under his breath.
+
+It was our friend Jerry, who at the end of his time on the flagship had
+been given one of the newest T.B.D.'s, and now with every ounce he could
+get out of her he was racing towards the spot from which had come the
+last S.O.S. message, nearly an hour ago. There was something grimly
+foreboding about those agonised calls sent out to the world for perhaps
+twenty minutes, and then--silence, nothing more. German submarines, he
+reflected, as for the tenth time he peered at his wrist-watch, German
+submarines engaged once again in the only form of war they could compete
+in or dared undertake. And not for the first time his thoughts went back
+to the vainglorious boastings of his friend the Baron.
+
+"Damn him," he muttered. "I haven't forgotten the sweep."
+
+There were many things he hadn't forgotten; how, when he'd gone to call
+on the lady as requested, she had been "out," and it was that sort of
+"out" that means "in." How a letter had been answered courteously but
+distinctly coldly, and, impotent with rage, he had been forced to the
+conclusion that she was offended with him. And with the Prussian able to
+say what he liked, it was not difficult to find the reason.
+
+Then the Fleet left, and Jerry resigned himself to the inevitable, a
+proceeding which was not made easier by the many rumours he heard to the
+effect that the Baron himself had done the trick. Distinctly he wanted
+once again to meet that gentleman.
+
+"We ought to see her, if she hasn't sunk, sir, by now." The
+sub-lieutenant on the bridge spoke in his ear.
+
+Travers nodded and shrugged his shoulders. He had realised that fact for
+some minutes.
+
+"Something on the starboard bow." The voice of the look-out man came to
+his ears.
+
+"It's a boat, an open boat," cried the sub., after a careful inspection,
+"and it's pretty full, by Jove!"
+
+A curt order, and the T.B.D. swung round and tore down on the little
+speck bobbing in the water. And they were still a few hundred yards away
+when a look of dawning horror strangely mixed with joy spread over
+Jerry's face. His glass was fixed on the boat, and who in God's name was
+the woman--impossible, of course--but surely.... If it wasn't her it was
+her twin sister; his hand holding the glass trembled with eagerness, and
+then at last he knew. The woman standing up in the stern of the boat
+_was_ Maisie, and as he got nearer he saw there was a look on her face
+which made him catch his breath sharply.
+
+"Great God!" The sub's voice roused him. "What have they been doing?" No
+need to ask whom he meant by "they." "The boat is a shambles."
+
+The destroyer slowed down, and from the crew who looked into that
+little open boat came dreadful curses. It ran with blood; and at the
+bottom women and children moaned feebly, while an elderly man contorted
+with pain in the stern, writhed and sobbed in agony. And over this black
+scene the eyes of the man and the woman met.
+
+"Carefully, carefully, lads," Travers sang out. This was no time for
+questions, only the poor torn fragments counted. Afterwards, perhaps.
+Very tenderly the sailors lifted out the bodies, and one of them--a
+little girl in his arms, with a dreadful wound in her head--jabbered
+like a maniac with the fury of his rage. And so after many days they
+again came face to face.
+
+"Are you wounded?" he whispered.
+
+"No." Her voice was hard and strained; she was near the breaking point.
+"They sunk us without warning--the _Lucania_--and then shelled us in the
+open boats."
+
+"Dear heavens!" Jerry's voice was shaking. "Ah! but you're not hurt, my
+lady; they didn't hit you?"
+
+"My mother was drowned, and my father too." She was swaying a little.
+"It was the U 99."
+
+"Ah!" The man's voice was almost a sigh.
+
+"Submarine on the port bow, sir." A howl came from the look-out,
+followed by the sharp, detonating reports of the destroyer's
+quick-firers. And then a roaring cheer. Like lightning Jerry was upon
+the bridge, and even he could scarcely contain himself. There, lying
+helpless in the water, with a huge hole in her conning tower, wallowed
+the U 99. Two direct hits from the destroyer's guns in a vital spot, and
+the submarine was a submarine no longer. Just one of those strokes of
+poetic justice which happen so rarely in war.
+
+Like rats from a sinking ship the Germans were pouring up and diving
+into the water, and with snarling faces the Englishmen waited for them,
+waited for them with the dying proofs of their vileness still lying on
+the deck as one by one they came on board. Suddenly with a sucking noise
+the submarine foundered, and over the seething, troubled waters where
+she had been a sheet of blackish oil slowly spread.
+
+But Jerry spared no glance for the sinking boat--he did not so much as
+look at the German sailors huddled fearfully together. With hard,
+merciless eyes he faced the submarine commander. For the first time in
+his life he saw red: for the first time in his life there was murder in
+his soul, and the heavy belaying-pin in his hand seemed to goad him on.
+"Suppose the positions had been reversed," mocked a voice in his brain.
+"Would he have hesitated?" The night two years ago surged back to his
+mind; the plaintive crying of the dying child struck on his ears. He
+stepped a pace forward with a snarl--his grip tightened on the
+bar--when suddenly the man who had carried up the little girl gave a
+hoarse cry, and with all his force smote the nearest German in the
+mouth. The German fell like a stone.
+
+"Stand fast." Jerry's voice dominated the scene. The old traditions had
+come back: the old wonderful discipline. The iron pin dropped with a
+clang on the deck. "It is not their fault, they were only obeying his
+orders." And once again his eyes rested on their officer.
+
+"So we meet again, Baron von Dressler," he remarked, "and the rat-eaten
+ship is not sunk. Is this your work?" He pointed to the mangled bodies.
+
+"It is not," muttered the Prussian.
+
+"You lie, you swine, you lie! Unfortunately for you you didn't quite
+carry out your infamous butchery completely enough. There is one person
+on board who knows the U 99 sank the _Lucania_ without warning and was
+in the boat you shelled."
+
+"I don't believe you, I----"
+
+"Then perhaps you'll believe her. I rather think you know her--very
+well." As he spoke he was looking behind the Prussian, to where
+Maisie--roused from her semi-stupor by the Baron's voice--had got up,
+and with her hand to her heart was swaying backwards and forwards. "Look
+behind you, you cur."
+
+The Prussian turned, and then with a cry staggered back, white to the
+lips. "You, great heavens, you--Maisie----"
+
+And so once again the three principals of my little drama were face to
+face: only the setting had changed. No longer sensuous music and the
+warm, violet waters of the Riviera for a background; this time the
+moaning of dying men and children was the ghastly orchestra, and, with
+the grey scud of the Atlantic flying past them, the Englishman and the
+German faced one another, while the American girl stood by. And watching
+them were the muttering sailors.
+
+At last she spoke. "This ring, I believe, is yours." She took a
+magnificent half-hoop of diamonds from her engagement finger and flung
+it into the sea. Then she moved towards him.
+
+"You drowned my mother, and for that I strike you once." She hit him in
+the face with an iron-shod pin. "You drowned my father, and for that I
+strike you again." Once again she struck him in the face. "I will leave
+a fighting man and a gentleman to deal with you for those poor mites."
+With a choking sob she turned away, and once again sank down on the coil
+of rope.
+
+The Prussian, sobbing with pain and rage, with the blood streaming from
+his face, was not a pretty sight; but in Travers's face there was no
+mercy.
+
+"'The old and effete versus the new and efficient!' I seem to recall
+those words from our last meeting. May I congratulate you on your
+efficiency? Bah! you swine"--his face flamed with sudden passion--"if
+you aren't skulking in Kiel, you're butchering women. By heavens! I can
+conceive of nothing more utterly perfect than flogging you to death."
+
+The Prussian shrank back, his face livid with fear.
+
+"They were my orders," he muttered. "For God's sake----"
+
+"Oh, don't be frightened, Baron von Dressler." The Englishman's voice
+was once again under control. "The old and effete don't do that. You
+were safe as our guest two years ago; you are safe as our prisoner now.
+Your precious carcass will be returned safe and sound to your Royal
+uncle at the end of the war, and my only hope is that your face will
+still bear those honourable scars. Moreover, if what you say is true, if
+the orders of your Government include shelling an open boat crammed with
+defenceless women and children--and neutrals at that--I can only say
+that their infamy is so incredible as to force one to the conclusion
+that they are not responsible for their actions. But--make no
+mistake--they will get their retribution."
+
+For a moment he fell silent, looking at the cowering, blood-stained
+face opposite him, and then a pitiful wail behind him made him turn
+round.
+
+"Mummie, I'se hurted." On her knees beside the little girl was Maisie,
+soothing her as best she could, easing the throbbing head, whispering
+that mummie couldn't come for a while. "I'se hurted, mummie--I'se
+hurted."
+
+Travers turned back again, and the eyes of the two men met.
+
+"My God! Is it possible that a sailor could do such a thing?"
+
+His voice was barely above a whisper, yet the Prussian heard and winced.
+In the depths of even the foulest bully there is generally some little
+redeeming spark.
+
+"I'se hurted; I want my mummie."
+
+The Prussian's lips moved, but no sound came, while in his eyes was the
+look of a man haunted. Travers watched him silently; and at length he
+spoke again.
+
+"As I said, your rulers will get their deserts in time, but I think,
+Baron von Dressler, your Nemesis has come on you already. That little
+poor kid is asking you for her mother. Don't forget it in the years to
+come, Baron. No, I don't think you _will_ forget it."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+My story is finished. Later on, when some of the dreadful nightmare
+through which she had passed had been effaced from her mind, Maisie and
+the man who had come to her out of the grey waters discussed many
+things. And the story which the Prussian had told her after the dance on
+the flagship was finally discredited.
+
+Can anyone recommend me a good cheap book on "Things a Best Man Should
+Know"?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+THE DEATH GRIP
+
+
+Two reasons have impelled me to tell the story of Hugh Latimer, and both
+I think are good and sufficient. First I was his best friend, and second
+I know more about the tragedy than anyone else--even including his wife.
+I saw the beginning and the end; she--poor broken-hearted girl--saw only
+the end.
+
+There have been many tragedies since this war started; there will be
+many more before Finis is written--and each, I suppose, to its own
+particular sufferers seems the worst. But, somehow, to my mind Hugh's
+case is without parallel, unique--the devil's arch of cruelty. I will
+give you the story--and you shall judge for yourself.
+
+Let us lift the curtain and present a dug-out in a support trench
+somewhere near Givenchy. A candle gutters in a bottle, the grease
+running down like a miniature stalactite congeals on an upturned
+packing-case. On another packing-case the remnants of a tongue, some
+sardines, and a goodly array of bottles with some tin mugs and plates
+completes the furniture--or almost. I must not omit the handsome
+coloured pictures--three in all--of ladies of great beauty and charm,
+clad in--well, clad in something at any rate. The occupants of this
+palatial abode were Hugh Latimer and myself; at the rise of the curtain
+both lying in corners, on piles of straw.
+
+Outside, a musician was coaxing noises from a mouth-organ; occasional
+snatches of song came through the open entrance, intermingled with
+bursts of laughter. One man, I remember, was telling an interminable
+story which seemed to be the history of a gentleman called Nobby Clark,
+who had dallied awhile with a lady in an estaminet at Bethune, and had
+ultimately received a knock-out blow with a frying-pan over the right
+eye, for being too rapid in his attentions. Just the usual dull,
+strange, haunting trench life--which varies not from day's end to day's
+end.
+
+At intervals a battery of our own let drive, the blast of the explosion
+catching one through the open door; at intervals a big German shell
+moaned its way through the air overhead--an express bound for somewhere.
+Had you looked out to the front, you would have seen the bright green
+flares lobbing monotonously up into the night, all along the line.
+War--modern war; boring, incredible when viewed in cold blood....
+
+"Hullo, Hugh." A voice at the door roused us both from our doze, and
+the Adjutant came in. "Will you put your watches right by mine? We are
+making a small local attack to-morrow morning, and the battalion is to
+leave the trenches at 6.35 exactly."
+
+"Rather sudden, isn't it?" queried Hugh, setting his watch.
+
+"Just come through from Brigade Headquarters. Bombs are being brought up
+to H.15. Further orders sent round later. Bye-bye."
+
+He was gone, and once more we sat thinking to the same old accompaniment
+of trench noises; but in rather a different frame of mind. To-morrow
+morning at 6.35 peace would cease; we should be out and running over the
+top of the ground; we should be...
+
+"Will they use gas, I wonder?" Hugh broke the silence.
+
+"Wind too fitful," I answered; "and I suppose it's only a small show."
+
+"I wonder what it's for. I wish one knew more about these affairs; I
+suppose one can't, but it would make it more interesting."
+
+The mouth-organ stopped; there were vigorous demands for an encore.
+
+"Poor devils," he went on after a moment. "I wonder how many?--I wonder
+how many?"
+
+"A new development for you, Hugh." I grinned at him. "Merry and bright,
+old son--your usual motto, isn't it?"
+
+He laughed. "Dash it, Ginger--you can't always be merry and bright. I
+don't know why--perhaps it's second sight--but I feel a sort of
+presentiment of impending disaster to-night. I had the feeling before
+Clements came in."
+
+"Rot, old man," I answered cheerfully. "You'll probably win a V.C., and
+the greatest event of the war will be when it is presented to your
+cheeild."
+
+Which prophecy was destined to prove the cruellest mixture of truth and
+fiction the mind of man could well conceive....
+
+"Good Lord!" he said irritably, taking me seriously for a moment; "we're
+a bit too old soldiers to be guyed by palaver about V.C.'s." Then he
+recovered his good temper. "No, Ginger, old thing, there's big things
+happening to-morrow. Hugh Latimer's life is going into the melting-pot.
+I'm as certain of it as--as that I'm going to have a whisky and soda."
+He laughed, and delved into a packing-case for the seltzogene.
+
+"How's the son and heir?? I asked after a while.
+
+"Going strong," he answered. "Going strong, the little devil."
+
+And then we fell silent, as men will at such a time. The trench outside
+was quiet; the musician, having obliged with his encore, no longer
+rendered the night hideous--even the guns were still. What would it be
+to-morrow night? Should I still be...? I shook myself and started to
+scribble a letter; I was getting afraid of inactivity--afraid of my
+thoughts.
+
+"I'm going along the trenches," said Hugh suddenly, breaking the long
+silence. "I want to see the Sergeant-Major and give some orders."
+
+He was gone, and I was alone. In spite of myself my thoughts would drift
+back to what he had been saying, and from there to his wife and the son
+and heir. My mind, overwrought, seemed crowded with pictures: they
+jumbled through my brains like a film on a cinematograph.
+
+I saw his marriage, the bridal arch of officers' swords, the
+sweet-faced, radiant girl. And then his house came on to the screen--the
+house where I had spent many a pleasant week-end while we trained and
+sweated to learn the job in England. He was a man of some wealth was
+Hugh Latimer, and his house showed it; showed moreover his perfect,
+unerring taste. Bits of stuff, curios, knick-knacks from all over the
+world met one in odd corners; prints, books, all of the very best,
+seemed to fit into the scheme as if they'd grown there. Never did a
+single thing seem to whisper as you passed, "I'm really very rare and
+beautiful, but I've been dragged into the wrong place, and now I know
+I'm merely vulgar." There are houses I wot of where those clamorous
+whispers drown the nightingales. But if you can pass through rooms full
+of bric-ŕ-brac--silent bric-ŕ-brac: bric-ŕ-brac conscious of its
+rectitude and needing no self apology, you may be certain that the owner
+will not give you port that is improved by a cigarette.
+
+Then came the son, and Hugh's joy was complete. A bit of a dreamer, a
+bit of a poet, a bit of a philosopher, but with a virility all his own;
+a big man--a man in a thousand, a man I was proud to call Friend. And
+he--at the dictates of "Kultur"--was to-morrow at 6.35 going to expose
+himself to the risk of death, in order to wrest from the Hun a small
+portion of unprepossessing ground. Truly, humour is not dead in the
+world!...
+
+A step outside broke the reel of pictures, and the Sapper Officer looked
+in. "I hear a whisper of activity in the dark and stilly morn," he
+remarked brightly. "Won't it be nice?"
+
+"Very," I said sarcastically. "Are you coming?"
+
+"No, dear one. That's why I thought it would be so nice. My opposite
+number and tireless companion and helper to-morrow morning will prance
+over the greensward with you, leading his merry crowd of minions,
+bristling with bowie knives, sandbags, and other impedimenta."
+
+"Oh! go to Hell," I said crossly. "I want to write a letter."
+
+"Cheer up, Ginger." He dropped his bantering tone. "I'll be up to drink
+a glass of wine with you to-morrow night in the new trench. Tell Latimer
+that the wire is all right--it's been thinned out and won't stop him,
+and that there are ladders for getting out of the trench on each
+traverse."
+
+"Have you been working?" I asked.
+
+"Four hours, and got caught by shrapnel in the middle. Night-night, and
+good luck, old man."
+
+He was gone; and when he had, I wished him back again. For the game
+wasn't new to him--he'd done it before; and I hadn't. It tends to give
+one confidence....
+
+It was about four I woke up. For a few blissful moments I lay forgetful;
+then I turned and saw Hugh. There was a new candle in the bottle, and by
+its flicker I saw the glint in his sombre eyes, the clear-cut line of
+his profile. And I remembered....
+
+I felt as if something had caught me by the stomach--inside: a sinking
+feeling, a feeling of nausea: and for a while I lay still. Outside in
+the darkness the men were rousing themselves; now and again a curse was
+muttered as someone tripped over a leg he didn't see; and once the
+Sergeant-Major's voice rang out--"'Ere, strike a light with them
+breakfasts."
+
+"Awake, Ginger?" Hugh prodded me with his foot. "You'd better get
+something inside you, and then we'll go round and see that everything is
+O.K."
+
+"Have you had any sleep, Hugh?"
+
+"No. I've been reading." He put Maeterlinck's "Blue Bird" on the table.
+With his finger on the title he looked at me musingly, "Shall we find it
+to-day, I wonder?"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I have lingered perhaps a little long on what is after all only the
+introduction to my story. But it is mainly for the sake of Hugh's wife
+that I have written it at all; to show her how he passed the last few
+hours before--the change came. Of what happened just after 6.35 on that
+morning I cannot profess to have any very clear idea. We went over the
+parapet I remember, and forward at the double. For half an hour
+beforehand a rain of our shells had plastered the German trenches in
+front of us, and during those eternal thirty minutes we waited tense.
+Hugh Latimer alone of all the men I saw seemed absolutely unconscious of
+anything unusual. Some of the men were singing below their breath, and
+one I remember sucked his teeth with maddening persistency. And one and
+all watched me curiously, speculatively--or so it seemed to me. Then we
+were off, and of crossing No-Man's-Land I have no recollection. I
+remember a man beside me falling with a crash and nearly tripping me
+up--and then, at last, the Huns. I let drive with my revolver from the
+range of a few inches into the fat, bloated face of a frightened-looking
+man in dirty grey, and as he crashed down I remember shouting, "There's
+the Blue Bird for you, old dear." Little things like that do stick. But
+everything else is just a blurred phantasmagoria in my mind. And after a
+while it was over. The trench was full of still grey figures, with here
+and there a khaki one beside them. A sapper officer forced his way
+through shouting for a working-party. We were the flanking company, and
+vital work had to be done and quick. Barricades rigged up, communication
+trenches which now ran to our Front blocked up, the trench made to fire
+the other way. For we knew there would be a counter-attack, and if you
+fail to consolidate what you've won you won't keep it long. It was while
+I slaved and sweated with the men shifting sandbags--turning the
+parados, or back of the trench into the new parapet, or front--that I
+got word that Hugh was dead. I hadn't seen him since the morning, and
+the rumour passed along from man to man.
+
+"The Captain's took it. Copped it in the head. Bomb took him in the
+napper."
+
+But there was no time to stop and enquire, and with my heart sick within
+me I worked on. One thing at any rate; it had only been a little show,
+but it had been successful--the dear chap hadn't lost his life in a
+failure. Then I saw the doctor for a moment.
+
+"No, he's not dead," he said, "but--he's mighty near it. You know he
+practically ran the show single-handed on the left flank."
+
+"What did he do?" I cried.
+
+"Do? Why he kept a Hun bombing-party who were working up the trench at
+bay for half an hour by himself, which completely saved the situation,
+and then went out into the open, when he was relieved, and pulled in
+seven men who'd been caught by a machine-gun. It was while he was
+getting the last one that a bomb exploded almost on his head. Why he
+wasn't killed on the spot, I simply can't conceive." And the doctor was
+gone.
+
+But strange things happen, and the hand of Death is ever capricious. Was
+it not only the other day that we exploded a mine, and sailing through
+the air there came a Hun--a whole complete Hun. Stunned and winded he
+fell on the parapet of our trench, and having been pulled in and
+revived, at last sat up. "Goot," he murmured; "I hof long vanted to
+surrender...."
+
+Hugh Latimer was not dead--that was the great outstanding fact; though
+had I known the writing in the roll of Fate, I would have wished a
+thousand times that the miracle had not happened. There are worse
+things than death....
+
+And now I bring the first part of my tragedy to a halt; the beginning as
+I called it--that part which Hugh's wife did not know. She, with all the
+world, saw the announcement in the paper, the announcement--bald and
+official of the deed for which he won his V.C. It was much as the doctor
+described it to me. She, with all the world, saw his name in the
+Casualty List as wounded; and on receipt of a telegram from the War
+Office, she crossed to France in fear and trembling--for the wire did
+not mince words; his condition was very critical. He did not know
+her--he was quite unconscious, and had been so for days. That night they
+were trephining, and there was just a hope....
+
+The next morning Hugh knew his wife.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+For the next three months I did not see him. The battalion was still up,
+and I got no chance of going down to Boulogne. He didn't stay there
+long, but, following the ordinary routine of the R.A.M.C., went back to
+England in a hospital ship, and into a home in London. Sir William
+Cremer, the eminent brain specialist, who had operated on him, and been
+particularly interested in his case, kept him under his eye for a
+couple of months, and then he went to his own home to recuperate.
+
+All this and a lot more besides I got in letters from his wife. The King
+himself had graciously come round and presented him with the cross--and
+she was simply brimming over with happiness, dear soul. He was ever so
+much better, and very cheerful; and Sir William was a perfect dear; and
+he'd actually taken out six ounces of brain during the operation, and
+wasn't it wonderful. Also the son and heir grew more perfect every day.
+Which news, needless to say, cheered me immensely.
+
+Then came the first premonition of something wrong. For a fortnight I'd
+not heard from her, and then I got a letter which wasn't quite so
+cheerful.
+
+"... Hugh doesn't seem able to sleep." So ran part of it. "He is
+terribly restless, and at times dreadfully irritable. He doesn't seem to
+have any pain in his head, which is a comfort. But I'm not quite easy
+about him, Ginger. The other evening I was sitting opposite to him in
+the study, and suddenly something compelled me to look at him. I have
+never seen anything like the look in his eyes. He was staring at the
+fire, and his right hand was opening and shutting like a bird's talon. I
+was terrified for a moment, and then I forced myself to speak calmly.
+
+"'Why this ferocious expression, old boy,' I said, with a laugh. For a
+moment he did not answer, but his eyes left the fire, and travelled
+slowly round till they met mine. I never knew what that phrase meant
+till then; it always struck me as a sort of author's license. But that
+evening I felt them coming, and I could have screamed. He gazed at me in
+silence and then at last he spoke.
+
+"'Have you ever heard of the Death Grip? Some day I'll tell you about
+it.' Then he looked away, and I made an excuse to go out of the room,
+for I was shaking with fright. It was so utterly unlike Hugh to make a
+silly remark like that. When I came back later, he was perfectly calm
+and his own self again. Moreover, he seemed to have completely forgotten
+the incident, because he apologised for having been asleep.
+
+"I wanted Sir William to come down and see him; or else for us to go up
+to town, as I expect Sir William is far too busy. But Hugh wouldn't hear
+of it, and got quite angry--so I didn't press the matter. But I'm
+worried, Ginger...."
+
+I read this part of the letter to our doctor. We were having an omelette
+of huit-oeufs, and une bouteille de vin rouge in a little estaminet way
+back, I remember; and I asked him what he thought.
+
+"My dear fellow," he said, "frankly it's impossible to say. You know
+what women are; and that letter may give quite a false impression of
+what really took place. You see what I mean: in her anxiety she may
+have exaggerated some jocular remark. She's had a very wearing time, and
+her own nerves are probably a bit on edge. But----" he paused and leaned
+back. "Encore du vin, s'il vous plaît, mam'selle. But, Ginger, it's no
+good pretending, there may be a very much more sinister meaning behind
+it all. The brain is a most complex organisation, and even such men as
+Cremer are only standing on the threshold of knowledge with regard to
+it. They know a lot--but how much more there is to learn! Latimer, as
+you know, owes his life practically to a miracle. Not once in a thousand
+times would a man escape instant death under such circumstances. A great
+deal of brain matter was exposed, and subsequently removed at Boulogne
+by Sir William, when he trephined. And it is possible that some radical
+alteration has taken place in Hugh Latimer's character, soul--whatever
+you choose to call that part of a man which controls his life--as a
+result of the operation. If what Mrs. Latimer says is the truth--and
+when I say that I mean if what she says is to be relied on as a cold,
+bald statement of what happened--then I am bound to say that I think the
+matter is very serious indeed."
+
+"God Almighty!" I cried, "do you mean to say that you think there is a
+chance of Hugh going mad?"
+
+"To be perfectly frank, I do; always granted that that letter is
+reliable. I consider it vital that whether he wishes to or whether he
+doesn't, Sir William Cremer should be consulted. And--_at once_." The
+doctor emphasised his words with his fist on the table.
+
+"Great Scott! Doc," I muttered. "Do you really think there is danger?"
+
+"I don't know enough of the case to say that. But I do know something
+about the brain, enough to say that there might be not only danger, but
+hideous danger, to everyone in the house." He was silent for a bit and
+then rapped out. "Does Mrs. Latimer share the same room as her husband?"
+
+"I really don't know," I answered. "I imagine so."
+
+"Well, I don't know how well you know her; but until Sir William gives a
+definite opinion, if I knew her well enough, I would strongly advise her
+to sleep in another room--_and lock the door_."
+
+"Good God! you think ..."
+
+"Look here, Ginger, what's the good of beating about the bush. It is
+possible--I won't say probable--that Hugh Latimer is on the road to
+becoming a homicidal maniac. And if, by any chance, that assumption is
+correct, the most hideous tragedy might happen at any moment. Mam'selle,
+l'addition s'il vous plaît. You're going on leave shortly, aren't you?"
+
+"In two days," I answered.
+
+"Well, go down and see for yourself; it won't require a doctor to
+notice the symptoms. And if what I fear is correct, track out Cremer in
+his lair--find him somehow and find him quickly."
+
+We walked up the road together, and my glance fell on the plot of ground
+on the right, covered so thickly with little wooden crosses. As I looked
+away the doctor's eyes and mine met. And there was the same thought in
+both our minds.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Three days later I was in Hugh's house. His wife met me at the station,
+and before we got into the car my heart sank. I knew something was
+wrong.
+
+"How is he?" I asked, as we swung out of the gates.
+
+"Oh! Ginger," she said. "I'm frightened--frightened to death."
+
+"What is it, lady," I cried. "Has he been looking at you like that
+again, the way you described in the letter?"
+
+"Yes--it's getting more frequent. And at nights--oh! my God! it's awful.
+Poor old Hugh."
+
+She broke down at that, while I noticed that her hands were all
+trembling, and that dark shadows were round her eyes.
+
+"Tell me about it," I said, "for we must do something."
+
+She pulled herself together, and called through the speaking-tube to
+the chauffeur. "Go a little way round, Jervis. I don't want to get in
+till tea-time."
+
+Then she turned to me. "Since his operation I've been using another
+room." The doctor's words flashed into my mind. "Sir William thought it
+essential that he should have really long undisturbed nights, and I'm
+such a light sleeper. For a few weeks everything panned out splendidly.
+He seemed to get better and stronger, and he was just the same dear old
+Hugh he's always been. Then gradually the restlessness started; he
+couldn't sleep, he became irritable,--and the one thing which made him
+most irritable of all was any suggestion that he wasn't going on all
+right; or any hint even that he should see a doctor. Then came the
+incident I wrote to you about. Since that evening I've often caught the
+same look in his eye." She shuddered, and again I noticed the quiver in
+her hands, but she quickly controlled herself. "Last night, I woke up
+suddenly. It must have been about three, for it was pitch dark, and I
+think I'd been asleep some hours. I don't know what woke me; but in an
+instant I knew there was someone in the room. I lay trembling with
+fright, and suddenly out of the darkness came a hideous chuckle. It was
+the most awful, diabolical noise I've ever heard. Then I heard his
+voice.
+
+"He was muttering, and all I could catch were the words 'Death-Grip.' I
+nearly fainted with terror, but forced myself to keep consciousness. How
+long he stood there I don't know, but after an eternity it seemed, I
+heard the door open and shut. I heard him cross the passage, and go into
+his own room. Then there was silence. I forced myself to move; I
+switched on the light, and locked the door. And when dawn came in
+through the windows, I was still sitting in a chair sobbing, shaking
+like a terrified child.
+
+"This morning he was perfectly normal, and just as cheerful and loving
+as he'd ever been. Oh! Ginger, what am I to do?" She broke down and
+cried helplessly.
+
+"You poor kid," I said; "what an awful experience! You must lock your
+door to-night, and to-morrow, with or without Hugh's knowledge, I shall
+go up to see Cremer."
+
+"You don't think; oh! it couldn't be true that Hugh, my Hugh, is
+going----" She wouldn't say the word, but just gazed at me fearfully
+through her tears.
+
+"Hush, my lady," I said quietly. "The brain is a funny thing; perhaps
+there is some pressure somewhere which Sir William will be able to
+remove."
+
+"Why, of course that's it. I'm tired, stupid--it's made me exaggerate
+things. It will mean another operation, that's all. Wasn't it splendid
+about his getting the V.C.; and the King, so gracious, so kind...." She
+talked bravely on, and I tried to help her.
+
+But suppose there wasn't any pressure; suppose there was nothing to
+remove; suppose.... And in my mind I saw the plot with the little wooden
+crosses; in my mind I heard the express for somewhere booming sullenly
+overhead. And I wondered ... shuddered.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Hugh met us at the door; dear old Hugh, looking as well as he ever did.
+
+"Splendid, Ginger, old man! So glad you managed the leave all right."
+
+"Not a hitch, Hugh. You're looking very fit."
+
+"I am. Fit as a flea. You ask Elsie what she thinks."
+
+His wife smiled. "You're just wonderful, old boy, except for your
+sleeplessness at night. I want him to see Sir William Cremer, Ginger,
+but he doesn't think it worth while."
+
+"I don't," said Hugh shortly. "Damn that old sawbones."
+
+In another man the remark would have passed unnoticed; but the chauffeur
+was there, and a maid, and his wife--and the expression was quite
+foreign to Hugh.
+
+But I am bound to say that except for that one trifling thing I noticed
+absolutely nothing peculiar about him all the evening. At dinner he was
+perfectly normal; quite charming--his own brilliant self. When he was in
+the mood, I have seldom heard his equal as a conversationalist, and that
+night he was at the top of his form. I almost managed to persuade myself
+that my fears were groundless....
+
+"I want to have a buck with Ginger, dear," he said to his wife after
+dinner was over. "A talk over the smells and joys of Flanders."
+
+"But I should like to hear," she answered. "It's so hard to get you men
+to talk."
+
+"I don't think you would like to hear, my dear." His tone was quite
+normal, but there was a strange note of insistence in it. "It's shop,
+and will bore you dreadfully." He still stood by the door waiting for
+her to pass through. After a moment's hesitation she went, and Hugh
+closed the door after her. What suggested the analogy to my mind I
+cannot say, but the way in which he performed the simple act of closing
+the door seemed to be the opening rite of some ceremony. Thus could I
+picture a morphomaniac shutting himself in from prying gaze, before
+abandoning himself to his vice; the drunkard, at last alone, returning
+gloatingly to his bottle. Perhaps my perceptions were quickened, but it
+seemed to me that Hugh came back to me as if I were his colleague in
+some guilty secret--as if his wife were alien to his thoughts, and now
+that she was gone, we could talk.... His first words proved I was right.
+
+"Now we can talk, Ginger," he remarked. "These women don't understand."
+He pushed the port towards me.
+
+"Understand what?" I was watching him closely.
+
+"Life, my boy, _the_ life. The life of an eye for an eye and a tooth for
+a tooth. Gad! it was a great day that, Ginger." His eyes were fixed on
+me, and for the first time I noticed the red in them, and a peculiar
+twitch in the lids.
+
+"Did you find the Blue Bird?" I asked quietly.
+
+"Find it?" He laughed--and it was not a pleasant laugh. "I used to think
+it lay in books, in art, in music." Again he gave way to a fit of
+devilish mirth. "What damned fools we are, old man, what damned fools.
+But you mustn't tell her." He leaned over the table and spoke
+confidentially. "She'd never understand; that's why I got rid of her."
+He lifted his glass to the light, looking at it as a connoisseur looks
+at a rare vintage, while all the time a strange smile--a cruel
+smile--hovered round his lips. "Music--art," his voice was full of
+scorn. "Only we know better. Did I ever tell you about that grip I
+learned in Sumatra--the Death Grip?"
+
+He suddenly fired the question at me, and for a moment I did not
+answer. All my fears were rushing back into my mind with renewed
+strength; it was not so much the question as the tone--and the eyes of
+the speaker.
+
+"No, never." I lit a cigarette with elaborate care.
+
+"Ah! Someday I must show you. You take a man's throat in your right
+hand, and you put your left behind his neck--like that." His hands were
+curved in front of him--curved as if a man's throat was in them. "Then
+you press and press with the two thumbs--like that; with the right thumb
+on a certain muscle in the neck, and the left on an artery under the
+ear; and you go on pressing, until--until there's no need to press any
+longer. It's wonderful." I can't hope to give any idea of the dreadful
+gloating tone in his voice.
+
+"I got a Prussian officer like that, that day," he went on after a
+moment. "I saw his dirty grey face close to mine, and I got my hands on
+his throat. I'd forgotten the exact position for the grip, and then
+suddenly I remembered it. I squeezed and squeezed--and, Ginger, the grip
+was right. I squeezed his life out in ten seconds." His voice rose to a
+shout.
+
+"Steady, Hugh," I cried. "You'll be frightening Elsie."
+
+"Quite right," he answered; "that would never do. I haven't told her
+that little incident--she wouldn't understand. But I'm going to show
+her the grip one of these days. As a soldier's wife, I think it's a
+thing she ought to know."
+
+He relapsed into silence, apparently quite calm, though his eyelids
+still twitched, while I watched him covertly from time to time. In my
+mind now there was no shadow of doubt that the doctor's fears were
+justified; I knew that Hugh Latimer was insane. That his loss of mental
+balance was periodical and not permanent was not the point; layman
+though I was, I could realise the danger to everyone in the house. At
+the moment the tragedy of the case hardly struck me; I could only think
+of the look on his face, the gloating, watching look--and Elsie and the
+boy....
+
+At half-past nine he went to bed, and I had a few words with his wife.
+
+"Lock your door to-night," I said insistently, "as you value everything,
+lock your door. I am going to see Cremer to-morrow."
+
+"What's he been saying?" she asked, and her lips were white. "I heard
+him shouting once."
+
+"Enough to make me tell you to lock your door," I said as lightly as I
+could. "Elsie, you've got to be brave; something has gone wrong with
+poor old Hugh for the time, and until he's put right again, there are
+moments when he's not responsible for his actions. Don't be uneasy; I
+shall be on hand to-night."
+
+"I shan't be uneasy" she answered, and then she turned away, and I saw
+her shoulders shaking. "My Hugh--my poor old man." I caught the
+whispered words, and she was gone.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I suppose it was about two that I woke with a start. I had meant to keep
+awake the whole night, and with that idea I had not undressed, but,
+sitting in a chair before the fire, had tried to keep myself awake with
+a book. But the journey from France had made me sleepy, and the book had
+slipped to the floor, as has been known to happen before. The light was
+still on, though the fire had burned low; and I was cramped and stiff.
+For a moment I sat listening intently--every faculty awake; and then I
+heard a door gently close, and a step in the passage. I switched off the
+light and listened.
+
+Instinctively, I knew the crisis had come, and with the need for action
+I became perfectly cool. Soft footsteps, like a man walking in his
+socks, came distinctly through the door which I had left ajar--once a
+board creaked. And after that sharp ominous crack there was silence for
+a space; the nocturnal walker was cautious, cautious with the devilish
+cunning of the madman.
+
+It seemed to me an eternity as I listened--straining to hear in the
+silent house--then once again there came the soft pad-pad of stockinged
+feet; nearer and nearer till they halted outside my door. I could hear
+the heavy breathing of someone outside, and then stealthily my door was
+pushed open. In the dim light which filtered in from the passage Hugh's
+figure was framed in the doorway. With many pauses and very cautious
+steps he moved to the bed, while I pressed against the wall watching
+him.
+
+His hands wandered over the pillows, and then he muttered to himself.
+"Old Ginger--I suppose he hasn't come to bed yet. And I wanted to show
+him that little grip--that little death-grip." He chuckled horribly.
+"Never mind--Elsie, dear little Elsie; I will show her first. Though she
+won't understand so well--only Ginger would really understand."
+
+He moved to the door, and once again the slow padding of his feet
+sounded in the passage; while he still muttered, though I could not hear
+what he said. Then he came to his wife's door and cautiously turned the
+handle....
+
+What happened then happened quickly. He realised quickly that it was
+locked, and this seemed to infuriate him. He gave an inarticulate shout,
+and rattled the door violently; then he drew back to the other side of
+the passage and prepared to charge it. And at that moment we closed.
+
+I had followed him out of my room, and, knowing myself to be far
+stronger than him, I threw myself on him without a thought I hadn't
+reckoned on the strength of a madman, and for two minutes he threw me
+about as if I were a child. We struggled and fought, while frightened
+maids wrung their hands--and a white-faced woman watched with tearless
+eyes. And at last I won; when his temporary strength gave out, he was as
+weak as a child. Poor old Hugh! Poor old chap!...
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Sir William Cremer came down the next day, and to him I told everything.
+He made all the necessary wretched arrangements, and the dear fellow was
+taken away--seemingly quite sane--and telling Elsie he'd be back soon.
+
+"They say I need a change, old dear, and this old tyrant says I've been
+restless at night." He had his hand on Sir William's shoulder as he
+spoke, while the car was waiting at the door.
+
+"Jove! little girl--you do look a bit washed out Have I been worrying
+you?"
+
+"Of course not, old man." Her voice was perfectly steady.
+
+"There you are, Sir William." He turned triumphantly to the doctor.
+"Still perhaps you're right. Where's the young rascal? Give me a kiss,
+you scamp--and look after your mother while I'm away. I'll be back
+soon." He went down the steps and into the car.
+
+"And very likely he will, Mrs. Latimer. Keep your spirits up and never
+despair." Sir William patted her shoulder paternally, but over her bent
+head I saw his eyes.
+
+"God knows," he said reverently to me as he followed Hugh. "The brain is
+such a wonderful thing; just a tiny speck and a genius becomes a madman.
+God knows."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Later on I too went away, carrying in my mind the picture of a girl--she
+was no more--holding a little bronze cross in front of a laughing
+baby--the cross on which is written, "For Valour." And once again my
+mind went back to that little plot in Flanders covered with wooden
+crosses.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+JAMES HENRY
+
+
+James Henry was the sole remaining son of his mother, and she was a
+widow. His father, some twelve months previously, had inadvertently
+encountered a motor-car travelling at great speed, and had forthwith
+been laid to rest. His sisters--whom James Henry affected to
+despise--had long since left the parental roof and gone to seek their
+Fortunes in the great world; while his brothers had in all cases died
+violent deaths, following in the steps of their lamented father. In
+fact, as I said, James Henry was alone in the world saving only for his
+mother: and as she'd married again since his father's death he felt that
+his responsibility so far as she was concerned was at an end. In fact,
+he frequently cut her when he met her about the house.
+
+Relations had become particularly strained after this second matrimonial
+venture. An aristocrat of the most unbending description himself, he had
+been away during the period of her courtship--otherwise, no doubt, he
+would have protected his father's stainless escutcheon. As it was, he
+never quite recovered from the shock.
+
+It was at breakfast one morning that he heard the news. Lady Monica told
+him as she handed him his tea. "James Henry," she remarked
+reproachfully, "your mother is a naughty woman." True to his
+aristocratic principle of stoical calm he continued to consume his
+morning beverage. There were times when the mention of his mother bored
+him to extinction. "A very naughty woman," she continued. "Dad"--she
+addressed a man who had just come into the room--"it's occurred."
+
+"What--have they come?"
+
+"Yes--last night. Five."
+
+"Are they good ones?"
+
+Lady Alice laughed. "I was just telling James Henry what I thought of
+his Family when you came in. I'm afraid Harriet Emily is incorrigible."
+
+"Look at James!" exclaimed the Earl--"he's spilled his tea all over the
+carpet." He was inspecting the dishes on the sideboard as he spoke.
+
+"He always does. His whiskers dribble. Jervis tells me that he thinks
+Harriet Emily must have--er--flirted with a most undesirable
+acquaintance."
+
+"Oh! has she?" Her father opened the morning paper and started to enjoy
+his breakfast. "We must drown 'em, my dear, drown---- Hullo! the
+Russians have crossed the----" It sounded like an explosion in a
+soda-water factory, and James Henry protested.
+
+"Quite right, Henry. He oughtn't to do it at breakfast. It doesn't
+really make any one any happier. Did _you_ know about your mother? Now
+don't gobble your food." Lady Monica held up an admonishing finger.
+"Four of your brothers and sisters are more or less respectable, James,
+but there's _one_--there's one that is distinctly reminiscent of a
+dachshund. Oh! 'Arriet, 'Arriet--I'm ashamed of you."
+
+James Henry sneezed heavily and got down from the table. Always a
+perfect gentleman, he picked up the crumbs round his chair, and even
+went so far as to salvage a large piece of sausage skin which had
+slipped on to the floor. Then, full of rectitude and outwardly
+unconcerned, he retired to a corner behind a cupboard and earnestly
+contemplated a little hole in the floor.
+
+Outwardly calm--yes: that at least was due to the memory of his
+blue-blooded father. But inwardly, he seethed. With his head on one side
+he alternately sniffed and blew as he had done regularly every morning
+for the past two months. His father's wife the mother of a sausage-dog!
+Incredible! It must have been that miserable fat beast who lived at the
+Pig and Whistle. The insolence--the inconceivable impertinence of such
+an unsightly, corpulent traducer daring to ally himself with One of the
+Fox Terriers. He growled slightly in his disgust, and three mice inside
+the wall laughed gently. But--still, the girls are ever frail. He
+blushed slightly at some recollection, and realised that he must make
+allowances. But a sausage dog! Great Heavens!
+
+"James--avançons, mon brave." Lady Monica was standing in the window.
+"We will hie us to the village. Dad, don't forget that our branch of the
+Federated Association of Women War Workers are drilling here this
+afternoon."
+
+"Good Heavens! my dear girl--is it?" Her father gazed at her in alarm.
+"I think--er--I think I shall have to--er--run up to Town--er--this
+afternoon."
+
+"I thought you'd have to, old dear. In fact, I've ordered the car for
+you. Come along, Henry--we must go and get a boy scout to be bandaged."
+
+James Henry gave one last violently facial contortion at the entrance of
+the mouse's lair, and rose majestically to his feet. If she wanted to go
+out, he fully realised that he must go with her: Emily would have to
+wait. He would go round later and see his poor misguided mother and
+reason with her; but just at present the girl was his principal duty.
+She generally asked his advice on various things when they went for a
+walk, and the least he could do was to pretend to be interested at any
+rate.
+
+Apparently this morning she was in need of much counsel and help.
+Having arrived at a clearing in the wood, on the way to the village, she
+sat down on the fallen trunk of a tree, and addressed him.
+
+"James--what am I to do? Derek is coming this afternoon before he goes
+back to France. What shall I tell him, Henry--what _shall_ I tell him?
+Because I know he'll ask me again. Thank you, old man, but you're not
+very helpful, and I'd much sooner you kept it yourself."
+
+Disgustedly James Henry removed the carcase of a field mouse he had just
+procured, and resigned himself to the inevitable.
+
+"I'm fond of him; I like him--in fact at times more than like him. But
+is it the _real_ thing? Now what do you think, James Henry?--tell me all
+that is in your mind. Ought I----"
+
+It was then that he gave his celebrated rendering of a young typhoon,
+owing to the presence of a foreign substance--to wit, a fly--in a
+ticklish spot on his nose.
+
+"You think that, do you? Well, perhaps you're right. Come on, my lad, we
+must obtain the victim for this afternoon. I wonder if those little boys
+like it? To do some good and kindly action each day--that's their motto,
+James. And as one person to another you must admit that to be revived
+from drowning, resuscitated from fainting, brought to from an epileptic
+fit, and have two knees, an ankle, and a collarbone set at the same
+time is some good action even for a boy scout."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was not until after lunch that James Henry paid his promised call on
+his mother. Maturer considerations had but strengthened his resolve to
+make allowances. After all, these things do happen in the best families.
+He was, indeed, prepared to be magnanimous and forgive; he was even
+prepared to be interested; the only thing he wasn't prepared for was the
+nasty bite he got on his ear. That settled it. It was then that he
+finally washed his hands of his undutiful parent. As he told her, he
+felt more sorrow than anger; he should have realised that anyone who
+could have dealings with a sausage-hound must be dead to all sense of
+decency--and that the only thing he asked was that in the future she
+would conceal the fact that they were related.
+
+Then he left her--and trotting round to the front of the house, found
+great activity in progress on the lawn.
+
+"Good Heavens! James Henry, do they often do this?" With a shout of joy
+he recognised the speaker. And having told him about Harriet, and blown
+heavily at a passing spider and then trodden on it, he sat down beside
+the soldier on the steps. The game on the lawn at first sight looked
+dull; and he only favoured it with a perfunctory glance. In fact, what
+on earth there was in it to make the soldier beside him shake and shake
+while the tears periodically rolled down his face was quite beyond
+Henry.
+
+The principal player seemed to be a large man--also in khaki--with a
+loud voice. Up to date he had said nothing but "Now then, ladies," at
+intervals, and in a rising crescendo. Then it all became complicated.
+
+"Now then, ladies, when I says Number--you numbers from Right to Left in
+an heven tone of voice. The third lady from the left 'as no lady behind
+'er--seeing as we're a hodd number. She forms the blank file. Yes, you,
+mum--you, I means."
+
+"What are you pointing at me for, my good man?" The Vicar's wife
+suddenly realised she was being spoken to. "Am I doing anything wrong?"
+
+"No, mum, no. Not this time. I was only saying as you 'ave no one behind
+you."
+
+"Oh! I'll go there at once--I'm so sorry." She retired to the rear rank.
+"Dear Mrs. Goodenough, _did_ I tread upon your foot?--so clumsy of me!
+Oh, what is that man saying now? But you've just told me to come here.
+You did nothing of the sort? How rude!"
+
+But as I said, the game did not interest James Henry, so he wandered
+away and played in some bushes. There were distinct traces of a recently
+moving mole which was far more to the point. Then having found--after a
+diligent search and much delight in pungent odours--that the mole was a
+has-been, our Henry disappeared for a space. And far be it from me to
+disclose where he went: his intentions were always strictly honourable.
+
+When he appeared again the Earl had just returned from London, and was
+talking to the tall soldier-man. The Women War Workers had departed,
+and, as James Henry approached, his mistress came out and joined the two
+men.
+
+"Have those dreadful women gone, my dear?" asked the Earl as he saw her.
+
+"You're very rude, Dad. The Federated Association of the W.W.W. is a
+very fine body of patriotic women. What did you think of our drill,
+Derek?"
+
+"Wonderful, Monica. Quite the most wonderful thing I've ever seen." The
+soldier solemnly offered her a cigarette.
+
+"You men are all jealous. We're coming out to France as V.A.D.'s soon."
+
+"Good Lord, Derek--you ought to have seen their first drill. In one
+corner of the lawn that poor devil of a sergeant with his face a shiny
+purple alternately sobbed and bellowed like a bull--while twenty-seven
+W.W.W.'s tied themselves into a knot like a Rugby football scrum, and
+told one another how they'd done it. It was the most heart-rending
+sight I've ever seen."
+
+"Dear old Dad!" The girl blew a cloud of smoke. "You told it better last
+time."
+
+"Don't interrupt, Monica. The final tableau----"
+
+"Which one are you going to tell him, dear? The one where James Henry
+bit the Vicar's wife in the leg, or the one where the sergeant with a
+choking cry of 'Double, damn you!' fell fainting into the rhododendron
+bush?"
+
+"I think the second is the better," remarked the soldier pensively.
+"Dogs always bite the Vicar's wife's leg. Not a hobby I should
+personally take up, but----"
+
+They all laughed. "Now run indoors, old 'un, and tell John to get you a
+mixed Vermouth--I want to talk to Derek." The girl gently pushed her
+father towards the open window.
+
+It was at that particular moment in James Henry's career that, having
+snapped at a wasp and partially killed it, he inadvertently sat on the
+carcase by mistake. As he explained to Harriet Emily afterwards, it
+wasn't so much the discomfort of the proceeding which annoyed him, as
+the unfeeling laughter of the spectators. And it was only when she'd
+bitten him in the other ear that he remembered he had disowned her that
+very afternoon.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+But elsewhere, though he was quite unaware of the fact, momentous
+decisions as to his future were being taken. The Earl had gone in to get
+his mixed Vermouth, and outside his daughter and the soldier-man sat and
+talked. It was fragmentary, disjointed--the talk of old friends with
+much in common. Only in the man's voice there was that suppressed note
+which indicates things more than any mere words. Monica heard it and
+sighed--she'd heard it so often before in his voice. James Henry had
+heard it too during a previous talk--one which he had graced with his
+presence--and had gone to the extent of discussing it with a friend. On
+this occasion he had been gently dozing on the man's knee, when suddenly
+he had been rudely awakened. In his dreams he had heard her say, "Dear
+old Derek--I'm afraid it's No. You see, I'm not sure;" which didn't seem
+much to make a disturbance about.
+
+"Would you believe it," he remarked later, "but as she spoke the
+soldier-man's grip tightened on my neck till I was almost choked."
+
+"What did you do?" asked his Friend, a disreputable "long-dog." "Did you
+bite him?"
+
+"I did not." James Henry sniffed. "It was not a biting moment. Tact was
+required. I just gave a little cough, and instantly he took his hand
+away. 'Old man,' he whispered to me--she'd left us--'I'm sorry. I
+didn't mean to--I wasn't thinking.' So I licked his hand to show him I
+understood."
+
+"I know what you mean. I'm generally there when my bloke comes out of
+prison, and he always kicks me. But it's meant kindly."
+
+"As a matter of fact that is not what I mean--though I daresay your
+experiences on such matters are profound." James was becoming
+blue-blooded. "The person who owns you, and who is in the habit of going
+to--er--prison, no doubt shows his affection for you in that way. And
+very suitable too. But the affair to which I alluded is quite different.
+The soldier-man is almost as much in my care as the girl. And so I know
+his feelings. At the time, he was suffering though why I don't
+understand; and therefore it was up to me to suffer with him. It helped
+him."
+
+"H'm," the lurcher grunted. "Daresay you're right. What about a trip to
+the gorse? I haven't seen a rabbit for some time."
+
+And if Henry had not sat on the wasp, his neck might again have been
+squeezed that evening. As it was, the danger period was over by the time
+he reappeared and jumped into the girl's lap. Not only had the sixth
+proposal been gently turned down--but James's plans for the near future
+had been settled for him in a most arbitrary manner.
+
+"Well, old man, how's the tail?" laughed the soldier. James Henry
+yawned--the subject seemed a trifle personal even amongst old friends.
+"Have you heard you're coming with me to France?"
+
+"And you must bring him to me as soon as I get over," cried the girl.
+
+"At once, dear lady. I'll ask for special leave, and if necessary an
+armistice."
+
+"Won't you bark at the Huns, my cherub?" She laughed and got up. "Go to
+your uncle--I'm going to dress."
+
+What happened then was almost more than even the most long-suffering
+terrier could stand. He was unceremoniously bundled into his uncle's
+arms by his mistress, and at the same moment she bent down. A strange
+noise was heard such as he had frequently noted, coming from the top of
+his own head, when his mistress was in an affectionate mood--a peculiar
+form of exercise he deduced, which apparently amused some people. But
+the effect on the soldier was electrical. He sprang out of his chair
+with a shout--"Monica--you little devil--come back," and James Henry
+fell winded to the floor. But a flutter of white disappearing indoors
+was the only answer....
+
+"She's not sure, James, my son--she's not sure." The man pulled out his
+cigarette case and contemplated him thoughtfully. "And how the deuce
+are we to make her sure? I want it, and her father wants it, and so
+does she if she only knew it. They're the devil, James Henry--they're
+the devil."
+
+But his hearer did not want philosophy; he wanted his tummy rubbed. He
+lay with one eye closed, his four paws turned up limply towards the sky,
+and sighed gently. Never before had the suggestion failed; enthusiastic
+admirers had always taken the hint gladly, and he had graciously allowed
+them the pleasure. But this time--horror upon horror--not only was there
+no result, but in a dreamy, contemplative manner the soldier actually
+deposited his used and still warm match carefully on the spot where
+James Henry's wind had been. Naturally there was only one possible
+course open to him. He rose quietly, and left. It was only when he was
+thinking the matter over later that it struck him that his exit would
+have been more dignified if he hadn't sat down halfway across the lawn
+to scratch his right ear. It was more than likely that a completely
+false construction would be put on that simple action by anyone who
+didn't know he'd had words with Harriet Emily.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Thus James Henry--gentleman, at his country seat in England. I have gone
+out of my way to describe what may be taken as an average day in his
+life, in order to show him as he was before he went to France to be
+banished from the country--cashiered in disgrace a few weeks after his
+arrival. Which only goes to prove the change that war causes in even the
+most polished and courtly.
+
+I am told that the alteration for the worse started shortly after his
+arrival at the front. What did it I don't know--but he lost one whisker
+and a portion of an ear, thus giving him a somewhat lopsided appearance;
+though rakish withal. It may have been a detonator which went off as he
+ate it--it may have been foolish curiosity over a maxim--it may even
+have been due to the fact that he found a motor-bicycle standing still,
+what time it made strange provocative noises, and failed to notice that
+the back wheel was off the ground and rotating at a great pace.
+
+Whatever it was it altered James Henry. Not that it soured his
+temper--not at all; but it made him more reckless, less careful of
+appearances. He forgot the repose that stamps the caste of Vere de Vere,
+and a series of incidents occurred which tended to strain relations all
+round.
+
+There was the question of the three dead chickens, for instance. Had
+they disappeared decently and in order much might have been thought but
+nothing would have been known. But when they were deposited on their
+owner's doorstep, with James Henry mounting guard over the corpses
+himself, it was a little difficult to explain the matter away. That was
+the trouble--his sense of humour seemed to have become distorted.
+
+The pastime of hunting for rats in the sewers of Ypres cannot be too
+highly commended; but having got thoroughly wet in the process, James
+Henry's practice of depositing the rat and himself on the Adjutant's bed
+was open to grave criticism.
+
+But enough: these two instances were, I am sorry to state, but types of
+countless other regrettable episodes which caused the popularity of
+James Henry to wane.
+
+The final decree of death or banishment came when James had been in the
+country some seven weeks.
+
+On the day in question a dreadful shout was heard, followed by a flood
+of language which I will refrain from committing to print. And then the
+Colonel appeared in the door of his dug-out.
+
+"Where is that accursed idiot, Murgatroyd? Pass the word along for the
+damn fool."
+
+"'Urry up, Conky. The ole man's a-twittering for you." Murgatroyd
+emerged from a recess.
+
+"What's 'e want?"
+
+"I'd go and find out, cully. I think 'e's going to mention you in 'is
+will." At that moment a fresh outburst floated through the stillness.
+
+"Great 'Eavens!" Murgatroyd reluctantly rose to his feet. "So long,
+boys. Tell me mother she was in me thoughts up to the end." He paused
+outside the dug-out and then went manfully in. "You wanted me, sir."
+
+"Look at this, you blithering ass, look at this." The Colonel was
+searching through his Fortnum and Mason packing-case on the floor.
+"Great Heavens! and the caviar too--imbedded in the butter. Five defunct
+rodents in the brawn"--he threw each in turn at his servant, who dodged
+round the dug-out like a pea in a drum--"the marmalade and the pâté de
+fois gras inseparably mixed together, and the whole covered with a thick
+layer of disintegrating cigar."
+
+"It wasn't me, sir," Murgatroyd spoke in an aggrieved tone.
+
+"I didn't suppose it was, you fool." The Colonel straightened himself
+and glared at his hapless minion. "Great Heavens! there's another rat on
+my hairbrush."
+
+"One of the same five, sir. It ricocheted off my face." With a
+magnificent nonchalance his servant threw it out of the door. "I think,
+sir, it must be James 'Enry."
+
+"Who the devil is James Henry?"
+
+"Sir Derek Temple's little dawg, sir."
+
+"Indeed." The Colonel's tone was ominous. "Go round and ask Sir Derek
+Temple to be good enough to come and see me at once."
+
+What happened exactly at that interview I cannot say; although I
+understand that James Henry considered an absurd fuss had been made
+about a trifle. In fact he found it so difficult to lie down with any
+comfort that night that he missed much of his master's conversation with
+him.
+
+"You've topped it, James, you've put the brass hat on. The old man
+threatens to turn out a firing party if he ever sees you again."
+
+James feigned sleep: this continual harping on what was over and done
+with he considered the very worst of form. Even if he had put the caviar
+in the butter and his foot in the marmalade--well, hang it all--what
+then? He'd presented the old buster with five dead rats, which was more
+than he'd do for a lot of people.
+
+"In fact, James, you are not popular, my boy--and I shudder to think
+what Monica will do with you when she gets you. She's come over, you may
+be pleased to hear, Henry. She is V.A.D.-ing at a charming hospital that
+overlooks the sea. James, why can't I go sick--and live for a space at
+that charming hospital that overlooks the sea? Think of it: here am I,
+panting to have my face washed by her, panting----"
+
+For a moment he rhapsodised in silence. "Breakfast in bed, poached egg
+in the bed: oh! James, my boy, and she probably never even thinks of
+me."
+
+He took a letter out of his pocket and held it under the light of the
+candle. "'Not much to do at present, but delightful weather. The
+hospital is nearly empty, though there's one perfect dear who is almost
+fit--a Major in some Highland regiment.'
+
+"Listen to that, James. Some great raw-boned, red-kneed Scotchman, and
+she calls him a perfect dear!" His listener blew resignedly and again
+composed himself to slumber.
+
+"'How is James behaving? I'd love to see the sweet pet again.' Sweet
+pet: yes--my boy--you look it. 'Do you remember how annoyed he was when
+I put him in your arms that afternoon at home?' Do you hear that,
+James?--do I remember? Monica, you adorable soul...." He relapsed into
+moody thought.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At what moment during that restless night the idea actually came I know
+not. Possibly a diabolical chuckle on the part of James Henry, who was
+hunting in his dreams, goaded him to desperation. But it is an undoubted
+fact that when Sir Derek Temple rose the next morning he had definitely
+determined to embark on the adventure which culminated in the tragedy of
+the cat, the General, and James. The latter is reputed to regard the
+affair as quite trifling and unworthy of the fierce glare of publicity
+that beat upon it. The cat, has, or rather had, different views.
+
+Now, be it known to those who live in England that it is one thing to
+say in an airy manner, as Derek had said to Lady Monica, that he would
+come and see her when she landed in France; it is another to do it. But
+to a determined and unprincipled man nothing is impossible; and though
+it would be the height of indiscretion for me to hint even at the
+methods he used to attain his ends, it is a certain fact that in the
+afternoon of the second day following the episode of the five rodents he
+found himself at a certain seaport town with James Henry as the other
+member of the party. And having had his hair cut, and extricated his
+companion from a street brawl, he hired a motor and drove into the
+country.
+
+Now, Derek Temple's knowledge of hospitals and their ways was not
+profound. He had a hazy idea that on arriving at the portals he would
+send in his name, and that in due course he could consume a tęte-ŕ-tęte
+tea with Monica in her private boudoir. He rehearsed the scene in his
+mind: the quiet, cutting reference to Highlanders who failed to
+understand the official position of nurses--the certainty that this
+particular one was a scoundrel: the fact that, on receiving her letter,
+he had at once rushed off to protect her.
+
+And as he got to this point the car turned into the gates of a palatial
+hotel and stopped by the door. James Henry jumped through the open
+window, and his master followed him up the steps.
+
+"Is Lady Monica Travers at home; I mean--er--is she in the hospital?" He
+addressed an R.A.M.C. sergeant in the entrance.
+
+"No dawgs allowed in the 'ospital, sir." The scandalised N.C.O. glared
+at James Henry, who was furiously growling at a hot-air grating in the
+floor. "You must get 'im out at once, sir: we're being inspected
+to-day."
+
+"Heel, James, heel. He'll be quite all right, Sergeant. Just find out,
+will you, about Lady Monica Travers?"
+
+"Beg pardon, sir, but are you a patient?"
+
+"Patient--of course I'm not a patient. Do I look like a patient?"
+
+"Well, sir, there ain't no visiting allowed when the sisters is on
+duty."
+
+"What? But it's preposterous. Do you mean to say I can't see her unless
+I'm a patient? Why, man, I've got to go back in an hour."
+
+"Very sorry, sir--but no visiting allowed. Very strict 'ere, and as I
+says we're full of brass 'ats to-day."
+
+For a moment Derek was nonplussed; this was a complication on which he
+had not reckoned.
+
+"But look here, Sergeant, you know..." and even as he spoke he looked
+upstairs and beheld Lady Monica. Unfortunately she had not seen him, and
+the situation was desperate. Forcing James Henry into the arms of the
+outraged N.C.O., he rushed up the stairs and followed her.
+
+"Derek!" The girl stopped in amazement. "What in the world are you doing
+here?"
+
+"Monica, my dear, I've come to see you. Tell me that you don't really
+love that damn Scotchman."
+
+An adorable smile spread over her face. "You idiot! I don't love anyone.
+My work fills my life."
+
+"Rot! You said in your letter you had nothing to do at present. Monica,
+take me somewhere where I can make love to you."
+
+"I shall do nothing of the sort. In the first place you aren't allowed
+here at all; and in the second I don't want to be made love to."
+
+"And in the third," said Derek grimly, as the sound of a procession
+advancing down a corridor came from round the corner, "you're being
+inspected to-day, and that--if I mistake not--is the great pan-jan-drum
+himself."
+
+"Oh! good Heavens. Derek, I'd forgotten. Do go, for goodness' sake.
+Run--I shall be sacked."
+
+"I shall not go. As the great man himself rounds that corner I shall
+kiss you with a loud trumpeting noise.'
+
+"You brute! Oh! what shall I do?--there they are. Come in here." She
+grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him into a small deserted
+sitting-room close by.
+
+"You darling," he remarked and promptly kissed her. "Monica, dear, you
+must listen----"
+
+"Sit down, you idiot. I'm sure they saw me. You must pretend you're a
+patient just come in. I know I shall be sacked. The General is
+dreadfully particular. Put this thermometer in your mouth. Quick, give
+me your hand--I must take your pulse."
+
+"I think," said a voice outside the door, "that I saw--er--a patient
+being brought into one of these rooms."
+
+"Surely not, sir. These rooms are all empty." The door opened and the
+cavalcade paused. "Er--Lady Monica... really."
+
+"A new patient, Colonel," she remarked. "I am just taking his
+temperature." Derek, his eyes partially closed, lay back in a chair,
+occasionally uttering a slight groan.
+
+"The case looks most interesting." The General came and stood beside
+him. "Most interesting. Have you--er--diagnosed the symptoms, sister?"
+His lips were twitching suspiciously.
+
+"Not yet, General. The pulse is normal--and the temperature"--she looked
+at the thermometer--"is--good gracious me! have you kept it properly
+under your tongue?" She turned to Derek, who nodded feebly. "The
+temperature is only 93." She looked at the group in an awestruck manner.
+
+"Most remarkable," murmured the General. "One feels compelled to wonder
+what it would have been if he'd had the right end in his mouth." Derek
+emitted a hollow groan. "And where do you feel it worst, my dear boy?"
+continued the great man, gazing at him through his eyeglass.
+
+"Dyspepsia, sir," he whispered feebly. "Dreadful dyspepsia. I can't
+sleep, I--er--Good Lord!" His eyes opened, his voice rose, and with a
+fixed stare of horror he gazed at the door. Through it with due
+solemnity came James Henry holding in his mouth a furless and very dead
+cat. He advanced to the centre of the group--laid it at the General's
+feet--and having sneezed twice sat down and contemplated his handiwork:
+his tail thumping the floor feverishly in anticipation of well-merited
+applause.
+
+It was possibly foolish, but, as Derek explained afterwards to Monica,
+the situation had passed beyond him. He arose and confronted the
+General, who was surveying the scene coldly, and with a courtly
+exclamation of "Your cat, I believe, sir," he passed from the room.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The conclusion of this dreadful drama may be given in three short
+sentences.
+
+The first was spoken by the General. "Let it be buried." And it was so.
+
+The second was whispered by Lady Monica--later. "Darling, I had to _say_
+we were engaged: it looked so peculiar." And it was even more so.
+
+The third was snorted by James Henry. "First I'm beaten and then I'm
+kissed. Damn all cats!"
+
+
+
+
+PART TWO
+
+THE LAND OF TOPSY TURVY
+
+
+
+
+PART TWO
+
+THE LAND OF TOPSY TURVY
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+THE GREY HOUSE
+
+
+You come on it unexpectedly, round a little spur in the side of the
+valley, which screens it from view. It stands below you as you first see
+it, not a big house, not a little one, but just comfortable. It seems in
+keeping with the gardens, the tennis courts, the orchards which lie
+around it in a hap-hazard sort of manner, as if they had just grown
+there years and years ago and had been too lazy to move ever since.
+Peace is the keynote of the whole picture--the peace and contentment of
+sleepy unwoken England.
+
+Down in the valley below, the river, brown and swollen, carries on its
+bosom the flotsam and jetsam of its pilgrimage through the country. Now
+and then a great branch goes bobbing by, only to come to grief in the
+shallows round the corner--the shallows where the noise of the water on
+the rounded stones lulls one to sleep at night, and sounds a ceaseless
+reveille each morning. On the other side of the water the woods stretch
+down close to the bank, though the upper slopes of the hills are bare,
+and bathed in the golden light of the dying winter sun. Slowly the dark
+shadow line creeps up--creeps up to meet the shepherd coming home with
+his flock. Faint, but crisp, the barks of his dog, prancing excitedly
+round him, strike on one's ears, and then of a sudden--silence. They
+have entered the purple country; they have left the golden land, and the
+dog trots soberly at his master's heels. One last peak alone remains,
+dipped in flaming yellow, and then that too is touched by the finger of
+oncoming night. For a few moments it survives, a flicker of fire on its
+rugged tip, and then--the end; like a grim black sentinel it stands
+gloomy and sinister against the evening sky.
+
+The shepherd is out of sight amongst the trees; the purple is changing
+to grey, the grey to black; there is no movement saving only the
+tireless swish of the river....
+
+To the man leaning over the gate the scene was familiar--but familiarity
+had not robbed it of its charm. Involuntarily his mind went back to the
+days before the Madness came--to the days when others had stood beside
+him watching those same darkening hills, with the smoke of their pipes
+curling gently away in the still air. Back from a day's shooting, back
+from an afternoon on the river, and a rest at the top of the hill before
+going in to tea in the house below. So had he stood countless times in
+the past--with those others....
+
+The Rabbit, with a gun under his arm, and his stubby briar glowing red
+in the paling light. The Rabbit, with his old shooting-coat, with the
+yarn of the one woodcock he nearly got, with his cheery laugh. But they
+never found anything of him--an eight-inch shell is at any rate
+merciful.
+
+Torps--the naval candidate: one of the worst and most gallant riders
+that ever threw a leg across a horse. Somewhere in the depths of the
+Pacific, with the great heaving combers as his grave, he lies
+peacefully; and as for a little while he had gasped and struggled while
+hundreds of others gasped and struggled near him--perhaps he, too, had
+seen the hills opposite once again even as the Last Fence loomed in
+front and the whispered Kismet came from his lips....
+
+Hugh--the son of the house close by. Twice wounded, and now out again in
+Mesopotamia. Did the sound of the water come to him as the sun dropped,
+slow and pitiless, into the west? The same parching, crawling days
+following one another in deadly monotony: the same....
+
+"Dreaming, Jim?" A woman's voice behind him broke on the man's thoughts.
+
+"Yes, lady," he answered soberly. "Dreaming. Some of the ghosts we knew
+have been coming to me out of the blue grey mists." He fell into step
+beside her, and they moved towards the house.
+
+"Ah! don't," she whispered--"don't! Oh! it's wicked, this war; cruel,
+damnable." She stopped and faced him, her breast rising and falling
+quickly. "And we can't follow you, Jim--we women. You go into the
+unknown."
+
+"Yes--yours is the harder part. You can only wait and wonder."
+
+"Wait and wonder!" She laughed bitterly. "Hope and pray--while God
+sleeps."
+
+"Hush, lady!" he answered quietly; "for that way there lies no peace. Is
+Sybil indoors?"
+
+"Yes--she's expecting you. Thank goodness you're not going out yet
+awhile, Jim; the child is fretting herself sick over her brother as it
+is--and when you go...."
+
+"Yes--when I go, what then?" he asked quietly. "Because I'm very nearly
+fit again, Lady Alice. My arm is nearly all right."
+
+"Do you want to go back, Jim?" Her quiet eyes searched his face. "Look
+at that."
+
+They had rounded a corner, and in front of them a man was leaning
+against a wall talking to the cook. They were in the stage known as
+walking-out--or is it keeping company? The point is immaterial and
+uninteresting. But the man, fit and strong, was in a starred trade. He
+was a forester--or had been since the first rumour of compulsion had
+startled his poor tremulous spirit. A very fine, but not unique example
+of the genuine shirker....
+
+"What has he to do with us?" said Jim bitterly. "That thing takes his
+stand along with the criminals, and the mental degenerates. He's worse
+than a conscientious objector. And we've got no choice. He reaps the
+benefits for which he refuses to fight. I don't want to go back to
+France particularly; every feeling I've got revolts at the idea just at
+present. I want to be with Sybil, as you know; I want to--oh! God knows!
+I was mad over the water--it bit into me; I was caught by the fever.
+It's an amazing thing how it gets hold of one. All the dirt and
+discomfort, and the boredom and the fright--one would have thought...."
+He laughed. "I suppose it's the madness in the air. But I'm sane now."
+
+"Are you? I wonder for how long. Let's go in and have some tea." The
+woman led the way indoors; there was silence again save only for the
+sound of the river.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+THE WOMEN AND--THE MEN
+
+
+When Jim Denver told Lady Alice Conway that he was sane again, he spoke
+no more than the truth. A few weeks in France, and then a shattered arm
+had brought him back to England with more understanding than he had ever
+possessed before. He had gone out the ordinary Englishman--casual,
+sporting, easy going, somewhat apathetic; he had come back a thinker as
+well, at times almost a dreamer. It affects different men in different
+ways--but none escape. And that is what those others cannot
+understand--those others who have not been across. Even the man who
+comes back on short leave hardly grasps how the thing has changed him:
+hardly realises that the madness is still in his soul. He has not time;
+his leave is just an interlude. He is back again in France almost before
+he realises he has left it. In mind he has never left it.
+
+There is humour there in plenty--farce even; boredom, excitement,
+passion, hatred. Every human emotion runs its full gamut in the Land of
+Topsy Turvy; in the place where the life of a man is no longer
+three-score years and ten, but just so long as the Great Reaper may
+decide and no more. And you are caught in the whirl--you are tossed here
+and there by a life of artificiality, a life not of one's own seeking,
+but a life which, having once caught you, you are loath to let go.
+
+Which is a hard saying, and one impossible of comprehension to those who
+wait behind--to the wives, to the mothers, to the women. To them the
+leave-train pulling slowly out of Victoria Station, with their man
+waving a last adieu from the carriage window, means the ringing down of
+the curtain once again. The unknown has swallowed him up--the unknown
+into which they cannot follow him. Be he in a Staff office at the base
+or with his battalion in the trenches, he has gone where the woman to
+whom he counts as all the world cannot even picture him in her mind. To
+her Flanders is Flanders and war is war--and there are casualty lists.
+What matter that his battalion is resting; what matter that he is going
+through a course somewhere at the back of beyond? He has gone into the
+Unknown; the whistle of the train steaming slowly out is the voice of
+the call-boy at the drop curtain. And now the train has passed out of
+sight--or is it only that her eyes are dim with the tears she kept back
+while he was with her?
+
+At last she turns and goes blindly back to the room where they had
+breakfast; she sees once more the chair he used, the crumpled morning
+paper, the discarded cigarette. And there let us leave her with
+tear-stained face and a pathetic little sodden handkerchief clutched in
+one hand. "O God! dear God! send him back to me." Our women do not show
+us this side very much when we are on leave; perhaps it is as well, for
+the ground on which we stand is holy....
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+And what of the man? The train is grinding through Herne Hill when he
+puts down his _Times_ and catches sight of another man in his brigade
+also returning from leave.
+
+"Hullo, old man! What sort of a time have you had?"
+
+"Top-hole. How's yourself? Was that your memsahib at the station?"
+
+"Yes. Dislike women at these partings as a general rule--but she's
+wonderful."
+
+"They're pulling the brigade out to rest, I hear."
+
+"So I believe. Anyway, I hope they've buried that dead Hun just in front
+of us. He was getting beyond a joke...."
+
+He is back in the life over the water again; there is nothing
+incongruous to him in his sequence of remarks; the time of his leave has
+been too short for the contrast to strike him. In fact, the whirl of
+gaiety in which he has passed his seven days seems more unreal than his
+other life--than the dead German. And it is only when a man is wounded
+and comes home to get fit, when he idles away the day in the home of his
+fathers, with a rod or a gun to help him back to convalescence, when the
+soothing balm of utter peace and contentment creeps slowly through his
+veins, that he looks back on the past few months as a runner on a race
+just over. He has given of his best; he is ready to give of his best
+again; but at the moment he is exhausted; panting, but at rest For the
+time the madness has left him; he is sane. But it is only for the
+time....
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+He is able to think coherently; he is able to look on things in their
+proper perspective. He knows. The bits in the kaleidoscope begin to
+group coherently, to take definite form, and he views the picture from
+the standpoint of a rational man. To him the leave-train contains no
+illusions; the territory is not unknown. No longer does a dead Hun dwarf
+his horizon to the exclusion of all else. He has looked on the thing
+from close quarters; he has been mad with passion and shaking with
+fright; he has been cold and wet, he has been hot and thirsty. Like a
+blaze of tropical vegetation from which individual colours refuse to be
+separated, so does the jumble of his life in Flanders strike him as he
+looks back on it. Isolated occurrences seem unreal, hard to identify.
+The little things which then meant so much now seem so paltry; the
+things he hardly noticed now loom big. Above all, the grim absurdity of
+the whole thing strikes him; civilisation has at last been defined....
+
+He marvels that men can be such wonderful, such super-human fools; his
+philosophy changes. He recalls grimly the particular night on which he
+crept over a dirty ploughed field and scrambled into a shell-hole as he
+saw the thin green streak of a German flare like a bar of light against
+the blackness; then the burst--the ghostly light flooding the desolate
+landscape--the crack of a solitary rifle away to his left. And as the
+flare came slowly hissing down, a ball of fire, he saw the other
+occupant of his hiding-place--a man's leg, just that, nothing more. And
+he laughs; the thing is too absurd.
+
+It is; it is absurd; it is monstrous, farcical. The realisation has come
+to him; he is sane--for a time.
+
+Sane: but for how long? It varies with the type. There are some who love
+the game--who love it for itself alone. They sit on the steps of the War
+Office, and drive their C.O.'s mad: they pull strings both male and
+female, until the powers that be rise in their wrath, and consign them
+to perdition and--France.
+
+There are others who do not take it quite like that. They do not _want_
+to go back particularly--and if they were given an important job in
+England, a job for which they had special aptitude, in which they knew
+they were invaluable, they would take it without regret. But though they
+may not seek earnestly for France--neither do they seek for home. Their
+wants do not matter; their private interests do not count: it is only
+England to-day....
+
+And lastly there is a third class, the class to whom that accursed
+catch-phrase, "Doing his bit," means everything. There are some who
+consider they have done their bit--that they need do no more. They draw
+comparisons and become self-righteous. "Behold I am not as other men
+are," they murmur complacently; "have not I kept the home fires burning,
+and amassed money making munitions?" "I am doing my bit." "I have been
+out; I have been hit--and _he_ has not. Why should I go again? I have
+done my bit." Well, friend, it may be as you say. But methinks there is
+only one question worth putting and answering to-day. Don't bother about
+having done your bit. Are you doing your _all_? Let us leave it at
+that.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+THE WOMAN AND THE MAN
+
+
+"When's your board, Jim?" The flickering light of the fire lit up the
+old oak hall, playing on the face of the girl buried in an easy chair.
+Tea was over, and they were alone.
+
+"On Tuesday, dear," he answered gravely.
+
+"But you aren't fit, old man; you don't think you're fit yet, do you?"
+There was a note of anxiety in her voice.
+
+"I'm perfectly fit, Sybil," he said quietly--"perfectly fit, my dear."
+
+"Then you'll go back soon?" She looked at him with frightened eyes.
+
+"Just as soon as they'll send me. I am going to ask the Board to pass me
+fit 'for General Service.'"
+
+"Oh, Jim!"--he hardly caught the whisper. "Oh, Jim! my man."
+
+"Well----" he came over and knelt in front of her.
+
+"It makes me sick," she cried fiercely, "to think of you and Hugh and
+men like you--and then to think of all these other cowardly beasts. My
+dear, my dear--do you _want_ to go back?"
+
+"At present, I don't. I'm utterly happy here with you, and the old
+peaceful country life. I'm afraid, Syb--I'm afraid of going on with it
+I'm afraid of its sapping my vitality--I'm afraid of never wanting to go
+back." His voice died away, and then suddenly he leant forward and
+kissed her on the mouth.
+
+"Come over here a moment," he stood up and drew her to him. "Come over
+here." With his arm round her shoulders he led her over to a great
+portrait in oils that hung against the wall, the portrait of a
+stern-faced soldier in the uniform of a forgotten century. To the girl
+the picture of her great-grandfather was not a thing of surpassing
+interest--she had seen it too often before. But she was a girl of
+understanding, and she realised that the soul of the man beside her was
+in the melting-pot; and, moreover, that she might make or mar the mould
+into which it must run. So in her wisdom she said nothing, and waited.
+
+"I want you to listen to me for a bit, Syb," he began after a while.
+"I'm not much of a fist at talking--especially on things I feel very
+deeply about. I can't track my people back like you can. The
+corresponding generation in my family to that old buster was a junior
+inkslinger in a small counting-house up North. And that junior
+inkslinger made good: you know what I'm worth to-day if the governor
+died."
+
+He started to pace restlessly up and down the hall, while the girl
+watched him quietly.
+
+"Then came this war and I went into it--not for any highfalutin motives,
+not because I longed to avenge Belgium--but simply because my pals were
+all soldiers or sailors, and it never occurred to me not to. In fact at
+first I was rather pleased with myself--I treated it as a joke more or
+less. The governor was inordinately proud of me; the mater had about
+twelve dozen photographs of me in uniform sent round the country to
+various bored and unwilling recipients; and lots of people combined to
+tell me what a damn fine fellow I was. Do you think he'd have thought
+so?" He stopped underneath the portrait and for a while gazed at the
+painted face with a smile.
+
+"That old blackguard up there--who lived every moment of his life--do
+you think he would have accounted that to me for credit? What would _he_
+say if he knew that in a crisis like this there are men who cloak
+perfect sight behind blue glasses; that there are men who have joined
+home defence units though they are perfectly fit to fight anywhere? And
+what would he say, Sybil, if he knew that a man, even though he'd done
+something, was now resting on his oars--content?"
+
+"Go on, dear!" The girl's eyes were shining now.
+
+"I'm coming to the point This morning the old dad started on the line of
+various fellows he knew whose sons hadn't been out yet; and he didn't
+see why I should go a second time--before they went. The business
+instinct to a certain extent, I suppose--the point of view of a business
+man. But would _he_ understand that?" Again he nodded to the picture.
+
+"I think----" She began to speak, and then fell silent.
+
+"Ah! but would he, my dear? What of Hugh, of the Rabbit, of Torps? With
+them it was bred in the bone--with me it was not. For years I and mine
+have despised the soldier and the sailor: for years you and yours have
+despised the counting-house. And all that is changing. Over there the
+tinkers, the tailors, the merchants, are standing together with the old
+breed of soldier--the two lots are beginning to understand one
+another--to respect one another. You're learning from us, and we're
+learning from you, though _he_ would never have believed that possible."
+
+Jim was standing very close to the girl, and his voice was low.
+
+"It's because I'm not very sure of one of the lessons I've learnt: it's
+because at times I do think it hard that others should not take their
+fair share that I must get back to that show quick--damn quick.
+
+"I want to be worthy of that old ancestor of yours--now that I'm going
+to marry one of his family. I know we're all mad--I know the world's
+mad; but, Syb, dear, you wouldn't have me sane, would you; not for ever?
+And I shall be if I stay here any longer...."
+
+"I understand, Jim," she answered, after a while. "I understand exactly.
+And I wouldn't have you sane, except just now for a little while.
+Because it's a glorious madness, and"--she put both her arms round his
+neck and kissed him passionately--"and I love you."
+
+Which was quite illogical and inconsequent--but there you are. What is
+not illogical and inconsequent nowadays?
+
+From which it will be seen that Jim Denver was not of the first of the
+three types which I have mentioned. He did not love the game for itself
+alone; my masters, there are not many who do. But there was no job in
+England in which he would prove invaluable: though there were many which
+with a little care he might have adorned beautifully.
+
+And just because there _is_ blood in the counting-house, which only
+requires to be brought out to show itself, he knew that he must go
+back--he knew that it was his job.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+That wild enthusiasm which he had shared with other subalterns in his
+battalion before they had been over the first time was lacking now; he
+was calmer--more evenly balanced. He had attained the courage of
+knowledge instead of the courage of ignorance.
+
+No longer did the men who waited to be fetched excuse him--even though
+he had "done his bit." No longer was it possible to shelter behind
+another man's failure, and plead for so-called equality of sacrifice. To
+him had come the meaning of tradition--that strange, nameless something
+which has kept regiments in a position, battered with shells, stunned
+with shock, gassed, brain reeling, mind gone, with nothing to hold them
+except that nameless something which says to them, "Hold on!" While
+other regiments, composed of men as brave, have not held. To him had
+come that quality which has sent men laughing and talking without a
+quaver to their death; that quality which causes men--eaten with fever,
+lonely, weary to death, thinking themselves forsaken even of God--to
+carry on the Empire's work in the uttermost corners of the globe, simply
+because it is their job.
+
+He had assimilated to a certain extent the ideas of that stern, dead
+soldier; he had visualised them; he had realised that the destinies of a
+country are not entrusted to all her children. Many are not worthy to
+handle them, which makes the glory for the few all the greater....
+
+    Winds of the world, give answer! They are whimpering
+        to and fro--
+    And what should they know of England, who only
+        England know?
+    The poor little street-bred people that vapour and fume
+        and brag,
+    They are lifting their heads in the stillness to yelp at
+        the English Flag.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    Never the lotos closes, never the wild-fowl wake,
+        But a soul goes out on the East wind that died for
+            England's sake--
+    Man or woman or suckling, mother or bride or maid--
+        Because on the bones of the English the English flag is
+            stayed.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+"THE REGIMENT"
+
+
+On the Tuesday a board of doctors passed Jim Denver fit for General
+Service, having first given him the option of a month's home service if
+he liked. Two days after he turned up at the depôt of his regiment,
+where he found men in various stages of convalescence--light duty,
+ordinary duty at home, and fit to go out like himself. One or two he
+knew, and most of them he didn't. There were a few old regular officers
+and a large number of very new ones--who were being led in the way they
+should go.
+
+But there is little to tell of the time he spent waiting to go out. This
+is not a diary of his life--not even an account of it; it is merely an
+attempt to portray a state of mind--an outlook on life engendered by
+war, in a man whom war had caused to think for the first time.
+
+And so the only incidents which I propose to give of his time at the
+depôt is a short account of a smoking concert he attended and a
+conversation he had the following day with one Vane, a stockbroker. The
+two things taken individually meant but little: taken together--well,
+the humour was the humour of the Land of Topsy Turvy. A delicate humour,
+not to be appreciated by all: with subtle shades and delicate strands
+and bloody brutality woven together....
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A sudden silence settled on the gymnasium; the man at the piano turned
+round so as to hear better; the soldiers sitting astride the horse
+ceased laughing and playing the fool.
+
+At a table at the end of the big room, seen dimly through the
+smoke-clouded atmosphere, sat a group of officers, while the regimental
+sergeant-major, supported by other great ones of the non-commissioned
+rank near by, presided over the proceedings.
+
+Occasionally a soldier-waiter passed behind the officers' chairs, armed
+with a business-like bottle and a box of dangerous-looking cigars; and
+unless he was watched carefully he was apt to replenish the liquid
+refreshment in a manner which suggested that he regarded soda as harmful
+in the extreme to the human system. Had he not received his instructions
+from that great man the regimental himself?
+
+For an hour and a half the smoking concert had been in progress; the
+Brothers Bimbo, those masterly knock-about comedians, had given their
+performance amid rapturous applause. In life the famous pair were a
+machine-gun sergeant and a cook's mate; but on such gala occasions they
+became the buffoons of the regiment. They were the star comics: a
+position of great responsibility and not to be lightly thought of. An
+officer had given a couple of rag-time efforts; the melancholy corporal
+in C Company had obliged with a maundering tune of revolting
+sentimentality, and one of A Company scouts had given a so-called comic
+which caused the padre to keep his eyes fixed firmly on the floor,
+though at times his mouth twitched suspiciously, and made the colonel
+exclaim to his second in command in tones of heartfelt relief: "Thank
+Heavens, my wife couldn't come!" Knowing his commanding officer's wife
+the second in command agreed in no less heartfelt voice.
+
+But now a silence had settled on the great room: and all eyes were
+turned on the regimental sergeant-major, who was standing up behind the
+table on which the programme lay, and behind which he had risen every
+time a new performer had appeared during the evening, in order to
+introduce him to the assembly. There are many little rites and
+ceremonies in smoking concerts....
+
+This time, however, he did not inform the audience that Private
+MacPherson would now oblige--that is the mystic formula. He stood there,
+waiting for silence.
+
+"Non-commissioned officers and men"--his voice carried to every corner
+of the building--"I think you will all agree with me that we are very
+pleased to see Colonel Johnson and all our officers here with us
+to-night. It is our farewell concert in England: in a few days we shall
+all be going--somewhere; and it gives us all great pleasure to welcome
+the officers who are going to lead us when we get to that somewhere.
+Therefore I ask you all to fill up your glasses and drink to the health
+of Colonel Johnson and all our officers."
+
+A shuffling of feet; an abortive attempt on the part of the pianist to
+strike up "For he's a jolly good fellow" before his cue, an attempt
+which died horribly in its infancy under the baleful eye of the
+sergeant-major; a general creaking and grunting and then--muttered,
+shouted, whispered from a thousand throats--"Our Officers." The pianist
+started--right this time--and in a second the room was ringing with the
+well-known words. Cheers, thunderous cheers succeeded it, and through it
+all the officers sat silent and quiet. Most were new to the game; to
+them it was just an interesting evening; a few were old at it; a few,
+like Jim, had been across, and it was they who had a slight lump in
+their throats. It brought back memories--memories of other men, memories
+of similar scenes....
+
+At last the cheering died away, only to burst out again with renewed
+vigour. The colonel was standing up, a slight smile playing round his
+lips, the glint of many things in his quiet grey eyes. To the second in
+command, a sterling soldier but one of little imagination, there came
+for the first time in his life the meaning of the phrase, "the windows
+of the soul." For in the eyes of the man who stood beside him he saw
+those things of which no man speaks; the things which words may kill.
+
+He saw understanding, affection, humour, pain; he saw the pride of
+possession struggling with the sorrow of future loss; he saw the desire
+to test his creation struggling with the fear that a first test always
+brings; he saw visions of glorious possibilities, and for a fleeting
+instant he saw the dreadful abyss of a hideous failure. Aye, for a few
+moments the second in command looked not through a glass darkly, but saw
+into the unplumbed depths of a man who had been weighed in the balance
+and not found wanting; a man who had faced responsibility and would face
+it again; a man of honour, a man of humour, a man who knew.
+
+"My lads," he began--and the quiet, well-modulated voice reached every
+man in the room just as clearly as the harsher voice of the previous
+speaker--"as the sergeant-major has just said, in a few days we shall be
+sailing for--somewhere. The bustle and fulness of your training life
+will be over; you will be confronted with the real thing. And though I
+do not want to mar the pleasure of this evening in any way or to
+introduce a serious tone to the proceedings, I do want to say just one
+or two things which may stick in your minds and, perhaps, on some
+occasion may help you. This war is not a joke; it is one of the most
+hideous and ghastly tragedies that have ever been foisted on the world;
+I have been there and I know. You are going to be called on to stand all
+sorts of discomfort and all sorts of boredom; there will be times when
+you'd give everything you possess to know that there was a
+picture-palace round the corner. You may not think so now, but remember
+my words when the time comes--remember, and stick it.
+
+"There will be times when there's a sinking in your stomach and a
+singing in your head; when men beside you are staring upwards with the
+stare that does not see; when the sergeant has taken it through the
+forehead and the nearest officer is choking up his life in the corner of
+the traverse. But--there's still your rifle; perhaps there's a
+machine-gun standing idle; anyway, remember my words then, and stick it.
+
+"Stick it, my lads, as those others have done before you. Stick it, for
+the credit of the regiment, for the glory of our name. Remember always
+that that glory lies in your hands, each one of you individually. And
+just as it is in the power of each one of you to tarnish it irreparably,
+so is it in the power of each one of you to keep it going undimmed. Each
+one of us counts, men"--his voice sank a little--"each one of us has to
+play the game. Not because we're afraid of being punished if we're found
+out, but because it _is_ the game."
+
+He looked round the room slowly, almost searchingly, while the arc light
+spluttered and then burnt up again with a hiss.
+
+"The Regiment, my lads--the Regiment." His voice was tense with feeling.
+"It is only the Regiment that counts."
+
+He raised his glass, and the men stood up:
+
+"The Regiment."
+
+A woman sobbed somewhere in the body of the gym., and for a moment, so
+it seemed to Denver, the wings of Death flapped softly against the
+windows. For a moment only--and then:
+
+"Private Mulvaney will now oblige."
+
+Jim walked slowly home. He remembered just such another evening before
+his own battalion went out. Would those words of the Colonel have their
+effect: would some white-faced man stick it the better for the
+remembrance of that moment: would some machine-gun fired with trembling
+dying hands take its toll? Perhaps--who knows? The ideal of the soldier
+is there--the ideal towards which the New Armies are led. Thus the first
+incident....
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+THE CONTRAST
+
+
+The following afternoon Denver, strolling back from the town, was hailed
+by a man in khaki, standing in the door of his house. He knew the man
+well, Vane, by name--had dined with him often in the days when he was in
+training himself. A quiet man, with a pleasant wife and two children.
+Vane was a stockbroker by trade: and just before Jim went out he had
+enlisted.
+
+"Come in and have a gargle. I've just got back on short leave." Vane
+came to the gate.
+
+"Good," Jim answered. "Mrs. Vane must be pleased." They strolled up the
+drive and in through the door. "You're looking very fit, old man.
+Flanders seems to suit you."
+
+"My dear fellow, it does. It's the goods. I never knew what living was
+before. The thought of that cursed office makes me tired--and once"--he
+shrugged his shoulders--"it filled my life. Say when."
+
+"Cheer oh!" They clinked glasses. "I thought you were taking a
+commission."
+
+"I am--very shortly. The colonel has recommended me for one, and I
+gather the powers that be approve. But in a way I'm sorry, you know.
+I've got a great pal in my section--who kept a whelk stall down in
+Whitechapel."
+
+"They're the sort," laughed Jim. "The Cockney takes some beating."
+
+"This bird's a flier. We had quite a cheery little show the other night,
+just him and me. About a week ago we were up in the trenches--bored
+stiff, and yet happy in a way, you know, when Master Boche started to
+register.[1] I suppose it was a new battery or something, but they were
+using crumps, not shrapnel. They weren't very big, but they were very
+close--and they got closer. You know that nasty droning noise, then the
+hell of an explosion--that great column of blackish yellow smoke, and
+the bits pinging through the air overhead."
+
+"I do," remarked Jim tersely.
+
+Vane laughed. "Well, he got a bracket; the first one was fifty yards
+short of the trench, and the second was a hundred yards over. Then he
+started to come back--always in the same line; and the line passed
+straight through our bit of the trench.
+
+"''Ere, wot yer doing, you perishers? Sargint, go and stop 'em. Tell 'em
+I've been appointed purveyor of winkles to the Royal 'Ouse of the 'Un
+Emperor.' Our friend of the whelk stall was surveying the scene with
+intense disfavour. A great mass of smoke belched up from the ground
+twenty yards away, and he ducked instinctively. Then we waited--fifteen
+seconds about was the interval between shots. The men were a bit white
+about the gills--and, well the feeling in the pit of my tummy was what
+is known as wobbly. You know that feeling too?"
+
+"I do," remarked Jim even more tersely.
+
+Vane finished his drink. "Then it came, and we cowered. There was a roar
+like nothing on earth--the back of the trench collapsed, and the whole
+lot of us were buried. If the shell had been five yards short, it would
+have burst in the trench, and my whelk friend would have whelked no
+more."
+
+Vane laughed. "We emerged, plucking mud from our mouths, and cursed. The
+Hun apparently was satisfied and stopped. The only person who wasn't
+satisfied was the purveyor of winkles to the Royal 'Ouse. He brooded
+through the day, but towards the evening he became more cheerful.
+
+"'Look 'ere,' he said to me, ''ave you ever killed a 'Un?'
+
+"'I think I did once,' I said. 'A fat man with a nasty face.'
+
+"'Oh! you 'ave, 'ave you? Well, wot abaht killing one to-night. If they
+thinks I'm going to stand that sort of thing, they're ---- ---- wrong.'
+The language was the language of Whitechapel, but the sentiments were
+the sentiments of even the most rabid purist of speech.
+
+"To cut a long story short, we went. And we were very lucky."
+
+"You bumped your face into 'em, did you?" asked Jim, interested.
+
+"We did. Man, it was a grand little scrap while it lasted, and it was
+the first one I'd had. It won't be the last."
+
+"Did you kill your men?"
+
+"Did we not? Welks brained his with the butt of his gun; and I did the
+trick with a bayonet." Vane became a little apologetic. "You know it was
+only my first, and I can't get it out of my mind." Then his eyes shone
+again. "To feel that steel go in--Good God! man--it was IT: it was...."
+
+Then came the interruption. "Dear," said a voice at the door, "the
+children are in bed; will you go up and say good night."... Thus the
+second incident....
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+As I said, taken separately the two incidents mean but little: taken
+together--there is humour: the whole humour of war.
+
+An itinerant fishmonger and a worthy stockbroker are inculcated with
+wonderful ideals in order to fit them for sallying forth at night and
+killing complete strangers. And they revel in it....
+
+The highest form of emotionalism on one hand: a hole in the ground full
+of bluebottles and smells on the other....
+
+War ... war in the twentieth century.
+
+But there is nothing incompatible in it: it is only strange when
+analysed in cold blood. And Jim Denver, as I have said, was sane again:
+while Vane, the stockbroker, was still mad.
+
+In fact, it is quite possible that the peculiar significance of the
+interruption in his story never struck him: that he never noticed the
+Contrast.
+
+And what is going to be the result of it all on the Vanes of England?
+"Once the office filled my life." No man can go to the land of Topsy
+Turvy and come back the same--for good or ill it will change him. Though
+the madness leave him and sanity return, it will not be the same
+sanity. Will he ever be content to settle down again after--the lawyer,
+the stockbroker, the small clerk? Back to the old dull routine, the same
+old train in the morning, the same deadly office, the same old home each
+evening. It hardly applies to the Jim Denvers--the men of money: but
+what of the others?
+
+Will the scales have dropped from the eyes of the men who have really
+been through it? Shall we ever get back to the same old way? Heaven
+knows--but let us hope not. Anyway, it is all mere idle conjecture--and
+a digression to boot.
+
+FOOTNOTE:
+
+[Footnote 1: For the benefit of the uninitiated, let me explain that the
+process of registering consists of finding the exact range to a certain
+object from a particular gun or battery. To find this range it is
+necessary to obtain what is known as a bracket: _i.e._ one burst beyond
+the object, and one burst short. The range is then known to lie between
+these two: and by a little adjustment the exact distance can be found.]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+BLACK, WHITE, AND--GREY
+
+
+Four weeks after his board Jim Denver once again found himself in
+France.
+
+Having reported his arrival, he sat down to await orders. Boulogne is
+not a wildly exhilarating place; though there is always the hotel where
+one may consume cocktails and potato chips, and hear strange truths
+about the war from people of great knowledge and understanding.
+
+Moreover--though this is by the way--in Boulogne you get the first sniff
+of that atmosphere which England lacks; that subtle, indefinable
+something which war _in_ a country produces in the spirit of its
+people....
+
+Gone is the stout lady of doubtful charm engaged in mastering the
+fox-trot, what time a band wails dismally in an alcove; gone is the
+wild-eyed flapper who bumps madly up and down the roads on the carrier
+of a motor-cycle. It has an atmosphere of its own this fair land of
+France to-day. It is laughing through its tears, and the laughter has an
+ugly sound--for the Huns. They will hear that laughter soon, and the
+sound will give them to think fearfully.
+
+But at the moment when Jim landed it was all very boring. The R.T.O. at
+Boulogne was bored; the A.S.C. officers at railhead were bored; the
+quartermaster guarding the regimental penates in a field west of Ypres
+was bored.
+
+"Cheer up, old son," Jim remarked, slapping the last-named worthy
+heavily on the back. "You look peevish."
+
+"Confound you," he gasped, when he'd recovered from choking. "This is my
+last bottle of whisky."
+
+"Where's the battalion?" laughed Denver.
+
+"Where d'you think? In a Turkish bath surrounded by beauteous houris?"
+the quartermaster snorted. "Still in the same damn mud-hole near Hooge."
+
+"Good! I'll trot along up shortly. You know, I'm beginning to be glad I
+came back. I didn't want to particularly, at first: I was enjoying
+myself at home--but I felt I ought to, and now--'pon my soul---- How are
+you, Jones?"
+
+A passing sergeant stopped and saluted. "Grand, sir. How's yourself? The
+boys will be glad you've come back."
+
+Denver stood chatting with him for a few moments and then rejoined the
+pessimistic quartermaster.
+
+"Don't rhapsodise," begged that worthy--"don't rhapsodise; eat your
+lunch. If you tell me it will be good to see your men again, I shall
+assault you with the remnants of the tinned lobster. I know it will be
+good--no less than fifteen officers have told me so in the last six
+weeks. But I don't care--it leaves me quite, quite cold. If you're in
+France, you pine for England; when you're in England, you pine for
+France; and I sit in this damn field and get giddy."
+
+Which might be described as to-day's great thought.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Thus did Jim Denver come back to his regiment. Once again the life of
+the moles claimed him--the life of the underworld: that strange
+existence of which so much has been written, and so little has been
+really grasped by those who have not been there. A life of incredible
+dreariness--yet possessing a certain "grip" of its own. A life of
+peculiar contrasts--where the suddenness--the abruptness of things
+strikes a man forcibly: the extraordinary contrasts of black and white.
+Sometimes they stand out stark and menacing, gleaming and brilliant;
+more often do they merge into grey. But always are they there....
+
+As I said before, my object is not to give a diary of my hero's life. I
+am not concerned with his daily vegetation in his particular hole, with
+Hooge on his right front and a battered farm close to. Sleep, eat, read,
+look through a periscope and then repeat the performance. Occasionally
+an aerial torpedo, frequently bombs, at all times pessimistic sappers
+desiring working parties. But it was very much the "grey" of trench life
+during the three days that Jim sat in the front line by the wood that is
+called "Railway."
+
+One episode is perhaps worthy of note. It was just one of those harmless
+little jests which give one an appetite for a hunk of bully washed down
+by a glass of tepid whisky and water. Now be it known to those who do
+not dabble in explosives, there are in the army two types of fuze which
+are used for firing charges. Each type is flexible, and about the
+thickness of a stout and well-nourished worm. Each, moreover, consists
+of an inner core which burns, protected by an outer covering--the idea
+being that on lighting one end a flame should pass along the burning
+inner core and explode in due course whatever is at the other end.
+There, however, their similarity ends; and their difference becomes so
+marked that the kindly powers that be have taken great precautions
+against the two being confused.
+
+The first of these fuzes is called Safety--and the outer covering is
+black. In this type the inner core burns quite slowly at the rate of two
+or three feet to the minute. This is the fuze which is used in the
+preparation of the jam-tin bomb: an instrument of destruction which has
+caused much amusement to the frivolous. A jam tin is taken and is
+filled with gun cotton, nails, and scraps of iron. Into the gun cotton
+is inserted a detonator; and into the detonator is inserted two inches
+of safety-fuze. The end of the safety-fuze is then lit, and the jam tin
+is presented to the Hun. It will readily be seen by those who are
+profound mathematicians, that if three feet of safety-fuze burn in a
+minute, two inches will burn in about three seconds--and three seconds
+is just long enough for the presentation ceremony. This in fact is the
+principal of all bombs both great and small.
+
+The second of these fuzes is called Instantaneous--and the outer
+covering is orange. In this type the inner core burns quite quickly, at
+the rate of some thirty yards to the second, or eighteen hundred times
+as fast as the first. Should, therefore, an unwary person place two
+inches of this second fuze in his jam tin by mistake, and light it, it
+will take exactly one-600th of a second before he gets to the motto.
+Which is "movement with a meaning quite its own."
+
+To Jim then came an idea. Why not with care and great cunning remove
+from the inner core of Instantaneous fuze its vulgar orange covering,
+and substitute instead a garb of sober black--and thus disguised present
+several bombs of great potency _unlighted_ to the Hun.
+
+The afternoon before they left for the reserve trenches he staged his
+comedy in one act and an epilogue. A shower of bombs was propelled in
+the direction of the opposing cave-dwellers to the accompaniment of loud
+cries, cat calls, and other strange noises. The true artist never
+exaggerates, and quite half the bombs had genuine safety-fuze in them
+and were lit before being thrown. The remainder were not lit, it is
+perhaps superfluous to add.
+
+The lazy peace of the afternoon was rudely shattered for the Huns. Quite
+a number of genuine bombs had exploded dangerously near their
+trench--while some had even taken effect in the trench. Then they
+perceived several unlit ones lying about--evidently propelled by nervous
+men who had got rid of them before lighting them properly. And there was
+much laughter in that German trench as they decided to give the epilogue
+by lighting them and throwing them back. Shortly after a series of
+explosions, followed by howls and groans, announced the carrying out of
+that decision. And once again the Hymn of Hate came faintly through the
+drowsy stillness....
+
+Those are the little things which occasionally paint the grey with a dab
+of white; the prowls at night--the joys of the sniper who has just
+bagged a winner and won the bag of nuts--all help to keep the spirits up
+when the pattern of earth in your particular hole causes a rush of blood
+to the head.
+
+Incidentally this little comedy was destined to be Jim Denver's last
+experience of the Hun at close quarters for many weeks to come. The grey
+settled down like a pall, to lift in the fulness of time, to _the_ black
+and white day of his life. But for the present--peace. And yet only
+peace as far as he was concerned personally. That very night, close to
+him so that he saw it all, some other battalions had a chequered hour or
+so--which is all in the luck of the game. To-day it's the man over the
+road--to-morrow it's you....
+
+They occurred about 2 a.m.--the worries of the men over the road. Denver
+had moved to his other hole, courteously known as the reserve trenches,
+and there seated in his dug-out he discussed prospects generally with
+the Major. There were rumours that the division was moving from Ypres,
+and not returning there--a thought which would kindle hope in the most
+pessimistic.
+
+"Don't you believe it," answered the Major gloomily. "Those rumours are
+an absolute frost."
+
+"Cheer up! cully, we'll soon be dead." Denver laughed. "Have some rum."
+
+He poured some out into a mug and passed the water. "Quiet
+to-night--isn't it? I was reading to-day that the Italians----"
+
+"You aren't going to quote any war expert at me, are you?"
+
+"Well--er--I was: why not?"
+
+"Because I have a blood-feud with war experts. I loathe and detest the
+breed. Before I came out here their reiterated statement made monthly
+that we should be on the Rhine by Tuesday fortnight was a real comfort.
+We always got to Tuesday fortnight--but we've never actually paddled in
+the bally river."
+
+"To err is human; to get paid for it is divine," murmured Jim.
+
+"Bah!" the Major filled his pipe aggressively. "What about the
+steam-roller, what about the Germans being reduced to incurable
+epileptics in the third line trenches--what about that drivelling ass
+who said the possession of heavy guns was a disadvantage to an army
+owing to their immobility?"
+
+"Have some more rum, sir?" remarked Jim soothingly.
+
+"But I could have stood all that--they were trifles." The Major was
+getting warmed up to it. "This is what finished me." He pulled a piece
+of paper out of his pocket. "Read that, my boy--read that and ponder."
+
+Jim took the paper and glanced at it.
+
+"I carry that as my talisman. In the event of my death I've given orders
+for it to be sent to the author."
+
+"But what's it all about?" asked Denver.
+
+"'At the risk of repeating myself, I wish again to asseverate what I
+drew especial attention to last week, and the week before, and the one
+before that; as a firm grasp of this essential fact is imperative to an
+undistorted view of the situation. Whatever minor facts may now or again
+crop up in this titanic conflict, we must not shut our eyes to the rules
+of war. They are unchangeable, immutable; the rules of Cćsar were the
+rules of Napoleon, and are in fact the rules that I myself have
+consistently laid down in these columns. They cannot change: this war
+will be decided by them as surely as night follows day; and those
+ignorant persons who are permitted to express their opinions elsewhere
+would do well to remember that simple fact.'"
+
+"What the devil is this essential fact?"
+
+"Would you like to know? I got to it after two columns like that."
+
+"What was it?" laughed Jim.
+
+"'An obstacle in an army's path is that which obstructs the path of the
+army in question.'"
+
+"After that--more rum." Jim solemnly decanted the liquid. "You deserve
+it. You...."
+
+"Stand to." A shout from the trench outside--repeated all along until it
+died away in the distance. The Major gulped his rum and dived for the
+door--while Jim groped for his cap. Suddenly out of the still night
+there came a burst of firing, sudden and furious. The firing was taken
+up all along the line, and then the guns started and a rain of shrapnel
+came down behind the British lines.
+
+Away--a bit in front on the other side of the road to Jim's trench there
+were woods--woods of unenviable reputation. Hence the name of
+"Sanctuary." In the middle of them, on the road, lay the ruined château
+and village of Hooge--also of unenviable reputation.
+
+And towards these woods the eyes of all were turned.
+
+"What the devil is it?" shouted the man beside Jim. "Look at them lights
+in the trees."
+
+The devil it was. Dancing through the darkness of the trees were flames
+and flickering lights, like will-o'-the-wisps playing over an Irish bog.
+And men, looking at one another, muttered sullenly. They remembered the
+gas; what new devilry was this?
+
+Up in the woods things were moving. Hardly had the relieving regiments
+taken over their trenches, when from the ground in front there seemed to
+leap a wall of flame. It rushed towards them and, falling into the
+trenches and on to the men's clothes, burnt furiously like brandy round
+a plum pudding. The woods were full of hurrying figures dashing blindly
+about, cursing and raving. For a space pandemonium reigned. The Germans
+came on, and it looked as if there might be trouble. The regiments who
+had just been relieved came back, and after a while things straightened
+out a little. But our front trenches in those woods, when morning broke,
+were not where they had been the previous night....
+
+Liquid fire--yet one more invention of "Kultur"; gas; the moat at Ypres
+poisoned with arsenic; crucifixion; burning death squirted from the
+black night--suddenly, without warning: truly a great array of Kultured
+triumphs.... And with it all--failure. To fight as a sportsman fights
+and lose has many compensations; to fight as the German fights and lose
+must be to taste of the dregs of hell.
+
+But that is how they _do_ fight, whatever interesting surmises one may
+make of their motives and feelings. And that is how it goes on over the
+water--the funny mixture of the commonplace of everyday with the great
+crude, cruel realities of life and death.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+But as I said, for the next few weeks the grey screen cloaked those
+crude realities as far as Jim was concerned. Rumour for once had proved
+true; the division was pulled out, and his battalion found itself near
+Poperinghe.
+
+"Months of boredom punctuated by moments of intense fright" is a
+definition of war which undoubtedly Noah would have regarded as a
+chestnut. And I should think it doubtful if there has ever been a war
+in which this definition was more correct.
+
+Jim route marched: he trained bombers: he dined in Poperinghe and went
+to the Follies. Also, he allowed other men to talk to him of their plans
+for leave: than which no more beautiful form of unselfishness is laid
+down anywhere in the Law or the Prophets.
+
+On the whole the time did not drag. There is much of interest for those
+who have eyes to see in that country which fringes the Cock Pit of
+Europe. Hacking round quietly most afternoons on a horse borrowed from
+someone, the spirit of the land got into him, that blood-soaked, quiet,
+uncomplaining country, whose soul rises unconquerable from the battered
+ruins.
+
+Horses exercising, lorries crashing and lurching over the pavé roads.
+G.S. wagons at the walk, staff motors--all the necessary wherewithal to
+preserve the safety of the mud holes up in front--came and went in a
+ceaseless procession; while every now and then a local cart with
+mattresses and bedsteads, tables and crockery, tied on perilously with
+bits of string, would come creaking past--going into the unknown,
+leaving the home of years.
+
+Ypres, that tragic charnel house, with the great jagged holes torn out
+of the pavé; with the few remaining walls of the Cathedral and Cloth
+Hall cracked and leaning outwards; with the strange symbolical touch of
+the black hearse which stood untouched in one of the arches. Rats
+everywhere, in the sewers and broken walls; in the crumbling belfry
+above birds, cawing discordantly. The statue of the old gentleman which
+used to stand serene and calm amidst the wreckage, now lay broken on its
+face. But the stench was gone--the dreadful stench of death which had
+clothed it during the second battle; it was just a dead town--dead and
+decently buried in great heaps of broken brick....
+
+Vlamertinghe, with the little plot of wooden crosses by the cross roads;
+Elverdinghe, where the gas first came, and the organ pipes lay twisted
+in the wreckage of the unroofed church; where the long row of French
+graves rest against the château wall, graves covered with long
+grass--each with an empty bottle upside down at their head.
+
+    And when Thyself with shining Foot shall pass
+    Among the Guests star-scatter'd on the Grass,
+    ... turn down an empty Glass.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+And in the family archives are some excellent reproductions--not
+photographs of course, for the penalty for carrying a camera is death at
+dawn--of ruined churches and shell-battered châteaux. Perhaps the most
+interesting one, at any rate the most human, is a "reproduction" of a
+group of cavalry men. They had been digging in a little village a mile
+behind the firing-line--a village battered and dead from which the
+inhabitants had long since fled. Working in the garden of the local
+doctor, they were digging a trench which ran back to the cellar of the
+house, when on the scene of operations had suddenly appeared the doctor
+himself. By signs he possessed himself of a shovel, and, pacing five
+steps from the kitchen door and three from the tomato frame, he too
+started to dig.
+
+"His wife's portrait, probably," confided the cavalry officer to Jim, as
+they watched the proceeding. "Or possibly an urn with her ashes."
+
+It was a sergeant who first gave a choking cry and fainted; he was
+nearest the hole.
+
+"Yes," remarked Jim, "he's found the urn."
+
+With frozen stares they watched the last of twelve dozen of light beer
+go into the doctor's cart. With pallid lips the officer saw three dozen
+of good champagne snatched from under his nose.
+
+"Heavens! man," he croaked, "it was _dry_ too. If our trench had been a
+yard that way...." He leant heavily on his stick, and groaned.
+
+The moment was undoubtedly pregnant with emotion.
+
+"'E'ad a nasty face, that man--a nasty face. Oh, 'orrible."
+
+Hushed voices came from the group of leaners. The "reproduction" depicts
+the psychological moment when the doctor with a joyous wave of the hand
+wished them "_Bonjour, messieurs,_" and drove off.
+
+"Not one--not one ruddy bottle--not the smell of a perishing cork.
+Stung!"
+
+But Jim had left.
+
+Which very silly and frivolous story is topsy-turvy land up to date, or
+at any rate typical of a large bit of it.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+ARCHIE AND OTHERS
+
+
+However, to be serious. It was as he came away from this scene of alarm
+and despondency that Jim met an old pal who boasted the gunner badge,
+and whom conversation revealed as the proud owner of an Archie, or
+anti-aircraft gun. And as the salient is perhaps more fruitful in
+aeroplanes than any other part of the line, and the time approached five
+o'clock (which is generally the hour of their afternoon activity), Jim
+went to see the fun.
+
+In front, an observing biplane buzzed slowly to and fro, watching the
+effect of a mother[1] shooting at some mark behind the German lines.
+With the gun concealed in the trees, a gunner subaltern altered his
+range and direction as each curt wireless message flashed from the
+'plane. "Lengthen 200--half a degree left." And so on till they got it.
+Occasionally, with a vicious crack, a German anti-aircraft shell would
+explode in the air above in a futile endeavour to reach the observer,
+and a great mass of acrid yellow or black fumes would disperse slowly.
+Various machines, each intent on its own job, rushed to and fro, and in
+the distance, like a speck in the sky, a German monoplane was travelling
+rapidly back over its own lines, having finished its reconnaissance.
+
+Behind it, like the wake of a steamer, little dabs of white plastered
+the blue sky. English shrapnel bursting from other anti-aircraft guns.
+Jim's gunner friend seemed to know most of them by name, as old pals
+whom he had watched for many a week on the same errand; and from him Jim
+gathered that the moment approached for the appearance of Panting
+Lizzie. Lizzie, apparently, was a fast armoured German biplane which
+came over his gun every fine evening about the same hour. For days and
+weeks had he fired at it, so far without any success, but he still had
+hopes. The gun was ready, cocked wickedly upon its motor mounting,
+covered with branches and daubed with strange blotches of paint to make
+it less conspicuous. Round the motor itself the detachment consumed tea,
+a terrier sat up and begged, a goat of fearsome aspect looked pensive.
+In front, in a chair, his eye glued to a telescope on a tripod, sat the
+look-out man.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was just as Jim and his pal were getting down to a whisky and soda
+that Lizzie hove in sight. The terrier ceased to beg, the goat departed
+hurriedly, the officer spoke rapidly in a language incomprehensible to
+Jim, and the fun began. There are few things so trying to listen to as
+an Archie, owing to the rapidity with which it fires; the gun pumps up
+and down with a series of sharp cracks, every two or three shots being
+followed by more incomprehensible language from the officer. Adjustment
+after each shot is impossible owing to the fact that three or four
+shells have left the gun and are on their way before the first one
+explodes. It was while Jim, with his fingers in his ears, was watching
+the shells bursting round the aeroplane and marvelling that nothing
+seemed to happen, that he suddenly realised that the gun had stopped
+firing. Looking at the detachment, he saw them all gazing upwards. From
+high up, sounding strangely faint in the air, came the zipping of a
+Maxim.
+
+"By Gad!" muttered the gunner officer; "this is going to be some fight."
+
+Bearing down on Panting Lizzie came a British armoured 'plane, and from
+it the Maxim was spitting. And now there started a very pretty air duel.
+I am no airman, to tell of spirals, and glides, and the multifarious
+twistings and turnings. At times the German's Maxim got going as well;
+at times both were silent, manoeuvring for position. The Archies were
+not firing--the machines were too close together. Once the German seemed
+to drop like a stone for a thousand feet or so. "Got him!" shouted
+Jim--but the gunner shook his head.
+
+"A common trick," he answered. "He found it getting a bit warm, and that
+upsets one's range. You'll find he'll be off now."
+
+Sure enough he was--with his nose for home he turned tail and fled. The
+gunner shouted an order, and they opened fire again, while the British
+'plane pursued, its Maxim going continuously. Generally honour is
+satisfied without the shedding of blood; each, having consistently
+missed the other and resisted the temptations of flying low over his
+opponents' guns, returns home to dinner. But in this case--well, whether
+it was Archie or whether it was the Maxim is really immaterial. Suddenly
+a great sheet of flame seemed to leap from the German machine and a puff
+of black smoke: it staggered like a shot bird and then, without warning,
+it fell--a streak of light, like some giant shooting star rushing to the
+earth. The Maxim stopped firing, and after circling round a couple of
+times the British machine buzzed contentedly back to bed. And in a
+field--somewhere behind our lines--there lay for many a day, deep
+embedded in a hole in the ground, the battered remnants of Panting
+Lizzie, with its great black cross stuck out of the earth for all to
+see. Somewhere in the débris, crushed and mangled beyond recognition,
+could have been found the remnants of two German airmen. Which might be
+called the black and white of the overworld.
+
+FOOTNOTE:
+
+[Footnote 1: 9ˇ2" Howitzer.]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+ON THE STAFF
+
+
+But now rumour was getting busy in earnest--things were in the air.
+There were talks of a great offensive--and although there be rumour in
+England, though bucolic stationmasters have brushed the snow from the
+steppes of Russia out of railway carriages, I have no hesitation in
+saying that for quality and quantity the rumours that float round the
+army in France have de Rougemont beat to a frazzle. In this case
+expectations were fulfilled, and two or three days after the decease of
+Panting Lizzie, Jim and his battalion shook the dust of the Ypres
+district from their feet and moved away south.
+
+It was then that our hero raised his third star. Shades of Wellington! A
+captain in a year. But I make no comment. A sense of humour, invaluable
+at all times, is indispensable in this war, if one wishes to preserve an
+unimpaired digestion.
+
+But another thing happened to him, too, about this time, for, owing to
+the sudden sickness of a member of his General's Staff, he found himself
+attached temporarily for duty. No longer did he flat foot it, but in a
+large and commodious motor-car he viewed life from a different
+standpoint. And, solely owing to this temporary appointment, he was able
+to see the launching of the attack near Loos at the end of September. He
+saw the wall of gas and smoke roll slowly forward towards the German
+trenches over the wide space that separated the trenches in that part of
+the line. Great belching explosions seemed to shatter the vapour
+periodically, as German shells exploded in it, causing it to rise in
+swirling eddies, as from some monstrous cauldron, only to sink sullenly
+back and roll on. And behind it came the assaulting battalions, lines of
+black pigmies charging forward.
+
+And later he heard of the Scotsmen who chased the flying Huns like
+terriers after rats, grunting, cursing, swearing, down the gentle slope
+past Loos and up the other side; on to Hill 70, where they swayed
+backwards and forwards over the top, while some with the lust of killing
+on them fought their way into the town beyond--and did not return. He
+heard of the battery that blazed over open sights at the Germans during
+the morning, till, running out of ammunition, the guns ceased fire, a
+mark to every German rifle. The battery remained there during the day,
+for there was not cover for a terrier, let alone a team of horses, and
+between the guns were many strange tableaux as Death claimed his toll.
+They got them away that night, but not before the gunners had taken back
+the breech-blocks--in case; for it was touch and go.
+
+But this attack has already been described too often, and so I will say
+no more. I would rather write of those things which happened to Jim
+Denver himself, before he left the Land of Topsy Turvy for the second
+time. Only I venture to think that when the full story comes to be
+written--if ever--of that last week in September, or the surging forward
+past Loos and the Lone Tree to Hulluch and the top of 70, of the cavalry
+who waited for the chance that never came, and the German machine-guns
+hidden in the slag-heaps, the reading will be interesting. What happened
+would fill a book; what might have happened--a library.
+
+It was a couple of days afterwards that he saw his first big batch of
+German prisoners. Five or six miles behind the firing-line in a great
+grass field, fenced in on all sides by barbed wire, was a batch of some
+seven hundred--almost all of them Prussians and Jägers. Munching food
+contentedly, they sat in rows on the ground; their dirty grey uniforms
+coated with dust and mud--unwashed, unshaven, and--well, if you are
+contemplating German prisoners, get "up wind." All around the field
+Tommies stood and gazed, now and again offering them cigarettes. A few
+prisoners who could speak English got up and talked.
+
+It struck Jim Denver then that he viewed these men with no antipathy; he
+merely gazed at them curiously as one gazes at animals in a "Zoo." And
+as we English are ever prone to such views, and as the Hymn of Hate and
+like effusions are regarded, and rightly so, as occasions for mirth, it
+was perhaps as well for Jim to realise the other point of view. There
+are two sides to every question, and the Germans believe in their hate
+just as we believe in our laughter. But when it is over, it will be
+unfortunate if we forget the hate too quickly.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"What a nation we are!" said a voice beside Jim. He turned round and
+found a doctor watching the scene with a peculiar look in his eyes.
+"Suppose it had been the other way round! Suppose those were our men
+while the Germans were the captors! Do you think the scene would be like
+this?" His face twisted into a bitter smile. "There would have been
+armed soldiers walking up and down the ranks, kicking men in the
+stomach, hitting them on the head with rifle butts, tearing bandages off
+wounds--just for the fun of the thing. Sharing food!"--he laughed
+contemptuously--"why, they'd have been starving. Giving 'em
+cigarettes!--why, they'd have taken away what they had already."
+
+He turned and looked up the road. Walking down it were thirty or so
+German officers. From the button in the centre of their jackets hung in
+nearly every case the ribbon of the Iron Cross. Laughing, talking--one
+or two sneering--they came along and halted by the gate into the field.
+They had been questioned, and were waiting to be marched off with the
+men. A hundred yards or so away the cavalry escort was forming up.
+
+"Man," cried the doctor, suddenly gripping Jim's arm in a vice, "it's
+wicked!" In his eyes there was an ugly look. "Look at those swine--all
+toddling off to Donington Hall--happy as you like. And think of the
+other side of the picture. Stuck with bayonets, hit, brutally treated,
+half-starved, thrown into cattle trucks. Good Heaven! it's horrible."
+
+"We're not the sort to go in for retribution," said Jim, after a moment.
+"After all--oh! I don't know--but it's not quite cricket, is it? Just
+because they're swine...?"
+
+"Cricket!" the other snorted. "You make me tired. I tell you I'm sick to
+death of our kid-glove methods. No retribution! I suppose if a buck
+nigger hit your pal over the head with a club you'd give him a tract on
+charity and meekness. What would our ranting pedagogues say if their
+own sons had been crucified by the Germans as some of our wounded have
+been? You think I'm bitter?" He looked at Jim. "I am. You see, I was a
+prisoner myself until a few weeks ago." He turned and strolled away down
+the road....
+
+And now the escort was ready. An order shouted in the field, and the men
+got up, falling in in some semblance of fours. Slowly they filed through
+the gate and, with their own officers in front, the cortčge started. Led
+by an English cavalry subaltern, with troopers at four or five horses'
+lengths alongside--some with swords drawn, the others with rifles--the
+procession moved sullenly off. A throng of English soldiers gazed
+curiously at them as they passed by; small urchins ran in impudently
+making faces at them. And in the doors of the houses dark-haired,
+grim-faced women watched them pass with lowering brows....
+
+A mixture, those prisoners--a strange mixture. Some with the faces of
+educated men, some with the faces of beasts; some men in the prime of
+life, some mere boys; slouching, squelching through the mud with the
+vacant eyes that the Prussian military system seems to give to its
+soldiers. The look of a man who has no vestige of imagination or
+initiative; the look of a stoical automaton; callous, boorish, sottish
+as befits a man who willingly or unwillingly has sold himself body and
+soul to a system.
+
+And as they wind through the mining villages on their way to a railhead,
+these same grim-faced French women watch them as they go by. They do not
+see the offspring of a system; they only see a group of beast-men--the
+men whose brothers have killed their husbands. After all, has not Madame
+got in her house a refugee--her cousin--whose screams even now ring out
+at night...?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+For a few days more Jim stayed on with the general. Their feeding-place
+was a little café on the main road to Lens. There each morning might our
+hero have been found, in a filthy little back room, drinking coffee out
+of a thick mug, with an omelette cooked to perfection on his plate.
+Never was there such dirt in any room; never a household so prolific of
+children. Every window was smashed; the back garden one huge shell hole;
+but, absolutely unperturbed by such trifles, that stout, good-hearted
+Frenchwoman pursued her sturdy way. She had had the Boches there--"mais
+oui"--but what matter? They did not stay long. "Une omelette, monsieur;
+du café? Certainement, monsieur. Toute de suite."
+
+It might have been in a different world from Ypres and
+Poperinghe--instead of only twenty miles to the south. Gone were the
+flat, cultivated fields; great slag-heaps and smoking chimneys were
+everywhere. And in spite of the fact that active operations were in
+progress, there seemed to be no more gunning than the normal daily
+contribution at Lizerne, Boesinge, and Jim's old friend and first love,
+Hooge. Aeroplanes, too, seemed scarcer. True, one morning, standing in
+the road outside the café, he saw for the first time a fleet of 'planes
+starting out on a raid. Now one and then another would disappear behind
+a fleecy white cloud, only to reappear a few moments later glinting in
+the rays of the morning sun, until at length the whole fleet, in
+dressing and order like a flight of geese, their wings tipped with fire,
+moved over the blue vault of heaven. The drone of their engines came
+faintly from a great height, until, as if at some spoken word from the
+leader, the whole swung half-right and vanished into a bank of clouds.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+NO ANSWER
+
+
+But the grey period for Jim was drawing to a close. To-day it's the man
+over the road that tops the bill; to-morrow it's you, as I said before:
+and a change of caste was imminent in our friend's performance. One does
+not seek these things--they occur; and then they're over, and one waits
+for the next. There is no programme laid down, no book of the words
+printed. Things just happen--sometimes they lead to a near acquaintance
+with iodine, and a kind woman in a grey dress who takes your temperature
+and washes your face; and at others to a dinner with much good wine
+where the laughter is merry and the revelry great. Of course there are
+many other alternatives: you may never reach the hospital--you may never
+get the dinner; you may get a cold in the nose, and go to the
+Riviera--or you may get a bad corn and get blood-poisoning from using a
+rusty jack knife to operate. The caprice of the spirit of Topsy Turvy is
+quite wonderful.
+
+For instance, on the very morning that the Staff Officer came back to
+his job, and Jim returned to his battalion, his company commander asked
+him to go to a general bomb store in a house just up the road, and see
+that the men who were working there were getting on all right. The
+regiment was for the support trenches that night, and preparing bombs
+was the order of the day.
+
+Just as he started to go, a message arrived that the C.O. wished to see
+him. So the company commander went instead; and entered the building
+just as a German shell came in by another door. By all known laws a man
+going over Niagara in an open tub would not willingly have changed
+places with him; an 8-inch shell exploding in the same room with you is
+apt to be a decisive moment in your career.
+
+But long after the noise and the building had subsided, and from high up
+in the air had come a fusillade of small explosions and little puffs of
+smoke, where the bombs hurled up from the cellar went off in turn--Jim
+perceived his captain coming down the road. He had been hurled through
+the wall as it came down, across the road, and had landed intact on a
+manure heap. And it was only when he hit the colonel a stunning blow
+over the head with a French loaf at lunch time that they found out he
+was temporarily as mad as a hatter. So they got him away in an ambulance
+and Jim took over the company. As I say--things just happen.
+
+That night they moved up into support trenches--up that dirty, muddy
+road with the cryptic notices posted at various places: "Do not loiter
+here," "This cross-road is dangerous," "Shelled frequently," etc. And at
+length they came to the rise which overlooks Loos and found they were to
+live in the original German front line--now our support trench. They
+were for the front line in the near future--but at present their job was
+work on this support trench and clearing up the battlefield near them.
+
+Now this war is an impersonal sort of thing taking it all the way round.
+Those who stand in front trenches and blaze away at advancing Huns are
+not, I think, actuated by personal fury against the men they kill. You
+may pick out a fat one perhaps with a red beard and feel a little
+satisfaction when you kill him because his face offends you, but you
+don't really feel any individual animosity towards him. One gets so used
+to death on a large scale that it almost ceases to affect one. An
+isolated man lying dead and twisted by the road, where one doesn't
+expect to find him, moves one infinitely more than a wholesale
+slaughter. The thing is too vast, too overpowering for a man's brain to
+realise.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+But of all the things which one may be called on to do, the clearing of
+a battlefield after an advance brings home most poignantly the tragedy
+of war. You see the individual then, not the mass. Every silent figure
+lying sprawled in fantastic attitude, every huddled group, every
+distorted face tells a story.
+
+Here is an R.A.M.C. orderly crouching over a man lying on a stretcher.
+The man had been wounded--a splint is on his leg, while the dressing is
+still in the orderly's hand. Then just as the orderly was at work, the
+end came for both in a shrapnel shell, and the tableau remains,
+horribly, terribly like a tableau at some amateur theatricals.
+
+Here are a group of men caught by the fire of the machine-gun in the
+corner, to which even now a dead Hun is chained--riddled,
+unrecognisable.
+
+Here is an officer lying on his back, his knees doubled up, a revolver
+gripped in one hand, a weighted stick in the other. His face is black,
+so death was instantaneous. Out of the officer's pocket a letter
+protrudes--a letter to his wife. Perhaps he anticipated death before he
+started, for it was written the night before the advance--who knows?
+
+And it is when, in the soft half-light of the moon, one walks among
+these silent remnants, and no sound breaks the stillness save the noise
+of the shovels where men are digging their graves; when the guns are
+silent and only an occasional burst of rifle fire comes from away in
+front, where the great green flares go silently up into the night, that
+for a moment the human side comes home to one. One realises that though
+monster guns and minenwerfer and strange scientific devices be the paper
+money of this war, now as ever the standard coinage--the bed-rock gold
+of barter--is still man's life. The guns count much--but the man counts
+more.
+
+Take out his letter carefully--it will be posted later. Scratch him a
+grave, there's work to be done--much work, so hurry. His name has been
+sent in to headquarters--there's no time to waste. Easy, lads,
+easy--that's right--cover him up. A party of you over there and get on
+with that horse--_there's no time to waste_....
+
+But somewhere in England a telegraph boy comes whistling up the drive,
+and the woman catches her breath. With fingers that tremble she takes
+the buff envelope--with fearful eyes she opens the flimsy paper.
+Superbly she draws herself up--"There is no answer...."
+
+Lady, you are right. There is no answer, no answer this side of the
+Great Divide. Just now--with your aching eyes fixed on _his_ chair you
+face your God, and ask Why? He knows, dear woman, He knows, and in time
+it will all be clear--the why and the wherefore. Surely it must be so.
+
+But just now it's Hell, isn't it? You know so little: you couldn't help
+him at the end; he had to go into the Deep Waters alone. With the
+shrapnel screaming overhead he lies at peace, while above him it still
+goes on--the work of life and death: the work that brooks no delay. He
+is part of the Price....
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+THE MADNESS
+
+
+All the next day the battalion worked on the trenches. To men used to
+the water and slush of Ypres they came as a revelation--the trenches and
+dug-outs in the chalk district. Great caves had been hollowed out of the
+ground under the barbed wire in front, with two narrow shafts sloping
+steeply down from the trench to each, so small and narrow that you must
+crawl on hands and knees to get in or out. And up these shafts they
+hauled and pushed the dead Germans. Caught like rats, they had been
+gassed and bombed before they could get out, though some few had managed
+to crawl up after the assaulting battalions had passed over and to open
+fire on the supporting ones as they came up. Jim and his men threw them
+out to be buried at night, and they confined their attention during the
+day to building up the trenches and shifting the parapet round. German
+sandbags look like an assortment out of a cheap village draper's--pink
+and black and every kind of colour, but they hold earth, which is the
+main point. So with due care the battalion patted them into shape again
+and then took a little sleep.
+
+That night they moved on again. Now the first trench which they had
+occupied had been behind Loos, and there our new line was a mile away to
+their front on the side of a hill. The place they were now bound for was
+nothing like so peaceful. It was that part of the original German front
+where their old line marked the limit of our advance. We had not pushed
+on beyond it, and the fighting was continuous and bloody.
+
+Now without going into details, perhaps a few words of explanation might
+not be amiss. To many who may read them, they will seem as extracts from
+the "Child's Guide to Knowledge," or reminiscent of those great truths
+one learned at one's nurse's knee. But to some, who know nothing about
+it, they may be of use.
+
+When one occupies the German front line and the Hun has been driven into
+his second, the communication trenches which ran between are still
+there. The trenches which used to run to their rear now run to your
+front and are a link between you and the enemy. And as somewhat
+naturally their knowledge of the position is accurate and yours is
+sketchy, the situation is not all it might be. Moreover, as no
+communication trenches exist between the two old front lines--over what
+was No-man's-land--any reserves must come across the open, and should
+it be necessary to retire, a contingency which must always be faced, the
+retreat must be across the open as well.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+But when you're in a German redoubt, where the trenches would have put a
+maze to shame, the work of consolidating the position is urgent and
+difficult. Communication trenches to your front have to be reconnoitred
+and partially filled in; wire put up; Maxims arranged to shoot down
+straight lengths of trench; new trenches dug to the rear. Which is all
+right if the enemy is half a mile away, but when the distance is twenty
+yards, when without cessation he bombs you from unexpected quarters,
+your temper gets frayed.
+
+This type of fighting ceases to be impersonal. No longer do you throw
+bombs mechanically from one trench to another. No longer do you have no
+actual animosity against the men over the way. You understand the
+feelings of the guard when their German prisoners laughed on seeing men
+gassed--earlier in the war. And you realise that when a man's blood is
+up, you might just as well preach on the wickedness of retribution as
+request a man-eating tiger to postpone his dinner. The joy of killing a
+man you hate is wonderful; the unfortunate thing is that in these days,
+when far from leading to the hangman, it frequently leads to much kudos
+and a medal, so few of us have ever really had the opportunity....
+
+In the place where Jim found himself it was at such close quarters that
+bombs were the only possible weapon. For two days and two nights it went
+on. Little parties of Germans surged up unexpected openings, sometimes
+establishing themselves, sometimes fighting hand-to-hand in wet, sticky
+chalk. Then, unless they were driven out--bombers to the fore again: a
+series of sharp explosions, a dash round a traverse, a grunting,
+snarling set-to in the dark, and all would be over one way or the other.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Then one morning Jim's company got driven out of a forward piece of the
+trench they were holding. Worn out and tired, their faces grey with
+exhaustion, their clothes grey with chalk, heavy-eyed, unshaven, driven
+out by sheer weight of numbers and bombs, they fell back--those that
+remained--down a communication trench. But they were different men from
+the men who went into the place three days before; the primitive
+passions of man were rampant--they asked no mercy, they gave none. Back,
+after a short breather, they went, and when they won through by sheer
+bloody fighting, they found a thing which sent them tearing mad with
+rage. The wounded they had left behind had been bombed to death. The
+junior subaltern was pulled out of a corner by a traverse--mangled
+horribly--and he told Jim.
+
+"They packed us in here and between the next two or three traverses and
+lobbed bombs over," he whispered. And Jim swore horribly. "They're
+coming back," muttered the dying boy. "Listen."
+
+The next instant the Germans were at it again, and the fighting became
+like the fighting of wild beasts. Men stabbed and hacked and cursed;
+rifle butts cracked down on heads; triggers were pulled with the muzzle
+an inch from a man's face. And because the German face to face is no
+match for the English or French, in a short time there was peace, while
+men, panting like exhausted runners, bound up one another's scratches,
+and passed back the serious cases to the rear. They knew it was only a
+temporary respite, and while Jim eased the dying boy, they stacked bombs
+in heaps where they could get at them quickly. It was then that the
+German officer crawled out. Down some hole or other in a bomb recess he
+had hidden during the fight--and then, thinking his position dangerous,
+decided for peaceful capture. It was unfortunate for him the junior
+subaltern was still alive--but only Jim heard the whisper:
+
+"That's the man who told them to bomb us."
+
+"That's interesting," said Jim, and his face was white, while his eyes
+were red.
+
+Quietly he picked up a pick, and moved towards the German officer.
+Through the Huns who had come back again, fighting, stabbing, picking
+his way, Jim Denver moved relentlessly. And at last he reached
+him--reached him and laughed gently. The German sprang at him and Jim
+struck him with his fist; the German screamed for help, but there was
+none to help; every man was fighting grimly for his own life. Then still
+without a word he drove the pick.... Once again he laughed gently, and
+turned his mind to other things.
+
+For hours they hung on, bombing, shooting, at a yard's range, and in the
+forefront, cheering them, holding them, doing the work of ten, was Jim.
+His revolver ammunition was exhausted, his loaded stick was broken; his
+eyes had a look of madness: temporarily he was mad--mad with the lust of
+killing. It was almost the last bomb the Germans threw that took him,
+and that took him properly. But the remnant of his company who carried
+him back, when relief came up from the battalion, contained no one more
+cheery than him. As a fight they'll never have a better; and it's better
+to take it when the fighting is bloody, and it's man to man, than to
+stop a shrapnel at the estaminet two miles down the road. That isn't
+even grey--it's mottled; especially if the red wine is just coming....
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+THE GREY HOUSE AGAIN
+
+
+So they carried him home for the second time--back to the Land of
+Sanity: to the place where the noise of the water sounded ceaselessly
+over the rounded stones. And resting one afternoon on a sofa in the
+drawing-room Jim dozed.
+
+The door burst open, and Sybil came in. "Boy, do you see, they've given
+you a D.S.O. 'For conspicuous gallantry in holding up an almost isolated
+position for several hours against vastly superior numbers of the enemy.
+He was badly wounded just before relief came.'"
+
+Her eyes were shining. "Oh! my dear--I'm so proud of you! Do you
+remember saying it was a glorious madness?"
+
+Into his mind there flashed the picture of a German officer's
+face--distorted with terror--cringing: just as a pick came down....
+
+"Yes, girl, I remember," he answered softly. "I remember. But, thank
+God! I'm sane again now."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+And now I will ring down the curtain. For Jim Denver the black and white
+have gone; even the grey of the Land of Topsy Turvy is hazy and
+indistinct. The guns are silent: the men and the women are--sane.
+
+The shepherd is out of sight amongst the trees; the purple is changing
+to grey, the grey to black; there is no sound saving only the tireless
+murmur of the river....
+
+THE END
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Transcriber's Notes
+
+Herman Cyril McNeile was an officer in the Royal Engineers who
+published under the pseudonym "Sapper".
+
+Obvious punctuation errors repaired.
+
+Hyphen added: "bed[-]rock" (p. 303).
+
+Hyphen removed: "ward[-]room" (p. 167), "sand[-]bags" (p. 188),
+"stock[-]broker" (p. 265).
+
+The following words are inconsistently hyphenated but have not been
+changed: "dug[-]out", "half[-]way", "sand[-]bags", "sign[-]post",
+"super[-]human", "table[-]cloth".
+
+Page 291: "Panting Lizze" changed to "Panting Lizzie".
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Men, Women and Guns, by 
+H. C. (Herman Cyril) McNeile
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+<pre>
+
+Project Gutenberg's Men, Women and Guns, by H. C. (Herman Cyril) McNeile
+
+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: Men, Women and Guns
+
+Author: H. C. (Herman Cyril) McNeile
+
+Release Date: May 25, 2011 [EBook #36211]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MEN, WOMEN AND GUNS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Moti Ben-Ari and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
+produced from images generously made available by The
+Internet Archive)
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+
+
+<h1>MEN, WOMEN AND GUNS</h1>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_i" id="Page_i">[i]</a></span></p>
+<h2>"SAPPER"</h2>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_ii" id="Page_ii">[ii]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_iii" id="Page_iii">[iii]</a></span></p>
+<h1>MEN, WOMEN AND GUNS</h1>
+
+<h4>BY</h4>
+<h2>"SAPPER"</h2>
+<h4>AUTHOR OF "MICHAEL CASSIDY, SERGEANT"</h4>
+
+<div class="center">
+NEW YORK<br />
+GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY
+</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="center">
+<span class="smcap">Copyright, 1916,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_iv" id="Page_iv">[iv]</a></span><br />
+By George H. Doran Company</span><br />
+<br />
+PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
+</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[v]</a></span></p>
+<div class="center">
+TO<br />
+MY WIFE<br />
+</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi">[vi]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[vii]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS</h2>
+
+
+<div class="center">
+<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align="right"></td><td align="left"></td><td align="right">PAGE</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left" colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Prologue</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_xi">xi</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="center" colspan="3">PART ONE</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left" colspan="3">CHAPTER</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">I.</td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Motor-Gun</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_23">23</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">II.</td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Private Meyrick&mdash;Company Idiot</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_49">49</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">III.</td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Spud Trevor of the Red Hussars</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_77">77</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">IV.</td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Fatal Second</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_99">99</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">V.</td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Jim Brent's V.C.</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_121">121</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">VI.</td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Retribution</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_155">155</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">VII.</td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Death Grip</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_183">183</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">VIII.</td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">James Henry</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_211">211</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="center" colspan="3">&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="center" colspan="3">PART TWO</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="center" colspan="3">THE LAND OF THE TOPSY TURVY</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">I.</td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Grey House</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_237">237</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">II.</td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Women and&mdash;the Men</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_243">243</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">III.</td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Woman and the Man</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_249">249</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">IV.</td><td align="left">"<span class="smcap">The Regiment</span>"</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_257">257</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">V.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[viii]</a></span></td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Contrast</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_265">265</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">VI.</td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Black, White, and&mdash;Grey</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_271">271</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">VII.</td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Archie and Others</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_287">287</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">VIII.</td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">On the Staff</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_291">291</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">IX.</td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">No Answer</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_299">299</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">X.</td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Madness</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_305">305</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">XI.</td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Grey House Again</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_311">311</a></td></tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">[ix]</a></span></p>
+<h2>PROLOGUE</h2>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_x" id="Page_x">[x]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xi" id="Page_xi">[xi]</a></span></p>
+<h2>PROLOGUE</h2>
+
+<p>Two days ago a dear old aunt of mine asked me
+to describe to her what shrapnel was like.</p>
+
+<p>"What does it feel like to be shelled?" she demanded.
+"Explain it to me."</p>
+
+<p>Under the influence of my deceased uncle's most
+excellent port I did so. Soothed and in that expansive
+frame of mind induced by the old and bold, I drew her
+a picture&mdash;vivid, startling, wonderful. And when I
+had finished, the dear old lady looked at me.</p>
+
+<p>"Dreadful!" she murmured. "Did I ever tell you
+of the terrible experience I had on the front at Eastbourne,
+when my bath-chair attendant became inebriated
+and upset me?"</p>
+
+<p>Slowly and sorrowfully I finished the decanter&mdash;and
+went to bed.</p>
+
+<p>But seriously, my masters, it is a hard thing that
+my aunt asked of me. There are many things worse
+than shelling&mdash;the tea-party you find in progress on
+your arrival on leave; the utterances of war experts;
+the non-arrival of the whisky from England. But all
+of those can be imagined by people who have not suffered;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xii" id="Page_xii">[xii]</a></span>
+they have a standard, a measure of comparison.
+Shelling&mdash;no.</p>
+
+<p>The explosion of a howitzer shell near you is a definite,
+actual fact&mdash;which is unlike any other fact in the
+world, except the explosion of another howitzer shell
+still nearer. Many have attempted to describe the noise
+it makes as the most explainable part about it. And
+then you're no wiser.</p>
+
+<p>Listen. Stand with me at the Menin Gate of Ypres
+and listen. Through a cutting a train is roaring on
+its way. Rapidly it rises in a great swelling crescendo
+as it dashes into the open, and then its journey stops
+on some giant battlement&mdash;stops in a peal of deafening
+thunder just overhead. The shell has burst, and
+the echoes in that town of death die slowly away&mdash;reverberating
+like a sullen sea that lashes against a
+rock-bound coast.</p>
+
+<p>And yet what does it convey to anyone who
+patronises inebriated bath-chair men? ...</p>
+
+<p>Similarly&mdash;shrapnel! "The Germans were searching
+the road with 'whizz-bangs.'" A common remark,
+an ordinary utterance in a letter, taken by fond parents
+as an unpleasing affair such as the cook giving notice.</p>
+
+<p>Come with me to a spot near Ypres; come, and we
+will take our evening walk together.</p>
+
+<p>"They're a bit lively farther up the road, sir." The
+corporal of military police stands gloomily at a cross-roads,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xiii" id="Page_xiii">[xiii]</a></span>
+his back against a small wayside shrine. A
+passing shell unroofed it many weeks ago; it stands
+there surrounded by débris&mdash;the image of the Virgin,
+chipped and broken. Just a little monument of desolation
+in a ruined country, but pleasant to lean against
+when it's between you and German guns.</p>
+
+<p>Let us go on, it's some way yet before we reach the
+dug-out by the third dead horse. In front of us
+stretches a long, straight road, flanked on each side by
+poplars. In the middle there is pavé. At intervals, a
+few small holes, where the stones have been shattered
+and hurled away by a bursting shell and only the
+muddy grit remains hollowed out to a depth of two
+feet or so, half-full of water. At the bottom an empty
+tin of bully, ammunition clips, numbers of biscuits&mdash;sodden
+and muddy. Altogether a good obstacle to take
+with the front wheel of a car at night.</p>
+
+<p>A little farther on, beside the road, in a ruined, desolate
+cottage two men are resting for a while, smoking.
+The dirt and mud of the trenches is thick on them, and
+one of them is contemplatively scraping his boot with
+his knife and fork. Otherwise, not a soul, not a living
+soul in sight; though away to the left front, through
+glasses, you can see two people, a man and a woman,
+labouring in the fields. And the only point of interest
+about them is that between you and them run the two
+motionless, stagnant lines of men who for months have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xiv" id="Page_xiv">[xiv]</a></span>
+faced one another. Those two labourers are on the
+other side of the German trenches.</p>
+
+<p>The setting sun is glinting on the little crumbling
+village two or three hundred yards ahead, and as you
+walk towards it in the still evening air your steps ring
+loud on the pavé. On each side the flat, neglected fields
+stretch away from the road; the drains beside it are
+choked with weeds and refuse; and here and there one
+of the gaunt trees, split in two half-way up by a shell,
+has crashed into its neighbour or fallen to the ground.
+A peaceful summer's evening which seems to give the
+lie to our shrine-leaner. And yet, to one used to the
+peace of England, it seems almost too quiet, almost
+unnatural.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly, out of the blue there comes a sharp,
+whizzing noise, and almost before you've heard it there
+is a crash, and from the village in front there rises a
+cloud of dust. A shell has burst on impact on one
+of the few remaining houses; some slates and tiles fall
+into the road, and round the hole torn out of the sloping
+roof there hangs a whitish-yellow cloud of smoke.
+In quick succession come half a dozen more, some
+bursting on the ruined cottages as they strike, some
+bursting above them in the air. More clouds of dust
+rise from the deserted street, small avalanches of débris
+cascade into the road, and, above, three or four
+thick white smoke-clouds drift slowly across the sky.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xv" id="Page_xv">[xv]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>This is the moment at which it is well&mdash;unless time
+is urgent&mdash;to pause and reflect awhile. If you <i>must</i>
+go on, a détour is strongly to be recommended. The
+Germans are shelling the empty village just in front
+with shrapnel, and who are you to interpose yourself
+between him and his chosen target? But if in no particular
+hurry, then it were wise to dally gracefully
+against a tree, admiring the setting sun, until he desists;
+when you may in safety resume your walk.
+<i>But</i>&mdash;do not forget that he may not stick to the village,
+and that whizz-bangs give no time. That is why I
+specified a tree, and not the middle of the road. It's
+nearer the ditch.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly, without a second's warning, they shift
+their target. Whizz-bang! Duck, you blighter! Into
+the ditch. Quick! Move! Hang your bottle of white
+wine! Get down! Cower! Emulate the mole! This
+isn't the village in front now&mdash;he's shelling the road
+you're standing on! There's one burst on impact in
+the middle of the pavé forty yards in front of you, and
+another in the air just over your head. And there are
+more coming&mdash;don't make any mistake. That short,
+sharp whizz every few seconds&mdash;the bang! bang! bang!
+seems to be going on all around you. A thing hums
+past up in the air, with a whistling noise, leaving a trail
+of sparks behind it&mdash;one of the fuses. Later, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xvi" id="Page_xvi">[xvi]</a></span>
+curio-hunter may find it nestling by a turnip. He may
+have it.</p>
+
+<p>With a vicious thud a jagged piece of shell buries
+itself in the ground at your feet; and almost simultaneously
+the bullets from a well-burst one cut through
+the trees above you and ping against the road, thudding
+into the earth around. No more impact ones&mdash;they've
+got the range. Our pessimistic friend at the cross-roads
+spoke the truth; they're quite lively. Everything
+bursting beautifully above the road about forty feet
+up. Bitter thought&mdash;if only the blighters knew that it
+was empty save for your wretched and unworthy self
+cowering in a ditch, with a bottle of white wine in your
+pocket and your head down a rat-hole, surely they
+wouldn't waste their ammunition so reprehensibly!</p>
+
+<p>Then, suddenly, they stop, and as the last white puff
+of smoke drifts slowly away you cautiously lift your
+head and peer towards the village. Have they finished?
+Will it be safe to resume your interrupted
+promenade in a dignified manner? Or will you give
+them another minute or two? Almost have you decided
+to do so when to your horror you perceive coming
+towards you through the village itself two officers.
+What a position to be discovered in! True, only the
+very young or the mentally deficient scorn cover when
+shelling is in progress. But of course, just at the
+moment when you'd welcome a shell to account for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xvii" id="Page_xvii">[xvii]</a></span>
+your propinquity with the rat-hole, the blighters have
+stopped. No sound breaks the stillness, save the steps
+ringing towards you&mdash;and it looks silly to be found
+in a ditch for no apparent reason.</p>
+
+<p>Then, as suddenly as before comes salvation. Just
+as with infinite stealth you endeavour to step out nonchalantly
+from behind a tree, as if you were part of
+the scenery&mdash;bang! crash! from in front. Cheer-oh!
+the village again, the church this time. A shower of
+bricks and mortar comes down like a landslip, and if
+you are quick you may just see two black streaks go
+to ground. From the vantage-point of your tree you
+watch a salvo of shells explode in, on, or about the
+temporary abode of those two officers. You realise
+from what you know of the Hun that this salvo probably
+concludes the evening hate; and the opportunity
+is too good to miss. Edging rapidly along the road&mdash;keeping
+close to the ditch&mdash;you approach the houses.
+Your position, you feel, is now strategically sound,
+with regard to the wretched pair cowering behind
+rubble heaps. You even desire revenge for your mental
+anguish when discovery in the rodent's lair seemed
+certain. So light a cigarette&mdash;if you didn't drop them
+all when you went to ground yourself; if you did&mdash;whistle
+some snappy tune as you stride jauntily into
+the village.</p>
+
+<p>Don't go too fast or you may miss them; but should<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xviii" id="Page_xviii">[xviii]</a></span>
+you see a head peer from behind a kitchen-range express
+no surprise. Just&mdash;"Toppin' evening, ain't it?
+Getting furniture for the dug-out&mdash;what?" To linger
+is bad form, but it is quite permissible to ask his companion&mdash;seated
+in a torn-up drain&mdash;if the ratting is
+good. Then pass on in a leisurely manner, <i>but</i>&mdash;when
+you're round the corner, run like a hare. With these
+cursed Germans, you never know.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>Night&mdash;and a working-party stretching away over
+a ploughed field are digging a communication trench.
+The great green flares lob up half a mile away, a
+watery moon shines on the bleak scene. Suddenly a
+noise like the tired sigh of some great giant, a scorching
+sheet of flame that leaps at you out of the darkness,
+searing your very brain, so close does it seem;
+the ping of death past your head; the clatter of shovel
+and pick next you as a muttered curse proclaims a
+man is hit; a voice from down the line: "Gawd! Old
+Ginger's took it. 'Old up, mate. Say, blokes, Ginger's
+done in!" Aye&mdash;it's worse at night.</p>
+
+<p>Shrapnel! Woolly, fleecy puffs of smoke floating
+gently down wind, getting more and more attenuated,
+gradually disappearing, while below each puff an oval
+of ground has been plastered with bullets. And it's
+when the ground inside the oval is full of men that
+the damage is done.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xix" id="Page_xix">[xix]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xx" id="Page_xx">[xx]</a></span> you perhaps&mdash;but someone. Next time&mdash;maybe
+you.
+</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>And that, methinks, is an epitome of other things
+besides shrapnel. It's <i>all</i> the war to the men who fight
+and the women who wait.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span></p>
+<h2>PART ONE</h2>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span></p>
+<h2>PART ONE</h2>
+
+<h2>CHAPTER I</h2>
+
+<h3>THE MOTOR-GUN</h3>
+
+
+<p>Nothing in this war has so struck those who
+have fought in it as its impersonal nature.
+From the day the British Army moved north, and the
+first battle of Ypres commenced&mdash;and with it trench
+warfare as we know it now&mdash;it has been, save for a
+few interludes, a contest between automatons, backed
+by every known scientific device. Personal rancour
+against the opposing automatons separated by twenty
+or thirty yards of smelling mud&mdash;who stew in the
+same discomfort as yourself&mdash;is apt to give way to
+an acute animosity against life in general, and the
+accursed fate in particular which so foolishly decided
+your sex at birth. But, though rare, there have been
+cases of isolated encounters, where men&mdash;with the
+blood running hot in their veins&mdash;have got down to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span>
+hand-grips, and grappling backwards and forwards in
+some cellar or dugout, have fought to the death, man
+to man, as of old. Such a case has recently come to
+my knowledge, a case at once bizarre and unique: a
+case where the much-exercised arm of coincidence
+showed its muscles to a remarkable degree. Only quite
+lately have I found out all the facts, and now at Dick
+O'Rourke's special request I am putting them on paper.
+True, they are intended to reach the eyes of
+one particular person, but ... the personal column
+in the <i>Times</i> interests others besides the lady in the
+magenta skirt, who will eat a banana at 3.30 daily by
+the Marble Arch!</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>And now, at the very outset of my labours, I find
+myself&mdash;to my great alarm&mdash;committed to the placing
+on paper of a love scene. O'Rourke insists upon it:
+he says the whole thing will fall flat if I don't put it
+in; he promises that he will supply the local colour.
+In advance I apologise: my own love affairs are sufficiently
+trying without endeavouring to describe his&mdash;and
+with that, here goes.</p>
+
+<p>I will lift my curtain on the principals of this little
+drama, and open the scene at Ciro's in London. On the
+evening of April 21st, 1915, in the corner of that delectable
+resort, farthest away from the coon band, sat
+Dickie O'Rourke. That afternoon he had stepped<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span>
+from the boat at Folkestone on seven days' leave, and
+now in the boiled shirt of respectability he once again
+smelled the smell of London.</p>
+
+<p>With him was a girl. I have never seen her, but
+from his description I cannot think that I have lived
+until this oversight is rectified. Moreover, my lady,
+as this is written especially for your benefit, I hereby
+warn you that I propose to remedy my omission as
+soon as possible.</p>
+
+<p>And yet with a band that is second to none; with
+food wonderful and divine; with the choicest fruit of
+the grape, and&mdash;to top all&mdash;with the girl, Dickie did
+not seem happy. As he says, it was not to be wondered
+at. He had landed at Folkestone meaning to
+propose; he had carried out his intention over the
+fish&mdash;and after that the dinner had lost its savour.
+She had refused him&mdash;definitely and finally; and Dick
+found himself wishing for France again&mdash;France and
+forgetfulness. Only he knew he'd never forget.</p>
+
+<p>"The dinner is to monsieur's taste?" The head-waiter
+paused attentively by the table.</p>
+
+<p>"Very good," growled Dick, looking savagely at
+an ice on his plate. "Oh, Moyra," he muttered, as
+the man passed on, "it's meself is finished entoirely.
+And I was feeling that happy on the boat; as I saw
+the white cliffs coming nearer and nearer, I said to
+meself, 'Dick, me boy, in just four hours you'll be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span>
+with the dearest, sweetest girl that God ever sent from
+the heavens to brighten the lives of dull dogs like
+yourself.'"</p>
+
+<p>"You're not dull, Dick. You're not to say those
+things&mdash;you're a dear." The girl's eyes seemed a bit
+misty as she bent over her plate.</p>
+
+<p>"And now!" He looked at her pleadingly. "'Tis
+the light has gone out of my life. Ah! me dear, is
+there no hope for Dickie O'Rourke? Me estate is
+mostly bog, and the ould place has fallen down, saving
+only the stable&mdash;but there's the breath of the seas
+that comes over the heather in the morning, and there's
+the violet of your dear eyes in the hills. It's not worrying
+you that I'd be&mdash;but is there no hope at all, at
+all?"</p>
+
+<p>The girl turned towards him, smiling a trifle sadly.
+There was woman's pity in the lovely eyes: her lips
+were trembling a little. "Dear old Dick," she whispered,
+and her hand rested lightly on his for a moment.
+"Dear old Dick, I'm sorry. If I'd only known
+sooner&mdash;&mdash;" She broke off abruptly and fell to gazing
+at the floor.</p>
+
+<p>"Then there is someone else!" The man spoke almost
+fiercely.</p>
+
+<p>Slowly she nodded her head, but she did not speak.</p>
+
+<p>"Who is it?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I don't know that you've got any right to ask me
+that, Dick," she answered, a little proudly.</p>
+
+<p>"What's the talk of right between you and me? Do
+you suppose I'll let any cursed social conventions stand
+between me and the woman I love?" She could see
+his hand trembling, though outwardly he seemed quite
+calm. And then his voice dropped to a tender, pleading
+note&mdash;and again the soft, rich brogue of the Irishman
+crept in&mdash;that wonderful tone that brings with
+it the music of the fairies from the hazy blue hills of
+Connemara.</p>
+
+<p>"Acushla mine," he whispered, "would I be hurting
+a hair of your swate head, or bringing a tear to them
+violet pools ye calls your eyes? 'Tis meself that is
+in the wrong entoirely&mdash;but, mavourneen, I just worship
+you. And the thought of the other fellow is
+driving me crazy. Will ye not be telling me his
+name?"</p>
+
+<p>"Dick, I can't," she whispered, piteously. "You
+wouldn't understand."</p>
+
+<p>"And why would I not understand?" he answered,
+grimly. "Is it something shady he has done to
+you?&mdash;for if it is, by the Holy Mother, I'll murder
+him."</p>
+
+<p>"No, no, it's nothing shady. But I can't tell you,
+Dick; and oh, Dick! I'm just wretched, and I don't
+know what to do." The tears were very near.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span>
+A whimsical look came into his face as he watched
+her. "Moyra, me dear; 'tis about ten shillings apiece
+we're paying for them ices; and if you splash them
+with your darling tears, the chef will give notice and
+that coon with the banjo will strike work."</p>
+
+<p>"You dear, Dick," she whispered, after a moment,
+while a smile trembled round her mouth. "I nearly
+made a fool of myself."</p>
+
+<p>"Divil a bit," he answered. "But let us be after discussing
+them two fair things yonder while we gets on
+with the ices. 'Tis the most suitable course for contemplating
+the dears; and, anyway, we'll take no more
+risks until we're through with them."</p>
+
+<p>And so with a smile on his lips and a jest on his
+tongue did a gallant gentleman cover the ache in his
+heart and the pain in his eyes, and felt more than rewarded
+by the look of thanks he got. It was not for
+him to ask for more than she would freely give; and
+if there was another man&mdash;well, he was a lucky dog.
+But if he'd played the fool&mdash;yes, by Heaven! if he'd
+played the fool, that was a different pair of shoes altogether.
+His forehead grew black at the thought, and
+mechanically his fists clenched.</p>
+
+<p>"Dick, I'd like to tell you just how things are."</p>
+
+<p>He pulled himself together and looked at the girl.</p>
+
+<p>"It is meself that is at your service, my lady," he
+answered, quietly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I'm engaged. But it's a secret."</p>
+
+<p>His jaw dropped, "Engaged!" he faltered. "But&mdash;who
+to? And why is it a secret?"</p>
+
+<p>"I can't tell you who to. I promised to keep it
+secret; and then he suddenly went away and the war
+broke out and I've never seen him since."</p>
+
+<p>"But you've heard from him?"</p>
+
+<p>She bit her lip and looked away. "Not a line," she
+faltered.</p>
+
+<p>"But&mdash;I don't understand." His tone was infinitely
+tender. "Why hasn't he written to you? Violet girl,
+why would he not have written?"</p>
+
+<p>"You see, he's a&mdash;&mdash;" She seemed to be nerving
+herself to speak. "You see, he's a German!"</p>
+
+<p>It was out at last.</p>
+
+<p>"Mother of God!" Dick leaned back in his chair,
+his eyes fixed on her, his cigarette unheeded, burning
+the tablecloth. "Do you love him?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes." The whispered answer was hardly audible.
+"Oh, Dick, I wonder if you can understand. It all
+came so suddenly, and then there was this war, and I
+know it's awful to love a German, but I do, and I can't
+tell anyone but you; they'd think it horrible of me.
+Oh, Dick! tell me you understand."</p>
+
+<p>"I understand, little girl," he answered, very slowly.
+"I understand."</p>
+
+<p>It was all very involved and infinitely pathetic. But,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span>
+as I have said before, Dick O'Rourke was a gallant
+gentleman.</p>
+
+<p>"It's not his fault he's a German," she went on after
+a while. "He didn't start the war&mdash;and, you see, I
+promised him."</p>
+
+<p>That was the rub&mdash;she'd promised him. Truly a
+woman is a wonderful thing! Very gentle and patient
+was O'Rourke with her that evening, and when at last
+he turned into his club, he sat for a long while gazing
+into the fire. Just once a muttered curse escaped his
+lips.</p>
+
+<p>"Did you speak?" said the man in the next chair.</p>
+
+<p>"I did <i>not</i>," said O'Rourke, and getting up abruptly
+he went to bed.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>At 3 p.m. on April 22nd Dick O'Rourke received a
+wire. It was short and to the point. "Leave cancelled.
+Return at once." He tore round to Victoria,
+found he'd missed the boat-train, and went down to
+Folkestone on chance. For the time Moyra was almost
+forgotten. Officers are not recalled from short
+leave without good and sufficient reason; and as yet
+there was nothing in the evening papers that showed
+any activity. At Folkestone he met other officers&mdash;also
+recalled; and when the boat came in rumours began
+to spread. The whole line had fallen back&mdash;the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span>
+Germans were through and marching on Calais&mdash;a
+ghastly defeat had been sustained.</p>
+
+<p>The morning papers were a little more reassuring;
+and in them for the first time came the mention of the
+word "gas." Everything was vague, but that something
+had happened was obvious, and also that that
+something was pretty serious.</p>
+
+<p>One p.m. on the 23rd found him at Boulogne, ramping
+like a bull. An unemotional railway transport officer
+told him that there was a very nice train starting at
+midnight, but that the leave train was cancelled.</p>
+
+<p>"But, man!" howled O'Rourke, "I've been recalled.
+'Tis urgent!" He brandished the wire in his face.</p>
+
+<p>The R.T.O. remained unmoved, and intimated that
+he was busy, and that O'Rourke's private history left
+him quite cold. Moreover, he thought it possible that
+the British Army might survive without him for another
+day.</p>
+
+<p>In the general confusion that ensued on his replying
+that the said R.T.O. was no doubt a perfect devil as a
+traveller for unshrinkable underclothes, but that his
+knowledge of the British Army might be written on a
+postage-stamp, O'Rourke escaped, and ensconcing himself
+near the barrier, guarded by French sentries, at
+the top of the hill leading to St. Omer, he waited for a
+motor-car.</p>
+
+<p>Having stopped two generals and been consigned<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span>
+elsewhere for his pains, he ultimately boarded a flying
+corps lorry, and 4 p.m. found him at St. Omer. And
+there&mdash;but we will whisper&mdash;was a relative&mdash;one of
+the exalted ones of the earth, who possessed many
+motor-cars, great and small.</p>
+
+<p>Dick chose the second Rolls-Royce, and having pursued
+his unit to the farm where he'd left it two days
+before, he chivied it round the country, and at length
+traced it to Poperinghe.</p>
+
+<p>And there he found things moving. As yet no one
+was quite sure what had happened; but he found a
+solemn conclave of Army Service Corps officers attached
+to his division, and from them he gathered
+twenty or thirty of the conflicting rumours that were
+flying round. One thing, anyway, was clear: the
+Huns were not triumphantly marching on Calais&mdash;yet.
+It was just as a charming old boy of over fifty, who
+had perjured his soul over his age and had been out
+since the beginning&mdash;a standing reproach to a large
+percentage of the so-called youth of England&mdash;it was
+just as he suggested a little dinner in that hospitable
+town, prior to going up with the supply lorries, that
+with a droning roar a twelve-inch shell came crashing
+into the square....</p>
+
+<p>That night at 11 p.m. Dick stepped out of another
+car into a ploughed field just behind the little village
+of Woesten, and, having trodden on his major's face<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span>
+and unearthed his servant, lay down by the dying fire
+to get what sleep he could. Now and again a horse
+whinnied near by; a bit rattled, a man cursed; for the
+unit was ready to move at a moment's notice and the
+horses were saddled up. The fire died out&mdash;from close
+by a battery was firing, and the sky was dancing with
+the flashes of bursting shells like summer lightning
+flickering in the distance. And with his head on a
+sharp stone and another in his back Dick O'Rourke fell
+asleep and dreamed of&mdash;but dreams are silly things to
+describe. It was just as he'd thrown the hors-d'&oelig;uvres
+at the head-waiter of Ciro's, who had suddenly become
+the hated German rival, and was wiping the potato
+salad off Moyra's face, which it had hit by mistake,
+with the table-cloth, that with a groan he turned
+on his other side&mdash;only to exchange the stones for a
+sardine tin and a broken pickle bottle. Which is really
+no more foolish than the rest of life nowadays....</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>And now for a moment I must go back and, leaving
+our hero, describe shortly the events that led up to the
+sending of the wire that recalled him.</p>
+
+<p>Early in the morning of April 22nd the Germans
+launched at that part of the French line which lay
+in front of the little villages of Elverdinge and Brielen,
+a yellowish-green cloud of gas, which rolled slowly
+over the intervening ground between the trenches,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span>
+carried on its way by a faint, steady breeze. I do
+not intend to describe the first use of that infamous
+invention&mdash;it has been done too often before. But,
+for the proper understanding of what follows, it
+is essential for me to go into a few details. Utterly
+unprepared for what was to come, the French divisions
+gazed for a short while spellbound at the strange
+phenomenon they saw coming slowly towards them.
+Like some liquid the heavy-coloured vapour poured
+relentlessly into the trenches, filled them, and passed
+on. For a few seconds nothing happened; the sweet-smelling
+stuff merely tickled their nostrils; they failed
+to realise the danger. Then, with inconceivable rapidity,
+the gas worked, and blind panic spread. Hundreds,
+after a dreadful fight for air, became unconscious
+and died where they lay&mdash;a death of hideous
+torture, with the frothing bubbles gurgling in their
+throats and the foul liquid welling up in their lungs.
+With blackened faces and twisted limbs one by one
+they drowned&mdash;only that which drowned them came
+from inside and not from out. Others, staggering,
+falling, lurching on, and of their ignorance keeping
+pace with the gas, went back. A hail of rifle-fire and
+shrapnel mowed them down, and the line was broken.
+There was nothing on the British left&mdash;their flank
+was up in the air. The north-east corner of the
+salient round Ypres had been pierced. From in front<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span>
+of St. Julian, away up north towards Boesienge, there
+was no one in front of the Germans.</p>
+
+<p>It is not my intention to do more than mention
+the rushing up of the cavalry corps and the Indians
+to fill the gap; the deathless story of the Canadians
+who, surrounded and hemmed in, fought till they
+died against overwhelming odds; the fate of the
+Northumbrian division&mdash;fresh from home&mdash;who were
+rushed up in support, and the field behind Fortuin
+where they were caught by shrapnel, and what was
+left. These things are outside the scope of my story.
+Let us go back to the gap.</p>
+
+<p>Hard on the heels of the French came the Germans
+advancing. For a mile or so they pushed on, and
+why they stopped when they did is&mdash;as far as I am
+concerned&mdash;one of life's little mysteries. Perhaps
+the utter success of their gas surprised even them;
+perhaps they anticipated some trap; perhaps the incredible
+heroism of the Canadians in hanging up the
+German left caused their centre to push on too far
+and lose touch; perhaps&mdash;but, why speculate? I don't
+know, though possibly those in High Places may. The
+fact remains they did stop; their advantage was lost
+and the situation was saved.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>Such was the state of affairs when O'Rourke
+opened his eyes on the morning of Saturday, April<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span>
+24th. The horses were dimly visible through the
+heavy mist, his blankets were wringing wet, and hazily
+he wondered why he had ever been born. Then the
+cook dropped the bacon in the fire, and he groaned
+with anguish; visions of yesterday's grilled kidneys
+and hot coffee rose before him and mocked. By six
+o'clock he had fed, and sitting on an overturned biscuit-box
+beside the road he watched three batteries
+of French 75's pass by and disappear in the distance.
+At intervals he longed to meet the man who invented
+war. It must be remembered that, though I have
+given the situation as it really was, for the better
+understanding of the story, the facts at the time
+were not known at all clearly. The fog of war still
+wrapped in oblivion&mdash;as far as regimental officers
+were concerned, at any rate&mdash;the events which were
+taking place within a few miles of them.</p>
+
+<p>When, therefore, Dick O'Rourke perceived an unshaven
+and unwashed warrior, garbed as a gunner
+officer, coming down the road from Woesten, and,
+moreover, recognised him as one of his own term at
+the "Shop," known to his intimates as the Land Crab,
+he hailed him with joy.</p>
+
+<p>"All hail, oh, crustacean!" he cried, as the other
+came abreast of him. "Whither dost walk so
+blithely?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Halloa, Dick!" The gunner paused. "You haven't
+seen my major anywhere, have you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not that I'm aware of, but as I don't know your
+major from Adam, my evidence may not be reliable.
+What news from the seat of war?"</p>
+
+<p>"None that I know of&mdash;except this cursed gun,
+that is rapidly driving me to drink."</p>
+
+<p>"What cursed gun? I am fresh from Ciro's and
+the haunts of love and ease. Expound to me your
+enigma, my Land Crab."</p>
+
+<p>"Haven't you heard? When the Germans&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>He stopped suddenly. "Listen!" Perfectly clear from
+the woods to the north of them&mdash;the woods that lie
+to the west of the Woesten-Oostvleteren road, for
+those who may care for maps&mdash;there came the distinctive
+boom! crack! of a smallish gun. Three more
+shots, and then silence. The gunner turned to Dick.</p>
+
+<p>"There you are&mdash;that's the gun."</p>
+
+<p>"But how nice! Only, why curse it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Principally because it's German; and those four
+shots that you have just heard have by this time burst
+in Poperinghe."</p>
+
+<p>"What!" O'Rourke looked at him in amazement.
+"Is it my leg you would be pulling?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly not. When the Germans came on in
+the first blind rush after the French two small guns
+on motor mountings got through behind our lines.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span>
+One was completely wrecked with its detachment
+The motor mounting of the other you can see lying
+in a pond about a mile up the road. The gun is
+there." He pointed to the wood.</p>
+
+<p>"And the next!" said O'Rourke. "D'you mean
+to tell me that there is a German gun in that wood
+firing at Poperinghe? Why, hang it, man! it's three
+miles behind our lines."</p>
+
+<p>"Taking the direction those shells are coming from,
+the distance from Poperinghe to that gun must be
+more than ten miles&mdash;if the gun is behind the German
+trenches. Your gunnery is pretty rotten, I know, but
+if you know of any two-inch gun that shoots ten
+miles, I'll be obliged if you'll give me some lessons."
+The gunner lit a cigarette. "Man, we know it's not
+one of ours, we know where they all are; we know it's
+a Hun."</p>
+
+<p>"Then, what in the name of fortune are ye standing
+here for talking like an ould woman with the
+indigestion? Away with you, and lead us to him,
+and don't go chivying after your bally major." Dick
+shouted for his revolver. "If there's a gun in that
+wood, bedad! we'll gun it."</p>
+
+<p>"My dear old flick," said the other, "don't get
+excited. The woods have been searched with a line
+of men&mdash;twice; and devil the sign of the gun. You
+don't suppose they've got a concrete mounting and the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span>
+Prussian flag flying on a pole, do you? The detachment
+are probably dressed as Belgian peasants, and
+the gun is dismounted and hidden when it's not firing."</p>
+
+<p>But O'Rourke would have none of it. "Get off
+to your major, then, and have your mothers' meeting.
+Then come back to me, and I'll give you the gun.
+And borrow a penknife and cut your beard&mdash;you'll
+be after frightening the natives."</p>
+
+<p>That evening a couple of shots rang out from the
+same wood, two of the typical shots of a small gun.
+And then there was silence. A group of men standing
+by an estaminet on the road affirmed to having
+heard three faint shots afterwards like the crack of
+a sporting-gun or revolver; but in the general turmoil
+of an evening hate which was going on at the
+same time no one thought much about it. Half an
+hour later Dick O'Rourke returned, and there was
+a strange look in his eyes. His coat was torn, his
+collar and shirt were ripped open, and his right eye
+was gradually turning black. Of his doings he would
+vouchsafe no word. Only, as we sat down round the
+fire to dinner, the gunner subaltern of the morning
+passed again up the road.</p>
+
+<p>"Got the gun yet, Dick?" he chaffed.</p>
+
+<p>"I have that," answered O'Rourke, "also the detachment."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The Land Crab paused. "Where are they?"</p>
+
+<p>"The gun is in a pond where you won't find it, and
+the detachment are dead&mdash;except one who escaped."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I don't think." The gunner laughed and
+passed on.</p>
+
+<p>"You needn't," answered Dick, "but that gun will
+never fire again."</p>
+
+<p>It never did. As I say, he would answer no
+questions, and even amongst the few people who had
+heard of the thing at all, it soon passed into the limbo
+of forgotten things. Other and weightier matters
+were afoot; the second battle of Ypres did not leave
+much time for vague conjecture. And so when, a
+few days ago, the question was once again recalled
+to my mind by no less a person than O'Rourke himself,
+I had to dig in the archives of memory for the
+remembrance of an incident of which I had well-nigh
+lost sight.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>"You remember that gun, Bill," he remarked, lying
+back in the arm-chair of the farmhouse where we
+were billeted, and sipping some hot rum&mdash;"that German
+gun that got through in April and bombarded
+Poperinghe? I want to talk to you about that gun."
+He started filling his pipe.</p>
+
+<p>"'Tis the hardest proposition I've ever been up
+against, and sure I don't know what to do at all."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span>
+He was staring at the fire. "You remember the
+Land Crab and how he told us the woods had been
+searched? Well, it didn't take a superhuman brainstorm
+to realise that if what he said was right and
+the Huns were dressed as Belgian peasants, and the
+gun was a little one, that a line of men going through
+the woods had about as much chance of finding them
+as a terrier has of catching a tadpole in the water.
+I says to myself, 'Dick, my boy, this is an occasion
+for stealth, for delicate work, for finesse.' So off I
+went on my lonesome and hid in the wood. I argued
+that they couldn't be keeping a permanent watch,
+and that even if they'd seen me come in, they'd think
+in time I had gone out again, when they noticed no
+further sign of me. Also I guessed they didn't want
+to stir up a hornet's nest about their ears by killing me&mdash;they
+wanted no vulgar glare of publicity upon their
+doings. So, as I say, I hid in a hole and waited. I
+got bored stiff; though, when all was said and done,
+it wasn't much worse than sitting in that blessed
+ploughed field beside the road. About five o'clock
+I started cursing myself for a fool in listening to the
+story at all, it all seemed so ridiculous. Not a sound
+in the woods, not a breath of wind in the trees. The
+guns weren't firing, just for the time everything was
+peaceful. I'd got a caterpillar down my neck, and
+I was just coming back to get a drink and chuck it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span>
+up, when suddenly a Belgian labourer popped out
+from behind a tree. There was nothing peculiar about
+him, and if it hadn't been for the Land Crab's story
+I'd never have given him a second thought. He was
+just picking up sticks, but as I watched him I noticed
+that every now and then he straightened himself up,
+and seemed to peer around as if he was searching
+the undergrowth. The next minute out came another,
+and he started the stick-picking stunt too."</p>
+
+<p>Dick paused to relight his pipe, then he laughed.
+"Of course, the humour of the situation couldn't help
+striking me. Dick O'Rourke in a filthy hole, covered
+with branches and bits of dirt, watching two mangy
+old Belgians picking up wood. But, having stood it
+the whole day, I made up my mind to wait, at any
+rate, till night. If only I could catch the gun in action&mdash;even
+if the odds were too great for me alone&mdash;I'd
+be able to spot the hiding-place, and come back later
+with a party and round them up.</p>
+
+<p>"Then suddenly the evening hate started&mdash;artillery
+from all over the place&mdash;and with it the Belgian
+labourers ceased from plucking sticks. Running down
+a little path, so close to me that I could almost touch
+him, came one of them. He stopped about ten yards
+away where the dense undergrowth finished, and,
+after looking cautiously round, waved his hand. The
+other one nipped behind a tree and called out something<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span>
+in a guttural tone of voice. And then, I give
+you my word, out of the bowels of the earth there
+popped up a little gun not twenty yards from where
+I'd been lying the whole day. By this time, of course,
+I was in the same sort of condition as a terrier is
+when he's seen the cat he has set his heart on shin up
+a tree, having missed her tail by half an inch.</p>
+
+<p>"They clapped her on a little mounting quick as
+light, laid her, loaded, and, by the holy saints! under
+my very nose, loosed off a present for Poperinghe.
+The man on guard waved his hand again, and bedad!
+away went another. The next instant he was back,
+again an exclamation in German, and in about two
+shakes the whole thing had disappeared, and there
+were the two labourers picking sticks. I give you my
+word it was like a clown popping up in a pantomime
+through a trap-door; I had to pinch myself to make
+certain I was awake.</p>
+
+<p>"The next instant into the clearing came two English
+soldiers, the reason evidently of the sudden dismantling.
+Had they been armed we'd have had at
+them then and there; but, of course, so far behind the
+trenches, they had no rifles. They just peered round,
+saw the Belgians, and went off again. I heard their
+steps dying away in the distance, and decided to wait
+a bit longer. The two men seemed to be discussing
+what to do, and ultimately moved behind the tree<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span>
+again, where I could hear them talking. At last they
+came to a decision, and picking up their bundles of
+sticks came slowly down the path past me. They
+were not going to fire again that evening."</p>
+
+<p>Dick smiled reminiscently. "Bill, pass the rum.
+I'm thirsty."</p>
+
+<p>"What did you do, Dick?" I asked, eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>"What d'you think? I was out like a knife and
+let drive with my hand-gun. I killed the first one
+as dead as mutton, and missed the second, who shot
+like a stag into the undergrowth. Gad! It was
+great. I put two more where I thought he was, but
+as I still heard him crashing on I must have missed
+him. Then I nipped round the tree to find the gun.
+The only thing there was a great hole full of leaves.
+I ploughed across it, thinking it must be the other
+side, when, without a word of warning, I fell through
+the top&mdash;bang through the top, my boy, of the neatest
+hiding-place you've ever thought of. The whole of
+the centre of those leaves was a fake. There were
+about two inches of them supported on light hurdle-work.
+I was in the robber's cave with a vengeance."</p>
+
+<p>"Was the gun there?" I cried, excitedly.</p>
+
+<p>"It was. Also the Hun. The gun of small variety;
+the Hun of large&mdash;very large. I don't know which
+of us was the more surprised&mdash;him or me; we just
+stood gazing at one another.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"'Halloa, Englishman,' he said; 'come to leave a
+card?'</p>
+
+<p>"'Quite right, Boche,' I answered. 'A p.p.c. one.'</p>
+
+<p>"I was rather pleased with that touch at the time,
+old son. I was just going to elaborate it, and point
+out that he&mdash;as the dear departing&mdash;should really do
+it, when he was at me.</p>
+
+<p>"Bill, my boy, you should have seen that fight.
+Like a fool, I never saw his revolver lying on the
+table, and I'd shoved my own back in my holster.
+He got it in his right hand, and I got his right wrist
+in my left. We'd each got the other by the throat,
+and one of us was for the count. We each knew that.
+At one time I thought he'd got me&mdash;we were crashing
+backwards and forwards, and I caught my head
+against a wooden pole which nearly stunned me. And,
+mark you, all the time I was expecting his pal to come
+back and inquire after his health. Then suddenly
+I felt him weaken, and I squeezed his throat the harder.
+It came quite quickly at the end. His pistol-hand collapsed,
+and I suppose muscular contraction pulled the
+trigger, for the bullet went through his head, though
+I think he was dead already." Dick O'Rourke paused,
+and looked thoughtfully into the fire.</p>
+
+<p>"But why in the name of Heaven," I cried, irritably,
+"have you kept this dark all the while? Why didn't
+you tell us at the time?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>For a while he did not answer, and then he produced
+his pocket-book. From it he took a photograph,
+which he handed to me.</p>
+
+<p>"Out of that German's pocket I took that photograph."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," I said, "what about it? A very pretty
+girl for a German." Then I looked at it closely.
+"Why, it was taken in England. Is it an English
+girl?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," he answered, dryly, "it is. It's Moyra
+Kavanagh, whom I proposed to forty-eight hours
+previously at Ciro's. She refused me, and told me
+then she was in love with a German. I celebrate the
+news by coming over here and killing him, in an
+individual fight where it was man to man."</p>
+
+<p>"But," I cried, "good heavens! man&mdash;it was you
+or he."</p>
+
+<p>"I know that," he answered, wearily. "What then?
+He evidently loved her; if not&mdash;why the photo. Look
+at what's written on the back&mdash;'From Moyra&mdash;with
+all my love.' All her love. Lord! it's a rum box up."
+He sighed wearily and slowly replaced it in his case.
+"So I buried him, and I chucked his gun in a pond,
+and said nothing about it. If I had it would probably
+have got into the papers or some such rot, and she'd
+have wanted to know all about it. Think of it!
+What the deuce would I have told her? To sympathise<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span>
+and discuss her love affairs with her in London,
+and then toddle over here and slaughter him. Dash
+it, man, it's Gilbertian! And, mark you, nothing
+would induce me to marry her&mdash;even if she'd have me&mdash;without
+her knowing."</p>
+
+<p>"But&mdash;-" I began, and then fell silent. The more
+I thought of it the less I liked it. Put it how you
+like, for a girl to take as her husband a man who has
+actually killed the man she loved and was engaged
+to&mdash;German or no German&mdash;is a bit of a pill to swallow.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>After mature consideration we decided to present
+the pill to her garbed in this form. On me&mdash;as a
+scribbler of sorts&mdash;descended the onus of putting it
+on paper. When I'd done it, and Dick had read it,
+he said I was a fool, and wanted to tear it up. Which
+is like a man....</p>
+
+<p>Look you, my lady, it was a fair fight&mdash;it was war&mdash;it
+was an Englishman against a German; and the
+best man won. And surely to Heaven you can't
+blame poor old Dick? He didn't know; how could
+he have known, how... but what's the use? If
+your heart doesn't bring it right&mdash;neither my pen
+nor my logic is likely to. Which is like a woman.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span>
+</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span></p>
+<h2>CHAPTER II</h2>
+
+<h3>PRIVATE MEYRICK&mdash;COMPANY IDIOT</h3>
+
+
+<p>No one who has ever given the matter a moment's
+thought would deny, I suppose, that a regiment
+without discipline is like a ship without a rudder. True
+as that fact has always been, it is doubly so now,
+when men are exposed to mental and physical shocks
+such as have never before been thought of.</p>
+
+<p>The condition of a man's brain after he has sat
+in a trench and suffered an intensive bombardment
+for two or three hours can only be described by one
+word, and that is&mdash;numbed. The actual physical concussion,
+apart altogether from the mental terror,
+caused by the bursting of a succession of large shells
+in a man's vicinity, temporarily robs him of the use
+of his thinking faculties. He becomes half-stunned,
+dazed; his limbs twitch convulsively and involuntarily;
+he mutters foolishly&mdash;he becomes incoherent. Starting
+with fright he passes through that stage, passes
+beyond it into a condition bordering on coma; and
+when a man is in that condition he is not responsible
+for his actions. His brain has ceased to work....<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Now it is, I believe, a principle of psychology that
+the brain or mind of a man can be divided into two
+parts&mdash;the objective and the subjective: the objective
+being that part of his thought-box which is
+actuated by outside influences, by his senses, by his
+powers of deduction; the subjective being that part
+which is not directly controllable by what he sees
+and hears, the part which the religious might call
+his soul, the Buddhist "the Spark of God," others
+instinct. And this portion of a man's nature remains
+acutely active, even while the other part has struck
+work. In fact, the more numbed and comatose the
+thinking brain, the more clearly and insistently does
+subjective instinct hold sway over a man's body.
+Which all goes to show that discipline, if it is to be
+of any use to a man at such a time, must be a very different
+type of thing to what the ordinary, uninitiated,
+and so-called free civilian believes it to be. It must
+be an ideal, a thing where the motive counts, almost
+a religion. It must be an appeal to the soul of man,
+not merely an order to his body. That the order to
+his body, the self-control of his daily actions, the general
+change in his mode of life will infallibly follow
+on the heels of the appeal to his soul&mdash;if that appeal
+be successful&mdash;is obvious. But the appeal must come
+first: it must be the driving power; it must be the
+cause and not the effect. Otherwise, when the brain<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span>
+is gone&mdash;numbed by causes outside its control; when
+the reasoning intellect of man is out of action&mdash;stunned
+for the time; when only his soul remains to
+pull the quivering, helpless body through,&mdash;then, unless
+that soul has the ideal of discipline in it, it <i>will</i>
+fail. And failure <i>may</i> mean death and disaster; it <i>will</i>
+mean shame and disgrace, when sanity returns....</p>
+
+<p>To the man seated at his desk in the company
+office these ideas were not new. He had been one of
+the original Expeditionary Force; but a sniper had
+sniped altogether too successfully out by Zillebecke in
+the early stages of the first battle of Ypres, and when
+that occurs a rest cure becomes necessary. At that
+time he was the senior subaltern of one of the finest
+regiments of "a contemptible little army"; now he
+was a major commanding a company in the tenth
+battalion of that same regiment. And in front of
+him on the desk, a yellow form pinned to a white
+slip of flimsy paper, announced that No. 8469, Private
+Meyrick, J., was for office. The charge was "Late
+falling in on the 8 a.m. parade," and the evidence
+against him was being given by C.-S.-M. Hayton, also
+an old soldier from that original battalion at Ypres.
+It was Major Seymour himself who had seen the late
+appearance of the above-mentioned Private Meyrick,
+and who had ordered the yellow form to be prepared.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span>
+And now with it in front of him, he stared musingly
+at the office fire....</p>
+
+<p>There are a certain number of individuals who
+from earliest infancy have been imbued with the idea
+that the chief pastime of officers in the army, when
+they are not making love to another man's wife, is
+the preparation of harsh and tyrannical rules for the
+express purpose of annoying their men, and the gloating
+infliction of drastic punishment on those that break
+them. The absurdity of this idea has nothing to do
+with it, it being a well-known fact that the more
+absurd an idea is, the more utterly fanatical do its
+adherents become. To them the thought that a man
+being late on parade should make him any the worse
+fighter&mdash;especially as he had, in all probability, some
+good and sufficient excuse&mdash;cannot be grasped. To
+them the idea that men may not be a law unto themselves&mdash;though
+possibly agreed to reluctantly in the
+abstract&mdash;cannot possibly be assimilated in the concrete.</p>
+
+<p>"He has committed some trifling offence," they
+say; "now you will give him some ridiculous punishment.
+That is the curse of militarism&mdash;a chosen few
+rule by Fear." And if you tell them that any attempt
+to inculcate discipline by fear alone must of necessity
+fail, and that far from that being the method in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span>
+Army the reverse holds good, they will not believe you.
+Yet&mdash;it is so....</p>
+
+<p>"Shall I bring in the prisoner, sir?" The Sergeant-Major
+was standing by the door.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I'll see him now." The officer threw his cigarette
+into the fire and put on his hat.</p>
+
+<p>"Take off your 'at. Come along there, my lad&mdash;move.
+You'd go to sleep at your mother's funeral&mdash;you
+would." Seymour smiled at the conversation
+outside the door; he had soldiered many years with
+that Sergeant-Major. "Now, step up briskly. Quick
+march. 'Alt. Left turn." He closed the door and
+ranged himself alongside the prisoner facing the table.</p>
+
+<p>"No. 8469, Private Meyrick&mdash;you are charged with
+being late on the 8 a.m. parade this morning. Sergeant-Major,
+what do you know about it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sir, on the 8 a.m. parade this morning, Private
+Meyrick came running on 'alf a minute after the
+bugle sounded. 'Is puttees were not put on tidily.
+I'd like to say, sir, that it's not the first time this
+man has been late falling in. 'E seems to me to be
+always a dreaming, somehow&mdash;not properly awake
+like. I warned 'im for office."</p>
+
+<p>The officer's eyes rested on the hatless soldier facing
+him. "Well, Meyrick," he said quietly, "what
+have you got to say?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Nothing, sir. I'm sorry as 'ow I was late. I was
+reading, and I never noticed the time."</p>
+
+<p>"What were you reading?" The question seemed
+superfluous&mdash;almost foolish; but something in the eyes
+of the man facing him, something in his short, stumpy,
+uncouth figure interested him.</p>
+
+<p>"I was a'reading Kipling, sir." The Sergeant-Major
+snorted as nearly as such an august disciplinarian
+could snort in the presence of his officer.</p>
+
+<p>"'E ought, sir, to 'ave been 'elping the cook's mate&mdash;until
+'e was due on parade."</p>
+
+<p>"Why do you read Kipling or anyone else when
+you ought to be doing other things?" queried the officer.
+His interest in the case surprised himself; the
+excuse was futile, and two or three days to barracks
+is an excellent corrective.</p>
+
+<p>"I dunno, sir. 'E sort of gets 'old of me, like.
+Makes me want to do things&mdash;and then I can't. I've
+always been slow and awkward like, and I gets a bit
+flustered at times. But I do try 'ard." Again a
+doubtful noise from the Sergeant-Major; to him trying
+'ard and reading Kipling when you ought to be
+swabbing up dishes were hardly compatible.</p>
+
+<p>For a moment or two the officer hesitated, while
+the Sergeant-Major looked frankly puzzled. "What
+the blazes 'as come over 'im," he was thinking; "surely
+he ain't going to be guyed by that there wash. Why<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span>
+don't 'e give 'im two days and be done with it&mdash;and
+me with all them returns."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm going to talk to you, Meyrick." Major
+Seymour's voice cut in on these reflections. For the
+fraction of a moment "Two days C.B." had been on
+the tip of his tongue, and then he'd changed his mind.
+"I want to try and make you understand why you
+were brought up to office to-day. In every community&mdash;in
+every body of men&mdash;there must be a code
+of rules which govern what they do. Unless those
+rules are carried out by all those men, the whole system
+falls to the ground. Supposing everyone came on
+to parade half a minute late because they'd been
+reading Kipling?"</p>
+
+<p>"I know, sir. I see as 'ow I was wrong. But&mdash;I
+dreams sometimes as 'ow I'm like them he talks
+about, when 'e says as 'ow they lifted 'em through
+the charge as won the day. And then the dream's
+over, and I know as 'ow I'm not."</p>
+
+<p>The Sergeant-Major's impatience was barely concealed;
+those returns were oppressing him horribly.</p>
+
+<p>"You can get on with your work, Sergeant-Major.
+I know you're busy." Seymour glanced at the N.C.O.
+"I want to say a little more to Meyrick."</p>
+
+<p>The scandalised look on his face amused him; to
+leave a prisoner alone with an officer&mdash;impossible,
+unheard of.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I am in no hurry, sir, thank you."</p>
+
+<p>"All right then," Seymour spoke briefly. "Now,
+Meyrick, I want you to realise that the principle at
+the bottom of all discipline is the motive that makes
+that discipline. I want you to realise that all these
+rules are made for the good of the regiment, and
+that in everything you do and say you have an effect
+on the regiment. You count in the show, and I
+count in it, and so does the Sergeant-Major. We're
+all out for the same thing, my lad, and that is the
+regiment. We do things not because we're afraid of
+being punished if we don't, but because we know
+that they are for the good of the regiment&mdash;the finest
+regiment in the world. You've got to make good,
+not because you'll be dropped on if you don't, but
+because you'll pull the regiment down if you fail.
+And because you count, you, personally, must not
+be late on parade. It <i>does</i> matter what you do yourself.
+I want you to realise that, and why. The rules
+you are ordered to comply with are the best rules.
+Sometimes we alter one&mdash;because we find a better;
+but they're the best we can get, and before you can
+find yourself in the position of the men you dream
+about&mdash;the men who lift others, the men who lead
+others&mdash;you've got to lift and lead yourself. Nothing
+is too small to worry about, nothing too insignificant.
+And because I think, that at the back of your head<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span>
+somewhere you've got the right idea; because I
+think it's natural to you to be a bit slow and awkward
+and that your failure isn't due to laziness or slackness,
+I'm not going to punish you this time for breaking
+the rules. If you do it again, it will be a different
+matter. There comes a time when one can't judge
+motives; when one can only judge results. Case dismissed."</p>
+
+<p>Thoughtfully the officer lit a cigarette as the door
+closed, and though for the present there was nothing
+more for him to do in office, he lingered on, pursuing
+his train of thoughts. Fully conscious of the aggrieved
+wrath of his Sergeant-Major at having his
+time wasted, a slight smile spread over his face. He
+was not given to making perorations of this sort,
+and now that it was over he wondered rather why
+he'd done it. And then he recalled the look in the
+private's eyes as he had spoken of his dreams.</p>
+
+<p>"He'll make good that man." Unconsciously he
+spoke aloud. "He'll make good."</p>
+
+<p>The discipline of habit is what we soldiers had before
+the war, and that takes time. Now it must be
+the discipline of intelligence, of ideal. And for that
+fear is the worst conceivable teacher. We have no
+time to form habits now; the routine of the army is
+of too short duration before the test comes. And the
+test is too crushing....<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The bed-rock now as then is the same, only the
+methods of getting down to that bed-rock have to be
+more hurried. Of old habitude and constant association
+instilled a religion&mdash;the religion of obedience,
+the religion of esprit de corps. But it took time.
+Now we need the same religion, but we haven't the
+same time.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>In the office next door the Sergeant-Major was
+speaking soft words to the Pay Corporal.</p>
+
+<p>"Blimey, I dunno what's come over the bloke. You
+know that there Meyrick..."</p>
+
+<p>"Who, the Slug?" interpolated the other.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Well 'e come shambling on to parade this
+morning with 'is puttees flapping round his ankles&mdash;late
+as usual; and 'e told me to run 'im up to
+office." A thumb indicated the Major next door.
+"When I gets 'im there, instead of giving 'im three
+days C.B. and being done with it, 'e starts a lot of
+jaw about motives and discipline. 'E hadn't got
+no ruddy excuse; said 'e was a'reading Kipling, or
+some such rot&mdash;when 'e ought to have been 'elping
+the cook's mate."</p>
+
+<p>"What did he give him?" asked the Pay Corporal,
+interested.</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing. His blessing and dismissed the case.
+As if I had nothing better to do than listen to 'im<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span>
+talking 'ot air to a perisher like that there Meyrick.
+'Ere, pass over them musketry returns."</p>
+
+<p>Which conversation, had Seymour overheard it,
+he would have understood and fully sympathised with.
+For C.-S.-M. Hayton, though a prince of sergeant-majors,
+was no student of physiology. To him a spade
+was a spade only as long as it shovelled earth.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>Now, before I go on to the day when the subject
+of all this trouble and talk was called on to make
+good, and how he did it, a few words on the man
+himself might not be amiss. War, the great forcing
+house of character, admits no lies. Sooner or later it
+finds out a man, and he stands in the pitiless glare
+of truth for what he is. And it is not by any means
+the cheery hail-fellow-well-met type, or the thruster,
+or the sportsman, who always pool the most votes
+when the judging starts....</p>
+
+<p>John Meyrick, before he began to train for the
+great adventure, had been something in a warehouse
+down near Tilbury. And "something" is about the
+best description of what he was that you could give.
+Moreover there wasn't a dog's chance of his ever
+being "anything." He used to help the young man&mdash;I
+should say young gentleman&mdash;who checked weigh
+bills at one of the dock entrances. More than that
+I cannot say, and incidentally the subject is not of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span>
+surpassing importance. His chief interests in life
+were contemplating the young gentleman, listening
+open-mouthed to his views on life, and, dreaming.
+Especially the latter. Sometimes he would go after
+the day's work, and, sitting down on a bollard, his
+eyes would wander over the lines of some dirty tramp,
+with her dark-skinned crew. Visions of wonderful
+seas and tropic islands, of leafy palms with the blue-green
+surf thundering in towards them, of coral reefs
+and glorious-coloured flowers, would run riot in his
+brain. Not that he particularly wanted to go and
+see these figments of his imagination for himself; it
+was enough for him to dream of them&mdash;to conjure
+them up for a space in his mind by the help of an
+actual concrete ship&mdash;and then to go back to his work
+of assisting his loquacious companion. He did not
+find the work uncongenial; he had no hankerings
+after other modes of life&mdash;in fact the thought of any
+change never even entered into his calculations. What
+the future might hold he neither knew nor cared; the
+expressions of his companion on the rottenness of life
+in general and their firm in particular awoke no answering
+chord in his breast He had enough to live
+on in his little room at the top of a tenement house&mdash;he
+had enough over for an occasional picture show&mdash;and
+he had his dreams. He was content.</p>
+
+<p>Then came the war. For a long while it passed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span>
+him by; it was no concern of his, and it didn't enter
+his head that it was ever likely to be until one night,
+as he was going in to see "Jumping Jess, or the
+Champion Girl Cowpuncher" at the local movies, a
+recruiting sergeant touched him on the arm.</p>
+
+<p>He was not a promising specimen for a would-be
+soldier, but that recruiting sergeant was not new to
+the game, and he'd seen worse.</p>
+
+<p>"Why aren't you in khaki, young fellow me lad?"
+he remarked genially.</p>
+
+<p>The idea, as I say, was quite new to our friend.
+Even though that very morning his colleague in the
+weigh-bill pastime had chucked it and joined, even
+though he'd heard a foreman discussing who they
+were to put in his place as "that young Meyrick was
+habsolutely 'opeless," it still hadn't dawned on him
+that he might go too. But the recruiting sergeant
+was a man of some knowledge; in his daily round he
+encountered many and varied types. In two minutes
+he had fired the boy's imagination with a glowing
+and partially true description of the glories of war
+and the army, and supplied him with another set of
+dreams to fill his brain. Wasting no time, he struck
+while the iron was hot, and in a few minutes John
+Meyrick, sometime checker of weigh-bills, died, and
+No. 8469, Private John Meyrick, came into being....</p>
+
+<p>But though you change a man's vocation with the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span>
+stroke of a pen, you do not change his character.
+A dreamer he was in the beginning, and a dreamer he
+remained to the end. And dreaming, as I have already
+pointed out, was not a thing which commended itself
+to Company-Sergeant-Major Hayton, who in due
+course became one of the chief arbiters of our friend's
+destinies. True it was no longer coral islands&mdash;but
+such details availed not with cook's mates and other
+busy movers in the regimental hive. Where he'd got
+them from, Heaven knows, those tattered volumes
+of Kipling; but their matchless spirit had caught his
+brain and fired his soul, with the result&mdash;well, the first
+of them has been given.</p>
+
+<p>There were more results to follow. Not three days
+after he was again upon the mat for the same offence,
+only to say much the same as before.</p>
+
+<p>"I do try, sir&mdash;I do try; but some'ow&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>And though in the bottom of his heart the officer
+believed him, though in a very strange way he felt
+interested in him, there are limits and there are rules.
+There comes a time, as he had said, when one can't
+judge by motives, when one can only judge by results.</p>
+
+<p>"You mustn't only try; you must succeed. Three
+days to barracks."</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>That night in mess the officer sat next to the Colonel.
+"It's the thrusters, the martinets, the men of action<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span>
+who win the V.C.'s and D.C.M.'s, my dear fellow,"
+said his C.O., as he pushed along the wine. "But it's
+the dreamers, the idealists who deserve them. They
+suffer so much more."</p>
+
+<p>And as Major Seymour poured himself out a glass
+of port, a face came into his mind&mdash;the face of a
+stumpy, uncouth man with deep-set eyes. "I wonder,"
+he murmured&mdash;"I wonder."</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>The opportunities for stirring deeds of heroism in
+France do not occur with great frequency, whatever
+outsiders may think to the contrary. For months on
+end a battalion may live a life of peace and utter boredom,
+getting a few casualties now and then, occasionally
+bagging an unwary Hun, vegetating continuously
+in the same unprepossessing hole in the
+ground&mdash;saving only when they go to another, or
+retire to a town somewhere in rear to have a bath.
+And the battalion to which No. 8469, Private Meyrick,
+belonged was no exception to the general rule.</p>
+
+<p>For five weeks they had lived untroubled by anything
+except flies&mdash;all of them, that is, save various
+N.C.O.'s in A company. To them flies were quite a
+secondary consideration when compared to their other
+worry. And that, it is perhaps superfluous to add,
+was Private Meyrick himself.</p>
+
+<p>Every day the same scene would be enacted; every<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span>
+day some sergeant or corporal would dance with rage
+as he contemplated the Company Idiot&mdash;the title by
+which he was now known to all and sundry.</p>
+
+<p>"Wake up! Wake up! Lumme, didn't I warn you&mdash;didn't
+I warn yer 'arf an 'our ago over by that
+there tree, when you was a-staring into the branches
+looking for nuts or something&mdash;didn't I warn yer
+that the company was parading at 10.15 for 'ot baths?"</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't 'ear you, Corporal&mdash;I didn't really."</p>
+
+<p>"Didn't 'ear me! Wot yer mean, didn't 'ear me?
+My voice ain't like the twitter of a grass'opper, is it?
+It's my belief you're balmy, my boy, B-A-R-M-Y.
+Savez. Get a move on yer, for Gawd's sake! You
+ought to 'ave a nurse. And when you gets to the
+bath-'ouse, for 'Eaven's sake pull yerself together!
+Don't forget to take off yer clothes before yer gets in;
+and when they lets the water out, don't go stopping
+in the bath because you forgot to get out. I wouldn't
+like another regiment to see you lying about when
+they come. They might say things."</p>
+
+<p>And so with slight variations the daily strafe went
+on. Going up to the trenches it was always Meyrick
+who got lost; Meyrick who fell into shell holes and
+lost his rifle or the jam for his section; Meyrick who
+forgot to lie down when a flare went up, but stood
+vacantly gazing at it until partially stunned by his
+next-door neighbour. Periodically messages would<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span>
+come through from the next regiment asking if they'd
+lost the regimental pet, and that he was being returned.
+It was always Meyrick....</p>
+
+<p>"I can't do nothing with 'im, sir." It was the Company-Sergeant-Major
+speaking to Seymour. "'E
+seems soft like in the 'ead. Whenever 'e does do anything
+and doesn't forget, 'e does it wrong. 'E's always
+dreaming and 'alf balmy."</p>
+
+<p>"He's not a flier, I know, Sergeant-Major, but we've
+got to put up with all sorts nowadays," returned the
+officer diplomatically. "Send him to me, and let me
+have a talk to him."</p>
+
+<p>"Very good, sir; but 'e'll let us down badly one of
+these days."</p>
+
+<p>And so once again Meyrick stood in front of his
+company officer, and was encouraged to speak of his
+difficulties. To an amazing degree he had remembered
+the discourse he had listened to many months previously;
+to do something for the regiment was what
+he desired more than anything&mdash;to do something big,
+really big. He floundered and stopped; he could
+find no words....</p>
+
+<p>"But don't you understand that it's just as important
+to do the little things? If you can't do them,
+you'll never do the big ones."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir&mdash;I sees that; I do try, sir, and then I
+gets thinking, and some'ow&mdash;oh! I dunno&mdash;but everything<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span>
+goes out of my head like. I wants the regiment
+to be proud of me&mdash;and then they calls me the Company
+Idiot." There was something in the man's face
+that touched Seymour.</p>
+
+<p>"But how can the regiment be proud of you, my
+lad," he asked gently, "if you're always late on parade,
+and forgetting to do what you're told? If I wasn't
+certain in my own mind that it wasn't slackness and
+disobedience on your part, I should ask the Colonel
+to send you back to England as useless."</p>
+
+<p>An appealing look came into the man's eyes. "Oh!
+don't do that, sir. I will try 'ard&mdash;straight I will."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but as I told you once before, there comes a
+time when one must judge by results. Now, Meyrick,
+you must understand this finally. Unless you do
+improve, I shall do what I said. I shall tell the Colonel
+that you're not fitted to be a soldier, and I shall get
+him to send you away. I can't go on much longer;
+you're more trouble than you're worth. We're going
+up to the trenches again to-night, and I shall watch
+you. That will do; you may go."</p>
+
+<p>And so it came about that the Company Idiot
+entered on what was destined to prove the big scene
+in his uneventful life under the eyes of a critical
+audience. To the Sergeant-Major, who was a gross
+materialist, failure was a foregone conclusion; to
+the company officer, who went a little nearer to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span>
+heart of things, the issue was doubtful. Possibly
+his threat would succeed; possibly he'd struck the
+right note. And the peculiar thing is that both proved
+right according to their own lights....</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>This particular visit to the trenches was destined
+to be of a very different nature to former ones. On
+previous occasions peace had reigned; nothing untoward
+had occurred to mar the quiet restful existence
+which trench life so often affords to its devotees.
+But this time....</p>
+
+<p>It started about six o'clock in the morning on the
+second day of their arrival&mdash;a really pleasant little intensive
+bombardment. A succession of shells came
+streaming in, shattering every yard of the front line
+with tearing explosions. Then the Huns turned on
+the gas and attacked behind it. A few reached the
+trenches&mdash;the majority did not; and the ground outside
+was covered with grey-green figures, some of
+which were writhing and twitching and some of which
+were still. The attack had failed....</p>
+
+<p>But that sort of thing leaves its mark on the
+defenders, and this was their first baptism of real
+fire. Seymour had passed rapidly down the trench
+when he realised that for the moment it was over;
+and though men's faces were covered with the hideous
+gas masks, he saw by the twitching of their hands<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span>
+and by the ugly high-pitched laughter he heard that
+it would be well to get into touch with those behind.
+Moreover, in every piece of trench there lay motionless
+figures in khaki....</p>
+
+<p>It was as he entered his dugout that the bombardment
+started again. Quickly he went to the telephone,
+and started to get on to brigade headquarters. It took
+him twenty seconds to realise that the line had been
+cut, and then he cursed dreadfully. The roar of the
+bursting shells was deafening; his cursing was inaudible;
+but in a fit of almost childish rage&mdash;he kicked the
+machine. Men's nerves are jangled at times....</p>
+
+<p>It was merely coincidence doubtless, but a motionless
+figure in a gas helmet crouching outside the dugout
+saw that kick, and slowly in his bemused brain
+there started a train of thought. Why should his
+company officer do such a thing; why should they all
+be cowering in the trench waiting for death to come
+to them; why...? For a space his brain refused
+to act; then it started again.</p>
+
+<p>Why was that man lying full length at the bottom
+of the trench, with the great hole torn out of his
+back, and the red stream spreading slowly round him;
+why didn't it stop instead of filling up the little holes
+at the bottom of the trench and then overflowing into
+the next one? He was the corporal who'd called him
+balmy; but why should he be dead? He was dead&mdash;at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span>
+least the motionless watcher thought he must be.
+He lay so still, and his body seemed twisted and unnatural.
+But why should one of the regiment be dead;
+it was all so unexpected, so sudden? And why did
+his Major kick the telephone?...</p>
+
+<p>For a space he lay still, thinking; trying to figure
+things out. He suddenly remembered tripping over
+a wire coming up to the trench, and being cursed by
+his sergeant for lurching against him. "You would,"
+he had been told&mdash;"you would. If it ain't a wire,
+you'd fall over yer own perishing feet."</p>
+
+<p>"What's the wire for, sergint?" he had asked.</p>
+
+<p>"What d'you think, softie. Drying the washing
+on? It's the telephone wire to Headquarters."</p>
+
+<p>It came all back to him, and it had been over by
+the stunted pollard that he'd tripped up. Then he
+looked back at the silent, motionless figure&mdash;the red
+stream had almost reached him&mdash;and the Idea came.
+It came suddenly&mdash;like a blow. The wire must be
+broken, otherwise the officer wouldn't have kicked
+the telephone; he'd have spoken through it.</p>
+
+<p>"I wants the regiment to be proud of me&mdash;and
+then they calls me the Company Idiot." He couldn't
+do the little things&mdash;he was always forgetting,
+but...! What was that about "lifting 'em through
+the charge that won the day"? There was no charge,
+but there was the regiment. And the regiment was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span>
+wanting him at last. Something wet touched his fingers,
+and when he looked at them, they were red.
+"B-A-R-M-Y. You ought to 'ave a nurse...."</p>
+
+<p>Then once again coherent thought failed him&mdash;utter
+physical weakness gripped him&mdash;he lay comatose,
+shuddering, and crying softly over he knew not
+what. The sweat was pouring down his face from
+the heat of the gas helmet, but still he held the valve
+between his teeth, breathing in through the nose and
+out through the mouth as he had been told. It was
+automatic, involuntary; he couldn't think, he only
+remembered certain things by instinct.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly a high explosive shell burst near him&mdash;quite
+close: and a mass of earth crashed down on his
+legs and back, half burying him. He whimpered
+feebly, and after a while dragged himself free. But
+the action brought him close to that silent figure, with
+the ripped up back....</p>
+
+<p>"You ought to 'ave a nurse..." Why? Gawd
+above&mdash;why? Wasn't he as good a man as that there
+dead corporal? Wasn't he one of the regiment too?
+And now the Corporal couldn't do anything, but he&mdash;well,
+he hadn't got no hole torn out of his back. It
+wasn't his blood that lay stagnant, filling the little
+holes at the bottom of the trench....</p>
+
+<p>Kipling came back to him&mdash;feebly, from another
+world. The dreamer was dreaming once again.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+"If your officer's dead and the sergeants look white,<br />
+Remember it's ruin to run from a fight."
+</div>
+
+<p>Run! Who was talking of running? He was going
+to save the regiment&mdash;once he could think clearly
+again. Everything was hazy just for the moment.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+"And wait for supports like a soldier."
+</div>
+
+<p>But there weren't no supports, and the telephone wire
+was broken&mdash;the wire he'd tripped over as he came up.
+Until it was mended there wouldn't be any supports&mdash;until
+it was mended&mdash;until&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>With a choking cry he lurched to his feet: and
+staggering, running, falling down, the dreamer crossed
+the open. A tearing pain through his left arm made
+him gasp, but he got there&mdash;got there and collapsed.
+He couldn't see very well, so he tore off his gas helmet,
+and, peering round, at last saw the wire. And the wire
+was indeed cut. Why the throbbing brain should
+have imagined it would be cut <i>there</i>, I know not;
+perhaps he associated it particularly with the pollard&mdash;and
+after all he was the Company Idiot. But it was
+cut there, I am glad to say; let us not begrudge him
+his little triumph. He found one end, and some few
+feet off he saw the other. With infinite difficulty he
+dragged himself towards it. Why did he find it so<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span>
+terribly hard to move? He couldn't see clearly;
+everything somehow was getting hazy and red. The
+roar of the shells seemed muffled strangely&mdash;far-away,
+indistinct. He pulled at the wire, and it came towards
+him; pulled again, and the two ends met. Then
+he slipped back against the pollard, the two ends
+grasped in his right hand....</p>
+
+<p>The regiment was safe at last. The officer would
+not have to kick the telephone again. The Idiot had
+made good. And into his heart there came a wonderful
+peace.</p>
+
+<p>There was a roaring in his ears; lights danced before
+his eyes; strange shapes moved in front of him.
+Then, of a sudden, out of the gathering darkness a
+great white light seared his senses, a deafening crash
+overwhelmed him, a sharp stabbing blow struck his
+head. The roaring ceased, and a limp figure slipped
+down and lay still, with two ends of wire grasped
+tight in his hand.</p>
+
+<p>"They are going to relieve us to-night, Sergeant-Major."
+The two men with tired eyes faced one
+another in the Major's dugout The bombardment
+was over, and the dying rays of a blood-red sun
+glinted through the door. "I think they took it well."</p>
+
+<p>"They did, sir&mdash;very well."</p>
+
+<p>"What are the casualties? Any idea?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Somewhere about seventy or eighty, sir&mdash;but I
+don't know the exact numbers."</p>
+
+<p>"As soon as it's dark I'm going back to headquarters.
+Captain Standish will take command."</p>
+
+<p>"That there Meyrick is reported missing, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Missing! He'll turn up somewhere&mdash;if he hasn't
+been hit."</p>
+
+<p>"Probably walked into the German trenches by mistake,"
+grunted the C.-S.-M. dispassionately, and retired.
+Outside the dugout men had moved the corporal;
+but the red pools still remained&mdash;stagnant at
+the bottom of the trench....</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you're through all right now, Major," said
+a voice in the doorway, and an officer with the white
+and blue brassard of the signals came in and sat down.
+"There are so many wires going back that have been
+laid at odd times, that it's difficult to trace them in a
+hurry." He gave a ring on the telephone, and in a
+moment the thin, metallic voice of the man at the
+other end broke the silence.</p>
+
+<p>"All right. Just wanted to make sure we were
+through. Ring off."</p>
+
+<p>"I remember kicking that damn thing this morning
+when I found we were cut off," remarked Seymour,
+with a weary smile. "Funny how childish one is at
+times."</p>
+
+<p>"Aye&mdash;but natural. This war's damnable." The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span>
+two men fell silent. "I'll have a bit of an easy here,"
+went on the signal officer after a while, "and then go
+down with you."</p>
+
+<p>A few hours later the two men clambered out of the
+back of the trench. "It's easier walking, and I know
+every stick," remarked the Major. "Make for that
+stunted pollard first."</p>
+
+<p>Dimly the tree stood outlined against the sky&mdash;a
+conspicuous mark and signpost. It was the signal
+officer who tripped over it first&mdash;that huddled quiet
+body, and gave a quick ejaculation. "Somebody
+caught it here, poor devil. Look out&mdash;duck."</p>
+
+<p>A flare shot up into the night, and by its light the
+two motionless officers close to the pollard looked at
+what they had found.</p>
+
+<p>"How the devil did he get here!" muttered Seymour.
+"It's one of my men."</p>
+
+<p>"Was he anywhere near you when you kicked the
+telephone?" asked the other, and his voice was a little
+hoarse.</p>
+
+<p>"He may have been&mdash;I don't know. Why?"</p>
+
+<p>"Look at his right hand." From the tightly
+clenched fingers two broken ends of wire stuck out.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor lad." The Major bit his lip. "Poor lad&mdash;I
+wonder. They called him the Company Idiot. Do
+you think...?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I think he came out to find the break in the wire,"
+said the other quietly. "And in doing so he found
+the answer to the big riddle."</p>
+
+<p>"I knew he'd make good&mdash;I knew it all along. He
+used to dream of big things&mdash;something big for the
+regiment."</p>
+
+<p>"And he's done a big thing, by Jove," said the signal
+officer gruffly, "for it's the motive that counts. And
+he couldn't know that he'd got the wrong wire."</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>"When 'e doesn't forget, 'e does things wrong."</p>
+
+<p>As I said, both the Sergeant-Major and his officer
+proved right according to their own lights.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span>
+</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span></p>
+<h2>CHAPTER III</h2>
+
+<h3>SPUD TREVOR OF THE RED HUSSARS</h3>
+
+
+<p>It would be but a small exaggeration to say that in
+every God-forsaken hole and corner of the world,
+where soldiers lived and moved and had their being,
+before Nemesis overtook Europe, the name of Spud
+Trevor of the Red Hussars was known. From Simla
+to Singapore, from Khartoum to the Curragh his
+name was symbolical of all that a regimental officer
+should be. Senior subalterns guiding the erring feet
+of the young and frivolous from the tempting paths
+of night clubs and fair ladies, to the infinitely better
+ones of hunting and sport, were apt to quote him.
+Adjutants had been known to hold him up as an
+example to those of their flock who needed chastening
+for any of the hundred and one things that
+adjutants do not like&mdash;if they have their regiment
+at heart. And he deserved it all.</p>
+
+<p>I, who knew him, as well perhaps as anyone; I,
+who was privileged to call him friend, and yet in the
+hour of his greatest need failed him; I, to whose lot
+it has fallen to remove the slur from his name, state<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span>
+this in no half-hearted way. He deserved it, and a
+thousand times as much again. He was the type of
+man beside whom the ordinary English gentleman&mdash;the
+so-called white man&mdash;looked dirty-grey in comparison.
+And yet there came a day when men who had
+openly fawned on him left the room when he came
+in, when whispers of an unsuspected yellow streak
+in him began to circulate, when senior subalterns no
+longer held him up as a model. Now he is dead:
+and it has been left to me to vindicate him. Perchance
+by so doing I may wipe out a little of the
+stain of guilt that lies so heavy on my heart; perchance
+I may atone, in some small degree, for my
+doubts and suspicions; and, perchance too, the whitest
+man that ever lived may of his understanding and
+knowledge, perfected now in the Great Silence to
+which he has gone, accept my tardy reparation, and
+forgive. It is only yesterday that the document, which
+explained everything, came into my hands. It was
+sent to me sealed, and with it a short covering letter
+from a firm of solicitors stating that their client was
+dead&mdash;killed in France&mdash;and that according to his instructions
+they were forwarding the enclosed, with the
+request that I should make such use of it as I saw fit.</p>
+
+<p>To all those others, who, like myself, doubted,
+I address these words. Many have gone under: to
+them I venture to think everything is now clear. Maybe<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span>
+they have already met Spud, in the great vast gulfs
+where the mists of illusion are rolled away. For
+those who still live, he has no abuse&mdash;that incomparable
+sportsman and sahib; no recriminations for
+us who ruined his life. He goes farther, and finds
+excuses for us; God knows we need them. Here is
+what he has written. The document is reproduced
+exactly as I received it&mdash;saving only that I have altered
+all names. The man, whom I have called Ginger
+Bathurst, and everyone else concerned, will, I think,
+recognise themselves. And, pour les autres&mdash;let them
+guess.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>In two days, old friend, my battalion sails for
+France; and, now with the intention full formed and
+fixed in my mind, that I shall not return, I have determined
+to put down on paper the true facts of what
+happened three years ago: or rather, the true motives
+that impelled me to do what I did. I put it that way,
+because you already know the facts. You know that
+I was accused of saving my life at the expense of a
+woman's when the <i>Astoria</i> foundered in mid-Atlantic;
+you know that I was accused of having thrust her
+aside and taken her place in the boat. That accusation
+is true. I did save my life at a woman's expense. But
+the motives that impelled my action you do not know,
+nor the identity of the woman concerned. I hope<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span>
+and trust that when you have read what I shall write
+you will exonerate me from the charge of a cowardice,
+vile and abominable beyond words, and at the most
+only find me guilty of a mistaken sense of duty. These
+words will only reach you in the event of my death;
+do with them what you will. I should like to think
+that the old name was once again washed clean of the
+dirty blot it has on it now; so do your best for me,
+old pal, do your best.</p>
+
+<p>You remember Ginger Bathurst&mdash;of course you do.
+Is he still a budding Staff Officer at the War Office,
+I wonder, or is he over the water? I'm out of touch
+with the fellows in these days&mdash;(<i>the pathos of it:
+Spud out of touch, Spud of all men, whose soul was
+in the Army</i>)&mdash;one doesn't live in the back of beyond
+for three years and find Army lists and gazettes growing
+on the trees. You remember also, I suppose, that
+I was best man at his wedding when he married the
+Comtesse de Grecin. I told you at the time that I
+was not particularly enamoured of his choice, but it
+was <i>his</i> funeral; and with the old boy asking me to
+steer him through, I had no possible reason for refusing.
+Not that I had anything against the woman:
+she was charming, fascinating, and had a pretty useful
+share of this world's boodle. Moreover, she seemed
+extraordinarily in love with Ginger, and was just the
+sort of woman to push an ambitious fellow like him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span>
+right up to the top of the tree. He, of course, was
+simply idiotic: he was stark, raving mad about her;
+vowed she was the most peerless woman that ever a
+wretched being like himself had been privileged to
+look at; loaded her with presents which he couldn't
+afford, and generally took it a good deal worse than
+usual. I think, in a way, it was the calm acceptance
+of those presents that first prejudiced me against her.
+Naturally I saw a lot of her before they were married,
+being such a pal of Ginger's, and I did my best for
+his sake to overcome my dislike. But he wasn't a
+wealthy man&mdash;at the most he had about six hundred
+a year private means&mdash;and the presents of jewellery
+alone that he gave her must have made a pretty large
+hole in his capital.</p>
+
+<p>However that is all by the way. They were married,
+and shortly afterwards I took my leave big
+game shooting and lost sight of them for a while.
+When I came back Ginger was at the War Office,
+and they were living in London. They had a delightful
+little flat in Hans Crescent, and she was pushing
+him as only a clever woman can push. Everybody
+who could be of the slightest use to him sooner or
+later got roped in to dinner and was duly fascinated.</p>
+
+<p>To an habitual onlooker like myself, the whole thing
+was clear, and I must quite admit that much of my
+first instinctive dislike&mdash;and dislike is really too strong<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span>
+a word&mdash;evaporated. She went out of her way to
+be charming to me, not that I could be of any use to
+the old boy, but merely because I was his great friend;
+and of course she knew that I realised&mdash;what he never
+dreamed of&mdash;that she was paving the way to pull some
+really big strings for him later.</p>
+
+<p>I remember saying good-bye to her one afternoon
+after a luncheon, at which I had watched with great
+interest the complete capitulation of two generals and
+a well-known diplomatist.</p>
+
+<p>"You're a clever man, Mr. Spud," she murmured,
+with that charming air of taking one into her confidence,
+with which a woman of the world routs the
+most confirmed misogynist. "If only Ginger&mdash;&mdash;"
+She broke off and sighed: just the suggestion of a
+sigh; but sufficient to imply&mdash;lots.</p>
+
+<p>"My lady," I answered, "keep him fit; make him
+take exercise: above all things don't let him get fat.
+Even you would be powerless with a fat husband.
+But provided you keep him thin, and never let him
+decide anything for himself, he will live to be a lasting
+monument and example of what a woman can do.
+And warriors and statesmen shall bow down and
+worship, what time they drink tea in your boudoir and
+eat buns from your hand. Bismillah!"</p>
+
+<p>But time is short, and these details are trifling.
+Only once again, old pal, I am living in the days<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span>
+when I moved in the pleasant paths of life, and the
+temptation to linger is strong. Bear with me a moment.
+I am a sybarite for the moment in spirit: in
+reality&mdash;God! how it hurts.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+"Gentlemen rankers out on the spree,<br />
+Damned from here to eternity:<br />
+God have mercy on such as we.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Bah! Yah! Bah!"</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>I never thought I should live to prove Kipling's
+lines. But that's what I am&mdash;a gentleman ranker;
+going out to the war of wars&mdash;a private. I, and
+that's the bitterest part of it, I, who had, as you
+know full well, always, for years, lived for this war,
+the war against those cursed Germans. I knew it
+was coming&mdash;you'll bear me witness of that fact&mdash;and
+the cruel irony of fate that has made that very
+knowledge my downfall is not the lightest part of
+the little bundle fate has thrown on my shoulders.
+Yes, old man, we're getting near the motives now;
+but all in good time. Let me lay it out dramatically;
+don't rob me of my exit&mdash;I'm feeling a bit theatrical
+this evening. It may interest you to know that I saw
+Lady Delton to-day: she's a V.A.D., and did not recognise
+me, thank Heaven!</p>
+
+<p>(<i>Need I say again that Delton is not the name he
+wrote. Sufficient that she and Spud knew one another</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span>
+<i>very well, in other days. But in some men it would
+have emphasised the bitterness of spirit.</i>)</p>
+
+<p>Let's get on with it. A couple of years passed,
+and the summer of 1912 found me in New York. I
+was temporarily engaged on a special job which it is
+unnecessary to specify. It was not a very important
+one, but, as you know, a gift of tongues and a
+liking for poking my nose into the affairs of nations
+had enabled me to get a certain amount of more or
+less diplomatic work. The job was over, and I was
+merely marking time in New York waiting for the
+<i>Astoria</i> to sail. Two days before she was due to
+leave, and just as I was turning into the doors of my
+hotel, I ran full tilt into von Basel&mdash;a very decent
+fellow in the Prussian Guard&mdash;who was seconded and
+doing military attaché work in America. I'd met him
+off and on hunting in England&mdash;one of the few Germans
+I know who really went well to hounds.</p>
+
+<p>"Hullo! Trevor," he said, as we met. "What are
+you doing here?"</p>
+
+<p>"Marking time," I answered. "Waiting for my
+boat."</p>
+
+<p>We strolled to the bar, and over a cocktail he
+suggested that if I had nothing better to do I might
+as well come to some official ball that was on that
+evening. "I can get you a card," he remarked. "You<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span>
+ought to come; your friend, Mrs. Bathurst&mdash;Comtesse
+de Grecin that was&mdash;is going to be present."</p>
+
+<p>"I'd no idea she was this side of the water," I
+said, surprised.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes! Come over to see her people or something.
+Well! will you come?"</p>
+
+<p>I agreed, having nothing else on, and as he left
+the hotel, he laughed. "Funny the vagaries of fate.
+I don't suppose I come into this hotel once in three
+months. I only came down this evening to tell a man
+not to come and call as arranged, as my kid has got
+measles&mdash;and promptly ran into you."</p>
+
+<p>Truly the irony of circumstances! If one went
+back far enough, one might find that the determining
+factor of my disgrace was the quarrel of a nurse and
+her lover which made her take the child another walk
+than usual and pick up infection. Dash it all! you
+might even find that it was a spot on her nose
+that made her do so, as she didn't want to meet him
+when not looking at her best! But that way madness
+lies.</p>
+
+<p>Whatever the original cause&mdash;I went: and in due
+course met the Comtesse. She gave me a couple of
+dances, and I found that she, too, had booked her
+passage on the <i>Astoria</i>. I met very few people I
+knew, and having found it the usual boring stunt, I
+decided to get a glass of champagne and a sandwich<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span>
+and then retire to bed. I took them along to a small
+alcove where I could smoke a cigarette in peace, and
+sat down. It was as I sat down that I heard from
+behind a curtain which completely screened me from
+view, the words "English Army" spoken in German.
+And the voice was the voice of the Comtesse.</p>
+
+<p>Nothing very strange in the words you say, seeing
+that she spoke German, as well as several other languages,
+fluently. Perhaps not&mdash;but you know what
+my ideas used to be&mdash;how I was obsessed with the
+spy theory: at any rate, I listened. I listened for
+a quarter of an hour, and then I got my coat and
+went home&mdash;went home to try and see a way through
+just about the toughest proposition I'd ever been up
+against. For the Comtesse&mdash;Ginger Bathurst's idolised
+wife&mdash;was hand in glove with the German Secret
+Service. She was a spy, not of the wireless installation
+up the chimney type, not of the document-stealing
+type, but of a very much more dangerous type
+than either, the type it is almost impossible to incriminate.</p>
+
+<p>I can't remember the conversation I overheard
+exactly, I cannot give it to you word for word, but
+I will give you the substance of it. Her companion
+was von Basel's chief&mdash;a typical Prussian officer of
+the most overbearing description.</p>
+
+<p>"How goes it with you, Comtesse?" he asked her,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span>
+and I heard the scrape of a match as he lit a cigarette.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Baron, very well."</p>
+
+<p>"They do not suspect?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not an atom. The question has never been raised
+even as to my national sympathies, except once, and
+then the suggestion&mdash;not forced or emphasised in any
+way&mdash;that, as the child of a family who had lost everything
+in the '70 war, my sympathies were not hard to
+discover, was quite sufficient. That was at the time
+of the Agadir crisis."</p>
+
+<p>"And you do not desire revanche?"</p>
+
+<p>"My dear man, I desire money. My husband with
+his pay and private income has hardly enough to dress
+me on."</p>
+
+<p>"But, dear lady, why, if I may ask, did you marry
+him? With so many others for her choice, surely the
+Comtesse de Grecin could have commanded the
+world?"</p>
+
+<p>"Charming as a phrase, but I assure you that the
+idea of the world at one's feet is as extinct as the dodo.
+No, Baron, you may take it from me he was the best
+I could do. A rising junior soldier, employed on a
+staff job at the War Office, <i>persona grata</i> with all the
+people who really count in London by reason of his
+family, and moreover infatuated with his charming
+wife." Her companion gave a guttural chuckle; I
+could feel him leering. "I give the best dinners in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span>
+London; the majority of his senior officers think I
+am on the verge of running away with them, and when
+they become too obstreperous, I allow them to kiss
+my&mdash;fingers.</p>
+
+<p>"Listen to me, Baron," she spoke rapidly, in a
+low voice so that I could hardly catch what she said.
+"I have already given information about some confidential
+big howitzer trials which I saw; it was
+largely on my reports that action was stopped at
+Agadir; and there are many other things&mdash;things
+intangible, in a certain sense&mdash;points of view, the state
+of feeling in Ireland, the conditions of labour, which
+I am able to hear the inner side of, in a way quite
+impossible if I had not the entrée into that particular
+class of English society which I now possess. Not
+the so-called smart set, you understand; but the real
+ruling set&mdash;the leading soldiers, the leading diplomats.
+Of course they are discreet&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But you are a woman and a peerless one, chčre
+Comtesse. I think we may leave that cursed country
+in your hands with perfect safety. And, sooner perhaps
+than even we realise, we may see der Tag."</p>
+
+<p>Such then was briefly the conversation I overheard.
+As I said, it is not given word for word&mdash;but that is
+immaterial. What was I to do? That was the point
+which drummed through my head as I walked back
+to my hotel; that was the point which was still drumming<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span>
+through my head as the dawn came stealing in
+through my window. Put yourself in my place, old
+man; what would you have done?</p>
+
+<p>I, alone, of everyone who knew her in London,
+had stumbled by accident on the truth. Bathurst
+idolised her, and she exaggerated no whit when she
+boasted that she had the entrée to the most exclusive
+circle in England. I know; I was one of it myself.
+And though one realises that it is only in plays and
+novels that Cabinet Ministers wander about whispering
+State secrets into the ears of beautiful adventuresses,
+yet one also knows in real life how devilish
+dangerous a really pretty and fascinating woman can
+be&mdash;especially when she's bent on finding things out
+and is clever enough to put two and two together.</p>
+
+<p>Take one thing alone, and it was an aspect of the
+case that particularly struck me. Supposing diplomatic
+relations became strained between us and Germany&mdash;and
+I firmly believed, as you know, that sooner
+or later they would; supposing mobilisation was
+ordered&mdash;a secret one; suppose any of the hundred
+and one things which would be bound to form a prelude
+to a European war&mdash;and which at all costs must
+be kept secret&mdash;had occurred; think of the incalculable
+danger a clever woman in her position might
+have been, however discreet her husband was. And,
+my dear old boy, you know Ginger!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Supposing the Expeditionary Force were on the
+point of embarkation. A wife might guess their port
+of departure and arrival by an artless question or
+two as to where her husband on the Staff had motored
+to that day. But why go on? You see what I mean.
+Only to me, at that time&mdash;and now I might almost
+say that I am glad events have justified me&mdash;it appealed
+even more than it would have, say, to you. For
+I was so convinced of the danger that threatened us.</p>
+
+<p>But what was I to do? It was only my word
+against hers. Tell Ginger? The idea made even me
+laugh. Tell the generals and the diplomatists? They
+didn't want to kiss <i>my</i> hand. Tell some big bug in
+the Secret Service? Yes&mdash;that anyway; but she was
+such a devilish clever woman, that I had but little
+faith in such a simple remedy, especially as most of
+them patronised her dinners themselves.</p>
+
+<p>Still, that was the only thing to be done&mdash;that, and
+to keep a look-out myself, for I was tolerably certain
+she did not suspect me. Why should she?</p>
+
+<p>And so in due course I found myself sitting next
+her at dinner as the <i>Astoria</i> started her journey across
+the water.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>I am coming to the climax of the drama, old man;
+I shall not bore you much longer. But before I actually
+give you the details of what occurred on that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span>
+ill-fated vessel's last trip, I want to make sure that
+you realise the state of mind I was in, and the action
+that I had decided on. Firstly, I was convinced that
+my dinner partner&mdash;the wife of one of my best friends&mdash;was
+an unscrupulous spy. That the evidence would
+not have hung a fly in a court of law was not the
+point; the evidence was my own hearing, which was
+good enough for me.</p>
+
+<p>Secondly, I was convinced that she occupied a position
+in society which rendered it easy for her to get
+hold of the most invaluable information in the event
+of a war between us and Germany.</p>
+
+<p>Thirdly, I was convinced that there would be a war
+between us and Germany.</p>
+
+<p>So much for my state of mind; now, for my course
+of action.</p>
+
+<p>I had decided to keep a watch on her, and, if I could
+get hold of the slightest incriminating evidence, expose
+her secretly, but mercilessly, to the Secret Service. If
+I could not&mdash;and if I realised there was danger brewing&mdash;to
+inform the Secret Service of what I had heard,
+and, sacrificing Ginger's friendship if necessary, and
+my own reputation for chivalry, swear away her honour,
+or anything, provided only her capacity for obtaining
+information temporarily ceased. Once that
+was done, then face the music, and be accused, if needs
+be, of false swearing, unrequited love, jealousy, what<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span>
+you will. But to destroy her capacity for harm to
+my country was my bounden duty, whatever the social
+or personal results to me.</p>
+
+<p>And there was one other thing&mdash;and on this one thing
+the whole course of the matter was destined to hang: <i>I
+alone could do it, for I alone knew the truth.</i> Let that
+sink in, old son; grasp it, realise it, and read my future
+actions by the light of that one simple fact.</p>
+
+<p>I can see you sit back in your chair, and look into
+the fire with the light of comprehension dawning in
+your eyes; it does put the matter in a different complexion,
+doesn't it, my friend? You begin to appreciate
+the motives that impelled me to sacrifice a woman's
+life; so far so good. You are even magnanimous:
+what is one woman compared to the danger
+of a nation?</p>
+
+<p>Dear old boy, I drink a silent toast to you. Have
+you no suspicions? What if the woman I sacrificed
+was the Comtesse herself? Does it surprise you;
+wasn't it the God-sent solution to everything?</p>
+
+<p>Just as a freak of fate had acquainted me with her
+secret; so did a freak of fate throw me in her path
+at the end....</p>
+
+<p>We hit an iceberg, as you may remember, in the
+middle of the night, and the ship foundered in under
+twenty minutes.</p>
+
+<p>You can imagine the scene of chaos after we struck,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span>
+or rather you can't. Men were running wildly about
+shouting, women were screaming, and the roar of the
+siren bellowing forth into the night drove people to a
+perfect frenzy. Then all the lights went out, and
+darkness settled down like a pall on the ship. I struggled
+up on deck, which was already tilting up at a
+perilous angle, and there&mdash;in the mass of scurrying
+figures&mdash;I came face to face with the Comtesse. In
+the panic of the moment I had forgotten all about her.
+She was quite calm, and smiled at me, for of course
+our relations were still as before.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly there came the shout from close at hand,
+"Room for one more only." What happened then,
+happened in a couple of seconds; it will take me longer
+to describe.</p>
+
+<p>There flashed into my mind what would occur if I
+were drowned and the Comtesse was saved. There
+would be no one to combat her activities in England;
+she would have a free hand. My plans were null and
+void if I died; I must get back to England&mdash;or England
+would be in peril. I must pass on my information
+to someone&mdash;for I alone knew.</p>
+
+<p>"Hurry up! one more." Another shout from near
+by, and looking round I saw that we were alone. It
+was she or I.</p>
+
+<p>She moved towards the boat, and as she did so I
+saw the only possible solution&mdash;I saw what I then<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span>
+thought to be my duty; what I still consider&mdash;and, God
+knows, that scene is never long out of my mind&mdash;what
+I still consider to have been my duty. I took her by
+the arm and twisted her facing me.</p>
+
+<p>"As Ginger's wife, yes," I muttered; "as the cursed
+spy I know you to be, no&mdash;a thousand times no."</p>
+
+<p>"My God!" she whispered. "My God!"</p>
+
+<p>Without further thought I pushed by her and
+stepped into the boat, which was actually being lowered
+into the water. Two minutes later the <i>Astoria</i>
+sank, and she went down with her....</p>
+
+<p>That is what occurred that night in mid-Atlantic. I
+make no excuses, I offer no palliation; I merely state
+facts.</p>
+
+<p>Only had I not heard what I did hear in that alcove
+she would have been just&mdash;Ginger's wife. Would the
+Expeditionary Force have crossed so successfully, I
+wonder?</p>
+
+<p>As I say, I did what I still consider to have been my
+duty. If both could have been saved, well and good;
+but if it was only one, it <i>had</i> to be me, or neither.
+That's the rub; should it have been neither?</p>
+
+<p>Many times since then, old friend, has the white
+twitching face of that woman haunted me in my
+dreams and in my waking hours. Many times since
+then have I thought that&mdash;spy or no spy&mdash;I had no
+right to save my life at her expense; I should have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span>
+gone down with her. Quixotical, perhaps, seeing she
+was what she was; but she was a woman. One thing
+and one thing only I can say. When you read these
+lines, I shall be dead; they will come to you as a voice
+from the dead. And, as a man who faces his Maker,
+I tell you, with a calm certainty that I am not deceiving
+myself, that that night there was no trace of cowardice
+in my mind. It was not a desire to save my
+own life that actuated me; it was the fear of danger
+to England. An error of judgment possibly; an act
+of cowardice&mdash;no. That much I state, and that much
+I demand that you believe.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>And now we come to the last chapter&mdash;the chapter
+that you know. I'd been back about two months when
+I first realised that there were stories going round
+about me. There were whispers in the club; men
+avoided me; women cut me. Then came the dreadful
+night when a man&mdash;half drunk&mdash;in the club accused
+me of cowardice point-blank, and sneeringly contrasted
+my previous reputation with my conduct on the
+<i>Astoria</i>. And I realised that someone must have seen.
+I knocked that swine in the club down; but the whispers
+grew. I knew it. Someone had seen, and it would
+be sheer hypocrisy on my part to pretend that such
+a thing didn't matter. It mattered everything: it ended
+me. The world&mdash;our world&mdash;judges deeds, not motives;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span>
+and even had I published at the time this document
+I am sending to you, our world would have found
+me guilty. They would have said what you would
+have said had you spoken the thoughts I saw in your
+eyes that night I came to you. They would have said
+that a sudden wave of cowardice had overwhelmed me,
+and that brought face to face with death I had saved
+my own life at the expense of a woman's. Many would
+have gone still further, and said that my black cowardice
+was rendered blacker still by my hypocrisy in
+inventing such a story; that first to kill the woman,
+and then to blacken her reputation as an excuse,
+showed me as a thing unfit to live. I know the world.</p>
+
+<p>Moreover, as far as I knew then&mdash;I am sure of it
+now&mdash;whoever it was who saw my action, did not
+see who the woman was, and therefore the publication
+of this document at that time would have involved
+Ginger, for it would have been futile to publish it without
+names. Feeling as I did that perhaps I should
+have sunk with her; feeling as I did that, for good
+or evil, I had blasted Ginger's life, I simply couldn't
+do it. You didn't believe in me, old chap; at the bottom
+of their hearts all my old pals thought I'd shown
+the yellow streak; and I couldn't stick it. So I went
+to the Colonel, and told him I was handing in my
+papers. He was in his quarters, I remember, and
+started filling his pipe as I was speaking.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Why, Spud?" he asked, when I told him my intention.</p>
+
+<p>And then I told him something of what I have written
+to you. I said it to him in confidence, and when
+I'd finished he sat very silent.</p>
+
+<p>"Good God!" he muttered at length. "Ginger's
+wife!"</p>
+
+<p>"You believe me, Colonel?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Spud," he said, putting his hands on my shoulders,
+"that's a damn rotten thing to ask me&mdash;after fifteen
+years. But it's the regiment." And he fell to staring
+at the fire.</p>
+
+<p>Aye, that was it. It was the regiment that mattered.
+For better or for worse I had done what I had done,
+and it was my show. The Red Hussars must not be
+made to suffer; and their reputation would have suffered
+through me. Otherwise I'd have faced it out.
+As it was, I had to go; I knew it. I'd come to the
+same decision myself.</p>
+
+<p>Only now, sitting here in camp with the setting sun
+glinting through the windows of the hut, just a Canadian
+private under an assumed name, things are a
+little different. The regiment is safe; I must think
+now of the old name. The Colonel was killed at
+Cambrai; therefore you alone will be in possession of
+the facts. Ginger, if he reads these words, will perhaps
+forgive me for the pain I have inflicted on him.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span>
+Let him remember that though I did a dreadful thing
+to him, a thing which up to now he has been ignorant
+of, yet I suffered much for his sake after. During my
+life it was one thing; when I am dead his claims must
+give way to a greater one&mdash;my name.</p>
+
+<p>Wherefore I, Patrick Courtenay Trevor, having the
+unalterable intention of meeting my Maker during the
+present war, and therefore feeling in a measure that I
+am, even as I write, standing at the threshold of His
+Presence, do swear before Almighty God that what I
+have written is the truth, the whole truth, and nothing
+but the truth. So help me, God.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>The fall-in is going, old man. Good-bye.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span></p>
+<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2>
+
+<h3>THE FATAL SECOND</h3>
+
+
+<p>It was in July of 1914&mdash;on the Saturday of Henley
+Week. People who were there may remember
+that, for once in a way, our fickle climate was pleased
+to smile upon us.</p>
+
+<p>Underneath the wall of Phyllis Court a punt was
+tied up. The prizes had been given away, and the
+tightly packed boats surged slowly up and down the
+river, freed at last from the extreme boredom of
+watching crews they did not know falling exhausted
+out of their boats. In the punt of which I speak were
+three men and a girl. One of the men was myself, who
+have no part in this episode, save the humble one of
+narrator. The other three were the principals; I would
+have you make their acquaintance. I would hurriedly
+say that it is not the old, old story of a woman and
+two men, for one of the men was her brother.</p>
+
+<p>To begin with&mdash;the girl. Pat Delawnay&mdash;she was
+always called Pat, as she didn't look like a Patricia&mdash;was
+her name, and she was&mdash;well, here I give in. I
+don't know the colour of her eyes, nor can I say with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span>
+any certainty the colour of her hair; all I know is that
+she looked as if the sun had come from heaven and
+kissed her, and had then gone back again satisfied with
+his work. She was a girl whom to know was to love&mdash;the
+dearest, most understanding soul in God's whole
+earth. I'd loved her myself since I was out of petticoats.</p>
+
+<p>Then there was Jack Delawnay, her brother. Two
+years younger he was, and between the two of them
+there was an affection and love which is frequently
+conspicuous by its absence between brother and sister.
+He was a cheery youngster, a good-looking boy, and
+fellows in the regiment liked him. He rode straight,
+and he had the money to keep good cattle. In addition,
+the men loved him, and that means a lot when
+you size up an officer.</p>
+
+<p>And then there was the other. Older by ten years
+than the boy&mdash;the same age as myself&mdash;Jerry Dixon
+was my greatest friend. We had fought together
+at school, played the ass together at Sandhurst, and
+entered the regiment on the same day. He had "A"
+company and I had "C," and the boy was one of his
+subalterns. Perhaps I am biassed, but to me Jerry
+Dixon had one of the finest characters I have ever
+seen in any man. He was no Galahad, no prig; he
+was just a man, a white man. He had that cheerily
+ugly face which is one of the greatest gifts a man<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span>
+can have, and he also had Pat as his fiancée, which was
+another.</p>
+
+<p>My name is immaterial, but everyone calls me
+Winkle, owing to&mdash;&mdash; Well, some day I may tell you.</p>
+
+<p>The regiment, our regiment, was the, let us call it
+the Downshires.</p>
+
+<p>We had come over from Aldershot and were week-ending
+at the Delawnays' place&mdash;they always took
+one on the river for Henley. At the moment Jerry
+was holding forth, quite unmoved by exhortations to
+"Get out and get under" bawled in his ears by blackened
+gentlemen of doubtful voice and undoubted
+inebriation.</p>
+
+<p>As I write, the peculiar&mdash;the almost sinister&mdash;nature
+of his conversation, in the light of future events,
+seems nothing short of diabolical. And yet at the
+time we were just three white-flannelled men and a
+girl with a great floppy hat lazing over tea in a punt.
+How the gods must have laughed!</p>
+
+<p>"My dear old Winkle"&mdash;he was lighting a cigarette
+as he spoke&mdash;"you don't realise the deeper side
+of soldiering at all. The subtle nuances (French, Pat,
+in case my accent is faulty) are completely lost upon
+you."</p>
+
+<p>I remember smiling to myself as I heard Jerry
+getting warmed up to his subject, and then my attention
+wandered, and I dozed off. I had heard it all<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span>
+before so often from the dear old boy. We always
+used to chaff him about it in the mess. I can see
+him now, after dinner, standing with his back to the
+ante-room fire, a whisky-and-soda in his hand and a
+dirty old pipe between his teeth.</p>
+
+<p>"It's all very well for you fellows to laugh," he
+would say, "but I'm right for all that. It is absolutely
+essential to think out beforehand what one
+would do in certain exceptional eventualities, so that
+when that eventuality does arise you won't waste any
+time, but will automatically do the right thing."</p>
+
+<p>And then the adjutant recalled in a still small voice
+how he first realised the orderly-room sergeant's baby
+was going to be sick in his arms at the regiment's
+Christmas-tree festivities, and, instead of throwing it
+on the floor, he had clung to it for that fatal second
+of indecision. As he admitted, it was certainly not
+one of the things he had thought out beforehand.</p>
+
+<p>He's gone, too, has old Bellairs the adjutant. I
+wonder how many fellows I'll know when I get back
+to them next week? But I'm wandering.</p>
+
+<p>"Winkle, wake up!" It was Pat speaking. "Jerry
+is being horribly serious, and I'm not at all certain
+it will be safe to marry him; he'll be experimenting
+on me."</p>
+
+<p>"What's he been saying?" I murmured sleepily.</p>
+
+<p>"He's been thinking what he'd do," laughed Jack,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span>
+"if the stout female personage in yonder small canoe
+overbalanced and fell in. There'll be no fatal second
+then, Jerry, my boy. It'll be a minute even if I have
+to hold you. You'd never be able to look your friends
+in the face again if you didn't let her drown."</p>
+
+<p>"Ass!" grunted Jerry. "No, Winkle, I was just
+thinking, amongst other things, of what might very
+easily happen to any of us three here, and what did
+happen to old Grantley in South Africa." Grantley
+was one of our majors. "He told me all about it one
+day in one of his expansive moods. It was during a
+bit of a scrap just before Paardeburg, and he had some
+crowd of irregular Johnnies. He was told off to take
+a position, and apparently it was a fairly warm proposition.
+However, it was perfectly feasible if only the
+men stuck it. Well, they didn't, but they would have
+except for his momentary indecision. He told me
+that there came a moment in the advance when one
+man wavered. He knew it and felt it all through
+him. He saw the man&mdash;he almost saw the deadly contagion
+spreading from that one man to the others&mdash;and
+he hesitated and was lost. When he sprang forward
+and tried to hold 'em, he failed. The fear was
+on them, and they broke. He told me he regarded
+himself as every bit as much to blame as the man who
+first gave out."</p>
+
+<p>"But what could he have done, Jerry?" asked Pat.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Shot him, dear&mdash;shot him on the spot without a
+second's thought&mdash;killed the origin of the fear before
+it had time to spread. I venture to say that there
+are not many fellows in the Service who would do it&mdash;without
+thinking: and you can't think&mdash;you dare
+not, even if there was time. It goes against the grain,
+especially if you know the man well, and it's only by
+continually rehearsing the scene in your mind that
+you'd be able to do it."</p>
+
+<p>We were all listening to him now, for this was a
+new development I'd never heard before.</p>
+
+<p>"Just imagine the far-reaching results one coward&mdash;no,
+not coward, possibly&mdash;but one man who has
+reached the breaking-point, may have. Think of it,
+Winkle. A long line stretched out, attacking. One
+man in the centre wavers, stops. Spreading outwards,
+the thing rushes like lightning, because, after
+all, fear is only an emotion, like joy and sorrow, and
+one knows how quickly they will communicate themselves
+to other people. Also, in such a moment as
+an attack, men are particularly susceptible to emotions.
+All that is primitive is uppermost, and their
+reasoning powers are more or less in abeyance."</p>
+
+<p>"But the awful thing, Jerry," said Pat quietly, "is
+that you would never know whether it had been necessary
+or not. It might not have spread; he might have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span>
+answered to your voice&mdash;oh! a thousand things might
+have happened."</p>
+
+<p>"It's not worth the risk, dear. One man's life is
+not worth the risk. It's a risk you just dare not take.
+It may mean everything&mdash;it may mean failure&mdash;it may
+mean disgrace." He paused and looked steadily across
+the shifting scene of gaiety and colour, while a long
+bamboo pole with a little bag on the end, wielded by
+some passing vocalist, was thrust towards him unheeded.
+Then with a short laugh he pulled himself
+together, and lit a cigarette. "But enough of dull care.
+Let us away, and gaze upon beautiful women and brave
+men. What's that little tune they're playing?"</p>
+
+<p>"That's that waltz&mdash;what the deuce is the name,
+Pat?" asked Jack, untying the punt.</p>
+
+<p>"'Destiny,'" answered Pat briefly, and we passed
+out into the stream.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>A month afterwards we three were again at Henley,
+not in flannels in a punt on the river, but in khaki,
+with a motor waiting at the door of the Delawnays'
+house to take us back to Aldershot. I do not propose
+to dwell over the scene, but in the setting down
+of the story it cannot be left out. Europe was at
+war; the long-expected by those scoffed-at alarmists
+had actually come. England and Germany were at
+each other's throats.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Inside the house Jack was with his mother. Personally,
+I was standing in the garden with the grey-haired
+father; and Jerry was&mdash;well, where else could
+he have been?</p>
+
+<p>As is the way with men, we discussed the roses,
+and the rascality of the Germans, and everything
+except what was in our hearts. And in one of the
+pauses in our spasmodic conversation we heard her
+voice, just over the hedge:</p>
+
+<p>"God guard and keep you, my man, and bring you
+back to me safe!" And the voice was steady, though
+one could feel those dear eyes dim with tears.</p>
+
+<p>And then Jerry's, dear old Jerry's voice&mdash;a little
+bit gruff it was, and a little bit shaky: "My love!
+My darling!"</p>
+
+<p>But the old man was going towards the house, blowing
+his nose; and I&mdash;don't hold with love and that sort
+of thing at all. True, I blundered into a flower-bed,
+which I didn't see clearly, as I went towards the car,
+for there are things which one may not hear and
+remain unmoved. Perhaps, if things had been different,
+and Jerry&mdash;dear old Jerry&mdash;hadn't&mdash;&mdash; But
+there, I'm wandering again.</p>
+
+<p>At last we were in the car and ready to start.</p>
+
+<p>"Take care of him, Jerry; he and Pat are all we've
+got." It was Mrs. Delawnay speaking, standing there<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span>
+with the setting sun on her sweet face and her husband's
+arm about her.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll be all right, mater," answered Jack gruffly.
+"Buck up! Back for Christmas!"</p>
+
+<p>"I'll look after him, Mrs. Delawnay," answered
+Jerry, but his eyes were fixed on Pat, and for him the
+world held only her.</p>
+
+<p>As the car swung out of the gate, we looked back
+the last time and saluted, and it was only I who saw
+through a break in the hedge two women locked in
+each other's arms, while a grey-haired gentleman sat
+very still on a garden-seat, with his eyes fixed on the
+river rolling smoothly by.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>It was on the Aisne I took it. Through that ghastly
+fourteen days we had slogged dully south away from
+Mons, ever getting nearer Paris. Through the choking
+dust, with the men staggering as they walked&mdash;some
+asleep, some babbling, some cursing&mdash;but always
+marching, marching, marching; digging at night, only
+to leave the trenches in two hours and march on again;
+with ever and anon a battery of horse tearing past at a
+gallop, with the drivers lolling drunkenly in their saddles,
+and the guns jolting and swaying behind the
+straining, sweating horses, to come into action on some
+ridge still further south, and try to check von Kluck's
+hordes, if only for a little space. Every bridge in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span>
+hands of anxious-faced sapper officers, prepared for
+demolition one and all, but not to be blown up till all
+our troops were across. Ticklish work, for should
+there be a fault, there is not much time to repair it.</p>
+
+<p>But at last it was over, and we turned North. A
+few days later, in the afternoon, my company crossed
+a pontoon bridge on the Aisne, and two hours afterwards
+we dug ourselves in a mile and a half beyond
+it. The next morning, as I was sitting in one of the
+trenches, there was a sudden, blinding roar&mdash;and
+oblivion.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>I will pass rapidly over the next six weeks&mdash;over
+my journey from the clearing hospital to the base at
+Havre, of my voyage back to England in a hospital
+ship, and my ultimate arrival at Drayton Hall, the
+Delawnays' place in Somerset, where I had gone to
+convalesce.</p>
+
+<p>During the time various fragments of iron were
+being picked from me and the first shock of the concussion
+was wearing off, we had handed over our
+trenches on the Aisne to the French, and moved north
+to Flanders.</p>
+
+<p>Occasional scrawls came through from Jack and
+Jerry, but the people in England who had any knowledge
+at all of the fighting and of what was going on,
+grew to dread with an awful dread the sight of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span>
+telegraph-boy, and it required an effort of will to
+look at those prosaic casualty lists in the morning
+papers.</p>
+
+<p>Then suddenly without warning, as such news
+always does, it came. The War Office, in the shape
+of a whistling telegraph-boy, regretted to inform Mr.
+Delawnay that his son, Lieutenant Jack Delawnay of
+the Royal Downshire Regiment, had been killed in
+action.</p>
+
+<p>Had it been possible during the terrible days after
+the news came, I would have gone away, but I was
+still too weak to move; and I like to think that, perhaps,
+my presence there was some comfort to them,
+as a sort of connection through the regiment with
+their dead boy. After the first numbing shock, the old
+man bore it grandly.</p>
+
+<p>"He was all I had," he said to me one day as I
+lay in bed, "but I give him gladly for his country's
+sake." He stood looking at the broad fields. "All
+his," he muttered; "all would have been the dear lad's&mdash;and
+now six inches of soil and a wooden cross, perhaps
+not that."</p>
+
+<p>And Pat, poor little Pat, used to come up every day
+and sit with me, sometimes in silence, with her great
+eyes fixed on the fire, sometimes reading the paper,
+because my eyes weren't quite right yet.</p>
+
+<p>For about a fortnight after the news we did not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span>
+think it strange; but then, as day by day went by,
+the same fear formulated in both our minds. I would
+have died sooner than whisper it; but one afternoon
+I found her eyes fixed on mine. We had been silent
+for some time, and suddenly in the firelight I saw
+the awful fear in her mind as clearly as if she had
+spoken it.</p>
+
+<p>"You're thinking it too, Winkle," she whispered,
+leaning forward. "Why hasn't he written? Why
+hasn't Jerry written one line? Oh, my God! don't
+say that <i>he</i> has been&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Hush, dear!" I said quietly. "His people would
+have let you know if they had had a wire."</p>
+
+<p>"But, Winkle, the Colonel has written that Jack
+died while gallantly leading a counter attack to recover
+lost trenches. Surely, Jerry would have found time
+for a line, unless something had happened to him;
+Jack was actually in his company."</p>
+
+<p>All of which I knew, but could not answer.</p>
+
+<p>"Besides," she went on after a moment, "you know
+how dad is longing for details. He wants to know
+everything about Jack, and so do we all. But oh,
+Winkle! I want to know if my man is all right.
+Brother and lover&mdash;not both, oh, God&mdash;not both!"
+The choking little sobs wrung my heart.</p>
+
+<p>The next day we got a wire from him. He was
+wounded slightly in the arm, and was at home. He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span>
+was coming to us. Just that&mdash;no more. But, oh!
+the difference to the girl. Everything explained, everything
+clear, and the next day Jerry would be with her.
+Only as I lay awake that night thinking, and the events
+of the last three weeks passed through my mind, the
+same thought returned with maddening persistency.
+Slightly wounded in the arm, evidently recently as
+there was no mention in the casualty list, and for three
+weeks no line, no word. And then I cursed myself as
+an ass and a querulous invalid.</p>
+
+<p>At three o'clock he arrived, and they all came up
+to my room. The first thing that struck me like a
+blow was that it was his left arm which was hit&mdash;and
+the next was his face. Whether Pat had noticed
+that his writing arm was unhurt, I know not; but
+she had seen the look in his eyes, and was afraid.</p>
+
+<p>Then he told the story, and his voice was as the
+voice of the dead. Told the anxious, eager father
+and mother the story of their boy's heroism. How,
+having lost some trenches, the regiment made a
+counter attack to regain them. How first of them
+all was Jack, the men following him, as they always
+did, until a shot took him clean through the heart,
+and he dropped, leaving the regiment to surge over
+him for the last forty yards, and carry out gloriously
+what they had been going to do.</p>
+
+<p>And then the old man, pulling out the letter from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span>
+the Colonel, and trying to read it through his blinding
+tears: "He did well, my boy," he whispered, "he
+did well, and died well. But, Jerry, the Colonel says
+in his letter," and he wiped his eyes and tried to read,
+"he says in his letter that Jack must have been right
+into their trenches almost, as he was killed at point-blank
+range with a revolver. One of those swine of
+German officers, I suppose." He shook his fist in the
+air. "Still he was but doing his duty. I must not
+complain. But you say he was forty yards away?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's difficult to say, sir, in the dark," answered
+Jerry, still in the voice of an automatic machine. "It
+may have been less than forty."</p>
+
+<p>And then he told them all over again; and while
+they, the two old dears, whispered and cried together,
+never noticing anything amiss, being only concerned
+with the telling, and caring no whit for the method
+thereof, Pat sat silently in the window, gazing at
+him with tearless eyes, with the wonder and amazement
+of her soul writ clear on her face for all to see.
+And I&mdash;I lay motionless in bed, and there was something
+I could not understand, for he would not look
+at me, nor yet at her, but kept his eyes fixed on
+the fire, while he talked like a child repeating a
+lesson.</p>
+
+<p>At last it was over; their last questions were asked,
+and slowly, arm-in-arm, they left the room, to dwell<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span>
+alone upon the story of their idolised boy. And in the
+room the silence was only broken by the crackling of
+the logs.</p>
+
+<p>How long we sat there I know not, with the firelight
+flickering on the stern set face of the man in the
+chair. He seemed unconscious of our existence, and
+we two dared not speak to him, we who loved him
+best, for there was something we could not understand.
+Suddenly he got up, and held out his arms
+to Pat. And when she crept into them, he kissed her,
+straining her close, as if he could never stop. Then,
+without a word, he led her to the door, and, putting
+her gently through, shut it behind her. Still without
+a word he came back to the chair, and turned it so
+that the firelight no longer played on his face. And
+then he spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"I have a story to tell you, Winkle, which I venture
+to think will entertain you for a time." His voice was
+the most terrible thing I have ever listened to....
+"Nearly four weeks ago the battalion was in the
+trenches a bit south of Ypres. It was bad in the retreat,
+as you know; it was bad on the Aisne; but they
+were neither of them in the same county as the doing
+we had up north. One night&mdash;they'd shelled us off
+and on for three days and three nights&mdash;we were
+driven out of our trenches. The regiment on our right
+gave, and we had to go too. The next morning we<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span>
+were ordered to counter attack, and get back the
+ground we had lost. It was the attack in which we
+lost so heavily."</p>
+
+<p>He stopped speaking for a while, and I did not
+interrupt.</p>
+
+<p>"When I got that order overnight Jack was with
+me, in a hole that passed as a dugout. At the moment
+everything was quiet; the Germans were patching up
+their new position; only a maxim spluttered away a bit
+to one flank. To add to the general desolation a steady
+downpour of rain drenched us, into which, without
+cessation the German flares went shooting up. I think
+they were expecting a counter attack at once...."</p>
+
+<p>Again he paused, and I waited.</p>
+
+<p>"You know the condition one gets into sometimes
+when one is heavy for sleep. We had it during the
+retreat if you remember&mdash;a sort of coma, the outcome
+of utter bodily exhaustion. One used to go on walking,
+and all the while one was asleep&mdash;or practically
+so. Sounds came to us dimly as from a great distance;
+they made no impression on us&mdash;they were just
+a jumbled phantasmagoria of outside matters, which
+failed to reach one's brain, except as a dim dream. I
+was in that condition on the night I am speaking of; I
+was utterly cooked&mdash;beat to the world; I was finished
+for the time. I've told you this, because I want you
+to understand the physical condition I was in."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>He leaned forward and stared at the fire, resting
+his head on his hands.</p>
+
+<p>"How long I'd dozed heavily in that wet-sodden
+hole I don't know, but after a while above the
+crackle of the maxim, separate and distinct from the
+soft splash of the rain, and the hiss of the flares, and
+the hundred and one other noises that came dimly
+to me out of the night, I heard Jack's voice&mdash;at least I
+think it was Jack's voice."</p>
+
+<p>Of a sudden he sat up in the chair, and rising quickly
+he came and leant over the foot of the bed.</p>
+
+<p>"Devil take it," he cried bitterly, "I know it was
+Jack's voice&mdash;<i>now</i>. I knew it the next day when it
+was too late. What he said exactly I shall never know&mdash;at
+the time it made no impression on me; but at this
+moment, almost like a spirit voice in my brain, I can
+hear him. I can hear him asking me to watch him. I
+can hear him pleading&mdash;I can hear his dreadful fear of
+being found afraid. As a whisper from a great distance
+I can hear one short sentence&mdash;'Jerry, my God,
+Jerry&mdash;I'm frightened!'</p>
+
+<p>"Winkle, he turned to me in his weakness&mdash;that
+boy who had never failed before, that boy who had
+reached the breaking-point&mdash;and I heeded him not.
+I was too dead beat; my brain couldn't grasp it."</p>
+
+<p>"But, Jerry," I cried, "it turned out all right the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span>
+next day; he..." The words died away on my lips
+as I met the look in his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"You'd better let me finish," he interrupted wearily.
+"Let me get the whole hideous tragedy off my mind
+for the first and the last time. Early next morning
+we attacked. In the dim dirty light of dawn I saw
+the boy's face as he moved off to his platoon; and even
+then I didn't remember those halting sentences that
+had come to me out of the night. So instead of ordering
+him to the rear on some pretext or other as I should
+have done, I let him go to his platoon.</p>
+
+<p>"As we went across the ground that morning
+through a fire like nothing I had ever imagined, a man
+wavered in front of me. I felt it clean through me.
+I knew fear had come. I shouted and cheered&mdash;but the
+wavering was spreading; I knew that too. So I shot
+him through the heart from behind at point-blank
+range as I had trained myself to do&mdash;in that eternity
+ago&mdash;before the war. The counter attack was successful."</p>
+
+<p>"Great Heavens, Jerry!" I muttered, "who did you
+shoot?" though I knew the answer already.</p>
+
+<p>"The man I shot was Jack Delawnay. Whether
+at the time I was actively conscious of it, I cannot
+say. Certainly my training enabled me to act before
+any glimmering of the aftermath came into my mind.
+<i>This</i> is the aftermath."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>I shuddered at the utter hopelessness of his tone,
+though the full result of his action had not dawned on
+me yet; my mind was dazed.</p>
+
+<p>"But surely Jack was no coward," I said at length.</p>
+
+<p>"He was not; but on that particular morning he
+gave out. He had reached the limit of his endurance."</p>
+
+<p>"The Colonel's letter," I reminded him; "it praised
+the lad."</p>
+
+<p>"Lies," he answered wearily, "all lies, engineered
+by me. Not because I am ashamed of what I did,
+but for the lad's sake, and hers, and the old people.
+I loved the boy, as you know, but he failed, and <i>there
+was no other way</i>. And where the fiend himself is
+gloating over it is that he knows it was the only time
+Jack did fail. If only I hadn't been so beat the night
+before; if only his words had reached my brain before
+it was too late. If only ... I think," he added, after
+a pause, "I think I shall go mad. Sometimes I wish
+I could."</p>
+
+<p>"And what of Pat?" I asked, at length breaking the
+silence.</p>
+
+<p>The hands grasping the bed tightened, and grew
+white.</p>
+
+<p>"I said 'Good-bye' to her before your eyes, ten
+minutes ago. I shall never see her again."</p>
+
+<p>"But, Great Heavens, Jerry!" I cried, "you can't
+give her up like that. She idolises the ground you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span>
+walk on, she worships you, and she need never know.
+You were only doing your duty after all."</p>
+
+<p>"Stop!" he cried, and his voice was a command.
+"As you love me, old friend, don't tempt me. For
+three weeks those arguments have been flooding everything
+else from my mind. Do you remember at Henley,
+when she said, 'He might have answered to your
+voice?' Winkle, it's true, Jack might have. And I
+killed him. Just think if I married her, and she did
+find out. Her brother's murderer&mdash;in her eyes. The
+man who has wrecked her home, and broken her father
+and mother. It's inconceivable, it's hideous. Ah!
+don't you see how utterly final it all is? She may have
+been right; and if she was, then I, who loved her better
+than the world, have murdered her brother, and broken
+the old people's hearts for the sake of a theory. The
+fact that my theory has been put into practice, at the
+expense of everything I have to live for, is full of
+humour, isn't it?" And his laugh was wild.</p>
+
+<p>"Steady, Jerry," I said sternly. "What do you mean
+to do?"</p>
+
+<p>"You'll see, old man, in time," he answered. "First
+and foremost, get back to the regiment, arm or no
+arm. I would not have come home, but I had to see
+her once more."</p>
+
+<p>"You talk as if it was the end." I looked at him
+squarely.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"It is," he answered. "It's easy out there."</p>
+
+<p>"Your mind is made up?"</p>
+
+<p>"Absolutely." He gave a short laugh. "Good-bye,
+old friend. Ease it to her as well as you can.
+Say I'm unstrung by the trenches, anything you like;
+but don't let her guess the truth."</p>
+
+<p>For a long minute he held my hand. Then he turned
+away. He walked to the mantelpiece, and there was a
+photograph of her there. For a long time he looked
+at it, and it seemed to me he whispered something. A
+sudden dimness blinded my eyes, and when I looked
+again he had gone&mdash;through the window into the
+night.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>I did not see Pat until I left Drayton Hall after
+that ghastly night, save only once or twice with her
+mother in the room.</p>
+
+<p>But an hour before I left she came to me, and her
+face was that of a woman who has passed through the
+fires.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me, Winkle, shall I ever see him again? You
+know what I mean."</p>
+
+<p>"You will never see him again, Pat," and the look
+in her eyes made me choke.</p>
+
+<p>"Will you tell me what it was he told you before
+he went through the window? You see, I was in the
+hall waiting for him," and she smiled wearily.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I can't, Pat dear; I promised him," I muttered.
+"But it was nothing disgraceful."</p>
+
+<p>"Disgraceful!" she cried proudly. "Jerry, and anything
+disgraceful. Oh, my God! Winkle dear," and
+she broke down utterly, "do you remember the waltz
+they were playing that day&mdash;'Destiny'?"</p>
+
+<p>And then I went. Whether that wonderful woman's
+intuition has told her something of what happened,
+I know not. But yesterday morning I got a letter
+from the Colonel saying that Jerry had chucked his
+life away, saving a wounded man. And this morning
+she will have seen it in the papers.</p>
+
+<p>God help you, Pat, my dear.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span></p>
+<h2>CHAPTER V</h2>
+
+<h3>JIM BRENT'S V.C.</h3>
+
+
+<p>If you pass through the Menin-Gate at Ypres, and
+walk up the slight rise that lies on the other side of
+the moat, you will come to the parting of the ways.
+You will at the same time come to a spot of unprepossessing
+aspect, whose chief claim to notoriety lies
+in its shell-holes and broken-down houses. If you
+keep straight on you will in time come to the little
+village of Potige; if you turn to the right you will
+eventually arrive at Hooge. In either case you will
+wish you hadn't.</p>
+
+<p>Before the war these two roads&mdash;which join about
+two hundred yards east of the rampart walls of Ypres&mdash;were
+adorned with a fair number of houses. They
+were of that stucco type which one frequently sees
+in England spreading out along the roads that lead
+to a largish town. Generally there is one of unusually
+revolting aspect that stands proudly by itself a hundred
+yards or so from the common herd and enclosed
+in a stuccoesque wall. And there my knowledge of
+the type in England ends.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>In Belgium, however, my acquaintance with this
+sort of abode is extensive. In taking over a house
+in Flanders that stands unpleasantly near the Hun,
+the advertisement that there are three sitting, two
+bed, h. and c. laid on, with excellent onion patch, near
+railway and good golf-links, leaves one cold. The
+end-all and be-all of a house is its cellar. The more
+gloomy, and dark, and generally horrible the cellar,
+the higher that house ranks socially, and the more
+likely are you to find in it a general consuming his last
+hamper from Fortnum &amp; Mason by the light of a
+tallow dip. And this applies more especially to the
+Hooge road.</p>
+
+<p>Arrived at the fork, let us turn right-handed and
+proceed along the deserted road. A motor-car is not
+to be advised, as at this stage of the promenade one
+is in full sight of the German trenches. For about
+two or three hundred yards no houses screen you, and
+then comes a row of the stucco residences I have mentioned.
+Also at this point the road bends to the left.
+Here, out of sight, occasional men sun themselves in
+the heavily-scented air, what time they exchange a
+little playful badinage in a way common to Thomas
+Atkins. At least, that is what happened some time
+ago; now, of course, things may have changed in the
+garden city.</p>
+
+<p>And at this point really our journey is ended,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span>
+though for interest we might continue for another
+quarter of a mile. The row of houses stops abruptly,
+and away in front stretches a long straight road. A
+few detached mansions of sorts, in their own grounds,
+flank it on each side. At length they cease, and in
+front lies the open country. The poplar-lined road
+disappears out of sight a mile ahead, where it tops a
+gentle slope. And half on this side of the rise, and
+half on the other, there are the remnants of the tit-bit
+of the whole bloody charnel-house of the Ypres salient&mdash;the
+remnants of the village of Hooge. A closer examination
+is not to be recommended. The place where
+you stand is known in the vernacular as Hell Fire
+Corner, and the Hun&mdash;who knows the range of that
+corner to the fraction of an inch&mdash;will quite possibly
+resent your presence even there. And shrapnel gives
+a nasty wound.</p>
+
+<p>Let us return and seek safety in a cellar. It is not
+what one would call a good-looking cellar; no priceless
+prints adorn the walls, no Turkey carpet receives your
+jaded feet. In one corner a portable gramophone with
+several records much the worse for wear reposes on an
+upturned biscuit-box, and lying on the floor, with due
+regard to space economy, are three or four of those
+excellent box-mattresses which form the all-in-all of
+the average small Belgian house. On top of them are
+laid some valises and blankets, and from the one in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span>
+the corner the sweet music of the sleeper strikes softly
+on the ear. It is the senior subaltern, who has been
+rambling all the preceding night in Sanctuary Wood&mdash;the
+proud authors of our nomenclature in Flanders
+quite rightly possess the humour necessary for the
+production of official communiqués.</p>
+
+<p>In two chairs, smoking, are a couple of officers.
+One is a major of the Royal Engineers, and another,
+also a sapper, belongs to the gilded staff. The cellar
+is the temporary headquarters of a field company&mdash;office,
+mess, and bedroom rolled into one.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm devilish short-handed for the moment, Bill."
+The Major thoughtfully filled his pipe. "That last
+boy I got a week ago&mdash;a nice boy he was, too&mdash;was
+killed in Zouave Wood the day before yesterday, poor
+devil. Seymour was wounded three days ago, and
+there's only Brent, Johnson, and him"&mdash;he indicated
+the sleeper. "Johnson is useless, and Brent&mdash;&mdash;" He
+paused, and looked full at the Staff-captain. "Do you
+know Brent well, by any chance?"</p>
+
+<p>"I should jolly well think I did. Jim Brent is one of
+my greatest pals, Major."</p>
+
+<p>"Then perhaps you can tell me something I very
+much want to know. I have knocked about the place
+for a good many years, and I have rubbed shoulders,
+officially and unofficially, with more men than I care
+to remember. As a result, I think I may claim a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span>
+fair knowledge of my fellow-beings. And Brent&mdash;well,
+he rather beats me."</p>
+
+<p>He paused as if at a loss for words, and looked in
+the direction of the sleeping subaltern. Reassured by
+the alarming noise proceeding from the corner, he
+seemed to make up his mind.</p>
+
+<p>"Has Brent had some very nasty knock lately&mdash;money,
+or a woman, or something?"</p>
+
+<p>The Staff-captain took his pipe from his mouth,
+and for some seconds stared at the floor. Then he
+asked quietly, "Why? What are you getting at?"</p>
+
+<p>"This is why, Bill. Brent is one of the most capable
+officers I have ever had. He's a man whose judgment,
+tact, and driving power are perfectly invaluable
+in a show of this sort&mdash;so invaluable, in fact"&mdash;he
+looked straight at his listener&mdash;"that his death would
+be a very real loss to the corps and the Service. He's
+one of those we can't replace, and&mdash;he's going all out
+to make us have to."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean?" The question expressed
+no surprise; the speaker seemed merely to be demanding
+confirmation of what he already knew.</p>
+
+<p>"Brent is deliberately trying to get killed. There
+is not a shadow of doubt about it in my mind. Do
+you know why?"</p>
+
+<p>The Staff-officer got up and strolled to a table on
+which were lying some illustrated weekly papers.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span>
+"Have you last week's <i>Tatler</i>?" He turned over the
+leaves. "Yes&mdash;here it is." He handed the newspaper
+to the Major. "That is why."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>A charming portrait of Lady Kathleen Goring;
+who was last week married to that well-known sportsman
+and soldier Sir Richard Goring. She was, it will
+be remembered, very popular in London society as the
+beautiful Miss Kathleen Tubbs&mdash;the daughter of Mr.
+and Mrs. Silas P. Tubbs, of Pittsburg, Pa.</i>"</p>
+
+<p>The Major put down the paper and looked at the
+Staff-captain; then suddenly he rose and hurled it into
+the corner. "Oh, damn these women," he exploded.</p>
+
+<p>"Amen," murmured the other, as, with a loud snort,
+the sleeper awoke.</p>
+
+<p>"Is anything th' matter?" he murmured, drowsily,
+only to relapse at once into unconsciousness.</p>
+
+<p>"Jim was practically engaged to her; and then,
+three months ago, without a word of explanation,
+she gave him the order of the boot, and got engaged
+to Goring." The Staff-captain spoke savagely. "A
+damn rotten woman, Major, and Jim's well out of it,
+if he only knew. Goring's a baronet, which is, of
+course, the reason why this excrescence of the house
+of Tubbs chucked Jim. As a matter of fact, Dick
+Goring's not a bad fellow&mdash;he deserves a better fate.
+But it fairly broke Jim up. He's not the sort of
+fellow who falls in love easily; this was his one and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span>
+only real affair, and he took it bad. He told me at the
+time that he never intended to come back alive."</p>
+
+<p>"Damn it all!" The Major's voice was irritable.
+"Why, his knowledge of the lingo alone makes him
+invaluable."</p>
+
+<p>"Frankly, I've been expecting to hear of his death
+every day. He's not the type that says a thing of
+that sort without meaning it."</p>
+
+<p>A step sounded on the floor above. "Look out, here
+he is. You'll stop and have a bit of lunch, Bill?"</p>
+
+<p>As he spoke the light in the doorway was blocked
+out, and a man came uncertainly down the stairs.</p>
+
+<p>"Confound these cellars. One can't see a thing,
+coming in out of the daylight. Who's that? Halloa,
+Bill, old cock, 'ow's yourself?"</p>
+
+<p>"Just tottering, Jim. Where've you been?"</p>
+
+<p>"Wandered down to Vlamertinghe this morning
+early to see about some sandbags, and while I was
+there I met that flying wallah Petersen in the R.N.A.S.
+Do you remember him, Major? He was up here with
+an armoured car in May. He told me rather an interesting
+thing."</p>
+
+<p>"What's that, Jim?" The Major was attacking a
+brawn with gusto. "Sit down, Bill. Whisky and
+Perrier in that box over there."</p>
+
+<p>"He tells me the Huns have got six guns whose size
+he puts at about 9-inch; guns, mark you, not howitzers&mdash;mounted<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span>
+on railway trucks at Tournai. From
+there they can be rushed by either branch of the line&mdash;the
+junction is just west&mdash;to wherever they are required."</p>
+
+<p>"My dear old boy," laughed Bill, as he sat down.
+"I don't know your friend Petersen, and I have not
+the slightest hesitation in saying that he is in all probability
+quite right. But the information seems to be
+about as much use as the fact that it is cold in Labrador."</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder," answered Brent, thoughtfully&mdash;"I
+wonder." He was rummaging through a pile of papers
+in the stationery box.</p>
+
+<p>The other two men looked at one another significantly.
+"What hare-brained scheme have you got in
+your mind now, Brent?" asked the Major.</p>
+
+<p>Brent came slowly across the cellar and sat down
+with a sheet of paper spread out on his knee. For
+a while he examined it in silence, comparing it with
+an ordnance map, and then he spoke. "It's brick,
+and the drop is sixty feet, according to this&mdash;with the
+depth of the water fifteen."</p>
+
+<p>"And the answer is a lemon. What on earth are
+you talking about, Jim?"</p>
+
+<p>"The railway bridge over the river before the line
+forks."</p>
+
+<p>"Good Lord! My good fellow," cried the Major,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span>
+irritably, "don't be absurd. Are you proposing to
+blow it up?" His tone was ponderously sarcastic.</p>
+
+<p>"Not exactly," answered the unperturbed Brent,
+"but something of the sort&mdash;if I can get permission."</p>
+
+<p>The two men laid down their knives and stared at
+him solemnly.</p>
+
+<p>"You are, I believe, a sapper officer," commenced
+the Major. "May I ask first how much gun-cotton
+you think will be necessary to blow up a railway bridge
+which gives a sixty-foot drop into water; second, how
+you propose to get it there; third, how you propose
+to get yourself there; and fourth, why do you talk
+such rot?"</p>
+
+<p>Jim Brent laughed and helped himself to whisky.
+"The answer to the first question is unknown at present,
+but inquiries of my secretary will be welcomed&mdash;probably
+about a thousand pounds. The answer to the
+second question is that I don't. The answer to the
+third is&mdash;somehow; and for the fourth question I must
+ask for notice."</p>
+
+<p>"What the devil are you driving at, Jim?" said the
+Staff-captain, puzzled. "If you don't get the stuff
+there, how the deuce are you going to blow up the
+bridge?"</p>
+
+<p>"You may take it from me, Bill, that I may be mad,
+but I never anticipated marching through German<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span>
+Belgium with a party of sappers and a G.S. wagon full
+of gun-cotton. Oh, no&mdash;it's a one-man show."</p>
+
+<p>"But," ejaculated the Major, "how the&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Have you ever thought, sir," interrupted Brent,
+"what would be the result if, as a heavy train was passing
+over a bridge, you cut one rail just in front of the
+engine?"</p>
+
+<p>"But&mdash;&mdash;" the Major again started to speak, and
+was again cut short.</p>
+
+<p>"The outside rail," continued Brent, "so that the
+tendency would be for the engine to go towards the
+parapet wall. And no iron girder to hold it up&mdash;merely
+a little brick wall"&mdash;he again referred to the
+paper on his knee&mdash;"three feet high and three bricks
+thick. No nasty parties of men carrying slabs of gun-cotton;
+just yourself&mdash;with one slab of gun-cotton in
+your pocket and one primer and one detonator&mdash;that
+and the psychological moment. Luck, of course, but
+when we dispense with the working party we lift it
+from the utterly impossible into the realm of the remotely
+possible. The odds are against success, I know;
+but&mdash;&mdash;" He shrugged his shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>"But how do you propose to get there, my dear
+chap?" asked the Major, peevishly. "The Germans
+have a rooted objection to English officers walking
+about behind their lines."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but they don't mind a Belgian peasant, do<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span>
+they? Dash it, they've played the game on us scores
+of times, Major&mdash;not perhaps the bridge idea, but
+espionage by men disguised behind our lines. I only
+propose doing the same, and perhaps going one
+better."</p>
+
+<p>"You haven't one chance in a hundred of getting
+through alive." The Major viciously stabbed a
+tongue.</p>
+
+<p>"That is&mdash;er&mdash;beside the point," answered Brent,
+shortly.</p>
+
+<p>"But how could you get through their lines to start
+with?" queried Bill.</p>
+
+<p>"There are ways, dearie, there are ways. Petersen
+is a man of much resource."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, the whole idea is absolutely ridiculous."
+The Major snorted. "Once and for all, Brent, I won't
+hear of it. We're far too short of fellows as it is."</p>
+
+<p>And for a space the subject languished, though
+there was a look on Jim Brent's face which showed it
+was only for a space.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>Now when a man of the type of Brent takes it badly
+over a woman, there is a strong probability of very
+considerable trouble at any time. When, in addition
+to that, it occurs in the middle of the bloodiest war of
+history, the probability becomes a certainty. That he
+should quite fail to see just what manner of woman<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span>
+the present Lady Goring was, was merely in the nature
+of the animal. He was&mdash;as far as women were concerned&mdash;of
+the genus fool. To him "the rag, and the
+bone, and the hank of hair" could never be anything
+but perfect. It is as well that there are men like that.</p>
+
+<p>All of which his major&mdash;who was a man of no little
+understanding&mdash;knew quite well. And the knowledge
+increased his irritation, for he realised the futility of
+trying to adjust things. That adjusting business is
+ticklish work even between two close pals; but when
+the would-be adjuster is very little more than a mere
+acquaintance, the chances of success might be put in a
+small-sized pill-box. To feel morally certain that your
+best officer is trying his hardest to get himself killed,
+and to be unable to prevent it, is an annoying state
+of affairs. Small wonder, then, that at intervals
+throughout the days that followed did the Major
+reiterate with solemnity and emphasis his remark to
+the Staff-captain anent women. It eased his feelings,
+if it did nothing else.</p>
+
+<p>The wild scheme Brent had half suggested did not
+trouble him greatly. He regarded it merely as a temporary
+aberration of the brain. In the South African
+war small parties of mounted sappers and cavalry had
+undoubtedly ridden far into hostile country, and, getting
+behind the enemy, had blown up bridges, and
+generally damaged their lines of communication. But<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span>
+in the South African war a line of trenches did not
+stretch from sea to sea.</p>
+
+<p>And so, seated one evening at the door of his commodious
+residence talking things over with his colonel,
+he did not lay any great stress on the bridge idea.
+Brent had not referred to it again; and in the cold light
+of reason it seemed too foolish to mention.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course," remarked the C.R.E., "he's bound to
+take it soon. No man can go on running the fool risks
+you say he does without stopping one. It's a pity;
+but, if he won't see by himself that he's a fool, I don't
+see what we can do to make it clear. If only that confounded
+girl&mdash;" He grunted and got up to go.
+"Halloa! What the devil is this fellow doing?"</p>
+
+<p>Shambling down the road towards them was a particularly
+decrepit and filthy specimen of the Belgian
+labourer. In normal circumstances, and in any other
+place, his appearance would have called for no especial
+comment; the brand is not a rare one. But for many
+months the salient of Ypres had been cleared of its
+civilian population; and this sudden appearance was
+not likely to pass unnoticed.</p>
+
+<p>"Venez, ici, monsieur, tout de suite." At the Major's
+words the old man stopped, and paused in hesitation;
+then he shuffled towards the two men.</p>
+
+<p>"Will you talk to him, Colonel?" The Major
+glanced at his senior officer.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Er&mdash;I think not; my&mdash;er&mdash;French, don't you know&mdash;er&mdash;not
+what it was." The worthy officer retired in
+good order, only to be overwhelmed by a perfect deluge
+of words from the Belgian.</p>
+
+<p>"What's he say?" he queried, peevishly. "That
+damn Flemish sounds like a dog fight."</p>
+
+<p>"Parlez-vous Français, monsieur?" The Major attempted
+to stem the tide of the old man's verbosity,
+but he evidently had a grievance, and a Belgian with a
+grievance is not a thing to be regarded with a light
+heart.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank heavens, here's the interpreter!" The
+Colonel heaved a sigh of relief. "Ask this man what
+he's doing here, please."</p>
+
+<p>For a space the distant rattle of a machine-gun was
+drowned, and then the interpreter turned to the
+officers.</p>
+
+<p>"'E say, sare, that 'e has ten thousand franc behind
+the German line, buried in a 'ole, and 'e wants to
+know vat 'e shall do."</p>
+
+<p>"Do," laughed the Major. "What does he imagine
+he's likely to do? Go and dig it up? Tell him that
+he's got no business here at all."</p>
+
+<p>Again the interpreter spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"Shall I take 'im to Yper and 'and 'im to the gendarmes,
+sare?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Not a bad idea," said the Colonel, "and have
+him&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>What further order he was going to give is immaterial,
+for at that moment he looked at the Belgian,
+and from that villainous old ruffian he received the
+most obvious and unmistakable wink.</p>
+
+<p>"Er&mdash;thank you, interpreter; I will send him later
+under a guard."</p>
+
+<p>The interpreter saluted and retired, the Major looked
+surprised, the Colonel regarded the Belgian with an
+amazed frown. Then suddenly the old villain spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, Colonel. Those Ypres gendarmes
+would have been a nuisance."</p>
+
+<p>"Great Scot!" gasped the Major. "What the&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"What the devil is the meaning of this masquerade,
+sir?" The Colonel was distinctly angry.</p>
+
+<p>"I wanted to see if I'd pass muster as a Belgian,
+sir. The interpreter was an invaluable proof."</p>
+
+<p>"You run a deuced good chance of being shot,
+Brent, in that rig. Anyway, I wish for an explanation
+as to why you're walking about in that get-up.
+Haven't you enough work to do?"</p>
+
+<p>"Shall we go inside, sir? I've got a favour to ask
+you."</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>We are not very much concerned with the conversation
+that took place downstairs in that same cellar,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span>
+when two senior officers of the corps of Royal Engineers
+listened for nearly an hour to an apparently
+disreputable old farmer. It might have been interesting
+to note how the sceptical grunts of those two
+officers gradually gave place to silence, and at length
+to a profound, breathless interest, as they pored over
+maps and plans. And the maps were all of that
+country which lies behind the German trenches.</p>
+
+<p>But at the end the old farmer straightened himself
+smartly.</p>
+
+<p>"That is the rough outline of my plan, sir. I think
+I can claim that I have reduced the risk of not getting
+to my objective to a minimum. When I get there
+I am sure that my knowledge of the patois renders
+the chance of detection small. As for the actual demolition
+itself, an enormous amount will depend on
+luck; but I can afford to wait. I shall have to be
+guided by local conditions. And so I ask you to let
+me go. It's a long odds chance, but if it comes off it's
+worth it."</p>
+
+<p>"And if it does, what then? What about you?"
+The Colonel's eyes and Jim Brent's met.</p>
+
+<p>"I shall have paid for my keep, Colonel, at any
+rate."</p>
+
+<p>Everything was very silent in the cellar; outside on
+the road a man was singing.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"In other words, Jim, you're asking me to allow you
+to commit suicide."</p>
+
+<p>He cleared his throat; his voice seemed a little
+husky.</p>
+
+<p>"Good Lord! sir&mdash;it's not as bad as that. Call it a
+forlorn hope, if you like, but ..." The eyes of the
+two men met, and Brent fell silent.</p>
+
+<p>"Gad, my lad, you're a fool, but you're a brave fool!
+For Heaven's sake, give me a drink."</p>
+
+<p>"I may go, Colonel?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, you may go&mdash;as far, that is, as I am concerned.
+There is the General Staff to get round first."</p>
+
+<p>But though the Colonel's voice was gruff, he seemed
+to have some difficulty in finding his glass.</p>
+
+<p>As far as is possible in human nature, Jim Brent,
+at the period when he gained his V.C. in a manner
+which made him the hero of the hour&mdash;one might almost
+say of the war&mdash;was, I believe, without fear.
+The blow he had received at the hands of the girl
+who meant all the world to him had rendered him utterly
+callous of his life. And it was no transitory
+feeling: the mood of an hour or a week. It was
+deeper than the ordinary misery of a man who has
+taken the knock from a woman, deeper and much less
+ostentatious. He seemed to view life with a contemptuous
+toleration that in any other man would have
+been the merest affectation. But it was not evinced<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span>
+by his words; it was shown, as his Major had said,
+by his deeds&mdash;deeds that could not be called bravado
+because he never advertised them. He was simply
+gambling with death, with a cool hand and a steady
+eye, and sublimely indifferent to whether he won or
+lost. Up to the time when he played his last great
+game he had borne a charmed life. According to
+the book of the words, he should have been killed a
+score of times, and he told me himself only last week
+that he went into this final gamble with a taunt on
+his lips and contempt in his heart. Knowing him as
+I do, I believe it. I can almost hear him saying to his
+grim opponent, "Dash it all! I've won every time;
+for Heaven's sake do something to justify your reputation."</p>
+
+<p>But&mdash;he didn't; Jim won again. And when he
+landed in England from a Dutch tramp, having carried
+out the maddest and most hazardous exploit of
+the war unscathed, he slipped up on a piece of orange-peel
+and broke his right leg in two places, which made
+him laugh so immoderately when the contrast struck
+him that it cured him&mdash;not his leg, but his mind. However,
+all in due course.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>The first part of the story I heard from Petersen,
+of the Naval Air Service. I ran into him by accident<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span>
+in a grocer's shop in Hazebrouck&mdash;buying stuff for
+the mess.</p>
+
+<p>"What news of Jim?" he cried, the instant he saw
+me.</p>
+
+<p>"Very sketchy," I answered. "He's the worst letter-writer
+in the world. You know he trod on a bit
+of orange-peel and broke his leg when he got back to
+England."</p>
+
+<p>"He would." Petersen smiled. "That's just the
+sort of thing Jim would do. Men like him usually die
+of mumps, or the effects of a bad oyster."</p>
+
+<p>"Quite so," I murmured, catching him gently by
+the arm. "And now come to the pub over the way
+and tell me all about it. The beer there is of a less
+vile brand than usual."</p>
+
+<p>"But I can't tell you anything, my dear chap, that
+you don't know already!" he expostulated. "I am
+quite prepared to gargle with you, but&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Deux bičres, ma'm'selle, s'il vous plaît." I piloted
+Petersen firmly to a little table. "Tell me all, my son!"
+I cried. "For the purposes of this meeting I know
+nix, and you as part hero in the affair have got to get
+it off your chest."</p>
+
+<p>He laughed, and lit a cigarette. "Not much of the
+heroic in my part of the stunt, I assure you. As you
+know, the show started from Dunkirk, where in due
+course Jim arrived, armed with credentials extracted<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span>
+only after great persuasion from sceptical officers of
+high rank. How he ever got there at all has always
+been a wonder to me: his Colonel was the least of his
+difficulties in that line. But Jim takes a bit of stopping.</p>
+
+<p>"My part of the show was to transport that scatter-brained
+idiot over the trenches and drop him behind
+the German lines. His idea was novel, I must
+admit, though at the time I thought he was mad, and
+for that matter I still think he's mad. Only a madman
+could have thought of it, only Jim Brent could
+have done it and not been killed.</p>
+
+<p>"From a height of three thousand feet, in the middle
+of the night, he proposed to bid me and the plane a
+tender farewell and descend to terra firma by means
+of a parachute."</p>
+
+<p>"Great Scot," I murmured. "Some idea."</p>
+
+<p>"As you say&mdash;some idea. The thing was to choose
+a suitable night. As Jim said, 'the slow descent of
+a disreputable Belgian peasant like an angel out of
+the skies will cause a flutter of excitement in the tender
+heart of the Hun if it is perceived. Therefore, it
+must be a dark and overcast night.'</p>
+
+<p>"At last, after a week, we got an ideal one. Jim
+arrayed himself in his togs, took his basket on his arm&mdash;you
+know he'd hidden the gun-cotton in a cheese&mdash;and
+we went round to the machine. By Jove! that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span>
+chap's a marvel. Think of it, man." Petersen's face
+was full of enthusiastic admiration. "He'd never even
+been up in an aeroplane before, and yet the first time
+he does, it is with the full intention of trusting himself
+to an infernal parachute, a thing the thought of
+which gives me cold feet; moreover, of doing it in
+the dark from a height of three thousand odd feet
+behind the German lines with his pockets full of detonators
+and other abominations, and his cheese full
+of gun-cotton. Lord! he's a marvel. And I give you
+my word that of the two of us&mdash;though I've flown for
+over two years&mdash;I was the shaky one. He was absolutely
+cool; not the coolness of a man who is keeping
+himself under control, but just the normal coolness
+of a man who is doing his everyday job."</p>
+
+<p>Petersen finished his beer at a gulp, and we encored
+the dose.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, we got off about two. We were not aiming
+at any specific spot, but I was going to go due east for
+three-quarters of an hour, which I estimated should
+bring us somewhere over Courtrai. Then he was going
+to drop off, and I was coming back. The time was
+chosen so that I should be able to land again at Dunkirk
+about dawn.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't tell you much more. We escaped detection
+going over the lines, and about ten minutes to three, at
+a height of three thousand five hundred, old Jim tapped<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span>
+me on the shoulder. He understood exactly what to
+do&mdash;as far as we could tell him: for the parachute is
+still almost in its infancy.</p>
+
+<p>"As he had remarked to our wing commander before
+we started: 'A most valuable experiment, sir; I
+will report on how it works in due course.'</p>
+
+<p>"We shook hands. I could see him smiling through
+the darkness; and then, with his basket under his arm,
+that filthy old Belgian farmer launched himself into
+space.</p>
+
+<p>"I saw him for a second falling like a stone, and
+then the parachute seemed to open out all right. But
+of course I couldn't tell in the dark; and just afterwards
+I struck an air-pocket, and had a bit of trouble
+with the bus. After that I turned round and went
+home again. I'm looking forward to seeing the old
+boy and hearing what occurred."</p>
+
+<p>And that is the unvarnished account of the first part
+of Jim's last game with fate. Incidentally, it's the
+sort of thing that hardly requires any varnishing.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>The rest of the yarn I heard later from Brent himself,
+when I went round to see him in hospital, while
+I was back on leave.</p>
+
+<p>"For Heaven's sake, lady, dear," he said to the sister
+as I arrived, "don't let anyone else in. Say I've
+had a relapse and am biting the bed-clothes. This unpleasant-looking<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span>
+man is a great pal of mine, and I
+would commune with him awhile."</p>
+
+<p>"It's appalling, old boy," he said to me as she went
+out of the room, "how they cluster. Men of dreadful
+visage; women who gave me my first bath; unprincipled
+journalists&mdash;all of them come and talk hot air
+until I get rid of them by swooning. My young sister
+brought thirty-four school friends round last Tuesday!
+Of course, my swoon is entirely artificial; but the sister
+is an understanding soul, and shoos them away." He
+lit a cigarette.</p>
+
+<p>"I saw Petersen the other day in Hazebrouck," I
+told him as I sat down by the bed. "He wants to
+come round and see you as soon as he can get home."</p>
+
+<p>"Good old Petersen. I'd never have brought it off
+without him."</p>
+
+<p>"What happened, Jim?" I asked. "I've got up to
+the moment when you left his bus, with your old parachute,
+and disappeared into space. And of course
+I've seen the official announcement of the guns being
+seen in the river, as reported by that R.F.C. man. But
+there is a gap of about three weeks; and I notice you
+have not been over-communicative to the half-penny
+press."</p>
+
+<p>"My dear old man," he answered, seriously, "there
+was nothing to be communicative about. Thinking it
+over now, I am astounded how simple the whole thing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span>
+was. It was as easy as falling off a log. I fell like
+a stone for two or three seconds, because the blessed
+umbrella wouldn't open. Then I slowed up and floated
+gently downwards. It was a most fascinating sensation.
+I heard old Petersen crashing about just above
+me; and in the distance a search-light was moving
+backwards and forwards across the sky, evidently looking
+for him. I should say it took me about five minutes
+to come down; and of course all the way down
+I was wondering where the devil I was going to land.
+The country below me was black as pitch: not a light
+to be seen&mdash;not a camp-fire&mdash;nothing. As the two
+things I wanted most to avoid were church steeples
+and the temporary abode of any large number of Huns,
+everything looked very favourable. To be suspended
+by one's trousers from a weathercock in the cold, grey
+light of dawn seemed a sorry ending to the show; and
+to land from the skies on a general's stomach requires
+explanation."</p>
+
+<p>He smiled reminiscently. "I'm not likely to forget
+that descent, Petersen's engine getting fainter and
+fainter in the distance, the first pale streaks of light
+beginning to show in the east, and away on a road
+to the south the headlamps of a car moving swiftly
+along. Then the humour of the show struck me. Me,
+in my most picturesque disguise, odoriferous as a family
+of ferrets in my borrowed garments, descending<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span>
+gently on to the Hun like the fairy god-mother in a
+pantomime. So I laughed, and&mdash;wished I hadn't. My
+knees hit my jaw with a crack, and I very nearly bit
+my tongue in two. Cheeses all over the place, and
+there I was enveloped in the folds of the collapsing
+parachute. Funny, but for a moment I couldn't think
+what had happened. I suppose I was a bit dizzy from
+the shock, and it never occurred to me that I'd reached
+the ground, which, not being able to see in the dark, I
+hadn't known was so close. Otherwise I could have
+landed much lighter. Yes, it's a great machine that
+parachute." He paused to reach for his pipe.</p>
+
+<p>"Where did you land?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"In the middle of a ploughed field. Couldn't have
+been a better place if I'd chosen it. A wood or a river
+would have been deuced awkward. Yes, there's no
+doubt about it, old man, my luck was in from the very
+start. I removed myself from the folds, picked up
+my cheeses, found a convenient ditch alongside to hide
+the umbrella in, and then sat tight waiting for dawn.</p>
+
+<p>"I happen to know that part of Belgium pretty well,
+and when it got light I took my bearings. Petersen
+had borne a little south of what we intended, which
+was all to the good&mdash;it gave me less walking; but it
+was just as well I found a sign-post almost at once,
+as I had no map, of course&mdash;far too dangerous; and
+I wasn't very clear on names of villages, though I'd<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span>
+memorized the map before leaving. I found I had
+landed somewhere south of Courtrai, and was about
+twelve kilometres due north of Tournai.</p>
+
+<p>"And it was just as I'd decided that little fact that
+I met a horrible Hun, a large and forbidding-looking
+man. Now, the one thing on which I'd been chancing
+my arm was the freedom allowed to the Belgians behind
+the German lines, and luck again stepped in.</p>
+
+<p>"Beyond grunting 'Guten Morgen' he betrayed no
+interest in me whatever. It was the same all along. I
+shambled past Uhlans, and officers and generals in
+motor-cars&mdash;Huns of all breeds and all varieties, and
+no one even noticed me. And after all, why on earth
+should they?</p>
+
+<p>"About midday I came to Tournai; and here again
+I was trusting to luck. I'd stopped there three years
+ago at a small estaminet near the station kept by the
+widow Demassiet. Now this old lady was, I knew,
+thoroughly French in sympathies; and I hoped that,
+in case of necessity, she would pass me off as her
+brother from Ghent, who was staying with her for a
+while. Some retreat of this sort was, of course, essential.
+A homeless vagabond would be bound to excite
+suspicion.</p>
+
+<p>"Dear old woman&mdash;she was splendid. After the
+war I shall search her out, and present her with an
+annuity, or a belle vache, or something dear to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span>
+Belgian heart. She never even hesitated. From that
+night I was her brother, though she knew it meant
+her death as well as mine if I was discovered.</p>
+
+<p>"'Ah, monsieur,' she said, when I pointed this out
+to her, 'it is in the hands of le bon Dieu. At the most
+I have another five years, and these Allemands&mdash;pah!'
+She spat with great accuracy.</p>
+
+<p>"She was good, was the old veuve Demassiet."</p>
+
+<p>Jim puffed steadily at his pipe in silence for a few
+moments.</p>
+
+<p>"I soon found out that the Germans frequented the
+estaminet; and, what was more to the point&mdash;luck
+again, mark you&mdash;that the gunners who ran the battery
+I was out after almost lived there. When the battery
+was at Tournai they had mighty little to do, and
+they did it, with some skill, round the beer in her big
+room.</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose you know what my plan was. The next
+time that battery left Tournai I proposed to cut one of
+the metals on the bridge over the River Scheldt, just
+in front of the engine, so close that the driver couldn't
+stop, and so derail the locomotive. I calculated that if
+I cut the outside rail&mdash;the one nearest the parapet wall&mdash;the
+flange on the inner wheel would prevent the engine
+turning inwards. That would merely cause delay,
+but very possibly no more. I hoped, on the contrary,
+to turn it outwards towards the wall, through<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span>
+which it would crash, dragging after it with any luck
+the whole train of guns.</p>
+
+<p>"That being the general idea, so to speak, I wandered
+off one day to see the bridge. As I expected, it
+was guarded, but by somewhat indifferent-looking
+Huns&mdash;evidently only lines of communication troops.
+For all that, I hadn't an idea how I was going to do it.
+Still, luck, always luck; the more you buffet her the
+better she treats you.</p>
+
+<p>"One week after I got there I heard the battery was
+going out: and they were going out that night. As a
+matter of fact, that hadn't occurred to me before&mdash;the
+fact of them moving by night, but it suited me down
+to the ground. It appeared they were timed to leave
+at midnight, which meant they'd cross the bridge about
+a quarter or half past. And so at nine that evening
+I pushed gently off and wandered bridgewards.</p>
+
+<p>"Then the fun began. I was challenged, and, having
+answered thickly, I pretended to be drunk. The
+sentry, poor devil, wasn't a bad fellow, and I had some
+cold sausage and beer. And very soon a gurgling noise
+pronounced the fact that he found my beer good.</p>
+
+<p>"It was then I hit him on the base of his skull with
+a bit of gas-pipe. That sentry will never drink beer
+again." Brent frowned. "A nasty blow, a dirty blow,
+but a necessary blow." He shrugged his shoulders
+and then went on.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I took off his top-coat and put it on. I put on his
+hat and took his rifle and rolled him down the embankment
+into a bush. Then I resumed his beat. Discipline
+was a bit lax on that bridge, I'm glad to say;
+unless you pulled your relief out of bed no one else
+was likely to do it for you. As you may guess, I did
+not do much pulling.</p>
+
+<p>"I was using two slabs of gun-cotton to make sure&mdash;firing
+them electrically. I had two dry-cells and two
+coils of fine wire for the leads. The cells would fire
+a No. 13 Detonator through thirty yards of those leads&mdash;and
+that thirty yards just enabled me to stand clear
+of the bridge. It took me twenty minutes to fix it up,
+and then I had to wait.</p>
+
+<p>"By gad, old boy, you've called me a cool bird; you
+should have seen me during that wait. I was trembling
+like a child with excitement: everything had gone
+so marvellously. And for the first time in the whole
+show it dawned on me that not only was there a chance
+of getting away afterwards, but that I actually wanted
+to. Before that moment I'd assumed on the certainty
+of being killed."</p>
+
+<p>For a moment he looked curiously in front of him,
+and a slight smile lurked round the corners of his
+mouth. Then suddenly, and apropos of nothing, he
+remarked, "Kathleen Goring tea'd with me yesterday.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span>
+Of course, it was largely due to that damned orange-skin,
+but I&mdash;er&mdash;did not pass a sleepless night."</p>
+
+<p>Which I took to be indicative of a state of mind induced
+by the rind of that nutritious fruit, rather than
+any reference to his broken leg. For when a man has
+passed unscathed through parachute descents and little
+things like that, only to lose badly on points to a piece
+of peel, his sense of humour gets a jog in a crucial
+place. And a sense of humour is fatal to the hopeless,
+undying passion. It is almost as fatal, in fact, as a
+hiccough at the wrong moment.</p>
+
+<p>"It was just about half-past twelve that the train
+came along. I was standing by the end of the bridge,
+with my overcoat and rifle showing in the faint light
+of the moon. The engine-driver waved his arm and
+shouted something in greeting and I waved back. Then
+I took the one free lead and waited until the engine
+was past me. I could see the first of the guns, just
+coming abreast, and at that moment I connected up
+with the battery in my pocket. Two slabs of gun-cotton
+make a noise, as you know, and just as the
+engine reached the charge, a sheet of flame seemed to
+leap from underneath the front wheels. The driver
+hadn't time to do a thing&mdash;the engine had left the
+rails before he knew what had happened. And then
+things moved. In my wildest moments I had never
+expected such a success. The engine crashed through<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span>
+the parapet wall and hung for a moment in space.
+Then it fell downward into the water, and by the
+mercy of Allah the couplings held. The first two guns
+followed it, through the gap it had made, and then
+the others overturned with the pull before they got
+there, smashing down the wall the whole way along.
+Every single gun went wallop into the Scheldt&mdash;to
+say nothing of two passenger carriages containing the
+gunners and their officers. The whole thing was over
+in five seconds; and you can put your shirt on it that
+before the last gun hit the water yours truly had cast
+away his regalia of office and was legging it like a
+two-year-old back to the veuve Demassiet and Tournai.
+It struck me that bridge might shortly become an unhealthy
+spot."</p>
+
+<p>Jim Brent laughed. "It did. I had to stop on with
+the old lady for two or three days in case she might
+be suspected owing to my sudden departure&mdash;and
+things hummed. They shot the feldwebel in charge
+of the guard; they shot every sentry; they shot everybody
+they could think of; but&mdash;they never even suspected
+me. I went out and had a look next day, the
+day I think that R.F.C. man spotted and reported the
+damage. Two of the guns were only fit for turning
+into hairpins, and the other four looked very like the
+morning after.</p>
+
+<p>"Then, after I'd waited a couple of days, I said<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span>
+good-bye to the old dear and trekked off towards the
+Dutch frontier, gaining immense popularity, old son,
+by describing the accident to all the soldiers I met.</p>
+
+<p>"That's all, I think. I had words with a sentry at
+the frontier, but I put it across him with his own
+bundook. Then I wandered to our Ambassador, and
+sailed for England in due course. And&mdash;er&mdash;that's
+that."</p>
+
+<p>Such is the tale of Jim Brent's V.C. There only
+remains for me to give the wording of his official report
+on the matter.</p>
+
+<p>"I have the honour to report," it ran, "that at midnight
+on the 25th ult., I successfully derailed the train
+conveying six guns of calibre estimated at about
+9-inch, each mounted on a railway truck. The engine,
+followed by the guns, departed from sight in about
+five seconds, and fell through a drop of some sixty
+feet into the River Scheldt from the bridge just west
+of Tournai. The gunners and officers&mdash;who were in
+two coaches in rear&mdash;were also killed. Only one
+seemed aware that there was danger, and he, owing to
+his bulk, was unable to get out of the door of his carriage.
+He was, I think, in command. I investigated
+the damage next day when the military authorities
+were a little calmer, and beg to state that I do not
+consider the guns have been improved by their immersion.
+One, at least, has disappeared in the mud. A<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span>
+large number of Germans who had no connection with
+this affair have, I am glad to report, since been shot
+for it.</p>
+
+<p>"I regret that I am unable to report in person, but
+I am at present in hospital with a broken leg, sustained
+by my inadvertently stepping on a piece of orange-peel,
+which escaped my notice owing to its remarkable similarity
+to the surrounding terrain. This similarity was
+doubtless due to the dirt on the orange-peel."</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>Which, I may say, should not be taken as a model for
+official reports by the uninitiated.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span>
+</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span></p>
+<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2>
+
+<h3>RETRIBUTION</h3>
+
+
+<p>On the Promenade facing the Casino at Monte
+Carlo two men were seated smoking. The Riviera
+season was at its height, and passing to and fro
+in front of them were the usual crowd of well-dressed
+idlers, who make up the society of that delectable, if
+expensive, resort. Now and again a casual acquaintance
+would saunter by, to be greeted with a smile from
+one, and a curt nod from the other, who, with his eyes
+fixed on the steps in front of him, seemed oblivious of
+all else.</p>
+
+<p>"Cheer up, Jerry; she won't be long. Give the poor
+girl time to digest her luncheon." The cheerful one
+of the twain lit a cigarette; and in the process received
+the glad eye from a passing siren of striking aspect.
+"Great Cćsar, old son!" he continued, when she was
+swallowed up in the crowd, "you're losing the chance
+of a lifetime. Here, gathered together to bid us welcome,
+are countless beautiful women and brave men.
+We are for the moment the star turn of the show&mdash;the
+brave British sailors whom the ladies delight to honour.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span>
+Never let it be said, old dear, that you failed
+them in this their hour of need."</p>
+
+<p>"Confound it, Ginger, I know all about that!" The
+other man sighed and, coming suddenly out of his
+brown study, he too leant forward and fumbled for
+his cigarette-case. "But it's no go, old man. I'm getting
+a deuced sight too old and ugly nowadays to chop
+and change about. There comes a time of life when
+if a man wants to kiss one particular woman, he might
+as well kiss his boot for all the pleasure fooling around
+with another will give him."</p>
+
+<p>Ginger Lawson looked at him critically. "My lad,
+I fear me that Nemesis has at length descended on you.
+No longer do the ortolans and caviare of unregenerate
+bachelorhood tempt you; rather do you yearn for
+ground rice and stewed prunes in the third floor back.
+These symptoms&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Ginger," interrupted the other, "dry up. You're
+a dear, good soul, but when you try to be funny, I
+realise the type of man who writes mottoes for crackers."
+He started up eagerly, only to sit down again
+disappointed.</p>
+
+<p>"Not she, not she, my love," continued the other
+imperturbably. "And, in the meanwhile, doesn't it
+strike you that you are committing a bad tactical error
+in sitting here, with a face like a man that's eaten a
+bad oyster, on the very seat where she's bound to see<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span>
+you when she does finish her luncheon and come
+down?"</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose that means you want me to cocktail with
+you?"</p>
+
+<p>"More impossible ideas have fructified," agreed Ginger,
+rising.</p>
+
+<p>"No, I'm blowed if&mdash;&mdash;!"</p>
+
+<p>"Come on, old son." Lawson dragged him reluctantly
+to his feet. "All the world loves a lover,
+including the loved one herself; but you look like a
+deaf-mute at a funeral, who's swallowed his fee. Come
+and have a cocktail at Ciro's, and then, merry and
+bright and caracoling like a young lark, return and
+snatch her from under the nose of the accursed Teuton."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think she's going to accept him, Ginger?"
+he muttered anxiously, as they sauntered through the
+drifting crowd.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear boy, ask me another. But she's coming
+to the ball dance on board to-night, and if the delicate
+pink illumination of your special kala jugger, shining
+softly on your virile face, and toning down the somewhat
+vivid colour scheme of your sunburned nose,
+doesn't melt her heart, I don't know what will&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Which all requires a little explanation. Before the
+war broke out it was the custom each year for that
+portion of the British Fleet stationed in the Mediterranean,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span>
+and whose headquarters were at Malta, to
+make a cruise lasting three weeks or a month to some
+friendly sea-coast, where the ports were good and the
+inhabitants merry. Trieste, perhaps, and up the Adriatic;
+Alexandria and the countries to the East; or,
+best of all, the Riviera. And at the time when my
+story opens the officers of the British Mediterranean
+Fleet, which had come to rest in the wonderful natural
+anchorage of Villefranche, were doing their best
+to live up to the reputation which the British naval
+officer enjoys the world over. Everywhere within
+motor distance of their vessels they were greeted with
+joy and acclamation; there were dances and dinners,
+women and wine&mdash;and what more for a space can any
+hard-worked sailor-man desire? During their brief
+intervals of leisure they slept and recuperated on board,
+only to dash off again with unabated zeal to pastures
+new, or renewed, as the case might be.</p>
+
+<p>Foremost amongst the revellers on this, as on other
+occasions, was Jerry Travers, torpedo-lieutenant on
+the flagship. Endowed by Nature with an infinite capacity
+for consuming cocktails, and with a disposition
+which not even the catering of the Maltese mess man
+could embitter, his sudden fall from grace was all the
+more noticeable. From being a tireless leader of revels,
+he became a mooner in secret places, a melancholy
+sigher in the wardroom. Which fact did not escape<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span>
+the eyes of the flagship wardroom officers. And Lawson,
+the navigating lieutenant, had deputed himself as
+clerk of the course.</p>
+
+<p>Staying at the Hôtel de Paris was an American, who
+was afflicted with the dreadful name of Honks; with
+him were his wife and his daughter Maisie. Maisie
+Honks has not a prepossessing sound; but she was
+the girl who was responsible for Jerry Travers's downfall.
+He had met her at a ball in Nice just after the
+Fleet arrived, and, from that moment he had become
+a trifle deranged. Brother officers entering his cabin
+unawares found him gazing into the infinite with a
+slight squint. His Marine servant spread the rumour
+on the lower deck that "'e'd taken to poetry, and 'orrible
+noises in his sleep." Like a goodly number of men
+who have walked merrily through life, sipping at many
+flowers, but leaving each with added zest for the next,
+when he took it he took it hard. And Maisie had just
+about reduced him to idiocy. I am no describer of
+girls, but I was privileged to know and revere the lady
+from afar, and I can truthfully state that I have rarely,
+if ever, seen a more absolute dear. She wasn't fluffy,
+and she wasn't statuesque; she did not have violet eyes
+which one may liken to mountain pools, or hair of that
+colour described as spun-gold. She was just&mdash;Maisie,
+one of the most adorable girls that ever happened.
+And Jerry, as I say, had taken it very badly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Unfortunately, there was a fly in the ointment&mdash;almost
+of bluebottle size&mdash;in the shape of another occupant
+of the Hôtel de Paris, who had also taken it
+very badly, and at a much earlier date. The Baron
+von Dressler&mdash;an officer in the German Navy, and a
+member of one of the oldest Prussian families&mdash;had
+been staying at Monte Carlo for nearly a month, on
+sick leave after a severe dose of fever. And he, likewise,
+worshipped with ardour and zeal at the Honks
+shrine. Moreover, being apparently a very decent fellow,
+and living as he did in the same hotel, he had,
+as Jerry miserably reflected, a bit of a preponderance
+in artillery, especially as he had opened fire more than
+a fortnight before the British Navy had appeared on
+the scene. This, then, was the general situation; and
+the particular feature of the moment, which caused
+an outlook on life even more gloomy than usual in
+the heart of the torpedo-lieutenant, was that the Baron
+von Dressler had been invited to lunch with his adored
+one, while he had not.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>"Something potent, Fritz." Lawson piloted him
+firmly to the bar and addressed the presiding being
+respectfully. "Something potent and heady which
+will make this officer's sad heart bubble once again
+with the joie de vivre. He has been crossed in love."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't be an ass, Ginger," said the other peevishly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"My dear fellow, the credit of the Navy is at stake.
+Admitted that you've had a bad start in the Honks
+stakes, nevertheless&mdash;you never know&mdash;our Teuton
+may take a bad fall. And, incidentally, there they
+both are, to say nothing of Honks pčre et mčre." He
+was peering through the window. "No, you don't,
+my boy!" as the other made a dash for the door. "The
+day is yet young. Lap it up; repeat the dose; and then
+in the nonchalant style for which our name is famous
+we will sally forth and have at them."</p>
+
+<p>"Confound it, Ginger! they seem to be on devilish
+good terms. Look at the blighter, bending towards
+her as if he owned her." Travers stood in the window
+rubbing his hands with his handkerchief nervously.</p>
+
+<p>"What d'you expect him to do? Look the other
+way?" The navigating officer snorted. "You make
+me tired, Torps. Come along if you're ready; and try
+and look jaunty and debonair."</p>
+
+<p>"Heavens! old boy; I'm as nervous as an ugly girl
+at her first party." They were passing into the street.
+"My hands are clammy and my boots are bursting
+with feet."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't mind about your boots; but for goodness'
+sake dry your hands. No self-respecting woman
+would look at a man with perspiring palms."</p>
+
+<p>Ten minutes later three pairs of people might have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span>
+been seen strolling up and down the Promenade. And
+as the arrangement of those pairs was entirely due
+to the navigating lieutenant, their composition is perhaps
+worthy of a paragraph. At one end, as was very
+right and proper, Jerry and Miss Honks discussed men
+and matters&mdash;at least, I assume so&mdash;with a zest that
+seemed to show his nervousness was only transient.
+In the middle the stage-manager and Mrs. Honks discussed
+Society, with a capital "S"&mdash;a subject of which
+the worthy woman knew nothing and talked a lot. At
+the other end Mr. Honks poured into the unresponsive
+ear of an infuriated Prussian nobleman his new scheme
+for cornering sausages. Which shows what a naval
+officer can do when he gets down to it.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>Now, it is certainly not my intention to recount in
+detail the course of Jerry Travers's love affair during
+his stay on the Riviera. Sufficient to say, it did not
+run smoothly. But there are one or two things which
+I must relate&mdash;things which concern our three principals.
+They cover the first round in the contest&mdash;the
+round which the German won on points. And though
+they have no actual bearing on the strange happenings
+which brought about the second and last round, in
+circumstances nothing short of miraculous at a future
+date, yet for the proper understanding of the retribution<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span>
+that came upon the Hun at the finish it is well
+that they should be told.</p>
+
+<p>They occurred that same evening, at the ball given
+by the British Navy on the flagship. Few sights, I
+venture to think, are more imposing, and to a certain
+extent more incongruous, than a battleship in gala
+mood. For days beforehand, men skilled in electricity
+erect with painstaking care a veritable fairyland of
+coloured lights, which shine softly on the deck cleared
+for dancing, and discreet kala juggers prepared with
+equal care by officers skilled in love. Everywhere
+there is peace and luxury; the music of the band steals
+across the silent water; the engine of death is at rest.
+Almost can one imagine the mighty turbines, the great
+guns, the whole infernal paraphernalia of destruction,
+laughing grimly at their master's amusements&mdash;those
+masters whose brains forged them and riveted them
+and gave them birth; who with the pressure of a finger
+can launch five tons of death at a speck ten miles
+away; whose lightest caprice they are bound to obey&mdash;and
+yet who now cover them with flimsy silks and fairy
+lights, while they dance and make love to laughing,
+soft-eyed girls. And perhaps there was some such idea
+in the gunnery-lieutenant's mind as he leant against the
+breech of a twelve-inch gun, waiting for his particular
+guest. "Not yet, old man," he muttered thoughtfully<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span>&mdash;"not
+yet. To-night we play; to-morrow&mdash;who
+knows?"</p>
+
+<p>Above, the lights shone out unshaded, silhouetting
+the battle-cruiser with lines of fire against the vault
+of heaven, sprinkled with the golden dust of a
+myriad stars; while ceaselessly across the violet water
+steam-pinnaces dashed backwards and forwards, carrying
+boatloads of guests from the landing-stage, and
+then going back for more. At the top of the gangway
+the admiral, immaculate in blue and gold, welcomed
+them as they arrived; the flag-lieutenant, with
+the weight of much responsibility on his shoulders,
+having just completed a last lightning tour of the ship,
+only to discover a scarcity of hairpins in the ladies'
+cloak-room, stood behind him. And in the wardroom
+the engineer-commander&mdash;a Scotsman of pessimistic
+outlook&mdash;reviled with impartiality all ball dances,
+adding a special clause for the one now commencing.
+But then, off duty, he had no soul above bridge.</p>
+
+<p>In this setting, then, appeared the starters for the
+Honks stakes on the night in question, only, for the
+time being, the positions were reversed. Now the
+Baron was the stranger in a strange land; Jerry was
+at home&mdash;one of the hosts. Moreover, as has already
+been discreetly hinted, there was a certain and very
+particular kala jugger. And into this very particular<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span>
+kala jugger Jerry, in due course, piloted his adored
+one.</p>
+
+<p>I am now coming to the region of imagination. I
+was not in that dim-lit nook with them, and therefore
+I am not in a position to state with any accuracy what
+occurred. But&mdash;and here I must be discreet&mdash;there
+was a midshipman, making up in cheek and inquisitiveness
+what he lacked in years and stature. Also, as
+I have said, the Honks stakes were not a private matter&mdash;far
+from it. The prestige of the British Navy
+was at stake, and betting ran high in the gunroom, or
+abode of "snotties." Where this young imp of mischief
+hid, I know not; he swore himself that his overhearing
+was purely accidental, and endeavoured to excuse
+his lamentable conduct by saying that he learned
+a lot!</p>
+
+<p>His account of the engagement was breezy and
+nautical; and as there is, so far as I know, no other
+description of the operations extant, I give it for what
+it is worth.</p>
+
+<p>Jerry, he told me in the Union Club, Valetta, at a
+later date, opened the action with some tentative shots
+from his lighter armament. For ten minutes odd he
+alternately Honked and Maisied, till, as my ribald informant
+put it, the deck rang with noises reminiscent
+of a jibbing motor-car. She countered ably with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span>
+rhapsodies over the ship, the band, and life in general,
+utterly refusing to be drawn into personalities.</p>
+
+<p>Then, it appeared, Jerry's self-control completely
+deserted him, and with a hoarse and throaty noise he
+opened fire with the full force of his starboard broadside;
+he rammed down the loud pedal and let drive.</p>
+
+<p>He assured her that she was the only woman he
+could ever love; he seized her ungloved hand and fervently
+kissed it; in short, he offered her his hand and
+heart in the most approved style, the while protesting
+his absolute unworthiness to aspire to such an honour
+as her acceptance of the same.</p>
+
+<p>"Net result, old dear," murmured my graceless informant,
+pressing the bell for another cocktail, "nix&mdash;a
+frost absolute, a frost complete."</p>
+
+<p>"She thought he and the whole ship were bully, and
+wasn't that little boy who'd brought them out in the
+launch the cutest ever, but she reckoned sailors cut
+no ice with poppa. She was just too sorry for words
+it had ever occurred, but there it was, and there was
+nothing more to be said."</p>
+
+<p>For the truth of these statements I will not vouch.
+I do know that on the night in question Jerry was refused
+by the only woman he'd ever really cared about,
+because he told me so, and the method of it is of little
+account. And if there be any who may think I have
+dealt with this tragedy in an unfeeling way, I must<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span>
+plead in excuse that I have but quoted my informant,
+and he was one of those in the gunroom who had lost
+money on the event.</p>
+
+<p>Anyway, let me, as a sop to the serious-minded, pass
+on to the other little event which I must chronicle before
+I come to my finale. In this world the serious
+and the gay, the tears and the laughter, come to us
+out of the great scroll of fate in strange, jumbled succession.
+The lucky dip at a bazaar holds no more
+variegated procession of surprises than the mix up
+we call life brings to each and all. And so, though
+my tone in describing Jerry's proposal has perhaps
+been wantonly flippant, and though the next incident
+may seem to some to savour of melodrama&mdash;yet, is it
+not life, my masters, is it not life?</p>
+
+<p>I was in the wardroom when it occurred. Jerry,
+standing by the fireplace, was smoking a cigarette, and
+looking like the proverbial gentleman who has lost a
+sovereign and found sixpence. There were several
+officers in there at the time, and&mdash;the Baron von Dressler.
+And the Prussian had been drinking.</p>
+
+<p>Not that he was by any means drunk, but he was
+in that condition when some men become merry, some
+confidential, some&mdash;what shall I say?&mdash;not exactly
+pugnacious, but on the way to it. He belonged to the
+latter class. All the worst traits of the Prussian officer,
+the domineering, sneering, aggressive mannerisms<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span>&mdash;which,
+to do him justice, in normal circumstances
+he successfully concealed, at any rate, when mixing
+with other nationalities&mdash;were showing clearly in his
+face. He was once again the arrogant, intolerant autocrat&mdash;truly,
+<i>in vino veritas</i>. Moreover, his eyes were
+wandering with increasing frequency to Jerry, who,
+so far, seemed unconscious of the scrutiny.</p>
+
+<p>After a while I caught Ginger Lawson's eye and he
+shrugged his shoulders slightly. He told me afterwards
+that he had been fearing a flare-up for some
+minutes, but had hoped it would pass over. However,
+he strolled over to Jerry and started talking.</p>
+
+<p>"Mop that up, Jerry," he said, "and come along and
+do your duty. Baron, you don't seem to be dancing
+much to-night. Can't I find you a partner?"</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, but I probably know more people here
+than you do." The tone even more than the words
+was a studied insult. "Lieutenant Travers's duty
+seems to have been unpleasant up to date, which perhaps
+accounts for his reluctance to resume it. Are
+you&mdash;er&mdash;lucky at cards?" This time the sneer was
+too obvious to be disregarded.</p>
+
+<p>Jerry looked up, and the eyes of the two men met.
+"It is possible, Baron von Dressier," he remarked
+icily, "that in your navy remarks of that type are regarded
+as witty. Would it be asking you too much<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span>
+to request that you refrain from using them in a ship
+where they are merely considered vulgar?"</p>
+
+<p>By this time a dead silence had settled on the wardroom,
+one of those awkward silences which any scene
+of this sort produces on those who are in the unfortunate
+position of onlookers.</p>
+
+<p>Von Dressler was white with passion. "You forget
+yourself, lieutenant. I would have you to know that
+my uncle is a prince of the blood royal."</p>
+
+<p>"That apparently does not prevent his nephew from
+failing to remember the customs that hold amongst
+gentlemen."</p>
+
+<p>"Gentlemen!" The Prussian looked round the
+circle of silent officers with a scornful laugh; the fumes
+of the spirits he had drunk were mounting to his
+head with his excitement. "You mean&mdash;shopkeepers."</p>
+
+<p>With a muttered curse several officers started forward;
+no ball is a teetotal affair, I suppose, and scenes
+of this sort are dangerous at any time. Travers held
+up his hand, sharply, incisively.</p>
+
+<p>"Gentlemen, remember this&mdash;er&mdash;Prussian officer
+and gentleman is our guest. That being the case, sir"&mdash;he
+turned to the German&mdash;"you are quite safe in
+insulting us as much as you like."</p>
+
+<p>"The question of safety would doubtless prove irresistible
+to an Englishman." The face of the German
+was distorted with rage, he seemed to be searching in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span>
+his mind for insults; then suddenly he tried a new
+line.</p>
+
+<p>"Bah! I am not a guttersnipe to bandy words with
+you. You will not have long to wait, you English, and
+then&mdash;when the day does come, my friends; when,
+at last, we come face to face, then, by God! then&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, what then, Baron von Dressler?" A stern
+voice cut like a whiplash across the wardroom; standing
+in the door was the admiral himself, who had entered
+unperceived.</p>
+
+<p>For a moment the coarse, furious face of the Prussian
+paled a little; then with a supreme effort of arrogance
+he pulled himself together. "Then, sir, we shall
+see&mdash;the world will see&mdash;whether you or we will be
+the victor. The old and effete versus the new and efficient.
+Der Tag." He lifted his hand and let it drop;
+in the silence one could have heard a pin drop.</p>
+
+<p>"The problem you raise is of interest," answered
+the admiral, in the same icy tone. "In the meanwhile
+any discussion is unprofitable; and in the surroundings
+in which you find yourself at present it is more than
+unprofitable&mdash;it is a gross breach of all good form and
+service etiquette. As our guest we were pleased to
+see you; you will pardon my saying that now I can no
+longer regard you as a guest. Will you kindly give
+orders, Lieutenant Travers, for a steam-pinnace?
+Baron von Dressler will go ashore."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Such was the other matter that concerned my principals,
+and which, of necessity, I have had to record.
+Such an incident is probably almost unique; but when
+there's a girl at the bottom of things and wine at the
+top, something is likely to happen. The most unfortunate
+thing about it all, as far as Jerry was concerned,
+was an untimely indisposition on the part of
+Honks mčre. As a coincidence nothing could have
+been more disastrous.</p>
+
+<p>The pinnace was at the foot of the gangway, and
+the Baron&mdash;his eyes savage&mdash;was just preparing to
+take an elaborate and sarcastic farewell of the silent
+torpedo-lieutenant, who was regarding him with an
+air of cold contempt, when Mr. Honks appeared on
+the scene.</p>
+
+<p>"Say, Baron, are you going away?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am, Mr. Honks. My presence seems distasteful
+to the officers."</p>
+
+<p>The American seemed hardly to hear the last part
+of the remark. "I guess we'll quit too. My wife's
+been taken bad. Can we come in your boat, Baron?"</p>
+
+<p>"I shall be more than delighted." His eyes came
+round with ill-concealed triumph to Travers's impassive
+face as the American bustled away. "I venture
+to think that the Honks stakes are still open."</p>
+
+<p>"By Heaven! You blackguard!" muttered Jerry,
+his passion overcoming him for a moment. "I believe<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span>
+I'd give my commission to smash your damned
+face in with a marline-spike and chuck you into the
+sea."</p>
+
+<p>"I won't forget what you say," answered the German
+vindictively, "One day I'll make you eat those
+words; and then when I've sunk your rat-eaten ship,
+it will be me that uses the marline-spike&mdash;you swine."</p>
+
+<p>It was as well for Jerry, and for the Baron too, that
+at this psychological moment the Honks ménage arrived,
+otherwise that German would probably have
+gone into the sea.</p>
+
+<p>"Good night, lady," murmured Jerry, when he had
+solicitously inquired after her mother's health. "Is
+there no hope?" He was desperately anxious to seize
+the second or two left; he knew she would not hear
+the true account of what had happened from the
+Baron.</p>
+
+<p>"I guess not," she answered softly. "But come and
+call." With a smile she was gone, and from the boat
+there came the Baron's voice mocking through the still
+air, "Good night, Lieutenant Travers. Thank you so
+much."</p>
+
+<p>And, drowned by the band that started at that moment,
+the wonderful and fearful curse that left the
+torpedo-lieutenant's lips drifted into the night unheard.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span></p><hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>Let us go on a couple of years. The moment
+thought of by the gunnery-lieutenant, the day acclaimed
+by the Prussian officer had come. England
+was at war. Der Tag was a reality. No longer did
+silks and shaded lights form part of the equipment of
+the Navy, but grim and sombre, ruthlessly stripped
+of everything not absolutely necessary, the great grey
+monsters watched tirelessly through the flying scud
+of the North Sea for "the fleet that stayed at home."
+Only their submarines were out, and these, day by
+day, diminished in numbers, until the men who sent
+them out looked at one another fearfully&mdash;so many
+went out, so few came back.</p>
+
+<p>Tearing through the water one day, away a bit to
+the south-west of Bantry Bay, with the haze of Ireland
+lying like a smudge on the horizon, was a lean,
+villainous-looking torpedo-boat-destroyer. She was
+plunging her nose into the slight swell, now and again
+drenching the oilskinned figure standing motionless on
+the bridge. Behind her a great cloud of black smoke
+drifted across the grey water, and the whole vessel
+was quivering with the force of her engines. She was
+doing her maximum and a bit more, but still the steady,
+watchful eyes of the officer on the bridge seemed impatient,
+and every now and again he cursed softly and
+with wonderful fluency under his breath.</p>
+
+<p>It was our friend Jerry, who at the end of his time<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span>
+on the flagship had been given one of the newest
+T.B.D.'s, and now with every ounce he could get out
+of her he was racing towards the spot from which had
+come the last S.O.S. message, nearly an hour ago.
+There was something grimly foreboding about those
+agonised calls sent out to the world for perhaps twenty
+minutes, and then&mdash;silence, nothing more. German
+submarines, he reflected, as for the tenth time he peered
+at his wrist-watch, German submarines engaged once
+again in the only form of war they could compete in
+or dared undertake. And not for the first time his
+thoughts went back to the vainglorious boastings of
+his friend the Baron.</p>
+
+<p>"Damn him," he muttered. "I haven't forgotten the
+sweep."</p>
+
+<p>There were many things he hadn't forgotten; how,
+when he'd gone to call on the lady as requested, she
+had been "out," and it was that sort of "out" that
+means "in." How a letter had been answered courteously
+but distinctly coldly, and, impotent with rage,
+he had been forced to the conclusion that she was offended
+with him. And with the Prussian able to say
+what he liked, it was not difficult to find the reason.</p>
+
+<p>Then the Fleet left, and Jerry resigned himself to
+the inevitable, a proceeding which was not made easier
+by the many rumours he heard to the effect that the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span>
+Baron himself had done the trick. Distinctly he
+wanted once again to meet that gentleman.</p>
+
+<p>"We ought to see her, if she hasn't sunk, sir, by
+now." The sub-lieutenant on the bridge spoke in his
+ear.</p>
+
+<p>Travers nodded and shrugged his shoulders. He
+had realised that fact for some minutes.</p>
+
+<p>"Something on the starboard bow." The voice of
+the look-out man came to his ears.</p>
+
+<p>"It's a boat, an open boat," cried the sub., after a
+careful inspection, "and it's pretty full, by Jove!"</p>
+
+<p>A curt order, and the T.B.D. swung round and tore
+down on the little speck bobbing in the water. And
+they were still a few hundred yards away when a look
+of dawning horror strangely mixed with joy spread
+over Jerry's face. His glass was fixed on the boat,
+and who in God's name was the woman&mdash;impossible,
+of course&mdash;but surely.... If it wasn't her it was
+her twin sister; his hand holding the glass trembled
+with eagerness, and then at last he knew. The woman
+standing up in the stern of the boat <i>was</i> Maisie, and as
+he got nearer he saw there was a look on her face
+which made him catch his breath sharply.</p>
+
+<p>"Great God!" The sub's voice roused him. "What
+have they been doing?" No need to ask whom he
+meant by "they." "The boat is a shambles."</p>
+
+<p>The destroyer slowed down, and from the crew who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span>
+looked into that little open boat came dreadful curses.
+It ran with blood; and at the bottom women and children
+moaned feebly, while an elderly man contorted
+with pain in the stern, writhed and sobbed in agony.
+And over this black scene the eyes of the man and
+the woman met.</p>
+
+<p>"Carefully, carefully, lads," Travers sang out. This
+was no time for questions, only the poor torn fragments
+counted. Afterwards, perhaps. Very tenderly
+the sailors lifted out the bodies, and one of them&mdash;a
+little girl in his arms, with a dreadful wound in her
+head&mdash;jabbered like a maniac with the fury of his
+rage. And so after many days they again came face
+to face.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you wounded?" he whispered.</p>
+
+<p>"No." Her voice was hard and strained; she was
+near the breaking point. "They sunk us without warning&mdash;the
+<i>Lucania</i>&mdash;and then shelled us in the open
+boats."</p>
+
+<p>"Dear heavens!" Jerry's voice was shaking. "Ah!
+but you're not hurt, my lady; they didn't hit you?"</p>
+
+<p>"My mother was drowned, and my father too."
+She was swaying a little. "It was the U 99."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!" The man's voice was almost a sigh.</p>
+
+<p>"Submarine on the port bow, sir." A howl came
+from the look-out, followed by the sharp, detonating
+reports of the destroyer's quick-firers. And then a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span>
+roaring cheer. Like lightning Jerry was upon the
+bridge, and even he could scarcely contain himself.
+There, lying helpless in the water, with a huge hole
+in her conning tower, wallowed the U 99. Two direct
+hits from the destroyer's guns in a vital spot, and the
+submarine was a submarine no longer. Just one of
+those strokes of poetic justice which happen so rarely
+in war.</p>
+
+<p>Like rats from a sinking ship the Germans were
+pouring up and diving into the water, and with
+snarling faces the Englishmen waited for them, waited
+for them with the dying proofs of their vileness still
+lying on the deck as one by one they came on board.
+Suddenly with a sucking noise the submarine foundered,
+and over the seething, troubled waters where she
+had been a sheet of blackish oil slowly spread.</p>
+
+<p>But Jerry spared no glance for the sinking boat&mdash;he
+did not so much as look at the German sailors huddled
+fearfully together. With hard, merciless eyes he
+faced the submarine commander. For the first time
+in his life he saw red: for the first time in his life
+there was murder in his soul, and the heavy belaying-pin
+in his hand seemed to goad him on. "Suppose the
+positions had been reversed," mocked a voice in his
+brain. "Would he have hesitated?" The night two
+years ago surged back to his mind; the plaintive crying
+of the dying child struck on his ears. He stepped a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span>
+pace forward with a snarl&mdash;his grip tightened on the
+bar&mdash;when suddenly the man who had carried up the
+little girl gave a hoarse cry, and with all his force
+smote the nearest German in the mouth. The German
+fell like a stone.</p>
+
+<p>"Stand fast." Jerry's voice dominated the scene.
+The old traditions had come back: the old wonderful
+discipline. The iron pin dropped with a clang on the
+deck. "It is not their fault, they were only obeying
+his orders." And once again his eyes rested on their
+officer.</p>
+
+<p>"So we meet again, Baron von Dressler," he remarked,
+"and the rat-eaten ship is not sunk. Is this
+your work?" He pointed to the mangled bodies.</p>
+
+<p>"It is not," muttered the Prussian.</p>
+
+<p>"You lie, you swine, you lie! Unfortunately for
+you you didn't quite carry out your infamous butchery
+completely enough. There is one person on board who
+knows the U 99 sank the <i>Lucania</i> without warning and
+was in the boat you shelled."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't believe you, I&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Then perhaps you'll believe her. I rather think
+you know her&mdash;very well." As he spoke he was looking
+behind the Prussian, to where Maisie&mdash;roused
+from her semi-stupor by the Baron's voice&mdash;had got
+up, and with her hand to her heart was swaying backwards
+and forwards. "Look behind you, you cur."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The Prussian turned, and then with a cry staggered
+back, white to the lips. "You, great heavens, you&mdash;Maisie&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>And so once again the three principals of my little
+drama were face to face: only the setting had changed.
+No longer sensuous music and the warm, violet waters
+of the Riviera for a background; this time the moaning
+of dying men and children was the ghastly orchestra,
+and, with the grey scud of the Atlantic flying past
+them, the Englishman and the German faced one another,
+while the American girl stood by. And watching
+them were the muttering sailors.</p>
+
+<p>At last she spoke. "This ring, I believe, is yours."
+She took a magnificent half-hoop of diamonds from
+her engagement finger and flung it into the sea. Then
+she moved towards him.</p>
+
+<p>"You drowned my mother, and for that I strike
+you once." She hit him in the face with an iron-shod
+pin. "You drowned my father, and for that I strike
+you again." Once again she struck him in the face.
+"I will leave a fighting man and a gentleman to deal
+with you for those poor mites." With a choking sob
+she turned away, and once again sank down on the
+coil of rope.</p>
+
+<p>The Prussian, sobbing with pain and rage, with the
+blood streaming from his face, was not a pretty sight;
+but in Travers's face there was no mercy.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"'The old and effete versus the new and efficient!'
+I seem to recall those words from our last meeting.
+May I congratulate you on your efficiency? Bah! you
+swine"&mdash;his face flamed with sudden passion&mdash;"if you
+aren't skulking in Kiel, you're butchering women. By
+heavens! I can conceive of nothing more utterly perfect
+than flogging you to death."</p>
+
+<p>The Prussian shrank back, his face livid with fear.</p>
+
+<p>"They were my orders," he muttered. "For God's
+sake&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, don't be frightened, Baron von Dressler." The
+Englishman's voice was once again under control.
+"The old and effete don't do that. You were safe as
+our guest two years ago; you are safe as our prisoner
+now. Your precious carcass will be returned safe and
+sound to your Royal uncle at the end of the war, and
+my only hope is that your face will still bear those
+honourable scars. Moreover, if what you say is true,
+if the orders of your Government include shelling an
+open boat crammed with defenceless women and children&mdash;and
+neutrals at that&mdash;I can only say that their
+infamy is so incredible as to force one to the conclusion
+that they are not responsible for their actions.
+But&mdash;make no mistake&mdash;they will get their retribution."</p>
+
+<p>For a moment he fell silent, looking at the cowering,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span>
+blood-stained face opposite him, and then a pitiful
+wail behind him made him turn round.</p>
+
+<p>"Mummie, I'se hurted." On her knees beside the
+little girl was Maisie, soothing her as best she could,
+easing the throbbing head, whispering that mummie
+couldn't come for a while. "I'se hurted, mummie&mdash;I'se
+hurted."</p>
+
+<p>Travers turned back again, and the eyes of the two
+men met.</p>
+
+<p>"My God! Is it possible that a sailor could do such
+a thing?"</p>
+
+<p>His voice was barely above a whisper, yet the Prussian
+heard and winced. In the depths of even the
+foulest bully there is generally some little redeeming
+spark.</p>
+
+<p>"I'se hurted; I want my mummie."</p>
+
+<p>The Prussian's lips moved, but no sound came, while
+in his eyes was the look of a man haunted. Travers
+watched him silently; and at length he spoke again.</p>
+
+<p>"As I said, your rulers will get their deserts in time,
+but I think, Baron von Dressler, your Nemesis has
+come on you already. That little poor kid is asking
+you for her mother. Don't forget it in the years to
+come, Baron. No, I don't think you <i>will</i> forget it."</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>My story is finished. Later on, when some of the
+dreadful nightmare through which she had passed had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span>
+been effaced from her mind, Maisie and the man who
+had come to her out of the grey waters discussed many
+things. And the story which the Prussian had told
+her after the dance on the flagship was finally discredited.</p>
+
+<p>Can anyone recommend me a good cheap book on
+"Things a Best Man Should Know"?</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span></p>
+<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2>
+
+<h3>THE DEATH GRIP</h3>
+
+
+<p>Two reasons have impelled me to tell the story
+of Hugh Latimer, and both I think are good
+and sufficient. First I was his best friend, and second
+I know more about the tragedy than anyone else&mdash;even
+including his wife. I saw the beginning and the end;
+she&mdash;poor broken-hearted girl&mdash;saw only the end.</p>
+
+<p>There have been many tragedies since this war
+started; there will be many more before Finis is written&mdash;and
+each, I suppose, to its own particular sufferers
+seems the worst. But, somehow, to my mind
+Hugh's case is without parallel, unique&mdash;the devil's
+arch of cruelty. I will give you the story&mdash;and you
+shall judge for yourself.</p>
+
+<p>Let us lift the curtain and present a dug-out in a support
+trench somewhere near Givenchy. A candle gutters
+in a bottle, the grease running down like a miniature
+stalactite congeals on an upturned packing-case.
+On another packing-case the remnants of a tongue,
+some sardines, and a goodly array of bottles with some
+tin mugs and plates completes the furniture&mdash;or almost.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span>
+I must not omit the handsome coloured pictures&mdash;three
+in all&mdash;of ladies of great beauty and charm, clad
+in&mdash;well, clad in something at any rate. The occupants
+of this palatial abode were Hugh Latimer and
+myself; at the rise of the curtain both lying in corners,
+on piles of straw.</p>
+
+<p>Outside, a musician was coaxing noises from a
+mouth-organ; occasional snatches of song came
+through the open entrance, intermingled with bursts
+of laughter. One man, I remember, was telling an
+interminable story which seemed to be the history of
+a gentleman called Nobby Clark, who had dallied
+awhile with a lady in an estaminet at Bethune, and had
+ultimately received a knock-out blow with a frying-pan
+over the right eye, for being too rapid in his attentions.
+Just the usual dull, strange, haunting trench
+life&mdash;which varies not from day's end to day's end.</p>
+
+<p>At intervals a battery of our own let drive, the blast
+of the explosion catching one through the open door;
+at intervals a big German shell moaned its way
+through the air overhead&mdash;an express bound for somewhere.
+Had you looked out to the front, you would
+have seen the bright green flares lobbing monotonously
+up into the night, all along the line. War&mdash;modern
+war; boring, incredible when viewed in cold
+blood....</p>
+
+<p>"Hullo, Hugh." A voice at the door roused us both<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span>
+from our doze, and the Adjutant came in. "Will you
+put your watches right by mine? We are making a
+small local attack to-morrow morning, and the battalion
+is to leave the trenches at 6.35 exactly."</p>
+
+<p>"Rather sudden, isn't it?" queried Hugh, setting his
+watch.</p>
+
+<p>"Just come through from Brigade Headquarters.
+Bombs are being brought up to H.15. Further orders
+sent round later. Bye-bye."</p>
+
+<p>He was gone, and once more we sat thinking to the
+same old accompaniment of trench noises; but in rather
+a different frame of mind. To-morrow morning at
+6.35 peace would cease; we should be out and running
+over the top of the ground; we should be...</p>
+
+<p>"Will they use gas, I wonder?" Hugh broke the
+silence.</p>
+
+<p>"Wind too fitful," I answered; "and I suppose it's
+only a small show."</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder what it's for. I wish one knew more
+about these affairs; I suppose one can't, but it would
+make it more interesting."</p>
+
+<p>The mouth-organ stopped; there were vigorous demands
+for an encore.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor devils," he went on after a moment. "I wonder
+how many?&mdash;I wonder how many?"</p>
+
+<p>"A new development for you, Hugh." I grinned<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span>
+at him. "Merry and bright, old son&mdash;your usual
+motto, isn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>He laughed. "Dash it, Ginger&mdash;you can't always
+be merry and bright. I don't know why&mdash;perhaps it's
+second sight&mdash;but I feel a sort of presentiment of impending
+disaster to-night. I had the feeling before
+Clements came in."</p>
+
+<p>"Rot, old man," I answered cheerfully. "You'll
+probably win a V.C., and the greatest event of the
+war will be when it is presented to your cheeild."</p>
+
+<p>Which prophecy was destined to prove the cruellest
+mixture of truth and fiction the mind of man could
+well conceive....</p>
+
+<p>"Good Lord!" he said irritably, taking me seriously
+for a moment; "we're a bit too old soldiers to be guyed
+by palaver about V.C.'s." Then he recovered his good
+temper. "No, Ginger, old thing, there's big things
+happening to-morrow. Hugh Latimer's life is going
+into the melting-pot. I'm as certain of it as&mdash;as that
+I'm going to have a whisky and soda." He laughed,
+and delved into a packing-case for the seltzogene.</p>
+
+<p>"How's the son and heir?? I asked after a while.</p>
+
+<p>"Going strong," he answered. "Going strong, the
+little devil."</p>
+
+<p>And then we fell silent, as men will at such a time.
+The trench outside was quiet; the musician, having
+obliged with his encore, no longer rendered the night<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span>
+hideous&mdash;even the guns were still. What would it be
+to-morrow night? Should I still be...? I shook
+myself and started to scribble a letter; I was getting
+afraid of inactivity&mdash;afraid of my thoughts.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm going along the trenches," said Hugh suddenly,
+breaking the long silence. "I want to see the
+Sergeant-Major and give some orders."</p>
+
+<p>He was gone, and I was alone. In spite of myself
+my thoughts would drift back to what he had been
+saying, and from there to his wife and the son and
+heir. My mind, overwrought, seemed crowded with
+pictures: they jumbled through my brains like a film
+on a cinematograph.</p>
+
+<p>I saw his marriage, the bridal arch of officers'
+swords, the sweet-faced, radiant girl. And then his
+house came on to the screen&mdash;the house where I had
+spent many a pleasant week-end while we trained and
+sweated to learn the job in England. He was a man
+of some wealth was Hugh Latimer, and his house
+showed it; showed moreover his perfect, unerring
+taste. Bits of stuff, curios, knick-knacks from all over
+the world met one in odd corners; prints, books, all
+of the very best, seemed to fit into the scheme as if
+they'd grown there. Never did a single thing seem
+to whisper as you passed, "I'm really very rare and
+beautiful, but I've been dragged into the wrong place,
+and now I know I'm merely vulgar."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span>
+There are houses I wot of where those clamorous
+whispers drown the nightingales. But if you can pass
+through rooms full of bric-ŕ-brac&mdash;silent bric-ŕ-brac:
+bric-ŕ-brac conscious of its rectitude and needing no
+self apology, you may be certain that the owner will
+not give you port that is improved by a cigarette.</p>
+
+<p>Then came the son, and Hugh's joy was complete.
+A bit of a dreamer, a bit of a poet, a bit of a philosopher,
+but with a virility all his own; a big man&mdash;a man
+in a thousand, a man I was proud to call Friend. And
+he&mdash;at the dictates of "Kultur"&mdash;was to-morrow at
+6.35 going to expose himself to the risk of death, in
+order to wrest from the Hun a small portion of unprepossessing
+ground. Truly, humour is not dead in the
+world!...</p>
+
+<p>A step outside broke the reel of pictures, and the
+Sapper Officer looked in. "I hear a whisper of activity
+in the dark and stilly morn," he remarked brightly.
+"Won't it be nice?"</p>
+
+<p>"Very," I said sarcastically. "Are you coming?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, dear one. That's why I thought it would be
+so nice. My opposite number and tireless companion
+and helper to-morrow morning will prance over the
+greensward with you, leading his merry crowd of
+minions, bristling with bowie knives, sandbags, and
+other impedimenta."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Oh! go to Hell," I said crossly. "I want to write
+a letter."</p>
+
+<p>"Cheer up, Ginger." He dropped his bantering tone.
+"I'll be up to drink a glass of wine with you to-morrow
+night in the new trench. Tell Latimer that the
+wire is all right&mdash;it's been thinned out and won't stop
+him, and that there are ladders for getting out of the
+trench on each traverse."</p>
+
+<p>"Have you been working?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Four hours, and got caught by shrapnel in the middle.
+Night-night, and good luck, old man."</p>
+
+<p>He was gone; and when he had, I wished him back
+again. For the game wasn't new to him&mdash;he'd done it
+before; and I hadn't. It tends to give one confidence....</p>
+
+<p>It was about four I woke up. For a few blissful
+moments I lay forgetful; then I turned and saw Hugh.
+There was a new candle in the bottle, and by its flicker
+I saw the glint in his sombre eyes, the clear-cut line
+of his profile. And I remembered....</p>
+
+<p>I felt as if something had caught me by the stomach&mdash;inside:
+a sinking feeling, a feeling of nausea: and
+for a while I lay still. Outside in the darkness the men
+were rousing themselves; now and again a curse was
+muttered as someone tripped over a leg he didn't see;
+and once the Sergeant-Major's voice rang out&mdash;"'Ere,
+strike a light with them breakfasts."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Awake, Ginger?" Hugh prodded me with his foot.
+"You'd better get something inside you, and then we'll
+go round and see that everything is O.K."</p>
+
+<p>"Have you had any sleep, Hugh?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. I've been reading." He put Maeterlinck's
+"Blue Bird" on the table. With his finger on the title
+he looked at me musingly, "Shall we find it to-day, I
+wonder?"</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>I have lingered perhaps a little long on what is after
+all only the introduction to my story. But it is mainly
+for the sake of Hugh's wife that I have written it at
+all; to show her how he passed the last few hours
+before&mdash;the change came. Of what happened just
+after 6.35 on that morning I cannot profess to have
+any very clear idea. We went over the parapet I remember,
+and forward at the double. For half an hour
+beforehand a rain of our shells had plastered the German
+trenches in front of us, and during those eternal
+thirty minutes we waited tense. Hugh Latimer alone
+of all the men I saw seemed absolutely unconscious of
+anything unusual. Some of the men were singing below
+their breath, and one I remember sucked his teeth
+with maddening persistency. And one and all watched
+me curiously, speculatively&mdash;or so it seemed to me.
+Then we were off, and of crossing No-Man's-Land
+I have no recollection. I remember a man beside me<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span>
+falling with a crash and nearly tripping me up&mdash;and
+then, at last, the Huns. I let drive with my revolver
+from the range of a few inches into the fat, bloated
+face of a frightened-looking man in dirty grey, and
+as he crashed down I remember shouting, "There's
+the Blue Bird for you, old dear." Little things like
+that do stick. But everything else is just a blurred
+phantasmagoria in my mind. And after a while it
+was over. The trench was full of still grey figures,
+with here and there a khaki one beside them. A sapper
+officer forced his way through shouting for a
+working-party. We were the flanking company, and
+vital work had to be done and quick. Barricades
+rigged up, communication trenches which now ran
+to our Front blocked up, the trench made to fire the
+other way. For we knew there would be a counter-attack,
+and if you fail to consolidate what you've won
+you won't keep it long. It was while I slaved and
+sweated with the men shifting sandbags&mdash;turning the
+parados, or back of the trench into the new parapet,
+or front&mdash;that I got word that Hugh was dead. I
+hadn't seen him since the morning, and the rumour
+passed along from man to man.</p>
+
+<p>"The Captain's took it. Copped it in the head.
+Bomb took him in the napper."</p>
+
+<p>But there was no time to stop and enquire, and with
+my heart sick within me I worked on. One thing at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span>
+any rate; it had only been a little show, but it had been
+successful&mdash;the dear chap hadn't lost his life in a failure.
+Then I saw the doctor for a moment.</p>
+
+<p>"No, he's not dead," he said, "but&mdash;he's mighty
+near it. You know he practically ran the show single-handed
+on the left flank."</p>
+
+<p>"What did he do?" I cried.</p>
+
+<p>"Do? Why he kept a Hun bombing-party who were
+working up the trench at bay for half an hour by himself,
+which completely saved the situation, and then
+went out into the open, when he was relieved, and
+pulled in seven men who'd been caught by a machine-gun.
+It was while he was getting the last one that a
+bomb exploded almost on his head. Why he wasn't
+killed on the spot, I simply can't conceive." And the
+doctor was gone.</p>
+
+<p>But strange things happen, and the hand of Death
+is ever capricious. Was it not only the other day that
+we exploded a mine, and sailing through the air there
+came a Hun&mdash;a whole complete Hun. Stunned and
+winded he fell on the parapet of our trench, and having
+been pulled in and revived, at last sat up. "Goot,"
+he murmured; "I hof long vanted to surrender...."</p>
+
+<p>Hugh Latimer was not dead&mdash;that was the great
+outstanding fact; though had I known the writing in
+the roll of Fate, I would have wished a thousand times<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span>
+that the miracle had not happened. There are worse
+things than death....</p>
+
+<p>And now I bring the first part of my tragedy to a
+halt; the beginning as I called it&mdash;that part which
+Hugh's wife did not know. She, with all the world,
+saw the announcement in the paper, the announcement&mdash;bald
+and official of the deed for which he won his
+V.C. It was much as the doctor described it to me.
+She, with all the world, saw his name in the Casualty
+List as wounded; and on receipt of a telegram from
+the War Office, she crossed to France in fear and
+trembling&mdash;for the wire did not mince words; his condition
+was very critical. He did not know her&mdash;he was
+quite unconscious, and had been so for days. That
+night they were trephining, and there was just a
+hope....</p>
+
+<p>The next morning Hugh knew his wife.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>For the next three months I did not see him. The
+battalion was still up, and I got no chance of going
+down to Boulogne. He didn't stay there long, but, following
+the ordinary routine of the R.A.M.C., went
+back to England in a hospital ship, and into a home in
+London. Sir William Cremer, the eminent brain specialist,
+who had operated on him, and been particularly
+interested in his case, kept him under his eye for a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span>
+couple of months, and then he went to his own home
+to recuperate.</p>
+
+<p>All this and a lot more besides I got in letters from
+his wife. The King himself had graciously come
+round and presented him with the cross&mdash;and she was
+simply brimming over with happiness, dear soul. He
+was ever so much better, and very cheerful; and Sir
+William was a perfect dear; and he'd actually taken
+out six ounces of brain during the operation, and
+wasn't it wonderful. Also the son and heir grew more
+perfect every day. Which news, needless to say,
+cheered me immensely.</p>
+
+<p>Then came the first premonition of something
+wrong. For a fortnight I'd not heard from her, and
+then I got a letter which wasn't quite so cheerful.</p>
+
+<p>"... Hugh doesn't seem able to sleep." So ran
+part of it. "He is terribly restless, and at times dreadfully
+irritable. He doesn't seem to have any pain in
+his head, which is a comfort. But I'm not quite easy
+about him, Ginger. The other evening I was sitting
+opposite to him in the study, and suddenly something
+compelled me to look at him. I have never seen anything
+like the look in his eyes. He was staring at the
+fire, and his right hand was opening and shutting like
+a bird's talon. I was terrified for a moment, and then
+I forced myself to speak calmly.</p>
+
+<p>"'Why this ferocious expression, old boy,' I said,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span>
+with a laugh. For a moment he did not answer, but
+his eyes left the fire, and travelled slowly round till
+they met mine. I never knew what that phrase meant
+till then; it always struck me as a sort of author's
+license. But that evening I felt them coming, and I
+could have screamed. He gazed at me in silence and
+then at last he spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"'Have you ever heard of the Death Grip? Some
+day I'll tell you about it.' Then he looked away, and
+I made an excuse to go out of the room, for I was
+shaking with fright. It was so utterly unlike Hugh
+to make a silly remark like that. When I came back
+later, he was perfectly calm and his own self again.
+Moreover, he seemed to have completely forgotten the
+incident, because he apologised for having been asleep.</p>
+
+<p>"I wanted Sir William to come down and see him;
+or else for us to go up to town, as I expect Sir William
+is far too busy. But Hugh wouldn't hear of it,
+and got quite angry&mdash;so I didn't press the matter.
+But I'm worried, Ginger...."</p>
+
+<p>I read this part of the letter to our doctor. We were
+having an omelette of huit-&oelig;ufs, and une bouteille de
+vin rouge in a little estaminet way back, I remember;
+and I asked him what he thought.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear fellow," he said, "frankly it's impossible
+to say. You know what women are; and that letter
+may give quite a false impression of what really took<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span>
+place. You see what I mean: in her anxiety she may
+have exaggerated some jocular remark. She's had
+a very wearing time, and her own nerves are probably
+a bit on edge. But&mdash;&mdash;" he paused and leaned
+back. "Encore du vin, s'il vous plaît, mam'selle. But,
+Ginger, it's no good pretending, there may be a very
+much more sinister meaning behind it all. The brain
+is a most complex organisation, and even such men
+as Cremer are only standing on the threshold of
+knowledge with regard to it. They know a lot&mdash;but
+how much more there is to learn! Latimer, as you
+know, owes his life practically to a miracle. Not once
+in a thousand times would a man escape instant death
+under such circumstances. A great deal of brain matter
+was exposed, and subsequently removed at Boulogne
+by Sir William, when he trephined. And it is
+possible that some radical alteration has taken place
+in Hugh Latimer's character, soul&mdash;whatever you
+choose to call that part of a man which controls his
+life&mdash;as a result of the operation. If what Mrs.
+Latimer says is the truth&mdash;and when I say that I mean
+if what she says is to be relied on as a cold, bald statement
+of what happened&mdash;then I am bound to say that
+I think the matter is very serious indeed."</p>
+
+<p>"God Almighty!" I cried, "do you mean to say that
+you think there is a chance of Hugh going mad?"</p>
+
+<p>"To be perfectly frank, I do; always granted that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span>
+that letter is reliable. I consider it vital that whether
+he wishes to or whether he doesn't, Sir William
+Cremer should be consulted. And&mdash;<i>at once</i>." The
+doctor emphasised his words with his fist on the table.</p>
+
+<p>"Great Scott! Doc," I muttered. "Do you really
+think there is danger?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know enough of the case to say that. But
+I do know something about the brain, enough to say
+that there might be not only danger, but hideous danger,
+to everyone in the house." He was silent for a
+bit and then rapped out. "Does Mrs. Latimer share
+the same room as her husband?"</p>
+
+<p>"I really don't know," I answered. "I imagine so."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I don't know how well you know her; but
+until Sir William gives a definite opinion, if I knew her
+well enough, I would strongly advise her to sleep in
+another room&mdash;<i>and lock the door</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"Good God! you think ..."</p>
+
+<p>"Look here, Ginger, what's the good of beating
+about the bush. It is possible&mdash;I won't say probable&mdash;that
+Hugh Latimer is on the road to becoming a homicidal
+maniac. And if, by any chance, that assumption
+is correct, the most hideous tragedy might happen
+at any moment. Mam'selle, l'addition s'il vous plaît.
+You're going on leave shortly, aren't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"In two days," I answered.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, go down and see for yourself; it won't require<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span>
+a doctor to notice the symptoms. And if what
+I fear is correct, track out Cremer in his lair&mdash;find
+him somehow and find him quickly."</p>
+
+<p>We walked up the road together, and my glance fell
+on the plot of ground on the right, covered so thickly
+with little wooden crosses. As I looked away the doctor's
+eyes and mine met. And there was the same
+thought in both our minds.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>Three days later I was in Hugh's house. His wife
+met me at the station, and before we got into the car
+my heart sank. I knew something was wrong.</p>
+
+<p>"How is he?" I asked, as we swung out of the gates.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! Ginger," she said. "I'm frightened&mdash;frightened
+to death."</p>
+
+<p>"What is it, lady," I cried. "Has he been looking
+at you like that again, the way you described in the
+letter?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;it's getting more frequent. And at nights&mdash;oh!
+my God! it's awful. Poor old Hugh."</p>
+
+<p>She broke down at that, while I noticed that her
+hands were all trembling, and that dark shadows were
+round her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me about it," I said, "for we must do something."</p>
+
+<p>She pulled herself together, and called through the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span>
+speaking-tube to the chauffeur. "Go a little way round,
+Jervis. I don't want to get in till tea-time."</p>
+
+<p>Then she turned to me. "Since his operation I've
+been using another room." The doctor's words
+flashed into my mind. "Sir William thought it essential
+that he should have really long undisturbed nights,
+and I'm such a light sleeper. For a few weeks everything
+panned out splendidly. He seemed to get better
+and stronger, and he was just the same dear old
+Hugh he's always been. Then gradually the restlessness
+started; he couldn't sleep, he became irritable,&mdash;and
+the one thing which made him most irritable of
+all was any suggestion that he wasn't going on all
+right; or any hint even that he should see a doctor.
+Then came the incident I wrote to you about. Since
+that evening I've often caught the same look in his
+eye." She shuddered, and again I noticed the quiver
+in her hands, but she quickly controlled herself. "Last
+night, I woke up suddenly. It must have been about
+three, for it was pitch dark, and I think I'd been asleep
+some hours. I don't know what woke me; but in an
+instant I knew there was someone in the room. I lay
+trembling with fright, and suddenly out of the darkness
+came a hideous chuckle. It was the most awful,
+diabolical noise I've ever heard. Then I heard his
+voice.</p>
+
+<p>"He was muttering, and all I could catch were the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span>
+words 'Death-Grip.' I nearly fainted with terror,
+but forced myself to keep consciousness. How long
+he stood there I don't know, but after an eternity it
+seemed, I heard the door open and shut. I heard
+him cross the passage, and go into his own room.
+Then there was silence. I forced myself to move; I
+switched on the light, and locked the door. And
+when dawn came in through the windows, I was still
+sitting in a chair sobbing, shaking like a terrified child.</p>
+
+<p>"This morning he was perfectly normal, and just
+as cheerful and loving as he'd ever been. Oh! Ginger,
+what am I to do?" She broke down and cried helplessly.</p>
+
+<p>"You poor kid," I said; "what an awful experience!
+You must lock your door to-night, and to-morrow,
+with or without Hugh's knowledge, I shall go
+up to see Cremer."</p>
+
+<p>"You don't think; oh! it couldn't be true that Hugh,
+my Hugh, is going&mdash;&mdash;" She wouldn't say the word,
+but just gazed at me fearfully through her tears.</p>
+
+<p>"Hush, my lady," I said quietly. "The brain is
+a funny thing; perhaps there is some pressure somewhere
+which Sir William will be able to remove."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, of course that's it. I'm tired, stupid&mdash;it's
+made me exaggerate things. It will mean another
+operation, that's all. Wasn't it splendid about his
+getting the V.C.; and the King, so gracious, so<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span>
+kind...." She talked bravely on, and I tried to
+help her.</p>
+
+<p>But suppose there wasn't any pressure; suppose
+there was nothing to remove; suppose.... And in
+my mind I saw the plot with the little wooden crosses;
+in my mind I heard the express for somewhere booming
+sullenly overhead. And I wondered ... shuddered.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>Hugh met us at the door; dear old Hugh, looking
+as well as he ever did.</p>
+
+<p>"Splendid, Ginger, old man! So glad you managed
+the leave all right."</p>
+
+<p>"Not a hitch, Hugh. You're looking very fit."</p>
+
+<p>"I am. Fit as a flea. You ask Elsie what she
+thinks."</p>
+
+<p>His wife smiled. "You're just wonderful, old boy,
+except for your sleeplessness at night. I want him
+to see Sir William Cremer, Ginger, but he doesn't
+think it worth while."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't," said Hugh shortly. "Damn that old
+sawbones."</p>
+
+<p>In another man the remark would have passed unnoticed;
+but the chauffeur was there, and a maid,
+and his wife&mdash;and the expression was quite foreign to
+Hugh.</p>
+
+<p>But I am bound to say that except for that one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span>
+trifling thing I noticed absolutely nothing peculiar
+about him all the evening. At dinner he was perfectly
+normal; quite charming&mdash;his own brilliant self.
+When he was in the mood, I have seldom heard his
+equal as a conversationalist, and that night he was
+at the top of his form. I almost managed to persuade
+myself that my fears were groundless....</p>
+
+<p>"I want to have a buck with Ginger, dear," he
+said to his wife after dinner was over. "A talk over
+the smells and joys of Flanders."</p>
+
+<p>"But I should like to hear," she answered. "It's
+so hard to get you men to talk."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think you would like to hear, my dear."
+His tone was quite normal, but there was a strange
+note of insistence in it. "It's shop, and will bore you
+dreadfully." He still stood by the door waiting for
+her to pass through. After a moment's hesitation she
+went, and Hugh closed the door after her. What suggested
+the analogy to my mind I cannot say, but the
+way in which he performed the simple act of closing
+the door seemed to be the opening rite of some ceremony.
+Thus could I picture a morphomaniac shutting
+himself in from prying gaze, before abandoning
+himself to his vice; the drunkard, at last alone, returning
+gloatingly to his bottle. Perhaps my perceptions
+were quickened, but it seemed to me that Hugh
+came back to me as if I were his colleague in some<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span>
+guilty secret&mdash;as if his wife were alien to his thoughts,
+and now that she was gone, we could talk.... His
+first words proved I was right.</p>
+
+<p>"Now we can talk, Ginger," he remarked. "These
+women don't understand." He pushed the port
+towards me.</p>
+
+<p>"Understand what?" I was watching him closely.</p>
+
+<p>"Life, my boy, <i>the</i> life. The life of an eye for an
+eye and a tooth for a tooth. Gad! it was a great
+day that, Ginger." His eyes were fixed on me, and
+for the first time I noticed the red in them, and a
+peculiar twitch in the lids.</p>
+
+<p>"Did you find the Blue Bird?" I asked quietly.</p>
+
+<p>"Find it?" He laughed&mdash;and it was not a pleasant
+laugh. "I used to think it lay in books, in art, in
+music." Again he gave way to a fit of devilish mirth.
+"What damned fools we are, old man, what damned
+fools. But you mustn't tell her." He leaned over
+the table and spoke confidentially. "She'd never understand;
+that's why I got rid of her." He lifted his
+glass to the light, looking at it as a connoisseur looks
+at a rare vintage, while all the time a strange smile&mdash;a
+cruel smile&mdash;hovered round his lips. "Music&mdash;art,"
+his voice was full of scorn. "Only we know better.
+Did I ever tell you about that grip I learned in Sumatra&mdash;the
+Death Grip?"</p>
+
+<p>He suddenly fired the question at me, and for a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span>
+moment I did not answer. All my fears were rushing
+back into my mind with renewed strength; it was not
+so much the question as the tone&mdash;and the eyes of the
+speaker.</p>
+
+<p>"No, never." I lit a cigarette with elaborate care.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! Someday I must show you. You take a
+man's throat in your right hand, and you put your
+left behind his neck&mdash;like that." His hands were
+curved in front of him&mdash;curved as if a man's throat
+was in them. "Then you press and press with the
+two thumbs&mdash;like that; with the right thumb on a
+certain muscle in the neck, and the left on an artery
+under the ear; and you go on pressing, until&mdash;until
+there's no need to press any longer. It's wonderful."
+I can't hope to give any idea of the dreadful gloating
+tone in his voice.</p>
+
+<p>"I got a Prussian officer like that, that day," he
+went on after a moment. "I saw his dirty grey face
+close to mine, and I got my hands on his throat. I'd
+forgotten the exact position for the grip, and then
+suddenly I remembered it. I squeezed and squeezed&mdash;and,
+Ginger, the grip was right. I squeezed his life
+out in ten seconds." His voice rose to a shout.</p>
+
+<p>"Steady, Hugh," I cried. "You'll be frightening
+Elsie."</p>
+
+<p>"Quite right," he answered; "that would never
+do. I haven't told her that little incident&mdash;she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span>
+wouldn't understand. But I'm going to show her the
+grip one of these days. As a soldier's wife, I think
+it's a thing she ought to know."</p>
+
+<p>He relapsed into silence, apparently quite calm,
+though his eyelids still twitched, while I watched him
+covertly from time to time. In my mind now there
+was no shadow of doubt that the doctor's fears were
+justified; I knew that Hugh Latimer was insane. That
+his loss of mental balance was periodical and not permanent
+was not the point; layman though I was, I
+could realise the danger to everyone in the house. At
+the moment the tragedy of the case hardly struck me;
+I could only think of the look on his face, the gloating,
+watching look&mdash;and Elsie and the boy....</p>
+
+<p>At half-past nine he went to bed, and I had a few
+words with his wife.</p>
+
+<p>"Lock your door to-night," I said insistently, "as
+you value everything, lock your door. I am going to
+see Cremer to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>"What's he been saying?" she asked, and her lips
+were white. "I heard him shouting once."</p>
+
+<p>"Enough to make me tell you to lock your door,"
+I said as lightly as I could. "Elsie, you've got to be
+brave; something has gone wrong with poor old Hugh
+for the time, and until he's put right again, there are
+moments when he's not responsible for his actions.
+Don't be uneasy; I shall be on hand to-night."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I shan't be uneasy" she answered, and then she
+turned away, and I saw her shoulders shaking. "My
+Hugh&mdash;my poor old man." I caught the whispered
+words, and she was gone.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>I suppose it was about two that I woke with a start.
+I had meant to keep awake the whole night, and with
+that idea I had not undressed, but, sitting in a chair
+before the fire, had tried to keep myself awake with
+a book. But the journey from France had made me
+sleepy, and the book had slipped to the floor, as has
+been known to happen before. The light was still
+on, though the fire had burned low; and I was
+cramped and stiff. For a moment I sat listening intently&mdash;every
+faculty awake; and then I heard a door
+gently close, and a step in the passage. I switched
+off the light and listened.</p>
+
+<p>Instinctively, I knew the crisis had come, and with
+the need for action I became perfectly cool. Soft
+footsteps, like a man walking in his socks, came distinctly
+through the door which I had left ajar&mdash;once
+a board creaked. And after that sharp ominous crack
+there was silence for a space; the nocturnal walker
+was cautious, cautious with the devilish cunning of
+the madman.</p>
+
+<p>It seemed to me an eternity as I listened&mdash;straining
+to hear in the silent house&mdash;then once again there<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span>
+came the soft pad-pad of stockinged feet; nearer and
+nearer till they halted outside my door. I could hear
+the heavy breathing of someone outside, and then
+stealthily my door was pushed open. In the dim light
+which filtered in from the passage Hugh's figure was
+framed in the doorway. With many pauses and very
+cautious steps he moved to the bed, while I pressed
+against the wall watching him.</p>
+
+<p>His hands wandered over the pillows, and then he
+muttered to himself. "Old Ginger&mdash;I suppose he
+hasn't come to bed yet. And I wanted to show him
+that little grip&mdash;that little death-grip." He chuckled
+horribly. "Never mind&mdash;Elsie, dear little Elsie; I
+will show her first. Though she won't understand
+so well&mdash;only Ginger would really understand."</p>
+
+<p>He moved to the door, and once again the slow padding
+of his feet sounded in the passage; while he still
+muttered, though I could not hear what he said. Then
+he came to his wife's door and cautiously turned the
+handle....</p>
+
+<p>What happened then happened quickly. He realised
+quickly that it was locked, and this seemed to infuriate
+him. He gave an inarticulate shout, and rattled the
+door violently; then he drew back to the other side of
+the passage and prepared to charge it. And at that
+moment we closed.</p>
+
+<p>I had followed him out of my room, and, knowing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span>
+myself to be far stronger than him, I threw myself
+on him without a thought I hadn't reckoned on the
+strength of a madman, and for two minutes he threw
+me about as if I were a child. We struggled and
+fought, while frightened maids wrung their hands&mdash;and
+a white-faced woman watched with tearless eyes.
+And at last I won; when his temporary strength gave
+out, he was as weak as a child. Poor old Hugh!
+Poor old chap!...</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>Sir William Cremer came down the next day, and
+to him I told everything. He made all the necessary
+wretched arrangements, and the dear fellow was taken
+away&mdash;seemingly quite sane&mdash;and telling Elsie he'd be
+back soon.</p>
+
+<p>"They say I need a change, old dear, and this old
+tyrant says I've been restless at night." He had his
+hand on Sir William's shoulder as he spoke, while the
+car was waiting at the door.</p>
+
+<p>"Jove! little girl&mdash;you do look a bit washed out
+Have I been worrying you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course not, old man." Her voice was perfectly
+steady.</p>
+
+<p>"There you are, Sir William." He turned triumphantly
+to the doctor. "Still perhaps you're right.
+Where's the young rascal? Give me a kiss, you scamp&mdash;and
+look after your mother while I'm away. I'll<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span>
+be back soon." He went down the steps and into the
+car.</p>
+
+<p>"And very likely he will, Mrs. Latimer. Keep your
+spirits up and never despair." Sir William patted her
+shoulder paternally, but over her bent head I saw his
+eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"God knows," he said reverently to me as he followed
+Hugh. "The brain is such a wonderful thing;
+just a tiny speck and a genius becomes a madman.
+God knows."</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>Later on I too went away, carrying in my mind the
+picture of a girl&mdash;she was no more&mdash;holding a little
+bronze cross in front of a laughing baby&mdash;the cross
+on which is written, "For Valour." And once again
+my mind went back to that little plot in Flanders
+covered with wooden crosses.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span></p>
+<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2>
+
+<h3>JAMES HENRY</h3>
+
+
+<p>James Henry was the sole remaining son of his
+mother, and she was a widow. His father, some
+twelve months previously, had inadvertently encountered
+a motor-car travelling at great speed, and had
+forthwith been laid to rest. His sisters&mdash;whom James
+Henry affected to despise&mdash;had long since left the
+parental roof and gone to seek their Fortunes in the
+great world; while his brothers had in all cases died
+violent deaths, following in the steps of their lamented
+father. In fact, as I said, James Henry was alone
+in the world saving only for his mother: and as she'd
+married again since his father's death he felt that his
+responsibility so far as she was concerned was at an
+end. In fact, he frequently cut her when he met her
+about the house.</p>
+
+<p>Relations had become particularly strained after
+this second matrimonial venture. An aristocrat of the
+most unbending description himself, he had been away
+during the period of her courtship&mdash;otherwise, no
+doubt, he would have protected his father's stainless<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span>
+escutcheon. As it was, he never quite recovered from
+the shock.</p>
+
+<p>It was at breakfast one morning that he heard the
+news. Lady Monica told him as she handed him his
+tea. "James Henry," she remarked reproachfully,
+"your mother is a naughty woman." True to his
+aristocratic principle of stoical calm he continued to
+consume his morning beverage. There were times
+when the mention of his mother bored him to extinction.
+"A very naughty woman," she continued.
+"Dad"&mdash;she addressed a man who had just come into
+the room&mdash;"it's occurred."</p>
+
+<p>"What&mdash;have they come?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;last night. Five."</p>
+
+<p>"Are they good ones?"</p>
+
+<p>Lady Alice laughed. "I was just telling James
+Henry what I thought of his Family when you came
+in. I'm afraid Harriet Emily is incorrigible."</p>
+
+<p>"Look at James!" exclaimed the Earl&mdash;"he's spilled
+his tea all over the carpet." He was inspecting the
+dishes on the sideboard as he spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"He always does. His whiskers dribble. Jervis
+tells me that he thinks Harriet Emily must have&mdash;er&mdash;flirted
+with a most undesirable acquaintance."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! has she?" Her father opened the morning
+paper and started to enjoy his breakfast. "We must
+drown 'em, my dear, drown&mdash;&mdash; Hullo! the Russians<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span>
+have crossed the&mdash;&mdash;" It sounded like an explosion
+in a soda-water factory, and James Henry protested.</p>
+
+<p>"Quite right, Henry. He oughtn't to do it at breakfast.
+It doesn't really make any one any happier.
+Did <i>you</i> know about your mother? Now don't gobble
+your food." Lady Monica held up an admonishing
+finger. "Four of your brothers and sisters are more
+or less respectable, James, but there's <i>one</i>&mdash;there's
+one that is distinctly reminiscent of a dachshund. Oh!
+'Arriet, 'Arriet&mdash;I'm ashamed of you."</p>
+
+<p>James Henry sneezed heavily and got down from
+the table. Always a perfect gentleman, he picked up
+the crumbs round his chair, and even went so far as to
+salvage a large piece of sausage skin which had slipped
+on to the floor. Then, full of rectitude and outwardly
+unconcerned, he retired to a corner behind a cupboard
+and earnestly contemplated a little hole in the floor.</p>
+
+<p>Outwardly calm&mdash;yes: that at least was due to the
+memory of his blue-blooded father. But inwardly,
+he seethed. With his head on one side he alternately
+sniffed and blew as he had done regularly every morning
+for the past two months. His father's wife the
+mother of a sausage-dog! Incredible! It must have
+been that miserable fat beast who lived at the Pig and
+Whistle. The insolence&mdash;the inconceivable impertinence
+of such an unsightly, corpulent traducer daring
+to ally himself with One of the Fox Terriers. He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span>
+growled slightly in his disgust, and three mice inside
+the wall laughed gently. But&mdash;still, the girls are ever
+frail. He blushed slightly at some recollection, and
+realised that he must make allowances. But a sausage
+dog! Great Heavens!</p>
+
+<p>"James&mdash;avançons, mon brave." Lady Monica was
+standing in the window. "We will hie us to the
+village. Dad, don't forget that our branch of the Federated
+Association of Women War Workers are drilling
+here this afternoon."</p>
+
+<p>"Good Heavens! my dear girl&mdash;is it?" Her father
+gazed at her in alarm. "I think&mdash;er&mdash;I think I shall
+have to&mdash;er&mdash;run up to Town&mdash;er&mdash;this afternoon."</p>
+
+<p>"I thought you'd have to, old dear. In fact, I've
+ordered the car for you. Come along, Henry&mdash;we
+must go and get a boy scout to be bandaged."</p>
+
+<p>James Henry gave one last violently facial contortion
+at the entrance of the mouse's lair, and rose
+majestically to his feet. If she wanted to go out, he
+fully realised that he must go with her: Emily would
+have to wait. He would go round later and see his
+poor misguided mother and reason with her; but just
+at present the girl was his principal duty. She generally
+asked his advice on various things when they
+went for a walk, and the least he could do was to
+pretend to be interested at any rate.</p>
+
+<p>Apparently this morning she was in need of much<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span>
+counsel and help. Having arrived at a clearing in
+the wood, on the way to the village, she sat down on
+the fallen trunk of a tree, and addressed him.</p>
+
+<p>"James&mdash;what am I to do? Derek is coming this
+afternoon before he goes back to France. What shall
+I tell him, Henry&mdash;what <i>shall</i> I tell him? Because
+I know he'll ask me again. Thank you, old man, but
+you're not very helpful, and I'd much sooner you kept
+it yourself."</p>
+
+<p>Disgustedly James Henry removed the carcase of
+a field mouse he had just procured, and resigned himself
+to the inevitable.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm fond of him; I like him&mdash;in fact at times
+more than like him. But is it the <i>real</i> thing? Now
+what do you think, James Henry?&mdash;tell me all that
+is in your mind. Ought I&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>It was then that he gave his celebrated rendering
+of a young typhoon, owing to the presence of a foreign
+substance&mdash;to wit, a fly&mdash;in a ticklish spot on his nose.</p>
+
+<p>"You think that, do you? Well, perhaps you're
+right. Come on, my lad, we must obtain the victim
+for this afternoon. I wonder if those little boys like
+it? To do some good and kindly action each day&mdash;that's
+their motto, James. And as one person to another
+you must admit that to be revived from drowning,
+resuscitated from fainting, brought to from an
+epileptic fit, and have two knees, an ankle, and a collarbone<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span>
+set at the same time is some good action even
+for a boy scout."</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>It was not until after lunch that James Henry paid
+his promised call on his mother. Maturer considerations
+had but strengthened his resolve to make allowances.
+After all, these things do happen in the best
+families. He was, indeed, prepared to be magnanimous
+and forgive; he was even prepared to be interested;
+the only thing he wasn't prepared for was the
+nasty bite he got on his ear. That settled it. It was
+then that he finally washed his hands of his undutiful
+parent. As he told her, he felt more sorrow than
+anger; he should have realised that anyone who could
+have dealings with a sausage-hound must be dead to
+all sense of decency&mdash;and that the only thing he asked
+was that in the future she would conceal the fact that
+they were related.</p>
+
+<p>Then he left her&mdash;and trotting round to the front
+of the house, found great activity in progress on the
+lawn.</p>
+
+<p>"Good Heavens! James Henry, do they often do
+this?" With a shout of joy he recognised the speaker.
+And having told him about Harriet, and blown heavily
+at a passing spider and then trodden on it, he sat
+down beside the soldier on the steps. The game on
+the lawn at first sight looked dull; and he only favoured<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span>
+it with a perfunctory glance. In fact, what
+on earth there was in it to make the soldier beside him
+shake and shake while the tears periodically rolled
+down his face was quite beyond Henry.</p>
+
+<p>The principal player seemed to be a large man&mdash;also
+in khaki&mdash;with a loud voice. Up to date he had
+said nothing but "Now then, ladies," at intervals, and
+in a rising crescendo. Then it all became complicated.</p>
+
+<p>"Now then, ladies, when I says Number&mdash;you numbers
+from Right to Left in an heven tone of voice.
+The third lady from the left 'as no lady behind 'er&mdash;seeing
+as we're a hodd number. She forms the blank
+file. Yes, you, mum&mdash;you, I means."</p>
+
+<p>"What are you pointing at me for, my good man?"
+The Vicar's wife suddenly realised she was being
+spoken to. "Am I doing anything wrong?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, mum, no. Not this time. I was only saying
+as you 'ave no one behind you."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! I'll go there at once&mdash;I'm so sorry." She
+retired to the rear rank. "Dear Mrs. Goodenough,
+<i>did</i> I tread upon your foot?&mdash;so clumsy of me! Oh,
+what is that man saying now? But you've just told
+me to come here. You did nothing of the sort? How
+rude!"</p>
+
+<p>But as I said, the game did not interest James
+Henry, so he wandered away and played in some
+bushes. There were distinct traces of a recently moving<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span>
+mole which was far more to the point. Then
+having found&mdash;after a diligent search and much delight
+in pungent odours&mdash;that the mole was a has-been,
+our Henry disappeared for a space. And far be
+it from me to disclose where he went: his intentions
+were always strictly honourable.</p>
+
+<p>When he appeared again the Earl had just returned
+from London, and was talking to the tall soldier-man.
+The Women War Workers had departed, and, as
+James Henry approached, his mistress came out and
+joined the two men.</p>
+
+<p>"Have those dreadful women gone, my dear?"
+asked the Earl as he saw her.</p>
+
+<p>"You're very rude, Dad. The Federated Association
+of the W.W.W. is a very fine body of patriotic
+women. What did you think of our drill, Derek?"</p>
+
+<p>"Wonderful, Monica. Quite the most wonderful
+thing I've ever seen." The soldier solemnly offered
+her a cigarette.</p>
+
+<p>"You men are all jealous. We're coming out to
+France as V.A.D.'s soon."</p>
+
+<p>"Good Lord, Derek&mdash;you ought to have seen their
+first drill. In one corner of the lawn that poor devil
+of a sergeant with his face a shiny purple alternately
+sobbed and bellowed like a bull&mdash;while twenty-seven
+W.W.W.'s tied themselves into a knot like a Rugby
+football scrum, and told one another how they'd done<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span>
+it. It was the most heart-rending sight I've ever seen."</p>
+
+<p>"Dear old Dad!" The girl blew a cloud of smoke.
+"You told it better last time."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't interrupt, Monica. The final tableau&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Which one are you going to tell him, dear? The
+one where James Henry bit the Vicar's wife in the
+leg, or the one where the sergeant with a choking cry
+of 'Double, damn you!' fell fainting into the rhododendron
+bush?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think the second is the better," remarked the
+soldier pensively. "Dogs always bite the Vicar's
+wife's leg. Not a hobby I should personally take up,
+but&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>They all laughed. "Now run indoors, old 'un, and
+tell John to get you a mixed Vermouth&mdash;I want to
+talk to Derek." The girl gently pushed her father
+towards the open window.</p>
+
+<p>It was at that particular moment in James Henry's
+career that, having snapped at a wasp and partially
+killed it, he inadvertently sat on the carcase by mistake.
+As he explained to Harriet Emily afterwards,
+it wasn't so much the discomfort of the proceeding
+which annoyed him, as the unfeeling laughter of the
+spectators. And it was only when she'd bitten him
+in the other ear that he remembered he had disowned
+her that very afternoon.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span></p><hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>But elsewhere, though he was quite unaware of the
+fact, momentous decisions as to his future were being
+taken. The Earl had gone in to get his mixed Vermouth,
+and outside his daughter and the soldier-man
+sat and talked. It was fragmentary, disjointed&mdash;the
+talk of old friends with much in common. Only in
+the man's voice there was that suppressed note which
+indicates things more than any mere words. Monica
+heard it and sighed&mdash;she'd heard it so often before
+in his voice. James Henry had heard it too during a
+previous talk&mdash;one which he had graced with his presence&mdash;and
+had gone to the extent of discussing it with
+a friend. On this occasion he had been gently dozing
+on the man's knee, when suddenly he had been rudely
+awakened. In his dreams he had heard her say,
+"Dear old Derek&mdash;I'm afraid it's No. You see, I'm
+not sure;" which didn't seem much to make a disturbance
+about.</p>
+
+<p>"Would you believe it," he remarked later, "but as
+she spoke the soldier-man's grip tightened on my neck
+till I was almost choked."</p>
+
+<p>"What did you do?" asked his Friend, a disreputable
+"long-dog." "Did you bite him?"</p>
+
+<p>"I did not." James Henry sniffed. "It was not
+a biting moment. Tact was required. I just gave a
+little cough, and instantly he took his hand away.
+'Old man,' he whispered to me&mdash;she'd left us&mdash;'I'm<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span>
+sorry. I didn't mean to&mdash;I wasn't thinking.' So I
+licked his hand to show him I understood."</p>
+
+<p>"I know what you mean. I'm generally there when
+my bloke comes out of prison, and he always kicks me.
+But it's meant kindly."</p>
+
+<p>"As a matter of fact that is not what I mean&mdash;though
+I daresay your experiences on such matters
+are profound." James was becoming blue-blooded.
+"The person who owns you, and who is in the habit
+of going to&mdash;er&mdash;prison, no doubt shows his affection
+for you in that way. And very suitable too. But
+the affair to which I alluded is quite different. The
+soldier-man is almost as much in my care as the girl.
+And so I know his feelings. At the time, he was
+suffering though why I don't understand; and therefore
+it was up to me to suffer with him. It helped
+him."</p>
+
+<p>"H'm," the lurcher grunted. "Daresay you're
+right. What about a trip to the gorse? I haven't
+seen a rabbit for some time."</p>
+
+<p>And if Henry had not sat on the wasp, his neck
+might again have been squeezed that evening. As it
+was, the danger period was over by the time he reappeared
+and jumped into the girl's lap. Not only
+had the sixth proposal been gently turned down&mdash;but
+James's plans for the near future had been settled for
+him in a most arbitrary manner.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Well, old man, how's the tail?" laughed the soldier.
+James Henry yawned&mdash;the subject seemed a trifle
+personal even amongst old friends. "Have you heard
+you're coming with me to France?"</p>
+
+<p>"And you must bring him to me as soon as I get
+over," cried the girl.</p>
+
+<p>"At once, dear lady. I'll ask for special leave,
+and if necessary an armistice."</p>
+
+<p>"Won't you bark at the Huns, my cherub?" She
+laughed and got up. "Go to your uncle&mdash;I'm going
+to dress."</p>
+
+<p>What happened then was almost more than even
+the most long-suffering terrier could stand. He was
+unceremoniously bundled into his uncle's arms by his
+mistress, and at the same moment she bent down. A
+strange noise was heard such as he had frequently
+noted, coming from the top of his own head, when
+his mistress was in an affectionate mood&mdash;a peculiar
+form of exercise he deduced, which apparently amused
+some people. But the effect on the soldier was electrical.
+He sprang out of his chair with a shout&mdash;"Monica&mdash;you
+little devil&mdash;come back," and James
+Henry fell winded to the floor. But a flutter of white
+disappearing indoors was the only answer....</p>
+
+<p>"She's not sure, James, my son&mdash;she's not sure."
+The man pulled out his cigarette case and contemplated
+him thoughtfully. "And how the deuce are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span>
+we to make her sure? I want it, and her father wants
+it, and so does she if she only knew it. They're the
+devil, James Henry&mdash;they're the devil."</p>
+
+<p>But his hearer did not want philosophy; he wanted
+his tummy rubbed. He lay with one eye closed, his
+four paws turned up limply towards the sky, and
+sighed gently. Never before had the suggestion
+failed; enthusiastic admirers had always taken the
+hint gladly, and he had graciously allowed them the
+pleasure. But this time&mdash;horror upon horror&mdash;not
+only was there no result, but in a dreamy, contemplative
+manner the soldier actually deposited his used
+and still warm match carefully on the spot where
+James Henry's wind had been. Naturally there was
+only one possible course open to him. He rose quietly,
+and left. It was only when he was thinking the matter
+over later that it struck him that his exit would have
+been more dignified if he hadn't sat down halfway
+across the lawn to scratch his right ear. It was more
+than likely that a completely false construction would
+be put on that simple action by anyone who didn't
+know he'd had words with Harriet Emily.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>Thus James Henry&mdash;gentleman, at his country seat
+in England. I have gone out of my way to describe
+what may be taken as an average day in his life, in
+order to show him as he was before he went to France<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span>
+to be banished from the country&mdash;cashiered in disgrace
+a few weeks after his arrival. Which only goes
+to prove the change that war causes in even the most
+polished and courtly.</p>
+
+<p>I am told that the alteration for the worse started
+shortly after his arrival at the front. What did it
+I don't know&mdash;but he lost one whisker and a portion
+of an ear, thus giving him a somewhat lopsided appearance;
+though rakish withal. It may have been a
+detonator which went off as he ate it&mdash;it may have
+been foolish curiosity over a maxim&mdash;it may even
+have been due to the fact that he found a motor-bicycle
+standing still, what time it made strange provocative
+noises, and failed to notice that the back wheel was
+off the ground and rotating at a great pace.</p>
+
+<p>Whatever it was it altered James Henry. Not that
+it soured his temper&mdash;not at all; but it made him more
+reckless, less careful of appearances. He forgot the
+repose that stamps the caste of Vere de Vere, and a
+series of incidents occurred which tended to strain
+relations all round.</p>
+
+<p>There was the question of the three dead chickens,
+for instance. Had they disappeared decently and in
+order much might have been thought but nothing
+would have been known. But when they were deposited
+on their owner's doorstep, with James Henry
+mounting guard over the corpses himself, it was a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span>
+little difficult to explain the matter away. That was
+the trouble&mdash;his sense of humour seemed to have
+become distorted.</p>
+
+<p>The pastime of hunting for rats in the sewers of
+Ypres cannot be too highly commended; but having
+got thoroughly wet in the process, James Henry's
+practice of depositing the rat and himself on the
+Adjutant's bed was open to grave criticism.</p>
+
+<p>But enough: these two instances were, I am sorry
+to state, but types of countless other regrettable episodes
+which caused the popularity of James Henry to
+wane.</p>
+
+<p>The final decree of death or banishment came when
+James had been in the country some seven weeks.</p>
+
+<p>On the day in question a dreadful shout was heard,
+followed by a flood of language which I will refrain
+from committing to print. And then the Colonel
+appeared in the door of his dug-out.</p>
+
+<p>"Where is that accursed idiot, Murgatroyd? Pass
+the word along for the damn fool."</p>
+
+<p>"'Urry up, Conky. The ole man's a-twittering for
+you." Murgatroyd emerged from a recess.</p>
+
+<p>"What's 'e want?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'd go and find out, cully. I think 'e's going to
+mention you in 'is will." At that moment a fresh outburst
+floated through the stillness.</p>
+
+<p>"Great 'Eavens!" Murgatroyd reluctantly rose to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span>
+his feet. "So long, boys. Tell me mother she was
+in me thoughts up to the end." He paused outside
+the dug-out and then went manfully in. "You wanted
+me, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Look at this, you blithering ass, look at this."
+The Colonel was searching through his Fortnum and
+Mason packing-case on the floor. "Great Heavens!
+and the caviar too&mdash;imbedded in the butter. Five
+defunct rodents in the brawn"&mdash;he threw each in turn
+at his servant, who dodged round the dug-out like a
+pea in a drum&mdash;"the marmalade and the pâté de fois
+gras inseparably mixed together, and the whole covered
+with a thick layer of disintegrating cigar."</p>
+
+<p>"It wasn't me, sir," Murgatroyd spoke in an aggrieved
+tone.</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't suppose it was, you fool." The Colonel
+straightened himself and glared at his hapless minion.
+"Great Heavens! there's another rat on my hairbrush."</p>
+
+<p>"One of the same five, sir. It ricocheted off my
+face." With a magnificent nonchalance his servant
+threw it out of the door. "I think, sir, it must be
+James 'Enry."</p>
+
+<p>"Who the devil is James Henry?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sir Derek Temple's little dawg, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed." The Colonel's tone was ominous. "Go<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span>
+round and ask Sir Derek Temple to be good enough
+to come and see me at once."</p>
+
+<p>What happened exactly at that interview I cannot
+say; although I understand that James Henry considered
+an absurd fuss had been made about a trifle.
+In fact he found it so difficult to lie down with any
+comfort that night that he missed much of his master's
+conversation with him.</p>
+
+<p>"You've topped it, James, you've put the brass hat
+on. The old man threatens to turn out a firing party
+if he ever sees you again."</p>
+
+<p>James feigned sleep: this continual harping on what
+was over and done with he considered the very worst
+of form. Even if he had put the caviar in the butter
+and his foot in the marmalade&mdash;well, hang it all&mdash;what
+then? He'd presented the old buster with five
+dead rats, which was more than he'd do for a lot of
+people.</p>
+
+<p>"In fact, James, you are not popular, my boy&mdash;and
+I shudder to think what Monica will do with you
+when she gets you. She's come over, you may be
+pleased to hear, Henry. She is V.A.D.-ing at a charming
+hospital that overlooks the sea. James, why can't
+I go sick&mdash;and live for a space at that charming hospital
+that overlooks the sea? Think of it: here am I,
+panting to have my face washed by her, panting&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>For a moment he rhapsodised in silence. "Breakfast<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span>
+in bed, poached egg in the bed: oh! James, my boy,
+and she probably never even thinks of me."</p>
+
+<p>He took a letter out of his pocket and held it under
+the light of the candle. "'Not much to do at present,
+but delightful weather. The hospital is nearly empty,
+though there's one perfect dear who is almost fit&mdash;a
+Major in some Highland regiment.'</p>
+
+<p>"Listen to that, James. Some great raw-boned,
+red-kneed Scotchman, and she calls him a perfect
+dear!" His listener blew resignedly and again composed
+himself to slumber.</p>
+
+<p>"'How is James behaving? I'd love to see the
+sweet pet again.' Sweet pet: yes&mdash;my boy&mdash;you look
+it. 'Do you remember how annoyed he was when I
+put him in your arms that afternoon at home?' Do
+you hear that, James?&mdash;do I remember? Monica,
+you adorable soul...." He relapsed into moody
+thought.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>At what moment during that restless night the idea
+actually came I know not. Possibly a diabolical chuckle
+on the part of James Henry, who was hunting in his
+dreams, goaded him to desperation. But it is an undoubted
+fact that when Sir Derek Temple rose the
+next morning he had definitely determined to embark
+on the adventure which culminated in the tragedy of
+the cat, the General, and James. The latter is reputed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span>
+to regard the affair as quite trifling and unworthy of
+the fierce glare of publicity that beat upon it. The
+cat, has, or rather had, different views.</p>
+
+<p>Now, be it known to those who live in England
+that it is one thing to say in an airy manner, as Derek
+had said to Lady Monica, that he would come and see
+her when she landed in France; it is another to do it.
+But to a determined and unprincipled man nothing
+is impossible; and though it would be the height of
+indiscretion for me to hint even at the methods he
+used to attain his ends, it is a certain fact that in the
+afternoon of the second day following the episode of
+the five rodents he found himself at a certain seaport
+town with James Henry as the other member of the
+party. And having had his hair cut, and extricated
+his companion from a street brawl, he hired a motor
+and drove into the country.</p>
+
+<p>Now, Derek Temple's knowledge of hospitals and
+their ways was not profound. He had a hazy idea
+that on arriving at the portals he would send in his
+name, and that in due course he could consume a
+tęte-ŕ-tęte tea with Monica in her private boudoir. He
+rehearsed the scene in his mind: the quiet, cutting reference
+to Highlanders who failed to understand the
+official position of nurses&mdash;the certainty that this particular
+one was a scoundrel: the fact that, on receiving
+her letter, he had at once rushed off to protect her.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>And as he got to this point the car turned into the
+gates of a palatial hotel and stopped by the door.
+James Henry jumped through the open window, and
+his master followed him up the steps.</p>
+
+<p>"Is Lady Monica Travers at home; I mean&mdash;er&mdash;is
+she in the hospital?" He addressed an R.A.M.C.
+sergeant in the entrance.</p>
+
+<p>"No dawgs allowed in the 'ospital, sir." The scandalised
+N.C.O. glared at James Henry, who was furiously
+growling at a hot-air grating in the floor. "You
+must get 'im out at once, sir: we're being inspected
+to-day."</p>
+
+<p>"Heel, James, heel. He'll be quite all right, Sergeant.
+Just find out, will you, about Lady Monica
+Travers?"</p>
+
+<p>"Beg pardon, sir, but are you a patient?"</p>
+
+<p>"Patient&mdash;of course I'm not a patient. Do I look
+like a patient?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, sir, there ain't no visiting allowed when the
+sisters is on duty."</p>
+
+<p>"What? But it's preposterous. Do you mean to
+say I can't see her unless I'm a patient? Why, man,
+I've got to go back in an hour."</p>
+
+<p>"Very sorry, sir&mdash;but no visiting allowed. Very
+strict 'ere, and as I says we're full of brass 'ats
+to-day."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>For a moment Derek was nonplussed; this was a
+complication on which he had not reckoned.</p>
+
+<p>"But look here, Sergeant, you know..." and even
+as he spoke he looked upstairs and beheld Lady
+Monica. Unfortunately she had not seen him, and
+the situation was desperate. Forcing James Henry
+into the arms of the outraged N.C.O., he rushed up
+the stairs and followed her.</p>
+
+<p>"Derek!" The girl stopped in amazement. "What
+in the world are you doing here?"</p>
+
+<p>"Monica, my dear, I've come to see you. Tell me
+that you don't really love that damn Scotchman."</p>
+
+<p>An adorable smile spread over her face. "You
+idiot! I don't love anyone. My work fills my life."</p>
+
+<p>"Rot! You said in your letter you had nothing
+to do at present. Monica, take me somewhere where
+I can make love to you."</p>
+
+<p>"I shall do nothing of the sort. In the first place
+you aren't allowed here at all; and in the second I
+don't want to be made love to."</p>
+
+<p>"And in the third," said Derek grimly, as the sound
+of a procession advancing down a corridor came from
+round the corner, "you're being inspected to-day, and
+that&mdash;if I mistake not&mdash;is the great pan-jan-drum
+himself."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! good Heavens. Derek, I'd forgotten. Do
+go, for goodness' sake. Run&mdash;I shall be sacked."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I shall not go. As the great man himself rounds
+that corner I shall kiss you with a loud trumpeting
+noise.'</p>
+
+<p>"You brute! Oh! what shall I do?&mdash;there they
+are. Come in here." She grabbed him by the wrist
+and dragged him into a small deserted sitting-room
+close by.</p>
+
+<p>"You darling," he remarked and promptly kissed
+her. "Monica, dear, you must listen&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Sit down, you idiot. I'm sure they saw me. You
+must pretend you're a patient just come in. I know
+I shall be sacked. The General is dreadfully particular.
+Put this thermometer in your mouth. Quick,
+give me your hand&mdash;I must take your pulse."</p>
+
+<p>"I think," said a voice outside the door, "that I
+saw&mdash;er&mdash;a patient being brought into one of these
+rooms."</p>
+
+<p>"Surely not, sir. These rooms are all empty." The
+door opened and the cavalcade paused. "Er&mdash;Lady
+Monica... really."</p>
+
+<p>"A new patient, Colonel," she remarked. "I am
+just taking his temperature." Derek, his eyes partially
+closed, lay back in a chair, occasionally uttering
+a slight groan.</p>
+
+<p>"The case looks most interesting." The General
+came and stood beside him. "Most interesting. Have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span>
+you&mdash;er&mdash;diagnosed the symptoms, sister?" His lips
+were twitching suspiciously.</p>
+
+<p>"Not yet, General. The pulse is normal&mdash;and the
+temperature"&mdash;she looked at the thermometer&mdash;"is&mdash;good
+gracious me! have you kept it properly under
+your tongue?" She turned to Derek, who nodded
+feebly. "The temperature is only 93." She looked at
+the group in an awestruck manner.</p>
+
+<p>"Most remarkable," murmured the General. "One
+feels compelled to wonder what it would have been
+if he'd had the right end in his mouth." Derek
+emitted a hollow groan. "And where do you feel it
+worst, my dear boy?" continued the great man, gazing
+at him through his eyeglass.</p>
+
+<p>"Dyspepsia, sir," he whispered feebly. "Dreadful
+dyspepsia. I can't sleep, I&mdash;er&mdash;Good Lord!" His
+eyes opened, his voice rose, and with a fixed stare of
+horror he gazed at the door. Through it with due
+solemnity came James Henry holding in his mouth a
+furless and very dead cat. He advanced to the centre
+of the group&mdash;laid it at the General's feet&mdash;and having
+sneezed twice sat down and contemplated his handiwork:
+his tail thumping the floor feverishly in anticipation
+of well-merited applause.</p>
+
+<p>It was possibly foolish, but, as Derek explained
+afterwards to Monica, the situation had passed beyond
+him. He arose and confronted the General, who was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span>
+surveying the scene coldly, and with a courtly exclamation
+of "Your cat, I believe, sir," he passed from
+the room.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>The conclusion of this dreadful drama may be given
+in three short sentences.</p>
+
+<p>The first was spoken by the General. "Let it be
+buried." And it was so.</p>
+
+<p>The second was whispered by Lady Monica&mdash;later.
+"Darling, I had to <i>say</i> we were engaged: it looked so
+peculiar." And it was even more so.</p>
+
+<p>The third was snorted by James Henry. "First
+I'm beaten and then I'm kissed. Damn all cats!"</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span></p>
+<h2>PART TWO</h2>
+
+<h3>THE LAND OF TOPSY TURVY</h3>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span></p>
+<h2>PART TWO</h2>
+
+<h3>THE LAND OF TOPSY TURVY</h3>
+
+<h2>CHAPTER I</h2>
+
+<h3>THE GREY HOUSE</h3>
+
+
+<p>You come on it unexpectedly, round a little spur
+in the side of the valley, which screens it from
+view. It stands below you as you first see it, not a
+big house, not a little one, but just comfortable. It
+seems in keeping with the gardens, the tennis courts,
+the orchards which lie around it in a hap-hazard sort
+of manner, as if they had just grown there years and
+years ago and had been too lazy to move ever since.
+Peace is the keynote of the whole picture&mdash;the peace
+and contentment of sleepy unwoken England.</p>
+
+<p>Down in the valley below, the river, brown and
+swollen, carries on its bosom the flotsam and jetsam
+of its pilgrimage through the country. Now and then
+a great branch goes bobbing by, only to come to grief
+in the shallows round the corner&mdash;the shallows where
+the noise of the water on the rounded stones lulls one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span>
+to sleep at night, and sounds a ceaseless reveille each
+morning. On the other side of the water the woods
+stretch down close to the bank, though the upper slopes
+of the hills are bare, and bathed in the golden light of
+the dying winter sun. Slowly the dark shadow line
+creeps up&mdash;creeps up to meet the shepherd coming
+home with his flock. Faint, but crisp, the barks of his
+dog, prancing excitedly round him, strike on one's
+ears, and then of a sudden&mdash;silence. They have entered
+the purple country; they have left the golden
+land, and the dog trots soberly at his master's heels.
+One last peak alone remains, dipped in flaming yellow,
+and then that too is touched by the finger of oncoming
+night. For a few moments it survives, a flicker of fire
+on its rugged tip, and then&mdash;the end; like a grim black
+sentinel it stands gloomy and sinister against the
+evening sky.</p>
+
+<p>The shepherd is out of sight amongst the trees;
+the purple is changing to grey, the grey to black;
+there is no movement saving only the tireless swish
+of the river....</p>
+
+<p>To the man leaning over the gate the scene was
+familiar&mdash;but familiarity had not robbed it of its
+charm. Involuntarily his mind went back to the
+days before the Madness came&mdash;to the days when
+others had stood beside him watching those same darkening
+hills, with the smoke of their pipes curling gently<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span>
+away in the still air. Back from a day's shooting,
+back from an afternoon on the river, and a rest at the
+top of the hill before going in to tea in the house below.
+So had he stood countless times in the past&mdash;with
+those others....</p>
+
+<p>The Rabbit, with a gun under his arm, and his
+stubby briar glowing red in the paling light. The
+Rabbit, with his old shooting-coat, with the yarn of
+the one woodcock he nearly got, with his cheery laugh.
+But they never found anything of him&mdash;an eight-inch
+shell is at any rate merciful.</p>
+
+<p>Torps&mdash;the naval candidate: one of the worst and
+most gallant riders that ever threw a leg across a
+horse. Somewhere in the depths of the Pacific, with
+the great heaving combers as his grave, he lies peacefully;
+and as for a little while he had gasped and
+struggled while hundreds of others gasped and struggled
+near him&mdash;perhaps he, too, had seen the hills
+opposite once again even as the Last Fence loomed in
+front and the whispered Kismet came from his lips....</p>
+
+<p>Hugh&mdash;the son of the house close by. Twice
+wounded, and now out again in Mesopotamia. Did
+the sound of the water come to him as the sun dropped,
+slow and pitiless, into the west? The same parching,
+crawling days following one another in deadly monotony:
+the same....<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Dreaming, Jim?" A woman's voice behind him
+broke on the man's thoughts.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, lady," he answered soberly. "Dreaming.
+Some of the ghosts we knew have been coming to me
+out of the blue grey mists." He fell into step beside
+her, and they moved towards the house.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! don't," she whispered&mdash;"don't! Oh! it's
+wicked, this war; cruel, damnable." She stopped and
+faced him, her breast rising and falling quickly. "And
+we can't follow you, Jim&mdash;we women. You go into
+the unknown."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;yours is the harder part. You can only
+wait and wonder."</p>
+
+<p>"Wait and wonder!" She laughed bitterly. "Hope
+and pray&mdash;while God sleeps."</p>
+
+<p>"Hush, lady!" he answered quietly; "for that way
+there lies no peace. Is Sybil indoors?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;she's expecting you. Thank goodness you're
+not going out yet awhile, Jim; the child is fretting
+herself sick over her brother as it is&mdash;and when you
+go...."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;when I go, what then?" he asked quietly.
+"Because I'm very nearly fit again, Lady Alice. My
+arm is nearly all right."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you want to go back, Jim?" Her quiet eyes
+searched his face. "Look at that."</p>
+
+<p>They had rounded a corner, and in front of them<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span>
+a man was leaning against a wall talking to the cook.
+They were in the stage known as walking-out&mdash;or is
+it keeping company? The point is immaterial and
+uninteresting. But the man, fit and strong, was in a
+starred trade. He was a forester&mdash;or had been since
+the first rumour of compulsion had startled his poor
+tremulous spirit. A very fine, but not unique example
+of the genuine shirker....</p>
+
+<p>"What has he to do with us?" said Jim bitterly.
+"That thing takes his stand along with the criminals,
+and the mental degenerates. He's worse than a conscientious
+objector. And we've got no choice. He
+reaps the benefits for which he refuses to fight. I don't
+want to go back to France particularly; every feeling
+I've got revolts at the idea just at present. I want
+to be with Sybil, as you know; I want to&mdash;oh! God
+knows! I was mad over the water&mdash;it bit into me;
+I was caught by the fever. It's an amazing thing how
+it gets hold of one. All the dirt and discomfort, and
+the boredom and the fright&mdash;one would have
+thought...." He laughed. "I suppose it's the madness
+in the air. But I'm sane now."</p>
+
+<p>"Are you? I wonder for how long. Let's go in
+and have some tea." The woman led the way indoors;
+there was silence again save only for the sound of the
+river.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span>
+</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span></p>
+<h2>CHAPTER II</h2>
+
+<h3>THE WOMEN AND&mdash;THE MEN</h3>
+
+
+<p>When Jim Denver told Lady Alice Conway that
+he was sane again, he spoke no more than the
+truth. A few weeks in France, and then a shattered
+arm had brought him back to England with more
+understanding than he had ever possessed before. He
+had gone out the ordinary Englishman&mdash;casual, sporting,
+easy going, somewhat apathetic; he had come
+back a thinker as well, at times almost a dreamer. It
+affects different men in different ways&mdash;but none escape.
+And that is what those others cannot understand&mdash;those
+others who have not been across.
+Even the man who comes back on short leave hardly
+grasps how the thing has changed him: hardly realises
+that the madness is still in his soul. He has not time;
+his leave is just an interlude. He is back again in
+France almost before he realises he has left it. In
+mind he has never left it.</p>
+
+<p>There is humour there in plenty&mdash;farce even; boredom,
+excitement, passion, hatred. Every human emotion
+runs its full gamut in the Land of Topsy Turvy;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span>
+in the place where the life of a man is no longer
+three-score years and ten, but just so long as the Great
+Reaper may decide and no more. And you are caught
+in the whirl&mdash;you are tossed here and there by a life
+of artificiality, a life not of one's own seeking, but a
+life which, having once caught you, you are loath to
+let go.</p>
+
+<p>Which is a hard saying, and one impossible of comprehension
+to those who wait behind&mdash;to the wives,
+to the mothers, to the women. To them the leave-train
+pulling slowly out of Victoria Station, with their
+man waving a last adieu from the carriage window,
+means the ringing down of the curtain once again.
+The unknown has swallowed him up&mdash;the unknown
+into which they cannot follow him. Be he in a Staff
+office at the base or with his battalion in the trenches,
+he has gone where the woman to whom he counts as
+all the world cannot even picture him in her mind. To
+her Flanders is Flanders and war is war&mdash;and there
+are casualty lists. What matter that his battalion is
+resting; what matter that he is going through a course
+somewhere at the back of beyond? He has gone into
+the Unknown; the whistle of the train steaming
+slowly out is the voice of the call-boy at the drop curtain.
+And now the train has passed out of sight&mdash;or
+is it only that her eyes are dim with the tears she kept
+back while he was with her?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>At last she turns and goes blindly back to the room
+where they had breakfast; she sees once more the
+chair he used, the crumpled morning paper, the discarded
+cigarette. And there let us leave her with
+tear-stained face and a pathetic little sodden handkerchief
+clutched in one hand. "O God! dear God! send
+him back to me." Our women do not show us this
+side very much when we are on leave; perhaps it is as
+well, for the ground on which we stand is holy....</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>And what of the man? The train is grinding
+through Herne Hill when he puts down his <i>Times</i> and
+catches sight of another man in his brigade also returning
+from leave.</p>
+
+<p>"Hullo, old man! What sort of a time have you
+had?"</p>
+
+<p>"Top-hole. How's yourself? Was that your memsahib
+at the station?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Dislike women at these partings as a general
+rule&mdash;but she's wonderful."</p>
+
+<p>"They're pulling the brigade out to rest, I hear."</p>
+
+<p>"So I believe. Anyway, I hope they've buried that
+dead Hun just in front of us. He was getting beyond
+a joke...."</p>
+
+<p>He is back in the life over the water again; there
+is nothing incongruous to him in his sequence of remarks;
+the time of his leave has been too short for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span>
+the contrast to strike him. In fact, the whirl of gaiety
+in which he has passed his seven days seems more
+unreal than his other life&mdash;than the dead German.
+And it is only when a man is wounded and comes
+home to get fit, when he idles away the day in the
+home of his fathers, with a rod or a gun to help him
+back to convalescence, when the soothing balm of
+utter peace and contentment creeps slowly through
+his veins, that he looks back on the past few months
+as a runner on a race just over. He has given of his
+best; he is ready to give of his best again; but at
+the moment he is exhausted; panting, but at rest
+For the time the madness has left him; he is sane.
+But it is only for the time....</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>He is able to think coherently; he is able to look
+on things in their proper perspective. He knows.
+The bits in the kaleidoscope begin to group coherently,
+to take definite form, and he views the picture from
+the standpoint of a rational man. To him the leave-train
+contains no illusions; the territory is not unknown.
+No longer does a dead Hun dwarf his horizon
+to the exclusion of all else. He has looked on the
+thing from close quarters; he has been mad with passion
+and shaking with fright; he has been cold and
+wet, he has been hot and thirsty. Like a blaze of
+tropical vegetation from which individual colours refuse<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span>
+to be separated, so does the jumble of his life in
+Flanders strike him as he looks back on it. Isolated
+occurrences seem unreal, hard to identify. The little
+things which then meant so much now seem so paltry;
+the things he hardly noticed now loom big. Above
+all, the grim absurdity of the whole thing strikes him;
+civilisation has at last been defined....</p>
+
+<p>He marvels that men can be such wonderful, such
+super-human fools; his philosophy changes. He recalls
+grimly the particular night on which he crept
+over a dirty ploughed field and scrambled into a shell-hole
+as he saw the thin green streak of a German
+flare like a bar of light against the blackness; then
+the burst&mdash;the ghostly light flooding the desolate landscape&mdash;the
+crack of a solitary rifle away to his left.
+And as the flare came slowly hissing down, a ball of
+fire, he saw the other occupant of his hiding-place&mdash;a
+man's leg, just that, nothing more. And he laughs;
+the thing is too absurd.</p>
+
+<p>It is; it is absurd; it is monstrous, farcical. The
+realisation has come to him; he is sane&mdash;for a time.</p>
+
+<p>Sane: but for how long? It varies with the type.
+There are some who love the game&mdash;who love it for
+itself alone. They sit on the steps of the War Office,
+and drive their C.O.'s mad: they pull strings both
+male and female, until the powers that be rise in their
+wrath, and consign them to perdition and&mdash;France.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>There are others who do not take it quite like that.
+They do not <i>want</i> to go back particularly&mdash;and if they
+were given an important job in England, a job for
+which they had special aptitude, in which they knew
+they were invaluable, they would take it without regret.
+But though they may not seek earnestly for France&mdash;neither
+do they seek for home. Their wants do not
+matter; their private interests do not count: it is only
+England to-day....</p>
+
+<p>And lastly there is a third class, the class to whom
+that accursed catch-phrase, "Doing his bit," means
+everything. There are some who consider they have
+done their bit&mdash;that they need do no more. They
+draw comparisons and become self-righteous. "Behold
+I am not as other men are," they murmur complacently;
+"have not I kept the home fires burning,
+and amassed money making munitions?" "I am doing
+my bit." "I have been out; I have been hit&mdash;and
+<i>he</i> has not. Why should I go again? I have done
+my bit." Well, friend, it may be as you say. But
+methinks there is only one question worth putting
+and answering to-day. Don't bother about having
+done your bit. Are you doing your <i>all</i>? Let us leave
+it at that.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span></p>
+<h2>CHAPTER III</h2>
+
+<h3>THE WOMAN AND THE MAN</h3>
+
+
+<p>"When's your board, Jim?" The flickering
+light of the fire lit up the old oak hall, playing
+on the face of the girl buried in an easy chair. Tea
+was over, and they were alone.</p>
+
+<p>"On Tuesday, dear," he answered gravely.</p>
+
+<p>"But you aren't fit, old man; you don't think you're
+fit yet, do you?" There was a note of anxiety in her
+voice.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm perfectly fit, Sybil," he said quietly&mdash;"perfectly
+fit, my dear."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you'll go back soon?" She looked at him
+with frightened eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Just as soon as they'll send me. I am going to
+ask the Board to pass me fit 'for General Service.'"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Jim!"&mdash;he hardly caught the whisper. "Oh,
+Jim! my man."</p>
+
+<p>"Well&mdash;&mdash;" he came over and knelt in front of her.</p>
+
+<p>"It makes me sick," she cried fiercely, "to think
+of you and Hugh and men like you&mdash;and then to
+think of all these other cowardly beasts. My dear,
+my dear&mdash;do you <i>want</i> to go back?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"At present, I don't. I'm utterly happy here with
+you, and the old peaceful country life. I'm afraid,
+Syb&mdash;I'm afraid of going on with it I'm afraid of
+its sapping my vitality&mdash;I'm afraid of never wanting
+to go back." His voice died away, and then suddenly
+he leant forward and kissed her on the mouth.</p>
+
+<p>"Come over here a moment," he stood up and drew
+her to him. "Come over here." With his arm round
+her shoulders he led her over to a great portrait in
+oils that hung against the wall, the portrait of a stern-faced
+soldier in the uniform of a forgotten century.
+To the girl the picture of her great-grandfather was
+not a thing of surpassing interest&mdash;she had seen it too
+often before. But she was a girl of understanding,
+and she realised that the soul of the man beside her
+was in the melting-pot; and, moreover, that she might
+make or mar the mould into which it must run. So in
+her wisdom she said nothing, and waited.</p>
+
+<p>"I want you to listen to me for a bit, Syb," he began
+after a while. "I'm not much of a fist at talking&mdash;especially
+on things I feel very deeply about. I can't
+track my people back like you can. The corresponding
+generation in my family to that old buster was a junior
+inkslinger in a small counting-house up North. And
+that junior inkslinger made good: you know what I'm
+worth to-day if the governor died."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>He started to pace restlessly up and down the hall,
+while the girl watched him quietly.</p>
+
+<p>"Then came this war and I went into it&mdash;not for
+any highfalutin motives, not because I longed to
+avenge Belgium&mdash;but simply because my pals were
+all soldiers or sailors, and it never occurred to me
+not to. In fact at first I was rather pleased with
+myself&mdash;I treated it as a joke more or less. The
+governor was inordinately proud of me; the mater
+had about twelve dozen photographs of me in uniform
+sent round the country to various bored and unwilling
+recipients; and lots of people combined to
+tell me what a damn fine fellow I was. Do you think
+he'd have thought so?" He stopped underneath the
+portrait and for a while gazed at the painted face with
+a smile.</p>
+
+<p>"That old blackguard up there&mdash;who lived every
+moment of his life&mdash;do you think he would have accounted
+that to me for credit? What would <i>he</i> say
+if he knew that in a crisis like this there are men
+who cloak perfect sight behind blue glasses; that there
+are men who have joined home defence units though
+they are perfectly fit to fight anywhere? And what
+would he say, Sybil, if he knew that a man, even
+though he'd done something, was now resting on his
+oars&mdash;content?"</p>
+
+<p>"Go on, dear!" The girl's eyes were shining now.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I'm coming to the point This morning the old
+dad started on the line of various fellows he knew
+whose sons hadn't been out yet; and he didn't see
+why I should go a second time&mdash;before they went.
+The business instinct to a certain extent, I suppose&mdash;the
+point of view of a business man. But would <i>he</i>
+understand that?" Again he nodded to the picture.</p>
+
+<p>"I think&mdash;&mdash;" She began to speak, and then fell
+silent.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! but would he, my dear? What of Hugh,
+of the Rabbit, of Torps? With them it was bred in
+the bone&mdash;with me it was not. For years I and mine
+have despised the soldier and the sailor: for years you
+and yours have despised the counting-house. And all
+that is changing. Over there the tinkers, the tailors,
+the merchants, are standing together with the old breed
+of soldier&mdash;the two lots are beginning to understand
+one another&mdash;to respect one another. You're learning
+from us, and we're learning from you, though <i>he</i>
+would never have believed that possible."</p>
+
+<p>Jim was standing very close to the girl, and his voice
+was low.</p>
+
+<p>"It's because I'm not very sure of one of the lessons
+I've learnt: it's because at times I do think it hard
+that others should not take their fair share that I must
+get back to that show quick&mdash;damn quick.</p>
+
+<p>"I want to be worthy of that old ancestor of yours<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span>&mdash;now
+that I'm going to marry one of his family. I
+know we're all mad&mdash;I know the world's mad; but,
+Syb, dear, you wouldn't have me sane, would you;
+not for ever? And I shall be if I stay here any
+longer...."</p>
+
+<p>"I understand, Jim," she answered, after a while.
+"I understand exactly. And I wouldn't have you
+sane, except just now for a little while. Because it's
+a glorious madness, and"&mdash;she put both her arms
+round his neck and kissed him passionately&mdash;"and I
+love you."</p>
+
+<p>Which was quite illogical and inconsequent&mdash;but
+there you are. What is not illogical and inconsequent
+nowadays?</p>
+
+<p>From which it will be seen that Jim Denver was
+not of the first of the three types which I have mentioned.
+He did not love the game for itself alone;
+my masters, there are not many who do. But there
+was no job in England in which he would prove invaluable:
+though there were many which with a little
+care he might have adorned beautifully.</p>
+
+<p>And just because there <i>is</i> blood in the counting-house,
+which only requires to be brought out to show
+itself, he knew that he must go back&mdash;he knew that
+it was his job.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>That wild enthusiasm which he had shared with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span>
+other subalterns in his battalion before they had been
+over the first time was lacking now; he was calmer&mdash;more
+evenly balanced. He had attained the courage
+of knowledge instead of the courage of ignorance.</p>
+
+<p>No longer did the men who waited to be fetched
+excuse him&mdash;even though he had "done his bit." No
+longer was it possible to shelter behind another man's
+failure, and plead for so-called equality of sacrifice.
+To him had come the meaning of tradition&mdash;that
+strange, nameless something which has kept regiments
+in a position, battered with shells, stunned with shock,
+gassed, brain reeling, mind gone, with nothing to hold
+them except that nameless something which says to
+them, "Hold on!" While other regiments, composed
+of men as brave, have not held. To him had come
+that quality which has sent men laughing and talking
+without a quaver to their death; that quality which
+causes men&mdash;eaten with fever, lonely, weary to death,
+thinking themselves forsaken even of God&mdash;to carry
+on the Empire's work in the uttermost corners of the
+globe, simply because it is their job.</p>
+
+<p>He had assimilated to a certain extent the ideas
+of that stern, dead soldier; he had visualised them;
+he had realised that the destinies of a country are not
+entrusted to all her children. Many are not worthy
+to handle them, which makes the glory for the few all
+the greater....<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+Winds of the world, give answer! They are whimpering<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">to and fro&mdash;</span><br />
+And what should they know of England, who only<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">England know?</span><br />
+The poor little street-bred people that vapour and fume<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">and brag,</span><br />
+They are lifting their heads in the stillness to yelp at<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">the English Flag.</span>
+</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="poem">
+Never the lotos closes, never the wild-fowl wake,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But a soul goes out on the East wind that died for</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">England's sake&mdash;</span><br />
+Man or woman or suckling, mother or bride or maid&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Because on the bones of the English the English flag is</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">stayed.</span>
+</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span></p>
+<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2>
+
+<h3>"THE REGIMENT"</h3>
+
+
+<p>On the Tuesday a board of doctors passed Jim
+Denver fit for General Service, having first
+given him the option of a month's home service if he
+liked. Two days after he turned up at the depôt of his
+regiment, where he found men in various stages of
+convalescence&mdash;light duty, ordinary duty at home,
+and fit to go out like himself. One or two he knew,
+and most of them he didn't. There were a few old
+regular officers and a large number of very new ones&mdash;who
+were being led in the way they should go.</p>
+
+<p>But there is little to tell of the time he spent waiting
+to go out. This is not a diary of his life&mdash;not even
+an account of it; it is merely an attempt to portray
+a state of mind&mdash;an outlook on life engendered by
+war, in a man whom war had caused to think for the
+first time.</p>
+
+<p>And so the only incidents which I propose to give
+of his time at the depôt is a short account of a smoking
+concert he attended and a conversation he had
+the following day with one Vane, a stockbroker. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span>
+two things taken individually meant but little: taken
+together&mdash;well, the humour was the humour of the
+Land of Topsy Turvy. A delicate humour, not to be
+appreciated by all: with subtle shades and delicate
+strands and bloody brutality woven together....</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>A sudden silence settled on the gymnasium; the
+man at the piano turned round so as to hear better;
+the soldiers sitting astride the horse ceased laughing
+and playing the fool.</p>
+
+<p>At a table at the end of the big room, seen dimly
+through the smoke-clouded atmosphere, sat a group
+of officers, while the regimental sergeant-major, supported
+by other great ones of the non-commissioned
+rank near by, presided over the proceedings.</p>
+
+<p>Occasionally a soldier-waiter passed behind the
+officers' chairs, armed with a business-like bottle and
+a box of dangerous-looking cigars; and unless he was
+watched carefully he was apt to replenish the liquid
+refreshment in a manner which suggested that he
+regarded soda as harmful in the extreme to the human
+system. Had he not received his instructions from
+that great man the regimental himself?</p>
+
+<p>For an hour and a half the smoking concert had
+been in progress; the Brothers Bimbo, those masterly
+knock-about comedians, had given their performance
+amid rapturous applause. In life the famous pair were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span>
+a machine-gun sergeant and a cook's mate; but on
+such gala occasions they became the buffoons of the
+regiment. They were the star comics: a position of
+great responsibility and not to be lightly thought of.
+An officer had given a couple of rag-time efforts; the
+melancholy corporal in C Company had obliged with
+a maundering tune of revolting sentimentality, and
+one of A Company scouts had given a so-called comic
+which caused the padre to keep his eyes fixed firmly
+on the floor, though at times his mouth twitched suspiciously,
+and made the colonel exclaim to his second
+in command in tones of heartfelt relief: "Thank
+Heavens, my wife couldn't come!" Knowing his
+commanding officer's wife the second in command
+agreed in no less heartfelt voice.</p>
+
+<p>But now a silence had settled on the great room:
+and all eyes were turned on the regimental sergeant-major,
+who was standing up behind the table on which
+the programme lay, and behind which he had risen
+every time a new performer had appeared during the
+evening, in order to introduce him to the assembly.
+There are many little rites and ceremonies in smoking
+concerts....</p>
+
+<p>This time, however, he did not inform the audience
+that Private MacPherson would now oblige&mdash;that is
+the mystic formula. He stood there, waiting for
+silence.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Non-commissioned officers and men"&mdash;his voice
+carried to every corner of the building&mdash;"I think
+you will all agree with me that we are very pleased
+to see Colonel Johnson and all our officers here with
+us to-night. It is our farewell concert in England:
+in a few days we shall all be going&mdash;somewhere; and
+it gives us all great pleasure to welcome the officers
+who are going to lead us when we get to that somewhere.
+Therefore I ask you all to fill up your glasses
+and drink to the health of Colonel Johnson and all our
+officers."</p>
+
+<p>A shuffling of feet; an abortive attempt on the part
+of the pianist to strike up "For he's a jolly good
+fellow" before his cue, an attempt which died horribly
+in its infancy under the baleful eye of the sergeant-major;
+a general creaking and grunting and
+then&mdash;muttered, shouted, whispered from a thousand
+throats&mdash;"Our Officers." The pianist started&mdash;right
+this time&mdash;and in a second the room was ringing with
+the well-known words. Cheers, thunderous cheers
+succeeded it, and through it all the officers sat silent
+and quiet. Most were new to the game; to them it was
+just an interesting evening; a few were old at it; a
+few, like Jim, had been across, and it was they who
+had a slight lump in their throats. It brought back
+memories&mdash;memories of other men, memories of similar
+scenes....<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>At last the cheering died away, only to burst out
+again with renewed vigour. The colonel was standing
+up, a slight smile playing round his lips, the glint of
+many things in his quiet grey eyes. To the second
+in command, a sterling soldier but one of little imagination,
+there came for the first time in his life the
+meaning of the phrase, "the windows of the soul."
+For in the eyes of the man who stood beside him he
+saw those things of which no man speaks; the things
+which words may kill.</p>
+
+<p>He saw understanding, affection, humour, pain; he
+saw the pride of possession struggling with the sorrow
+of future loss; he saw the desire to test his creation
+struggling with the fear that a first test always brings;
+he saw visions of glorious possibilities, and for a
+fleeting instant he saw the dreadful abyss of a hideous
+failure. Aye, for a few moments the second in command
+looked not through a glass darkly, but saw into
+the unplumbed depths of a man who had been weighed
+in the balance and not found wanting; a man who had
+faced responsibility and would face it again; a man
+of honour, a man of humour, a man who knew.</p>
+
+<p>"My lads," he began&mdash;and the quiet, well-modulated
+voice reached every man in the room just as clearly
+as the harsher voice of the previous speaker&mdash;"as the
+sergeant-major has just said, in a few days we shall
+be sailing for&mdash;somewhere. The bustle and fulness<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span>
+of your training life will be over; you will be confronted
+with the real thing. And though I do not
+want to mar the pleasure of this evening in any way
+or to introduce a serious tone to the proceedings, I
+do want to say just one or two things which may stick
+in your minds and, perhaps, on some occasion may
+help you. This war is not a joke; it is one of the
+most hideous and ghastly tragedies that have ever been
+foisted on the world; I have been there and I know.
+You are going to be called on to stand all sorts of
+discomfort and all sorts of boredom; there will be
+times when you'd give everything you possess to know
+that there was a picture-palace round the corner. You
+may not think so now, but remember my words when
+the time comes&mdash;remember, and stick it.</p>
+
+<p>"There will be times when there's a sinking in your
+stomach and a singing in your head; when men beside
+you are staring upwards with the stare that does not
+see; when the sergeant has taken it through the forehead
+and the nearest officer is choking up his life in
+the corner of the traverse. But&mdash;there's still your
+rifle; perhaps there's a machine-gun standing idle; anyway,
+remember my words then, and stick it.</p>
+
+<p>"Stick it, my lads, as those others have done before
+you. Stick it, for the credit of the regiment, for the
+glory of our name. Remember always that that glory<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span>
+lies in your hands, each one of you individually. And
+just as it is in the power of each one of you to tarnish
+it irreparably, so is it in the power of each one of you
+to keep it going undimmed. Each one of us counts,
+men"&mdash;his voice sank a little&mdash;"each one of us has
+to play the game. Not because we're afraid of being
+punished if we're found out, but because it <i>is</i> the
+game."</p>
+
+<p>He looked round the room slowly, almost searchingly,
+while the arc light spluttered and then burnt up
+again with a hiss.</p>
+
+<p>"The Regiment, my lads&mdash;the Regiment." His
+voice was tense with feeling. "It is only the Regiment
+that counts."</p>
+
+<p>He raised his glass, and the men stood up:</p>
+
+<p>"The Regiment."</p>
+
+<p>A woman sobbed somewhere in the body of the
+gym., and for a moment, so it seemed to Denver, the
+wings of Death flapped softly against the windows.
+For a moment only&mdash;and then:</p>
+
+<p>"Private Mulvaney will now oblige."</p>
+
+<p>Jim walked slowly home. He remembered just such
+another evening before his own battalion went out.
+Would those words of the Colonel have their effect:
+would some white-faced man stick it the better for the
+remembrance of that moment: would some machine-gun<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span>
+fired with trembling dying hands take its toll?
+Perhaps&mdash;who knows? The ideal of the soldier is
+there&mdash;the ideal towards which the New Armies are
+led. Thus the first incident....</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span></p>
+<h2>CHAPTER V</h2>
+
+<h3>THE CONTRAST</h3>
+
+
+<p>The following afternoon Denver, strolling back
+from the town, was hailed by a man in khaki,
+standing in the door of his house. He knew the man
+well, Vane, by name&mdash;had dined with him often in
+the days when he was in training himself. A quiet
+man, with a pleasant wife and two children. Vane
+was a stockbroker by trade: and just before Jim went
+out he had enlisted.</p>
+
+<p>"Come in and have a gargle. I've just got back on
+short leave." Vane came to the gate.</p>
+
+<p>"Good," Jim answered. "Mrs. Vane must be
+pleased." They strolled up the drive and in through
+the door. "You're looking very fit, old man. Flanders
+seems to suit you."</p>
+
+<p>"My dear fellow, it does. It's the goods. I never
+knew what living was before. The thought of that
+cursed office makes me tired&mdash;and once"&mdash;he shrugged
+his shoulders&mdash;"it filled my life. Say when."</p>
+
+<p>"Cheer oh!" They clinked glasses. "I thought
+you were taking a commission."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I am&mdash;very shortly. The colonel has recommended
+me for one, and I gather the powers that be
+approve. But in a way I'm sorry, you know. I've
+got a great pal in my section&mdash;who kept a whelk stall
+down in Whitechapel."</p>
+
+<p>"They're the sort," laughed Jim. "The Cockney
+takes some beating."</p>
+
+<p>"This bird's a flier. We had quite a cheery little
+show the other night, just him and me. About a week
+ago we were up in the trenches&mdash;bored stiff, and yet
+happy in a way, you know, when Master Boche started
+to register.<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> I suppose it was a new battery or something,
+but they were using crumps, not shrapnel. They
+weren't very big, but they were very close&mdash;and they
+got closer. You know that nasty droning noise, then
+the hell of an explosion&mdash;that great column of blackish
+yellow smoke, and the bits pinging through the air
+overhead."</p>
+
+<p>"I do," remarked Jim tersely.</p>
+
+<p>Vane laughed.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span> "Well, he got a bracket; the first one
+was fifty yards short of the trench, and the second
+was a hundred yards over. Then he started to come
+back&mdash;always in the same line; and the line passed
+straight through our bit of the trench.</p>
+
+<p>"''Ere, wot yer doing, you perishers? Sargint, go
+and stop 'em. Tell 'em I've been appointed purveyor
+of winkles to the Royal 'Ouse of the 'Un Emperor.'
+Our friend of the whelk stall was surveying the scene
+with intense disfavour. A great mass of smoke belched
+up from the ground twenty yards away, and he ducked
+instinctively. Then we waited&mdash;fifteen seconds about
+was the interval between shots. The men were a bit
+white about the gills&mdash;and, well the feeling in the pit
+of my tummy was what is known as wobbly. You
+know that feeling too?"</p>
+
+<p>"I do," remarked Jim even more tersely.</p>
+
+<p>Vane finished his drink. "Then it came, and we
+cowered. There was a roar like nothing on earth&mdash;the
+back of the trench collapsed, and the whole lot
+of us were buried. If the shell had been five yards
+short, it would have burst in the trench, and my whelk
+friend would have whelked no more."</p>
+
+<p>Vane laughed. "We emerged, plucking mud from
+our mouths, and cursed. The Hun apparently was
+satisfied and stopped. The only person who wasn't
+satisfied was the purveyor of winkles to the Royal<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span>
+'Ouse. He brooded through the day, but towards
+the evening he became more cheerful.</p>
+
+<p>"'Look 'ere,' he said to me, ''ave you ever killed
+a 'Un?'</p>
+
+<p>"'I think I did once,' I said. 'A fat man with a
+nasty face.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Oh! you 'ave, 'ave you? Well, wot abaht killing
+one to-night. If they thinks I'm going to stand that
+sort of thing, they're &mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; wrong.' The language
+was the language of Whitechapel, but the sentiments
+were the sentiments of even the most rabid
+purist of speech.</p>
+
+<p>"To cut a long story short, we went. And we were
+very lucky."</p>
+
+<p>"You bumped your face into 'em, did you?" asked
+Jim, interested.</p>
+
+<p>"We did. Man, it was a grand little scrap while it
+lasted, and it was the first one I'd had. It won't be
+the last."</p>
+
+<p>"Did you kill your men?"</p>
+
+<p>"Did we not? Welks brained his with the butt of
+his gun; and I did the trick with a bayonet." Vane
+became a little apologetic. "You know it was only my
+first, and I can't get it out of my mind." Then his
+eyes shone again. "To feel that steel go in&mdash;Good
+God! man&mdash;it was IT: it was...."</p>
+
+<p>Then came the interruption. "Dear," said a voice<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span>
+at the door, "the children are in bed; will you go up
+and say good night."... Thus the second incident....</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>As I said, taken separately the two incidents mean
+but little: taken together&mdash;there is humour: the whole
+humour of war.</p>
+
+<p>An itinerant fishmonger and a worthy stockbroker
+are inculcated with wonderful ideals in order to fit
+them for sallying forth at night and killing complete
+strangers. And they revel in it....</p>
+
+<p>The highest form of emotionalism on one hand: a
+hole in the ground full of bluebottles and smells on
+the other....</p>
+
+<p>War ... war in the twentieth century.</p>
+
+<p>But there is nothing incompatible in it: it is only
+strange when analysed in cold blood. And Jim Denver,
+as I have said, was sane again: while Vane, the
+stockbroker, was still mad.</p>
+
+<p>In fact, it is quite possible that the peculiar significance
+of the interruption in his story never struck him:
+that he never noticed the Contrast.</p>
+
+<p>And what is going to be the result of it all on the
+Vanes of England? "Once the office filled my life."
+No man can go to the land of Topsy Turvy and come
+back the same&mdash;for good or ill it will change him.
+Though the madness leave him and sanity return, it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span>
+will not be the same sanity. Will he ever be content
+to settle down again after&mdash;the lawyer, the stockbroker,
+the small clerk? Back to the old dull routine,
+the same old train in the morning, the same deadly
+office, the same old home each evening. It hardly applies
+to the Jim Denvers&mdash;the men of money: but what
+of the others?</p>
+
+<p>Will the scales have dropped from the eyes of the
+men who have really been through it? Shall we ever
+get back to the same old way? Heaven knows&mdash;but
+let us hope not. Anyway, it is all mere idle conjecture&mdash;and
+a digression to boot.</p>
+
+<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3>
+
+<div class="footnote">
+<a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a>
+<p>For the benefit of the uninitiated, let me explain that
+the process of registering consists of finding the exact
+range to a certain object from a particular gun or battery.
+To find this range it is necessary to obtain what is known
+as a bracket: <i>i.e.</i> one burst beyond the object, and one
+burst short. The range is then known to lie between
+these two: and by a little adjustment the exact distance
+can be found.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span></p>
+<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2>
+
+<h3>BLACK, WHITE, AND&mdash;GREY</h3>
+
+
+<p>Four weeks after his board Jim Denver once
+again found himself in France.</p>
+
+<p>Having reported his arrival, he sat down to await
+orders. Boulogne is not a wildly exhilarating place;
+though there is always the hotel where one may consume
+cocktails and potato chips, and hear strange
+truths about the war from people of great knowledge
+and understanding.</p>
+
+<p>Moreover&mdash;though this is by the way&mdash;in Boulogne
+you get the first sniff of that atmosphere which England
+lacks; that subtle, indefinable something which
+war <i>in</i> a country produces in the spirit of its people....</p>
+
+<p>Gone is the stout lady of doubtful charm engaged in
+mastering the fox-trot, what time a band wails dismally
+in an alcove; gone is the wild-eyed flapper who
+bumps madly up and down the roads on the carrier
+of a motor-cycle. It has an atmosphere of its own this
+fair land of France to-day. It is laughing through its
+tears, and the laughter has an ugly sound&mdash;for the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span>
+Huns. They will hear that laughter soon, and the
+sound will give them to think fearfully.</p>
+
+<p>But at the moment when Jim landed it was all very
+boring. The R.T.O. at Boulogne was bored; the
+A.S.C. officers at railhead were bored; the quartermaster
+guarding the regimental penates in a field west
+of Ypres was bored.</p>
+
+<p>"Cheer up, old son," Jim remarked, slapping the
+last-named worthy heavily on the back. "You look
+peevish."</p>
+
+<p>"Confound you," he gasped, when he'd recovered
+from choking. "This is my last bottle of whisky."</p>
+
+<p>"Where's the battalion?" laughed Denver.</p>
+
+<p>"Where d'you think? In a Turkish bath surrounded
+by beauteous houris?" the quartermaster snorted.
+"Still in the same damn mud-hole near Hooge."</p>
+
+<p>"Good! I'll trot along up shortly. You know, I'm
+beginning to be glad I came back. I didn't want to
+particularly, at first: I was enjoying myself at home&mdash;but
+I felt I ought to, and now&mdash;'pon my soul&mdash;&mdash; How
+are you, Jones?"</p>
+
+<p>A passing sergeant stopped and saluted. "Grand,
+sir. How's yourself? The boys will be glad you've
+come back."</p>
+
+<p>Denver stood chatting with him for a few moments
+and then rejoined the pessimistic quartermaster.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't rhapsodise," begged that worthy&mdash;"don't<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span>
+rhapsodise; eat your lunch. If you tell me it will be
+good to see your men again, I shall assault you with
+the remnants of the tinned lobster. I know it will be
+good&mdash;no less than fifteen officers have told me so in
+the last six weeks. But I don't care&mdash;it leaves me
+quite, quite cold. If you're in France, you pine for
+England; when you're in England, you pine for
+France; and I sit in this damn field and get giddy."</p>
+
+<p>Which might be described as to-day's great thought.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>Thus did Jim Denver come back to his regiment.
+Once again the life of the moles claimed him&mdash;the life
+of the underworld: that strange existence of which so
+much has been written, and so little has been really
+grasped by those who have not been there. A life of
+incredible dreariness&mdash;yet possessing a certain "grip"
+of its own. A life of peculiar contrasts&mdash;where the
+suddenness&mdash;the abruptness of things strikes a man
+forcibly: the extraordinary contrasts of black and
+white. Sometimes they stand out stark and menacing,
+gleaming and brilliant; more often do they merge into
+grey. But always are they there....</p>
+
+<p>As I said before, my object is not to give a diary of
+my hero's life. I am not concerned with his daily
+vegetation in his particular hole, with Hooge on his
+right front and a battered farm close to. Sleep, eat,
+read, look through a periscope and then repeat the performance.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span>
+Occasionally an aerial torpedo, frequently
+bombs, at all times pessimistic sappers desiring working
+parties. But it was very much the "grey" of trench
+life during the three days that Jim sat in the front line
+by the wood that is called "Railway."</p>
+
+<p>One episode is perhaps worthy of note. It was just
+one of those harmless little jests which give one an
+appetite for a hunk of bully washed down by a glass
+of tepid whisky and water. Now be it known to
+those who do not dabble in explosives, there are in
+the army two types of fuze which are used for firing
+charges. Each type is flexible, and about the thickness
+of a stout and well-nourished worm. Each, moreover,
+consists of an inner core which burns, protected
+by an outer covering&mdash;the idea being that on lighting
+one end a flame should pass along the burning inner
+core and explode in due course whatever is at the
+other end. There, however, their similarity ends; and
+their difference becomes so marked that the kindly
+powers that be have taken great precautions against
+the two being confused.</p>
+
+<p>The first of these fuzes is called Safety&mdash;and the
+outer covering is black. In this type the inner core
+burns quite slowly at the rate of two or three feet to
+the minute. This is the fuze which is used in the
+preparation of the jam-tin bomb: an instrument of
+destruction which has caused much amusement to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span>
+frivolous. A jam tin is taken and is filled with gun
+cotton, nails, and scraps of iron. Into the gun cotton
+is inserted a detonator; and into the detonator is
+inserted two inches of safety-fuze. The end of the
+safety-fuze is then lit, and the jam tin is presented
+to the Hun. It will readily be seen by those who are
+profound mathematicians, that if three feet of safety-fuze
+burn in a minute, two inches will burn in about
+three seconds&mdash;and three seconds is just long enough
+for the presentation ceremony. This in fact is the
+principal of all bombs both great and small.</p>
+
+<p>The second of these fuzes is called Instantaneous&mdash;and
+the outer covering is orange. In this type the
+inner core burns quite quickly, at the rate of some
+thirty yards to the second, or eighteen hundred times
+as fast as the first. Should, therefore, an unwary person
+place two inches of this second fuze in his jam tin
+by mistake, and light it, it will take exactly one-600th
+of a second before he gets to the motto. Which is
+"movement with a meaning quite its own."</p>
+
+<p>To Jim then came an idea. Why not with care and
+great cunning remove from the inner core of Instantaneous
+fuze its vulgar orange covering, and substitute
+instead a garb of sober black&mdash;and thus disguised
+present several bombs of great potency <i>unlighted</i>
+to the Hun.</p>
+
+<p>The afternoon before they left for the reserve<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span>
+trenches he staged his comedy in one act and an epilogue.
+A shower of bombs was propelled in the direction
+of the opposing cave-dwellers to the accompaniment
+of loud cries, cat calls, and other strange noises.
+The true artist never exaggerates, and quite half the
+bombs had genuine safety-fuze in them and were lit
+before being thrown. The remainder were not lit, it
+is perhaps superfluous to add.</p>
+
+<p>The lazy peace of the afternoon was rudely shattered
+for the Huns. Quite a number of genuine bombs
+had exploded dangerously near their trench&mdash;while
+some had even taken effect in the trench. Then they
+perceived several unlit ones lying about&mdash;evidently propelled
+by nervous men who had got rid of them before
+lighting them properly. And there was much
+laughter in that German trench as they decided to give
+the epilogue by lighting them and throwing them back.
+Shortly after a series of explosions, followed by howls
+and groans, announced the carrying out of that decision.
+And once again the Hymn of Hate came
+faintly through the drowsy stillness....</p>
+
+<p>Those are the little things which occasionally paint
+the grey with a dab of white; the prowls at night&mdash;the
+joys of the sniper who has just bagged a winner
+and won the bag of nuts&mdash;all help to keep the spirits
+up when the pattern of earth in your particular hole
+causes a rush of blood to the head.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Incidentally this little comedy was destined to be
+Jim Denver's last experience of the Hun at close quarters
+for many weeks to come. The grey settled down
+like a pall, to lift in the fulness of time, to <i>the</i> black
+and white day of his life. But for the present&mdash;peace.
+And yet only peace as far as he was concerned personally.
+That very night, close to him so that he saw
+it all, some other battalions had a chequered hour or
+so&mdash;which is all in the luck of the game. To-day it's
+the man over the road&mdash;to-morrow it's you....</p>
+
+<p>They occurred about 2 a.m.&mdash;the worries of the men
+over the road. Denver had moved to his other hole,
+courteously known as the reserve trenches, and there
+seated in his dug-out he discussed prospects generally
+with the Major. There were rumours that the division
+was moving from Ypres, and not returning
+there&mdash;a thought which would kindle hope in the most
+pessimistic.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you believe it," answered the Major gloomily.
+"Those rumours are an absolute frost."</p>
+
+<p>"Cheer up! cully, we'll soon be dead." Denver
+laughed. "Have some rum."</p>
+
+<p>He poured some out into a mug and passed the
+water. "Quiet to-night&mdash;isn't it? I was reading to-day
+that the Italians&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You aren't going to quote any war expert at me,
+are you?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Well&mdash;er&mdash;I was: why not?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because I have a blood-feud with war experts. I
+loathe and detest the breed. Before I came out here
+their reiterated statement made monthly that we should
+be on the Rhine by Tuesday fortnight was a real comfort.
+We always got to Tuesday fortnight&mdash;but we've
+never actually paddled in the bally river."</p>
+
+<p>"To err is human; to get paid for it is divine," murmured
+Jim.</p>
+
+<p>"Bah!" the Major filled his pipe aggressively.
+"What about the steam-roller, what about the Germans
+being reduced to incurable epileptics in the third
+line trenches&mdash;what about that drivelling ass who said
+the possession of heavy guns was a disadvantage to
+an army owing to their immobility?"</p>
+
+<p>"Have some more rum, sir?" remarked Jim soothingly.</p>
+
+<p>"But I could have stood all that&mdash;they were trifles."
+The Major was getting warmed up to it. "This is
+what finished me." He pulled a piece of paper out of
+his pocket. "Read that, my boy&mdash;read that and ponder."</p>
+
+<p>Jim took the paper and glanced at it.</p>
+
+<p>"I carry that as my talisman. In the event of my
+death I've given orders for it to be sent to the author."</p>
+
+<p>"But what's it all about?" asked Denver.</p>
+
+<p>"'At the risk of repeating myself, I wish again to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</a></span>
+asseverate what I drew especial attention to last week,
+and the week before, and the one before that; as a
+firm grasp of this essential fact is imperative to an undistorted
+view of the situation. Whatever minor facts
+may now or again crop up in this titanic conflict, we
+must not shut our eyes to the rules of war. They are
+unchangeable, immutable; the rules of Cćsar were the
+rules of Napoleon, and are in fact the rules that I
+myself have consistently laid down in these columns.
+They cannot change: this war will be decided by them
+as surely as night follows day; and those ignorant persons
+who are permitted to express their opinions elsewhere
+would do well to remember that simple fact.'"</p>
+
+<p>"What the devil is this essential fact?"</p>
+
+<p>"Would you like to know? I got to it after two
+columns like that."</p>
+
+<p>"What was it?" laughed Jim.</p>
+
+<p>"'An obstacle in an army's path is that which obstructs
+the path of the army in question.'"</p>
+
+<p>"After that&mdash;more rum." Jim solemnly decanted
+the liquid. "You deserve it. You...."</p>
+
+<p>"Stand to." A shout from the trench outside&mdash;repeated
+all along until it died away in the distance. The
+Major gulped his rum and dived for the door&mdash;while
+Jim groped for his cap. Suddenly out of the still
+night there came a burst of firing, sudden and furious.
+The firing was taken up all along the line, and then<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</a></span>
+the guns started and a rain of shrapnel came down behind
+the British lines.</p>
+
+<p>Away&mdash;a bit in front on the other side of the road
+to Jim's trench there were woods&mdash;woods of unenviable
+reputation. Hence the name of "Sanctuary."
+In the middle of them, on the road, lay the ruined
+château and village of Hooge&mdash;also of unenviable
+reputation.</p>
+
+<p>And towards these woods the eyes of all were
+turned.</p>
+
+<p>"What the devil is it?" shouted the man beside Jim.
+"Look at them lights in the trees."</p>
+
+<p>The devil it was. Dancing through the darkness of
+the trees were flames and flickering lights, like will-o'-the-wisps
+playing over an Irish bog. And men,
+looking at one another, muttered sullenly. They remembered
+the gas; what new devilry was this?</p>
+
+<p>Up in the woods things were moving. Hardly had
+the relieving regiments taken over their trenches, when
+from the ground in front there seemed to leap a wall
+of flame. It rushed towards them and, falling into the
+trenches and on to the men's clothes, burnt furiously
+like brandy round a plum pudding. The woods were
+full of hurrying figures dashing blindly about, cursing
+and raving. For a space pandemonium reigned. The
+Germans came on, and it looked as if there might be
+trouble. The regiments who had just been relieved<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span>
+came back, and after a while things straightened out
+a little. But our front trenches in those woods, when
+morning broke, were not where they had been the
+previous night....</p>
+
+<p>Liquid fire&mdash;yet one more invention of "Kultur";
+gas; the moat at Ypres poisoned with arsenic; crucifixion;
+burning death squirted from the black night&mdash;suddenly,
+without warning: truly a great array of Kultured
+triumphs.... And with it all&mdash;failure. To
+fight as a sportsman fights and lose has many compensations;
+to fight as the German fights and lose must
+be to taste of the dregs of hell.</p>
+
+<p>But that is how they <i>do</i> fight, whatever interesting
+surmises one may make of their motives and feelings.
+And that is how it goes on over the water&mdash;the funny
+mixture of the commonplace of everyday with the
+great crude, cruel realities of life and death.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>But as I said, for the next few weeks the grey screen
+cloaked those crude realities as far as Jim was concerned.
+Rumour for once had proved true; the division
+was pulled out, and his battalion found itself
+near Poperinghe.</p>
+
+<p>"Months of boredom punctuated by moments of intense
+fright" is a definition of war which undoubtedly
+Noah would have regarded as a chestnut. And I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span>
+should think it doubtful if there has ever been a war
+in which this definition was more correct.</p>
+
+<p>Jim route marched: he trained bombers: he dined
+in Poperinghe and went to the Follies. Also, he allowed
+other men to talk to him of their plans for leave:
+than which no more beautiful form of unselfishness is
+laid down anywhere in the Law or the Prophets.</p>
+
+<p>On the whole the time did not drag. There is much
+of interest for those who have eyes to see in that country
+which fringes the Cock Pit of Europe. Hacking
+round quietly most afternoons on a horse borrowed
+from someone, the spirit of the land got into him, that
+blood-soaked, quiet, uncomplaining country, whose
+soul rises unconquerable from the battered ruins.</p>
+
+<p>Horses exercising, lorries crashing and lurching over
+the pavé roads. G.S. wagons at the walk, staff motors&mdash;all
+the necessary wherewithal to preserve the safety
+of the mud holes up in front&mdash;came and went in a
+ceaseless procession; while every now and then a local
+cart with mattresses and bedsteads, tables and crockery,
+tied on perilously with bits of string, would come
+creaking past&mdash;going into the unknown, leaving the
+home of years.</p>
+
+<p>Ypres, that tragic charnel house, with the great
+jagged holes torn out of the pavé; with the few remaining
+walls of the Cathedral and Cloth Hall cracked
+and leaning outwards; with the strange symbolical<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</a></span>
+touch of the black hearse which stood untouched in
+one of the arches. Rats everywhere, in the sewers and
+broken walls; in the crumbling belfry above birds,
+cawing discordantly. The statue of the old gentleman
+which used to stand serene and calm amidst the wreckage,
+now lay broken on its face. But the stench was
+gone&mdash;the dreadful stench of death which had clothed
+it during the second battle; it was just a dead town&mdash;dead
+and decently buried in great heaps of broken
+brick....</p>
+
+<p>Vlamertinghe, with the little plot of wooden crosses
+by the cross roads; Elverdinghe, where the gas first
+came, and the organ pipes lay twisted in the wreckage
+of the unroofed church; where the long row of French
+graves rest against the château wall, graves covered
+with long grass&mdash;each with an empty bottle upside
+down at their head.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+And when Thyself with shining Foot shall pass<br />
+Among the Guests star-scatter'd on the Grass,<br />
+... turn down an empty Glass.<br />
+</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>And in the family archives are some excellent reproductions&mdash;not
+photographs of course, for the penalty
+for carrying a camera is death at dawn&mdash;of ruined
+churches and shell-battered châteaux. Perhaps the
+most interesting one, at any rate the most human, is a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[284]</a></span>
+"reproduction" of a group of cavalry men. They had
+been digging in a little village a mile behind the firing-line&mdash;a
+village battered and dead from which the inhabitants
+had long since fled. Working in the garden
+of the local doctor, they were digging a trench which
+ran back to the cellar of the house, when on the scene
+of operations had suddenly appeared the doctor himself.
+By signs he possessed himself of a shovel, and,
+pacing five steps from the kitchen door and three from
+the tomato frame, he too started to dig.</p>
+
+<p>"His wife's portrait, probably," confided the cavalry
+officer to Jim, as they watched the proceeding. "Or
+possibly an urn with her ashes."</p>
+
+<p>It was a sergeant who first gave a choking cry and
+fainted; he was nearest the hole.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," remarked Jim, "he's found the urn."</p>
+
+<p>With frozen stares they watched the last of twelve
+dozen of light beer go into the doctor's cart. With
+pallid lips the officer saw three dozen of good champagne
+snatched from under his nose.</p>
+
+<p>"Heavens! man," he croaked, "it was <i>dry</i> too. If
+our trench had been a yard that way...." He leant
+heavily on his stick, and groaned.</p>
+
+<p>The moment was undoubtedly pregnant with emotion.</p>
+
+<p>"'E'ad a nasty face, that man&mdash;a nasty face. Oh,
+'orrible."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[285]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Hushed voices came from the group of leaners. The
+"reproduction" depicts the psychological moment when
+the doctor with a joyous wave of the hand wished them
+"<i>Bonjour, messieurs,</i>" and drove off.</p>
+
+<p>"Not one&mdash;not one ruddy bottle&mdash;not the smell of a
+perishing cork. Stung!"</p>
+
+<p>But Jim had left.</p>
+
+<p>Which very silly and frivolous story is topsy-turvy
+land up to date, or at any rate typical of a large bit
+of it.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[286]</a></span>
+</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[287]</a></span></p>
+<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2>
+
+<h3>ARCHIE AND OTHERS</h3>
+
+
+<p>However, to be serious. It was as he came
+away from this scene of alarm and despondency
+that Jim met an old pal who boasted the gunner badge,
+and whom conversation revealed as the proud owner
+of an Archie, or anti-aircraft gun. And as the salient
+is perhaps more fruitful in aeroplanes than any other
+part of the line, and the time approached five o'clock
+(which is generally the hour of their afternoon activity),
+Jim went to see the fun.</p>
+
+<p>In front, an observing biplane buzzed slowly to and
+fro, watching the effect of a mother<a name="FNanchor_1_2" id="FNanchor_1_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_2" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> shooting at some
+mark behind the German lines. With the gun concealed
+in the trees, a gunner subaltern altered his range
+and direction as each curt wireless message flashed
+from the 'plane. "Lengthen 200&mdash;half a degree left."
+And so on till they got it. Occasionally, with a vicious
+crack, a German anti-aircraft shell would explode in
+the air above in a futile endeavour to reach the observer,
+and a great mass of acrid yellow or black fumes
+would disperse slowly. Various machines, each intent
+on its own job, rushed to and fro, and in the distance,
+like a speck in the sky,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[288]</a></span> a German monoplane was
+travelling rapidly back over its own lines, having finished
+its reconnaissance.</p>
+
+<p>Behind it, like the wake of a steamer, little dabs of
+white plastered the blue sky. English shrapnel bursting
+from other anti-aircraft guns. Jim's gunner friend
+seemed to know most of them by name, as old pals
+whom he had watched for many a week on the same
+errand; and from him Jim gathered that the moment
+approached for the appearance of Panting Lizzie. Lizzie,
+apparently, was a fast armoured German biplane
+which came over his gun every fine evening about the
+same hour. For days and weeks had he fired at it,
+so far without any success, but he still had hopes. The
+gun was ready, cocked wickedly upon its motor mounting,
+covered with branches and daubed with strange
+blotches of paint to make it less conspicuous. Round
+the motor itself the detachment consumed tea, a terrier
+sat up and begged, a goat of fearsome aspect
+looked pensive. In front, in a chair, his eye glued to
+a telescope on a tripod, sat the look-out man.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>It was just as Jim and his pal were getting down
+to a whisky and soda that Lizzie hove in sight. The
+terrier ceased to beg, the goat departed hurriedly, the
+officer spoke rapidly in a language incomprehensible
+to Jim, and the fun began. There are few things so<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[289]</a></span>
+trying to listen to as an Archie, owing to the rapidity
+with which it fires; the gun pumps up and down with
+a series of sharp cracks, every two or three shots being
+followed by more incomprehensible language from
+the officer. Adjustment after each shot is impossible
+owing to the fact that three or four shells have left
+the gun and are on their way before the first one explodes.
+It was while Jim, with his fingers in his ears,
+was watching the shells bursting round the aeroplane
+and marvelling that nothing seemed to happen, that
+he suddenly realised that the gun had stopped firing.
+Looking at the detachment, he saw them all gazing
+upwards. From high up, sounding strangely faint in
+the air, came the zipping of a Maxim.</p>
+
+<p>"By Gad!" muttered the gunner officer; "this is going
+to be some fight."</p>
+
+<p>Bearing down on Panting Lizzie came a British armoured
+'plane, and from it the Maxim was spitting.
+And now there started a very pretty air duel. I am no
+airman, to tell of spirals, and glides, and the multifarious
+twistings and turnings. At times the German's
+Maxim got going as well; at times both were
+silent, man&oelig;uvring for position. The Archies were
+not firing&mdash;the machines were too close together. Once
+the German seemed to drop like a stone for a thousand
+feet or so. "Got him!" shouted Jim&mdash;but the gunner
+shook his head.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[290]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"A common trick," he answered. "He found it getting
+a bit warm, and that upsets one's range. You'll
+find he'll be off now."</p>
+
+<p>Sure enough he was&mdash;with his nose for home he
+turned tail and fled. The gunner shouted an order,
+and they opened fire again, while the British 'plane
+pursued, its Maxim going continuously. Generally
+honour is satisfied without the shedding of blood; each,
+having consistently missed the other and resisted the
+temptations of flying low over his opponents' guns,
+returns home to dinner. But in this case&mdash;well,
+whether it was Archie or whether it was the Maxim
+is really immaterial. Suddenly a great sheet of flame
+seemed to leap from the German machine and a puff
+of black smoke: it staggered like a shot bird and then,
+without warning, it fell&mdash;a streak of light, like some
+giant shooting star rushing to the earth. The Maxim
+stopped firing, and after circling round a couple of
+times the British machine buzzed contentedly back to
+bed. And in a field&mdash;somewhere behind our lines&mdash;there
+lay for many a day, deep embedded in a hole in
+the ground, the battered remnants of Panting Lizzie,
+with its great black cross stuck out of the earth for
+all to see. Somewhere in the débris, crushed and mangled
+beyond recognition, could have been found the
+remnants of two German airmen. Which might be
+called the black and white of the overworld.</p>
+
+<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3>
+<div class="footnote">
+<a name="Footnote_1_2" id="Footnote_1_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_2"><span class="label">[1]</span></a>
+<p>9ˇ2" Howitzer.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[291]</a></span></p>
+<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2>
+
+<h3>ON THE STAFF</h3>
+
+
+<p>But now rumour was getting busy in earnest&mdash;things
+were in the air. There were talks of a
+great offensive&mdash;and although there be rumour in England,
+though bucolic stationmasters have brushed the
+snow from the steppes of Russia out of railway carriages,
+I have no hesitation in saying that for quality
+and quantity the rumours that float round the army in
+France have de Rougemont beat to a frazzle. In this
+case expectations were fulfilled, and two or three days
+after the decease of Panting Lizzie, Jim and his battalion
+shook the dust of the Ypres district from their
+feet and moved away south.</p>
+
+<p>It was then that our hero raised his third star.
+Shades of Wellington! A captain in a year. But I
+make no comment. A sense of humour, invaluable at
+all times, is indispensable in this war, if one wishes to
+preserve an unimpaired digestion.</p>
+
+<p>But another thing happened to him, too, about this
+time, for, owing to the sudden sickness of a member
+of his General's Staff, he found himself attached temporarily<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[292]</a></span>
+for duty. No longer did he flat foot it, but
+in a large and commodious motor-car he viewed life
+from a different standpoint. And, solely owing to
+this temporary appointment, he was able to see the
+launching of the attack near Loos at the end of September.
+He saw the wall of gas and smoke roll slowly
+forward towards the German trenches over the wide
+space that separated the trenches in that part of the
+line. Great belching explosions seemed to shatter the
+vapour periodically, as German shells exploded in it,
+causing it to rise in swirling eddies, as from some
+monstrous cauldron, only to sink sullenly back and roll
+on. And behind it came the assaulting battalions, lines
+of black pigmies charging forward.</p>
+
+<p>And later he heard of the Scotsmen who chased the
+flying Huns like terriers after rats, grunting, cursing,
+swearing, down the gentle slope past Loos and up the
+other side; on to Hill 70, where they swayed backwards
+and forwards over the top, while some with the
+lust of killing on them fought their way into the town
+beyond&mdash;and did not return. He heard of the battery
+that blazed over open sights at the Germans during
+the morning, till, running out of ammunition, the guns
+ceased fire, a mark to every German rifle. The battery
+remained there during the day, for there was not cover
+for a terrier, let alone a team of horses, and between
+the guns were many strange tableaux as Death claimed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[293]</a></span>
+his toll. They got them away that night, but not before
+the gunners had taken back the breech-blocks&mdash;in
+case; for it was touch and go.</p>
+
+<p>But this attack has already been described too often,
+and so I will say no more. I would rather write of
+those things which happened to Jim Denver himself,
+before he left the Land of Topsy Turvy for the second
+time. Only I venture to think that when the full
+story comes to be written&mdash;if ever&mdash;of that last week
+in September, or the surging forward past Loos and
+the Lone Tree to Hulluch and the top of 70, of the
+cavalry who waited for the chance that never came,
+and the German machine-guns hidden in the slag-heaps,
+the reading will be interesting. What happened
+would fill a book; what might have happened&mdash;a library.</p>
+
+<p>It was a couple of days afterwards that he saw his
+first big batch of German prisoners. Five or six miles
+behind the firing-line in a great grass field, fenced in on
+all sides by barbed wire, was a batch of some seven
+hundred&mdash;almost all of them Prussians and Jägers.
+Munching food contentedly, they sat in rows on the
+ground; their dirty grey uniforms coated with dust and
+mud&mdash;unwashed, unshaven, and&mdash;well, if you are contemplating
+German prisoners, get "up wind." All
+around the field Tommies stood and gazed, now and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[294]</a></span>
+again offering them cigarettes. A few prisoners who
+could speak English got up and talked.</p>
+
+<p>It struck Jim Denver then that he viewed these men
+with no antipathy; he merely gazed at them curiously
+as one gazes at animals in a "Zoo." And as we English
+are ever prone to such views, and as the Hymn
+of Hate and like effusions are regarded, and rightly
+so, as occasions for mirth, it was perhaps as well for
+Jim to realise the other point of view. There are two
+sides to every question, and the Germans believe in
+their hate just as we believe in our laughter. But
+when it is over, it will be unfortunate if we forget the
+hate too quickly.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>"What a nation we are!" said a voice beside Jim.
+He turned round and found a doctor watching the
+scene with a peculiar look in his eyes. "Suppose it
+had been the other way round! Suppose those were
+our men while the Germans were the captors! Do you
+think the scene would be like this?" His face twisted
+into a bitter smile. "There would have been armed
+soldiers walking up and down the ranks, kicking men
+in the stomach, hitting them on the head with rifle
+butts, tearing bandages off wounds&mdash;just for the fun
+of the thing. Sharing food!"&mdash;he laughed contemptuously&mdash;"why,
+they'd have been starving. Giving 'em<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[295]</a></span>
+cigarettes!&mdash;why, they'd have taken away what they
+had already."</p>
+
+<p>He turned and looked up the road. Walking down
+it were thirty or so German officers. From the button
+in the centre of their jackets hung in nearly every case
+the ribbon of the Iron Cross. Laughing, talking&mdash;one
+or two sneering&mdash;they came along and halted by the
+gate into the field. They had been questioned, and
+were waiting to be marched off with the men. A hundred
+yards or so away the cavalry escort was forming
+up.</p>
+
+<p>"Man," cried the doctor, suddenly gripping Jim's
+arm in a vice, "it's wicked!" In his eyes there was
+an ugly look. "Look at those swine&mdash;all toddling off
+to Donington Hall&mdash;happy as you like. And think of
+the other side of the picture. Stuck with bayonets, hit,
+brutally treated, half-starved, thrown into cattle trucks.
+Good Heaven! it's horrible."</p>
+
+<p>"We're not the sort to go in for retribution," said
+Jim, after a moment. "After all&mdash;oh! I don't know&mdash;but
+it's not quite cricket, is it? Just because they're
+swine...?"</p>
+
+<p>"Cricket!" the other snorted. "You make me tired.
+I tell you I'm sick to death of our kid-glove methods.
+No retribution! I suppose if a buck nigger hit your pal
+over the head with a club you'd give him a tract on
+charity and meekness. What would our ranting pedagogues<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[296]</a></span>
+say if their own sons had been crucified by the
+Germans as some of our wounded have been? You
+think I'm bitter?" He looked at Jim. "I am. You
+see, I was a prisoner myself until a few weeks ago."
+He turned and strolled away down the road....</p>
+
+<p>And now the escort was ready. An order shouted
+in the field, and the men got up, falling in in some
+semblance of fours. Slowly they filed through the
+gate and, with their own officers in front, the cortčge
+started. Led by an English cavalry subaltern, with
+troopers at four or five horses' lengths alongside&mdash;some
+with swords drawn, the others with rifles&mdash;the
+procession moved sullenly off. A throng of English
+soldiers gazed curiously at them as they passed by;
+small urchins ran in impudently making faces at them.
+And in the doors of the houses dark-haired, grim-faced
+women watched them pass with lowering brows....</p>
+
+<p>A mixture, those prisoners&mdash;a strange mixture.
+Some with the faces of educated men, some with the
+faces of beasts; some men in the prime of life, some
+mere boys; slouching, squelching through the mud with
+the vacant eyes that the Prussian military system seems
+to give to its soldiers. The look of a man who has no
+vestige of imagination or initiative; the look of a
+stoical automaton; callous, boorish, sottish as befits
+a man who willingly or unwillingly has sold himself
+body and soul to a system.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[297]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>And as they wind through the mining villages on
+their way to a railhead, these same grim-faced French
+women watch them as they go by. They do not see
+the offspring of a system; they only see a group of
+beast-men&mdash;the men whose brothers have killed their
+husbands. After all, has not Madame got in her house
+a refugee&mdash;her cousin&mdash;whose screams even now ring
+out at night...?</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>For a few days more Jim stayed on with the general.
+Their feeding-place was a little café on the main
+road to Lens. There each morning might our hero
+have been found, in a filthy little back room, drinking
+coffee out of a thick mug, with an omelette cooked to
+perfection on his plate. Never was there such dirt
+in any room; never a household so prolific of children.
+Every window was smashed; the back garden one
+huge shell hole; but, absolutely unperturbed by such
+trifles, that stout, good-hearted Frenchwoman pursued
+her sturdy way. She had had the Boches there&mdash;"mais
+oui"&mdash;but what matter? They did not stay
+long. "Une omelette, monsieur; du café? Certainement,
+monsieur. Toute de suite."</p>
+
+<p>It might have been in a different world from Ypres
+and Poperinghe&mdash;instead of only twenty miles to the
+south. Gone were the flat, cultivated fields; great slag-heaps
+and smoking chimneys were everywhere. And<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[298]</a></span>
+in spite of the fact that active operations were in
+progress, there seemed to be no more gunning than
+the normal daily contribution at Lizerne, Boesinge, and
+Jim's old friend and first love, Hooge. Aeroplanes,
+too, seemed scarcer. True, one morning, standing in
+the road outside the café, he saw for the first time a
+fleet of 'planes starting out on a raid. Now one and
+then another would disappear behind a fleecy white
+cloud, only to reappear a few moments later glinting
+in the rays of the morning sun, until at length the
+whole fleet, in dressing and order like a flight of geese,
+their wings tipped with fire, moved over the blue vault
+of heaven. The drone of their engines came faintly
+from a great height, until, as if at some spoken word
+from the leader, the whole swung half-right and vanished
+into a bank of clouds.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[299]</a></span></p>
+<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2>
+
+<h3>NO ANSWER</h3>
+
+
+<p>But the grey period for Jim was drawing to a
+close. To-day it's the man over the road that
+tops the bill; to-morrow it's you, as I said before: and
+a change of caste was imminent in our friend's performance.
+One does not seek these things&mdash;they occur;
+and then they're over, and one waits for the next.
+There is no programme laid down, no book of the
+words printed. Things just happen&mdash;sometimes they
+lead to a near acquaintance with iodine, and a kind
+woman in a grey dress who takes your temperature
+and washes your face; and at others to a dinner with
+much good wine where the laughter is merry and the
+revelry great. Of course there are many other alternatives:
+you may never reach the hospital&mdash;you may
+never get the dinner; you may get a cold in the nose,
+and go to the Riviera&mdash;or you may get a bad corn and
+get blood-poisoning from using a rusty jack knife to
+operate. The caprice of the spirit of Topsy Turvy is
+quite wonderful.</p>
+
+<p>For instance, on the very morning that the Staff
+Officer came back to his job, and Jim returned to his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[300]</a></span>
+battalion, his company commander asked him to go
+to a general bomb store in a house just up the road,
+and see that the men who were working there were
+getting on all right. The regiment was for the support
+trenches that night, and preparing bombs was the
+order of the day.</p>
+
+<p>Just as he started to go, a message arrived that the
+C.O. wished to see him. So the company commander
+went instead; and entered the building just as a German
+shell came in by another door. By all known laws
+a man going over Niagara in an open tub would not
+willingly have changed places with him; an 8-inch shell
+exploding in the same room with you is apt to be a
+decisive moment in your career.</p>
+
+<p>But long after the noise and the building had subsided,
+and from high up in the air had come a fusillade
+of small explosions and little puffs of smoke, where
+the bombs hurled up from the cellar went off in turn&mdash;Jim
+perceived his captain coming down the road. He
+had been hurled through the wall as it came down,
+across the road, and had landed intact on a manure
+heap. And it was only when he hit the colonel a stunning
+blow over the head with a French loaf at lunch
+time that they found out he was temporarily as mad as
+a hatter. So they got him away in an ambulance and
+Jim took over the company. As I say&mdash;things just
+happen.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[301]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>That night they moved up into support trenches&mdash;up
+that dirty, muddy road with the cryptic notices posted
+at various places: "Do not loiter here," "This cross-road
+is dangerous," "Shelled frequently," etc. And at
+length they came to the rise which overlooks Loos and
+found they were to live in the original German front
+line&mdash;now our support trench. They were for the
+front line in the near future&mdash;but at present their job
+was work on this support trench and clearing up the
+battlefield near them.</p>
+
+<p>Now this war is an impersonal sort of thing taking
+it all the way round. Those who stand in front
+trenches and blaze away at advancing Huns are not, I
+think, actuated by personal fury against the men they
+kill. You may pick out a fat one perhaps with a red
+beard and feel a little satisfaction when you kill him
+because his face offends you, but you don't really feel
+any individual animosity towards him. One gets so
+used to death on a large scale that it almost ceases to
+affect one. An isolated man lying dead and twisted
+by the road, where one doesn't expect to find him,
+moves one infinitely more than a wholesale slaughter.
+The thing is too vast, too overpowering for a man's
+brain to realise.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>But of all the things which one may be called on to
+do, the clearing of a battlefield after an advance brings<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[302]</a></span>
+home most poignantly the tragedy of war. You see
+the individual then, not the mass. Every silent figure
+lying sprawled in fantastic attitude, every huddled
+group, every distorted face tells a story.</p>
+
+<p>Here is an R.A.M.C. orderly crouching over a man
+lying on a stretcher. The man had been wounded&mdash;a
+splint is on his leg, while the dressing is still in the
+orderly's hand. Then just as the orderly was at work,
+the end came for both in a shrapnel shell, and the
+tableau remains, horribly, terribly like a tableau at
+some amateur theatricals.</p>
+
+<p>Here are a group of men caught by the fire of the
+machine-gun in the corner, to which even now a dead
+Hun is chained&mdash;riddled, unrecognisable.</p>
+
+<p>Here is an officer lying on his back, his knees doubled
+up, a revolver gripped in one hand, a weighted stick in
+the other. His face is black, so death was instantaneous.
+Out of the officer's pocket a letter protrudes&mdash;a
+letter to his wife. Perhaps he anticipated death
+before he started, for it was written the night before
+the advance&mdash;who knows?</p>
+
+<p>And it is when, in the soft half-light of the moon,
+one walks among these silent remnants, and no sound
+breaks the stillness save the noise of the shovels where
+men are digging their graves; when the guns are silent
+and only an occasional burst of rifle fire comes from
+away in front, where the great green flares go silently<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[303]</a></span>
+up into the night, that for a moment the human side
+comes home to one. One realises that though monster
+guns and minenwerfer and strange scientific devices be
+the paper money of this war, now as ever the standard
+coinage&mdash;the bed-rock gold of barter&mdash;is still man's
+life. The guns count much&mdash;but the man counts more.</p>
+
+<p>Take out his letter carefully&mdash;it will be posted later.
+Scratch him a grave, there's work to be done&mdash;much
+work, so hurry. His name has been sent in to headquarters&mdash;there's
+no time to waste. Easy, lads, easy&mdash;that's
+right&mdash;cover him up. A party of you over
+there and get on with that horse&mdash;<i>there's no time to
+waste</i>....</p>
+
+<p>But somewhere in England a telegraph boy comes
+whistling up the drive, and the woman catches her
+breath. With fingers that tremble she takes the buff
+envelope&mdash;with fearful eyes she opens the flimsy paper.
+Superbly she draws herself up&mdash;"There is no answer...."</p>
+
+<p>Lady, you are right. There is no answer, no answer
+this side of the Great Divide. Just now&mdash;with your
+aching eyes fixed on <i>his</i> chair you face your God, and
+ask Why? He knows, dear woman, He knows, and
+in time it will all be clear&mdash;the why and the wherefore.
+Surely it must be so.</p>
+
+<p>But just now it's Hell, isn't it? You know so little:
+you couldn't help him at the end; he had to go into<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[304]</a></span>
+the Deep Waters alone. With the shrapnel screaming
+overhead he lies at peace, while above him it still goes
+on&mdash;the work of life and death: the work that brooks
+no delay. He is part of the Price....</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[305]</a></span></p>
+<h2>CHAPTER X</h2>
+
+<h3>THE MADNESS</h3>
+
+
+<p>All the next day the battalion worked on the
+trenches. To men used to the water and slush
+of Ypres they came as a revelation&mdash;the trenches and
+dug-outs in the chalk district. Great caves had been
+hollowed out of the ground under the barbed wire in
+front, with two narrow shafts sloping steeply down
+from the trench to each, so small and narrow that you
+must crawl on hands and knees to get in or out. And
+up these shafts they hauled and pushed the dead Germans.
+Caught like rats, they had been gassed and
+bombed before they could get out, though some few
+had managed to crawl up after the assaulting battalions
+had passed over and to open fire on the supporting
+ones as they came up. Jim and his men threw
+them out to be buried at night, and they confined their
+attention during the day to building up the trenches
+and shifting the parapet round. German sandbags
+look like an assortment out of a cheap village draper's&mdash;pink
+and black and every kind of colour, but they
+hold earth, which is the main point. So with due care<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[306]</a></span>
+the battalion patted them into shape again and then
+took a little sleep.</p>
+
+<p>That night they moved on again. Now the first
+trench which they had occupied had been behind Loos,
+and there our new line was a mile away to their front
+on the side of a hill. The place they were now bound
+for was nothing like so peaceful. It was that part of
+the original German front where their old line marked
+the limit of our advance. We had not pushed on beyond
+it, and the fighting was continuous and bloody.</p>
+
+<p>Now without going into details, perhaps a few
+words of explanation might not be amiss. To many
+who may read them, they will seem as extracts from
+the "Child's Guide to Knowledge," or reminiscent of
+those great truths one learned at one's nurse's knee.
+But to some, who know nothing about it, they may
+be of use.</p>
+
+<p>When one occupies the German front line and the
+Hun has been driven into his second, the communication
+trenches which ran between are still there. The
+trenches which used to run to their rear now run to
+your front and are a link between you and the enemy.
+And as somewhat naturally their knowledge of the
+position is accurate and yours is sketchy, the situation
+is not all it might be. Moreover, as no communication
+trenches exist between the two old front lines&mdash;over
+what was No-man's-land&mdash;any reserves must come<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[307]</a></span>
+across the open, and should it be necessary to retire,
+a contingency which must always be faced, the retreat
+must be across the open as well.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>But when you're in a German redoubt, where the
+trenches would have put a maze to shame, the work of
+consolidating the position is urgent and difficult. Communication
+trenches to your front have to be reconnoitred
+and partially filled in; wire put up; Maxims
+arranged to shoot down straight lengths of trench; new
+trenches dug to the rear. Which is all right if the
+enemy is half a mile away, but when the distance is
+twenty yards, when without cessation he bombs you
+from unexpected quarters, your temper gets frayed.</p>
+
+<p>This type of fighting ceases to be impersonal. No
+longer do you throw bombs mechanically from one
+trench to another. No longer do you have no actual
+animosity against the men over the way. You understand
+the feelings of the guard when their German
+prisoners laughed on seeing men gassed&mdash;earlier in
+the war. And you realise that when a man's blood is
+up, you might just as well preach on the wickedness
+of retribution as request a man-eating tiger to postpone
+his dinner. The joy of killing a man you hate is
+wonderful; the unfortunate thing is that in these days,
+when far from leading to the hangman, it frequently<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[308]</a></span>
+leads to much kudos and a medal, so few of us have
+ever really had the opportunity....</p>
+
+<p>In the place where Jim found himself it was at such
+close quarters that bombs were the only possible
+weapon. For two days and two nights it went on.
+Little parties of Germans surged up unexpected openings,
+sometimes establishing themselves, sometimes
+fighting hand-to-hand in wet, sticky chalk. Then, unless
+they were driven out&mdash;bombers to the fore again:
+a series of sharp explosions, a dash round a traverse,
+a grunting, snarling set-to in the dark, and all would
+be over one way or the other.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>Then one morning Jim's company got driven out
+of a forward piece of the trench they were holding.
+Worn out and tired, their faces grey with exhaustion,
+their clothes grey with chalk, heavy-eyed, unshaven,
+driven out by sheer weight of numbers and bombs,
+they fell back&mdash;those that remained&mdash;down a communication
+trench. But they were different men from
+the men who went into the place three days before;
+the primitive passions of man were rampant&mdash;they
+asked no mercy, they gave none. Back, after a short
+breather, they went, and when they won through by
+sheer bloody fighting, they found a thing which sent
+them tearing mad with rage. The wounded they had
+left behind had been bombed to death. The junior<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[309]</a></span>
+subaltern was pulled out of a corner by a traverse&mdash;mangled
+horribly&mdash;and he told Jim.</p>
+
+<p>"They packed us in here and between the next two
+or three traverses and lobbed bombs over," he whispered.
+And Jim swore horribly. "They're coming
+back," muttered the dying boy. "Listen."</p>
+
+<p>The next instant the Germans were at it again, and
+the fighting became like the fighting of wild beasts.
+Men stabbed and hacked and cursed; rifle butts
+cracked down on heads; triggers were pulled with the
+muzzle an inch from a man's face. And because the
+German face to face is no match for the English or
+French, in a short time there was peace, while men,
+panting like exhausted runners, bound up one another's
+scratches, and passed back the serious cases to the
+rear. They knew it was only a temporary respite, and
+while Jim eased the dying boy, they stacked bombs in
+heaps where they could get at them quickly. It was
+then that the German officer crawled out. Down some
+hole or other in a bomb recess he had hidden during
+the fight&mdash;and then, thinking his position dangerous,
+decided for peaceful capture. It was unfortunate for
+him the junior subaltern was still alive&mdash;but only Jim
+heard the whisper:</p>
+
+<p>"That's the man who told them to bomb us."</p>
+
+<p>"That's interesting," said Jim, and his face was
+white, while his eyes were red.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[310]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Quietly he picked up a pick, and moved towards the
+German officer. Through the Huns who had come
+back again, fighting, stabbing, picking his way, Jim
+Denver moved relentlessly. And at last he reached
+him&mdash;reached him and laughed gently. The German
+sprang at him and Jim struck him with his fist; the
+German screamed for help, but there was none to help;
+every man was fighting grimly for his own life. Then
+still without a word he drove the pick.... Once again
+he laughed gently, and turned his mind to other things.</p>
+
+<p>For hours they hung on, bombing, shooting, at a
+yard's range, and in the forefront, cheering them, holding
+them, doing the work of ten, was Jim. His revolver
+ammunition was exhausted, his loaded stick was
+broken; his eyes had a look of madness: temporarily
+he was mad&mdash;mad with the lust of killing. It was
+almost the last bomb the Germans threw that took
+him, and that took him properly. But the remnant of
+his company who carried him back, when relief came
+up from the battalion, contained no one more cheery
+than him. As a fight they'll never have a better; and
+it's better to take it when the fighting is bloody, and
+it's man to man, than to stop a shrapnel at the estaminet
+two miles down the road. That isn't even
+grey&mdash;it's mottled; especially if the red wine is just
+coming....</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[311]</a></span></p>
+<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2>
+
+<h3>THE GREY HOUSE AGAIN</h3>
+
+
+<p>So they carried him home for the second time&mdash;back
+to the Land of Sanity: to the place where the
+noise of the water sounded ceaselessly over the rounded
+stones. And resting one afternoon on a sofa in the
+drawing-room Jim dozed.</p>
+
+<p>The door burst open, and Sybil came in. "Boy, do
+you see, they've given you a D.S.O. 'For conspicuous
+gallantry in holding up an almost isolated position for
+several hours against vastly superior numbers of the
+enemy. He was badly wounded just before relief
+came.'"</p>
+
+<p>Her eyes were shining. "Oh! my dear&mdash;I'm so
+proud of you! Do you remember saying it was a
+glorious madness?"</p>
+
+<p>Into his mind there flashed the picture of a German
+officer's face&mdash;distorted with terror&mdash;cringing: just as
+a pick came down....</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, girl, I remember," he answered softly. "I
+remember. But, thank God! I'm sane again now."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[312]</a></span></p><hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>And now I will ring down the curtain. For Jim
+Denver the black and white have gone; even the grey
+of the Land of Topsy Turvy is hazy and indistinct.
+The guns are silent: the men and the women are&mdash;sane.</p>
+
+<p>The shepherd is out of sight amongst the trees; the
+purple is changing to grey, the grey to black; there is
+no sound saving only the tireless murmur of the
+river....</p>
+
+<div class="center"><br /><br />THE END</div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class='tnote'><h3>Transcriber's Notes:</h3>
+
+<p>Herman Cyril McNeile was an officer in the Royal Engineers who
+published under the pseudonym "Sapper".</p>
+
+<p>Obvious punctuation errors repaired.</p>
+
+<p>Hyphen added: "bed[-]rock" (p. 303).</p>
+
+<p>Hyphen removed: "ward[-]room" (p. 167), "sand[-]bags" (p. 188),
+"stock[-]broker" (p. 265).</p>
+
+<p>The following words are inconsistently hyphenated but
+have not been changed: "dug[-]out", "half[-]way",
+"sand[-]bags", "sign[-]post", "super[-]human",
+"table[-]cloth".</p>
+
+<p>Page 291: "Panting Lizze" changed to "Panting Lizzie".</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
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diff --git a/36211.txt b/36211.txt
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+Project Gutenberg's Men, Women and Guns, by H. C. (Herman Cyril) McNeile
+
+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: Men, Women and Guns
+
+Author: H. C. (Herman Cyril) McNeile
+
+Release Date: May 25, 2011 [EBook #36211]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MEN, WOMEN AND GUNS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Moti Ben-Ari and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
+produced from images generously made available by The
+Internet Archive)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+    MEN, WOMEN AND GUNS
+
+    "SAPPER"
+
+
+
+
+    MEN, WOMEN AND GUNS
+
+    BY
+    "SAPPER"
+    AUTHOR OF "MICHAEL CASSIDY, SERGEANT"
+
+    NEW YORK
+    GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY
+
+    COPYRIGHT, 1916,
+    BY GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY
+
+    PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
+
+    TO
+    MY WIFE
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+                                        PAGE
+    PROLOGUE                              xi
+
+    PART ONE
+    CHAPTER
+       I. THE MOTOR-GUN                   23
+      II. PRIVATE MEYRICK--COMPANY IDIOT  49
+     III. SPUD TREVOR OF THE RED HUSSARS  77
+      IV. THE FATAL SECOND                99
+       V. JIM BRENT'S V.C.               121
+      VI. RETRIBUTION                    155
+     VII. THE DEATH GRIP                 183
+    VIII. JAMES HENRY                    211
+
+    PART TWO
+    THE LAND OF THE TOPSY TURVY
+       I. THE GREY HOUSE                 237
+      II. THE WOMEN AND--THE MEN         243
+     III. THE WOMAN AND THE MAN          249
+      IV. "THE REGIMENT"                 257
+       V. THE CONTRAST                   265
+      VI. BLACK, WHITE, AND--GREY        271
+     VII. ARCHIE AND OTHERS              287
+    VIII. ON THE STAFF                   291
+      IX. NO ANSWER                      299
+       X. THE MADNESS                    305
+      XI. THE GREY HOUSE AGAIN           311
+
+
+
+
+PROLOGUE
+
+
+
+
+PROLOGUE
+
+
+Two days ago a dear old aunt of mine asked me to describe to her what
+shrapnel was like.
+
+"What does it feel like to be shelled?" she demanded. "Explain it to
+me."
+
+Under the influence of my deceased uncle's most excellent port I did so.
+Soothed and in that expansive frame of mind induced by the old and bold,
+I drew her a picture--vivid, startling, wonderful. And when I had
+finished, the dear old lady looked at me.
+
+"Dreadful!" she murmured. "Did I ever tell you of the terrible
+experience I had on the front at Eastbourne, when my bath-chair
+attendant became inebriated and upset me?"
+
+Slowly and sorrowfully I finished the decanter--and went to bed.
+
+But seriously, my masters, it is a hard thing that my aunt asked of me.
+There are many things worse than shelling--the tea-party you find in
+progress on your arrival on leave; the utterances of war experts; the
+non-arrival of the whisky from England. But all of those can be imagined
+by people who have not suffered; they have a standard, a measure of
+comparison. Shelling--no.
+
+The explosion of a howitzer shell near you is a definite, actual
+fact--which is unlike any other fact in the world, except the explosion
+of another howitzer shell still nearer. Many have attempted to describe
+the noise it makes as the most explainable part about it. And then
+you're no wiser.
+
+Listen. Stand with me at the Menin Gate of Ypres and listen. Through a
+cutting a train is roaring on its way. Rapidly it rises in a great
+swelling crescendo as it dashes into the open, and then its journey
+stops on some giant battlement--stops in a peal of deafening thunder
+just overhead. The shell has burst, and the echoes in that town of death
+die slowly away--reverberating like a sullen sea that lashes against a
+rock-bound coast.
+
+And yet what does it convey to anyone who patronises inebriated
+bath-chair men? ...
+
+Similarly--shrapnel! "The Germans were searching the road with
+'whizz-bangs.'" A common remark, an ordinary utterance in a letter,
+taken by fond parents as an unpleasing affair such as the cook giving
+notice.
+
+Come with me to a spot near Ypres; come, and we will take our evening
+walk together.
+
+"They're a bit lively farther up the road, sir." The corporal of
+military police stands gloomily at a cross-roads, his back against a
+small wayside shrine. A passing shell unroofed it many weeks ago; it
+stands there surrounded by debris--the image of the Virgin, chipped and
+broken. Just a little monument of desolation in a ruined country, but
+pleasant to lean against when it's between you and German guns.
+
+Let us go on, it's some way yet before we reach the dug-out by the third
+dead horse. In front of us stretches a long, straight road, flanked on
+each side by poplars. In the middle there is pave. At intervals, a few
+small holes, where the stones have been shattered and hurled away by a
+bursting shell and only the muddy grit remains hollowed out to a depth
+of two feet or so, half-full of water. At the bottom an empty tin of
+bully, ammunition clips, numbers of biscuits--sodden and muddy.
+Altogether a good obstacle to take with the front wheel of a car at
+night.
+
+A little farther on, beside the road, in a ruined, desolate cottage two
+men are resting for a while, smoking. The dirt and mud of the trenches
+is thick on them, and one of them is contemplatively scraping his boot
+with his knife and fork. Otherwise, not a soul, not a living soul in
+sight; though away to the left front, through glasses, you can see two
+people, a man and a woman, labouring in the fields. And the only point
+of interest about them is that between you and them run the two
+motionless, stagnant lines of men who for months have faced one
+another. Those two labourers are on the other side of the German
+trenches.
+
+The setting sun is glinting on the little crumbling village two or three
+hundred yards ahead, and as you walk towards it in the still evening air
+your steps ring loud on the pave. On each side the flat, neglected
+fields stretch away from the road; the drains beside it are choked with
+weeds and refuse; and here and there one of the gaunt trees, split in
+two half-way up by a shell, has crashed into its neighbour or fallen to
+the ground. A peaceful summer's evening which seems to give the lie to
+our shrine-leaner. And yet, to one used to the peace of England, it
+seems almost too quiet, almost unnatural.
+
+Suddenly, out of the blue there comes a sharp, whizzing noise, and
+almost before you've heard it there is a crash, and from the village in
+front there rises a cloud of dust. A shell has burst on impact on one of
+the few remaining houses; some slates and tiles fall into the road, and
+round the hole torn out of the sloping roof there hangs a whitish-yellow
+cloud of smoke. In quick succession come half a dozen more, some
+bursting on the ruined cottages as they strike, some bursting above them
+in the air. More clouds of dust rise from the deserted street, small
+avalanches of debris cascade into the road, and, above, three or four
+thick white smoke-clouds drift slowly across the sky.
+
+This is the moment at which it is well--unless time is urgent--to pause
+and reflect awhile. If you _must_ go on, a detour is strongly to be
+recommended. The Germans are shelling the empty village just in front
+with shrapnel, and who are you to interpose yourself between him and his
+chosen target? But if in no particular hurry, then it were wise to dally
+gracefully against a tree, admiring the setting sun, until he desists;
+when you may in safety resume your walk. _But_--do not forget that he
+may not stick to the village, and that whizz-bangs give no time. That is
+why I specified a tree, and not the middle of the road. It's nearer the
+ditch.
+
+Suddenly, without a second's warning, they shift their target.
+Whizz-bang! Duck, you blighter! Into the ditch. Quick! Move! Hang your
+bottle of white wine! Get down! Cower! Emulate the mole! This isn't the
+village in front now--he's shelling the road you're standing on! There's
+one burst on impact in the middle of the pave forty yards in front of
+you, and another in the air just over your head. And there are more
+coming--don't make any mistake. That short, sharp whizz every few
+seconds--the bang! bang! bang! seems to be going on all around you. A
+thing hums past up in the air, with a whistling noise, leaving a trail
+of sparks behind it--one of the fuses. Later, the curio-hunter may find
+it nestling by a turnip. He may have it.
+
+With a vicious thud a jagged piece of shell buries itself in the ground
+at your feet; and almost simultaneously the bullets from a well-burst
+one cut through the trees above you and ping against the road, thudding
+into the earth around. No more impact ones--they've got the range. Our
+pessimistic friend at the cross-roads spoke the truth; they're quite
+lively. Everything bursting beautifully above the road about forty feet
+up. Bitter thought--if only the blighters knew that it was empty save
+for your wretched and unworthy self cowering in a ditch, with a bottle
+of white wine in your pocket and your head down a rat-hole, surely they
+wouldn't waste their ammunition so reprehensibly!
+
+Then, suddenly, they stop, and as the last white puff of smoke drifts
+slowly away you cautiously lift your head and peer towards the village.
+Have they finished? Will it be safe to resume your interrupted promenade
+in a dignified manner? Or will you give them another minute or two?
+Almost have you decided to do so when to your horror you perceive coming
+towards you through the village itself two officers. What a position to
+be discovered in! True, only the very young or the mentally deficient
+scorn cover when shelling is in progress. But of course, just at the
+moment when you'd welcome a shell to account for your propinquity with
+the rat-hole, the blighters have stopped. No sound breaks the stillness,
+save the steps ringing towards you--and it looks silly to be found in a
+ditch for no apparent reason.
+
+Then, as suddenly as before comes salvation. Just as with infinite
+stealth you endeavour to step out nonchalantly from behind a tree, as if
+you were part of the scenery--bang! crash! from in front. Cheer-oh! the
+village again, the church this time. A shower of bricks and mortar comes
+down like a landslip, and if you are quick you may just see two black
+streaks go to ground. From the vantage-point of your tree you watch a
+salvo of shells explode in, on, or about the temporary abode of those
+two officers. You realise from what you know of the Hun that this salvo
+probably concludes the evening hate; and the opportunity is too good to
+miss. Edging rapidly along the road--keeping close to the ditch--you
+approach the houses. Your position, you feel, is now strategically
+sound, with regard to the wretched pair cowering behind rubble heaps.
+You even desire revenge for your mental anguish when discovery in the
+rodent's lair seemed certain. So light a cigarette--if you didn't drop
+them all when you went to ground yourself; if you did--whistle some
+snappy tune as you stride jauntily into the village.
+
+Don't go too fast or you may miss them; but should you see a head peer
+from behind a kitchen-range express no surprise. Just--"Toppin' evening,
+ain't it? Getting furniture for the dug-out--what?" To linger is bad
+form, but it is quite permissible to ask his companion--seated in a
+torn-up drain--if the ratting is good. Then pass on in a leisurely
+manner, _but_--when you're round the corner, run like a hare. With these
+cursed Germans, you never know.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Night--and a working-party stretching away over a ploughed field are
+digging a communication trench. The great green flares lob up half a
+mile away, a watery moon shines on the bleak scene. Suddenly a noise
+like the tired sigh of some great giant, a scorching sheet of flame that
+leaps at you out of the darkness, searing your very brain, so close does
+it seem; the ping of death past your head; the clatter of shovel and
+pick next you as a muttered curse proclaims a man is hit; a voice from
+down the line: "Gawd! Old Ginger's took it. 'Old up, mate. Say, blokes,
+Ginger's done in!" Aye--it's worse at night.
+
+Shrapnel! Woolly, fleecy puffs of smoke floating gently down wind,
+getting more and more attenuated, gradually disappearing, while below
+each puff an oval of ground has been plastered with bullets. And it's
+when the ground inside the oval is full of men that the damage is done.
+
+Not you perhaps--but someone. Next time--maybe you.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+And that, methinks, is an epitome of other things besides shrapnel. It's
+_all_ the war to the men who fight and the women who wait.
+
+
+
+
+PART ONE
+
+
+
+
+PART ONE
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+THE MOTOR-GUN
+
+
+Nothing in this war has so struck those who have fought in it as its
+impersonal nature. From the day the British Army moved north, and the
+first battle of Ypres commenced--and with it trench warfare as we know
+it now--it has been, save for a few interludes, a contest between
+automatons, backed by every known scientific device. Personal rancour
+against the opposing automatons separated by twenty or thirty yards of
+smelling mud--who stew in the same discomfort as yourself--is apt to
+give way to an acute animosity against life in general, and the accursed
+fate in particular which so foolishly decided your sex at birth. But,
+though rare, there have been cases of isolated encounters, where
+men--with the blood running hot in their veins--have got down to
+hand-grips, and grappling backwards and forwards in some cellar or
+dugout, have fought to the death, man to man, as of old. Such a case has
+recently come to my knowledge, a case at once bizarre and unique: a case
+where the much-exercised arm of coincidence showed its muscles to a
+remarkable degree. Only quite lately have I found out all the facts, and
+now at Dick O'Rourke's special request I am putting them on paper. True,
+they are intended to reach the eyes of one particular person, but ...
+the personal column in the _Times_ interests others besides the lady in
+the magenta skirt, who will eat a banana at 3.30 daily by the Marble
+Arch!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+And now, at the very outset of my labours, I find myself--to my great
+alarm--committed to the placing on paper of a love scene. O'Rourke
+insists upon it: he says the whole thing will fall flat if I don't put
+it in; he promises that he will supply the local colour. In advance I
+apologise: my own love affairs are sufficiently trying without
+endeavouring to describe his--and with that, here goes.
+
+I will lift my curtain on the principals of this little drama, and open
+the scene at Ciro's in London. On the evening of April 21st, 1915, in
+the corner of that delectable resort, farthest away from the coon band,
+sat Dickie O'Rourke. That afternoon he had stepped from the boat at
+Folkestone on seven days' leave, and now in the boiled shirt of
+respectability he once again smelled the smell of London.
+
+With him was a girl. I have never seen her, but from his description I
+cannot think that I have lived until this oversight is rectified.
+Moreover, my lady, as this is written especially for your benefit, I
+hereby warn you that I propose to remedy my omission as soon as
+possible.
+
+And yet with a band that is second to none; with food wonderful and
+divine; with the choicest fruit of the grape, and--to top all--with the
+girl, Dickie did not seem happy. As he says, it was not to be wondered
+at. He had landed at Folkestone meaning to propose; he had carried out
+his intention over the fish--and after that the dinner had lost its
+savour. She had refused him--definitely and finally; and Dick found
+himself wishing for France again--France and forgetfulness. Only he knew
+he'd never forget.
+
+"The dinner is to monsieur's taste?" The head-waiter paused attentively
+by the table.
+
+"Very good," growled Dick, looking savagely at an ice on his plate. "Oh,
+Moyra," he muttered, as the man passed on, "it's meself is finished
+entoirely. And I was feeling that happy on the boat; as I saw the white
+cliffs coming nearer and nearer, I said to meself, 'Dick, me boy, in
+just four hours you'll be with the dearest, sweetest girl that God ever
+sent from the heavens to brighten the lives of dull dogs like
+yourself.'"
+
+"You're not dull, Dick. You're not to say those things--you're a dear."
+The girl's eyes seemed a bit misty as she bent over her plate.
+
+"And now!" He looked at her pleadingly. "'Tis the light has gone out of
+my life. Ah! me dear, is there no hope for Dickie O'Rourke? Me estate is
+mostly bog, and the ould place has fallen down, saving only the
+stable--but there's the breath of the seas that comes over the heather
+in the morning, and there's the violet of your dear eyes in the hills.
+It's not worrying you that I'd be--but is there no hope at all, at all?"
+
+The girl turned towards him, smiling a trifle sadly. There was woman's
+pity in the lovely eyes: her lips were trembling a little. "Dear old
+Dick," she whispered, and her hand rested lightly on his for a moment.
+"Dear old Dick, I'm sorry. If I'd only known sooner----" She broke off
+abruptly and fell to gazing at the floor.
+
+"Then there is someone else!" The man spoke almost fiercely.
+
+Slowly she nodded her head, but she did not speak.
+
+"Who is it?"
+
+"I don't know that you've got any right to ask me that, Dick," she
+answered, a little proudly.
+
+"What's the talk of right between you and me? Do you suppose I'll let
+any cursed social conventions stand between me and the woman I love?"
+She could see his hand trembling, though outwardly he seemed quite calm.
+And then his voice dropped to a tender, pleading note--and again the
+soft, rich brogue of the Irishman crept in--that wonderful tone that
+brings with it the music of the fairies from the hazy blue hills of
+Connemara.
+
+"Acushla mine," he whispered, "would I be hurting a hair of your swate
+head, or bringing a tear to them violet pools ye calls your eyes? 'Tis
+meself that is in the wrong entoirely--but, mavourneen, I just worship
+you. And the thought of the other fellow is driving me crazy. Will ye
+not be telling me his name?"
+
+"Dick, I can't," she whispered, piteously. "You wouldn't understand."
+
+"And why would I not understand?" he answered, grimly. "Is it something
+shady he has done to you?--for if it is, by the Holy Mother, I'll murder
+him."
+
+"No, no, it's nothing shady. But I can't tell you, Dick; and oh, Dick!
+I'm just wretched, and I don't know what to do." The tears were very
+near. A whimsical look came into his face as he watched her. "Moyra, me
+dear; 'tis about ten shillings apiece we're paying for them ices; and if
+you splash them with your darling tears, the chef will give notice and
+that coon with the banjo will strike work."
+
+"You dear, Dick," she whispered, after a moment, while a smile trembled
+round her mouth. "I nearly made a fool of myself."
+
+"Divil a bit," he answered. "But let us be after discussing them two
+fair things yonder while we gets on with the ices. 'Tis the most
+suitable course for contemplating the dears; and, anyway, we'll take no
+more risks until we're through with them."
+
+And so with a smile on his lips and a jest on his tongue did a gallant
+gentleman cover the ache in his heart and the pain in his eyes, and felt
+more than rewarded by the look of thanks he got. It was not for him to
+ask for more than she would freely give; and if there was another
+man--well, he was a lucky dog. But if he'd played the fool--yes, by
+Heaven! if he'd played the fool, that was a different pair of shoes
+altogether. His forehead grew black at the thought, and mechanically his
+fists clenched.
+
+"Dick, I'd like to tell you just how things are."
+
+He pulled himself together and looked at the girl.
+
+"It is meself that is at your service, my lady," he answered, quietly.
+
+"I'm engaged. But it's a secret."
+
+His jaw dropped, "Engaged!" he faltered. "But--who to? And why is it a
+secret?"
+
+"I can't tell you who to. I promised to keep it secret; and then he
+suddenly went away and the war broke out and I've never seen him since."
+
+"But you've heard from him?"
+
+She bit her lip and looked away. "Not a line," she faltered.
+
+"But--I don't understand." His tone was infinitely tender. "Why hasn't
+he written to you? Violet girl, why would he not have written?"
+
+"You see, he's a----" She seemed to be nerving herself to speak. "You
+see, he's a German!"
+
+It was out at last.
+
+"Mother of God!" Dick leaned back in his chair, his eyes fixed on her,
+his cigarette unheeded, burning the tablecloth. "Do you love him?"
+
+"Yes." The whispered answer was hardly audible. "Oh, Dick, I wonder if
+you can understand. It all came so suddenly, and then there was this
+war, and I know it's awful to love a German, but I do, and I can't tell
+anyone but you; they'd think it horrible of me. Oh, Dick! tell me you
+understand."
+
+"I understand, little girl," he answered, very slowly. "I understand."
+
+It was all very involved and infinitely pathetic. But, as I have said
+before, Dick O'Rourke was a gallant gentleman.
+
+"It's not his fault he's a German," she went on after a while. "He
+didn't start the war--and, you see, I promised him."
+
+That was the rub--she'd promised him. Truly a woman is a wonderful
+thing! Very gentle and patient was O'Rourke with her that evening, and
+when at last he turned into his club, he sat for a long while gazing
+into the fire. Just once a muttered curse escaped his lips.
+
+"Did you speak?" said the man in the next chair.
+
+"I did _not_," said O'Rourke, and getting up abruptly he went to bed.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At 3 p.m. on April 22nd Dick O'Rourke received a wire. It was short and
+to the point. "Leave cancelled. Return at once." He tore round to
+Victoria, found he'd missed the boat-train, and went down to Folkestone
+on chance. For the time Moyra was almost forgotten. Officers are not
+recalled from short leave without good and sufficient reason; and as yet
+there was nothing in the evening papers that showed any activity. At
+Folkestone he met other officers--also recalled; and when the boat came
+in rumours began to spread. The whole line had fallen back--the Germans
+were through and marching on Calais--a ghastly defeat had been
+sustained.
+
+The morning papers were a little more reassuring; and in them for the
+first time came the mention of the word "gas." Everything was vague, but
+that something had happened was obvious, and also that that something
+was pretty serious.
+
+One p.m. on the 23rd found him at Boulogne, ramping like a bull. An
+unemotional railway transport officer told him that there was a very
+nice train starting at midnight, but that the leave train was cancelled.
+
+"But, man!" howled O'Rourke, "I've been recalled. 'Tis urgent!" He
+brandished the wire in his face.
+
+The R.T.O. remained unmoved, and intimated that he was busy, and that
+O'Rourke's private history left him quite cold. Moreover, he thought it
+possible that the British Army might survive without him for another
+day.
+
+In the general confusion that ensued on his replying that the said
+R.T.O. was no doubt a perfect devil as a traveller for unshrinkable
+underclothes, but that his knowledge of the British Army might be
+written on a postage-stamp, O'Rourke escaped, and ensconcing himself
+near the barrier, guarded by French sentries, at the top of the hill
+leading to St. Omer, he waited for a motor-car.
+
+Having stopped two generals and been consigned elsewhere for his pains,
+he ultimately boarded a flying corps lorry, and 4 p.m. found him at St.
+Omer. And there--but we will whisper--was a relative--one of the exalted
+ones of the earth, who possessed many motor-cars, great and small.
+
+Dick chose the second Rolls-Royce, and having pursued his unit to the
+farm where he'd left it two days before, he chivied it round the
+country, and at length traced it to Poperinghe.
+
+And there he found things moving. As yet no one was quite sure what had
+happened; but he found a solemn conclave of Army Service Corps officers
+attached to his division, and from them he gathered twenty or thirty of
+the conflicting rumours that were flying round. One thing, anyway, was
+clear: the Huns were not triumphantly marching on Calais--yet. It was
+just as a charming old boy of over fifty, who had perjured his soul over
+his age and had been out since the beginning--a standing reproach to a
+large percentage of the so-called youth of England--it was just as he
+suggested a little dinner in that hospitable town, prior to going up
+with the supply lorries, that with a droning roar a twelve-inch shell
+came crashing into the square....
+
+That night at 11 p.m. Dick stepped out of another car into a ploughed
+field just behind the little village of Woesten, and, having trodden on
+his major's face and unearthed his servant, lay down by the dying fire
+to get what sleep he could. Now and again a horse whinnied near by; a
+bit rattled, a man cursed; for the unit was ready to move at a moment's
+notice and the horses were saddled up. The fire died out--from close by
+a battery was firing, and the sky was dancing with the flashes of
+bursting shells like summer lightning flickering in the distance. And
+with his head on a sharp stone and another in his back Dick O'Rourke
+fell asleep and dreamed of--but dreams are silly things to describe. It
+was just as he'd thrown the hors-d'oeuvres at the head-waiter of Ciro's,
+who had suddenly become the hated German rival, and was wiping the
+potato salad off Moyra's face, which it had hit by mistake, with the
+table-cloth, that with a groan he turned on his other side--only to
+exchange the stones for a sardine tin and a broken pickle bottle. Which
+is really no more foolish than the rest of life nowadays....
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+And now for a moment I must go back and, leaving our hero, describe
+shortly the events that led up to the sending of the wire that recalled
+him.
+
+Early in the morning of April 22nd the Germans launched at that part of
+the French line which lay in front of the little villages of Elverdinge
+and Brielen, a yellowish-green cloud of gas, which rolled slowly over
+the intervening ground between the trenches, carried on its way by a
+faint, steady breeze. I do not intend to describe the first use of that
+infamous invention--it has been done too often before. But, for the
+proper understanding of what follows, it is essential for me to go into
+a few details. Utterly unprepared for what was to come, the French
+divisions gazed for a short while spellbound at the strange phenomenon
+they saw coming slowly towards them. Like some liquid the heavy-coloured
+vapour poured relentlessly into the trenches, filled them, and passed
+on. For a few seconds nothing happened; the sweet-smelling stuff merely
+tickled their nostrils; they failed to realise the danger. Then, with
+inconceivable rapidity, the gas worked, and blind panic spread.
+Hundreds, after a dreadful fight for air, became unconscious and died
+where they lay--a death of hideous torture, with the frothing bubbles
+gurgling in their throats and the foul liquid welling up in their lungs.
+With blackened faces and twisted limbs one by one they drowned--only
+that which drowned them came from inside and not from out. Others,
+staggering, falling, lurching on, and of their ignorance keeping pace
+with the gas, went back. A hail of rifle-fire and shrapnel mowed them
+down, and the line was broken. There was nothing on the British
+left--their flank was up in the air. The north-east corner of the
+salient round Ypres had been pierced. From in front of St. Julian, away
+up north towards Boesienge, there was no one in front of the Germans.
+
+It is not my intention to do more than mention the rushing up of the
+cavalry corps and the Indians to fill the gap; the deathless story of
+the Canadians who, surrounded and hemmed in, fought till they died
+against overwhelming odds; the fate of the Northumbrian division--fresh
+from home--who were rushed up in support, and the field behind Fortuin
+where they were caught by shrapnel, and what was left. These things are
+outside the scope of my story. Let us go back to the gap.
+
+Hard on the heels of the French came the Germans advancing. For a mile
+or so they pushed on, and why they stopped when they did is--as far as I
+am concerned--one of life's little mysteries. Perhaps the utter success
+of their gas surprised even them; perhaps they anticipated some trap;
+perhaps the incredible heroism of the Canadians in hanging up the German
+left caused their centre to push on too far and lose touch;
+perhaps--but, why speculate? I don't know, though possibly those in High
+Places may. The fact remains they did stop; their advantage was lost and
+the situation was saved.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Such was the state of affairs when O'Rourke opened his eyes on the
+morning of Saturday, April 24th. The horses were dimly visible through
+the heavy mist, his blankets were wringing wet, and hazily he wondered
+why he had ever been born. Then the cook dropped the bacon in the fire,
+and he groaned with anguish; visions of yesterday's grilled kidneys and
+hot coffee rose before him and mocked. By six o'clock he had fed, and
+sitting on an overturned biscuit-box beside the road he watched three
+batteries of French 75's pass by and disappear in the distance. At
+intervals he longed to meet the man who invented war. It must be
+remembered that, though I have given the situation as it really was, for
+the better understanding of the story, the facts at the time were not
+known at all clearly. The fog of war still wrapped in oblivion--as far
+as regimental officers were concerned, at any rate--the events which
+were taking place within a few miles of them.
+
+When, therefore, Dick O'Rourke perceived an unshaven and unwashed
+warrior, garbed as a gunner officer, coming down the road from Woesten,
+and, moreover, recognised him as one of his own term at the "Shop,"
+known to his intimates as the Land Crab, he hailed him with joy.
+
+"All hail, oh, crustacean!" he cried, as the other came abreast of him.
+"Whither dost walk so blithely?"
+
+"Halloa, Dick!" The gunner paused. "You haven't seen my major anywhere,
+have you?"
+
+"Not that I'm aware of, but as I don't know your major from Adam, my
+evidence may not be reliable. What news from the seat of war?"
+
+"None that I know of--except this cursed gun, that is rapidly driving me
+to drink."
+
+"What cursed gun? I am fresh from Ciro's and the haunts of love and
+ease. Expound to me your enigma, my Land Crab."
+
+"Haven't you heard? When the Germans----"
+
+He stopped suddenly. "Listen!" Perfectly clear from the woods
+to the north of them--the woods that lie to the west of the
+Woesten-Oostvleteren road, for those who may care for maps--there came
+the distinctive boom! crack! of a smallish gun. Three more shots, and
+then silence. The gunner turned to Dick.
+
+"There you are--that's the gun."
+
+"But how nice! Only, why curse it?"
+
+"Principally because it's German; and those four shots that you have
+just heard have by this time burst in Poperinghe."
+
+"What!" O'Rourke looked at him in amazement. "Is it my leg you would be
+pulling?"
+
+"Certainly not. When the Germans came on in the first blind rush after
+the French two small guns on motor mountings got through behind our
+lines. One was completely wrecked with its detachment The motor
+mounting of the other you can see lying in a pond about a mile up the
+road. The gun is there." He pointed to the wood.
+
+"And the next!" said O'Rourke. "D'you mean to tell me that there is a
+German gun in that wood firing at Poperinghe? Why, hang it, man! it's
+three miles behind our lines."
+
+"Taking the direction those shells are coming from, the distance from
+Poperinghe to that gun must be more than ten miles--if the gun is behind
+the German trenches. Your gunnery is pretty rotten, I know, but if you
+know of any two-inch gun that shoots ten miles, I'll be obliged if
+you'll give me some lessons." The gunner lit a cigarette. "Man, we know
+it's not one of ours, we know where they all are; we know it's a Hun."
+
+"Then, what in the name of fortune are ye standing here for talking like
+an ould woman with the indigestion? Away with you, and lead us to him,
+and don't go chivying after your bally major." Dick shouted for his
+revolver. "If there's a gun in that wood, bedad! we'll gun it."
+
+"My dear old flick," said the other, "don't get excited. The woods have
+been searched with a line of men--twice; and devil the sign of the gun.
+You don't suppose they've got a concrete mounting and the Prussian flag
+flying on a pole, do you? The detachment are probably dressed as Belgian
+peasants, and the gun is dismounted and hidden when it's not firing."
+
+But O'Rourke would have none of it. "Get off to your major, then, and
+have your mothers' meeting. Then come back to me, and I'll give you the
+gun. And borrow a penknife and cut your beard--you'll be after
+frightening the natives."
+
+That evening a couple of shots rang out from the same wood, two of the
+typical shots of a small gun. And then there was silence. A group of men
+standing by an estaminet on the road affirmed to having heard three
+faint shots afterwards like the crack of a sporting-gun or revolver; but
+in the general turmoil of an evening hate which was going on at the same
+time no one thought much about it. Half an hour later Dick O'Rourke
+returned, and there was a strange look in his eyes. His coat was torn,
+his collar and shirt were ripped open, and his right eye was gradually
+turning black. Of his doings he would vouchsafe no word. Only, as we sat
+down round the fire to dinner, the gunner subaltern of the morning
+passed again up the road.
+
+"Got the gun yet, Dick?" he chaffed.
+
+"I have that," answered O'Rourke, "also the detachment."
+
+The Land Crab paused. "Where are they?"
+
+"The gun is in a pond where you won't find it, and the detachment are
+dead--except one who escaped."
+
+"Yes, I don't think." The gunner laughed and passed on.
+
+"You needn't," answered Dick, "but that gun will never fire again."
+
+It never did. As I say, he would answer no questions, and even amongst
+the few people who had heard of the thing at all, it soon passed into
+the limbo of forgotten things. Other and weightier matters were afoot;
+the second battle of Ypres did not leave much time for vague conjecture.
+And so when, a few days ago, the question was once again recalled to my
+mind by no less a person than O'Rourke himself, I had to dig in the
+archives of memory for the remembrance of an incident of which I had
+well-nigh lost sight.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"You remember that gun, Bill," he remarked, lying back in the arm-chair
+of the farmhouse where we were billeted, and sipping some hot rum--"that
+German gun that got through in April and bombarded Poperinghe? I want to
+talk to you about that gun." He started filling his pipe.
+
+"'Tis the hardest proposition I've ever been up against, and sure I
+don't know what to do at all." He was staring at the fire. "You
+remember the Land Crab and how he told us the woods had been searched?
+Well, it didn't take a superhuman brainstorm to realise that if what he
+said was right and the Huns were dressed as Belgian peasants, and the
+gun was a little one, that a line of men going through the woods had
+about as much chance of finding them as a terrier has of catching a
+tadpole in the water. I says to myself, 'Dick, my boy, this is an
+occasion for stealth, for delicate work, for finesse.' So off I went on
+my lonesome and hid in the wood. I argued that they couldn't be keeping
+a permanent watch, and that even if they'd seen me come in, they'd think
+in time I had gone out again, when they noticed no further sign of me.
+Also I guessed they didn't want to stir up a hornet's nest about their
+ears by killing me--they wanted no vulgar glare of publicity upon their
+doings. So, as I say, I hid in a hole and waited. I got bored stiff;
+though, when all was said and done, it wasn't much worse than sitting in
+that blessed ploughed field beside the road. About five o'clock I
+started cursing myself for a fool in listening to the story at all, it
+all seemed so ridiculous. Not a sound in the woods, not a breath of wind
+in the trees. The guns weren't firing, just for the time everything was
+peaceful. I'd got a caterpillar down my neck, and I was just coming back
+to get a drink and chuck it up, when suddenly a Belgian labourer popped
+out from behind a tree. There was nothing peculiar about him, and if it
+hadn't been for the Land Crab's story I'd never have given him a second
+thought. He was just picking up sticks, but as I watched him I noticed
+that every now and then he straightened himself up, and seemed to peer
+around as if he was searching the undergrowth. The next minute out came
+another, and he started the stick-picking stunt too."
+
+Dick paused to relight his pipe, then he laughed. "Of course, the humour
+of the situation couldn't help striking me. Dick O'Rourke in a filthy
+hole, covered with branches and bits of dirt, watching two mangy old
+Belgians picking up wood. But, having stood it the whole day, I made up
+my mind to wait, at any rate, till night. If only I could catch the gun
+in action--even if the odds were too great for me alone--I'd be able to
+spot the hiding-place, and come back later with a party and round them
+up.
+
+"Then suddenly the evening hate started--artillery from all over the
+place--and with it the Belgian labourers ceased from plucking sticks.
+Running down a little path, so close to me that I could almost touch
+him, came one of them. He stopped about ten yards away where the dense
+undergrowth finished, and, after looking cautiously round, waved his
+hand. The other one nipped behind a tree and called out something in a
+guttural tone of voice. And then, I give you my word, out of the bowels
+of the earth there popped up a little gun not twenty yards from where
+I'd been lying the whole day. By this time, of course, I was in the same
+sort of condition as a terrier is when he's seen the cat he has set his
+heart on shin up a tree, having missed her tail by half an inch.
+
+"They clapped her on a little mounting quick as light, laid her, loaded,
+and, by the holy saints! under my very nose, loosed off a present for
+Poperinghe. The man on guard waved his hand again, and bedad! away went
+another. The next instant he was back, again an exclamation in German,
+and in about two shakes the whole thing had disappeared, and there were
+the two labourers picking sticks. I give you my word it was like a clown
+popping up in a pantomime through a trap-door; I had to pinch myself to
+make certain I was awake.
+
+"The next instant into the clearing came two English soldiers, the
+reason evidently of the sudden dismantling. Had they been armed we'd
+have had at them then and there; but, of course, so far behind the
+trenches, they had no rifles. They just peered round, saw the Belgians,
+and went off again. I heard their steps dying away in the distance, and
+decided to wait a bit longer. The two men seemed to be discussing what
+to do, and ultimately moved behind the tree again, where I could hear
+them talking. At last they came to a decision, and picking up their
+bundles of sticks came slowly down the path past me. They were not going
+to fire again that evening."
+
+Dick smiled reminiscently. "Bill, pass the rum. I'm thirsty."
+
+"What did you do, Dick?" I asked, eagerly.
+
+"What d'you think? I was out like a knife and let drive with my
+hand-gun. I killed the first one as dead as mutton, and missed the
+second, who shot like a stag into the undergrowth. Gad! It was great. I
+put two more where I thought he was, but as I still heard him crashing
+on I must have missed him. Then I nipped round the tree to find the gun.
+The only thing there was a great hole full of leaves. I ploughed across
+it, thinking it must be the other side, when, without a word of warning,
+I fell through the top--bang through the top, my boy, of the neatest
+hiding-place you've ever thought of. The whole of the centre of those
+leaves was a fake. There were about two inches of them supported on
+light hurdle-work. I was in the robber's cave with a vengeance."
+
+"Was the gun there?" I cried, excitedly.
+
+"It was. Also the Hun. The gun of small variety; the Hun of large--very
+large. I don't know which of us was the more surprised--him or me; we
+just stood gazing at one another.
+
+"'Halloa, Englishman,' he said; 'come to leave a card?'
+
+"'Quite right, Boche,' I answered. 'A p.p.c. one.'
+
+"I was rather pleased with that touch at the time, old son. I was just
+going to elaborate it, and point out that he--as the dear
+departing--should really do it, when he was at me.
+
+"Bill, my boy, you should have seen that fight. Like a fool, I never saw
+his revolver lying on the table, and I'd shoved my own back in my
+holster. He got it in his right hand, and I got his right wrist in my
+left. We'd each got the other by the throat, and one of us was for the
+count. We each knew that. At one time I thought he'd got me--we were
+crashing backwards and forwards, and I caught my head against a wooden
+pole which nearly stunned me. And, mark you, all the time I was
+expecting his pal to come back and inquire after his health. Then
+suddenly I felt him weaken, and I squeezed his throat the harder. It
+came quite quickly at the end. His pistol-hand collapsed, and I suppose
+muscular contraction pulled the trigger, for the bullet went through his
+head, though I think he was dead already." Dick O'Rourke paused, and
+looked thoughtfully into the fire.
+
+"But why in the name of Heaven," I cried, irritably, "have you kept this
+dark all the while? Why didn't you tell us at the time?"
+
+For a while he did not answer, and then he produced his pocket-book.
+From it he took a photograph, which he handed to me.
+
+"Out of that German's pocket I took that photograph."
+
+"Well," I said, "what about it? A very pretty girl for a German." Then I
+looked at it closely. "Why, it was taken in England. Is it an English
+girl?"
+
+"Yes," he answered, dryly, "it is. It's Moyra Kavanagh, whom I proposed
+to forty-eight hours previously at Ciro's. She refused me, and told me
+then she was in love with a German. I celebrate the news by coming over
+here and killing him, in an individual fight where it was man to man."
+
+"But," I cried, "good heavens! man--it was you or he."
+
+"I know that," he answered, wearily. "What then? He evidently loved her;
+if not--why the photo. Look at what's written on the back--'From
+Moyra--with all my love.' All her love. Lord! it's a rum box up." He
+sighed wearily and slowly replaced it in his case. "So I buried him, and
+I chucked his gun in a pond, and said nothing about it. If I had it
+would probably have got into the papers or some such rot, and she'd have
+wanted to know all about it. Think of it! What the deuce would I have
+told her? To sympathise and discuss her love affairs with her in
+London, and then toddle over here and slaughter him. Dash it, man, it's
+Gilbertian! And, mark you, nothing would induce me to marry her--even if
+she'd have me--without her knowing."
+
+"But---" I began, and then fell silent. The more I thought of it the
+less I liked it. Put it how you like, for a girl to take as her husband
+a man who has actually killed the man she loved and was engaged
+to--German or no German--is a bit of a pill to swallow.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+After mature consideration we decided to present the pill to her garbed
+in this form. On me--as a scribbler of sorts--descended the onus of
+putting it on paper. When I'd done it, and Dick had read it, he said I
+was a fool, and wanted to tear it up. Which is like a man....
+
+Look you, my lady, it was a fair fight--it was war--it was an Englishman
+against a German; and the best man won. And surely to Heaven you can't
+blame poor old Dick? He didn't know; how could he have known, how... but
+what's the use? If your heart doesn't bring it right--neither my pen nor
+my logic is likely to. Which is like a woman.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+PRIVATE MEYRICK--COMPANY IDIOT
+
+
+No one who has ever given the matter a moment's thought would deny, I
+suppose, that a regiment without discipline is like a ship without a
+rudder. True as that fact has always been, it is doubly so now, when men
+are exposed to mental and physical shocks such as have never before been
+thought of.
+
+The condition of a man's brain after he has sat in a trench and suffered
+an intensive bombardment for two or three hours can only be described by
+one word, and that is--numbed. The actual physical concussion, apart
+altogether from the mental terror, caused by the bursting of a
+succession of large shells in a man's vicinity, temporarily robs him of
+the use of his thinking faculties. He becomes half-stunned, dazed; his
+limbs twitch convulsively and involuntarily; he mutters foolishly--he
+becomes incoherent. Starting with fright he passes through that stage,
+passes beyond it into a condition bordering on coma; and when a man is
+in that condition he is not responsible for his actions. His brain has
+ceased to work....
+
+Now it is, I believe, a principle of psychology that the brain or mind
+of a man can be divided into two parts--the objective and the
+subjective: the objective being that part of his thought-box which is
+actuated by outside influences, by his senses, by his powers of
+deduction; the subjective being that part which is not directly
+controllable by what he sees and hears, the part which the religious
+might call his soul, the Buddhist "the Spark of God," others instinct.
+And this portion of a man's nature remains acutely active, even while
+the other part has struck work. In fact, the more numbed and comatose
+the thinking brain, the more clearly and insistently does subjective
+instinct hold sway over a man's body. Which all goes to show that
+discipline, if it is to be of any use to a man at such a time, must be a
+very different type of thing to what the ordinary, uninitiated, and
+so-called free civilian believes it to be. It must be an ideal, a thing
+where the motive counts, almost a religion. It must be an appeal to the
+soul of man, not merely an order to his body. That the order to his
+body, the self-control of his daily actions, the general change in his
+mode of life will infallibly follow on the heels of the appeal to his
+soul--if that appeal be successful--is obvious. But the appeal must come
+first: it must be the driving power; it must be the cause and not the
+effect. Otherwise, when the brain is gone--numbed by causes outside its
+control; when the reasoning intellect of man is out of action--stunned
+for the time; when only his soul remains to pull the quivering, helpless
+body through,--then, unless that soul has the ideal of discipline in it,
+it _will_ fail. And failure _may_ mean death and disaster; it _will_
+mean shame and disgrace, when sanity returns....
+
+To the man seated at his desk in the company office these ideas were not
+new. He had been one of the original Expeditionary Force; but a sniper
+had sniped altogether too successfully out by Zillebecke in the early
+stages of the first battle of Ypres, and when that occurs a rest cure
+becomes necessary. At that time he was the senior subaltern of one of
+the finest regiments of "a contemptible little army"; now he was a major
+commanding a company in the tenth battalion of that same regiment. And
+in front of him on the desk, a yellow form pinned to a white slip of
+flimsy paper, announced that No. 8469, Private Meyrick, J., was for
+office. The charge was "Late falling in on the 8 a.m. parade," and the
+evidence against him was being given by C.-S.-M. Hayton, also an old
+soldier from that original battalion at Ypres. It was Major Seymour
+himself who had seen the late appearance of the above-mentioned Private
+Meyrick, and who had ordered the yellow form to be prepared. And now
+with it in front of him, he stared musingly at the office fire....
+
+There are a certain number of individuals who from earliest infancy have
+been imbued with the idea that the chief pastime of officers in the
+army, when they are not making love to another man's wife, is the
+preparation of harsh and tyrannical rules for the express purpose of
+annoying their men, and the gloating infliction of drastic punishment on
+those that break them. The absurdity of this idea has nothing to do with
+it, it being a well-known fact that the more absurd an idea is, the more
+utterly fanatical do its adherents become. To them the thought
+that a man being late on parade should make him any the worse
+fighter--especially as he had, in all probability, some good and
+sufficient excuse--cannot be grasped. To them the idea that men may not
+be a law unto themselves--though possibly agreed to reluctantly in the
+abstract--cannot possibly be assimilated in the concrete.
+
+"He has committed some trifling offence," they say; "now you will give
+him some ridiculous punishment. That is the curse of militarism--a
+chosen few rule by Fear." And if you tell them that any attempt to
+inculcate discipline by fear alone must of necessity fail, and that far
+from that being the method in the Army the reverse holds good, they
+will not believe you. Yet--it is so....
+
+"Shall I bring in the prisoner, sir?" The Sergeant-Major was standing by
+the door.
+
+"Yes, I'll see him now." The officer threw his cigarette into the fire
+and put on his hat.
+
+"Take off your 'at. Come along there, my lad--move. You'd go to sleep at
+your mother's funeral--you would." Seymour smiled at the conversation
+outside the door; he had soldiered many years with that Sergeant-Major.
+"Now, step up briskly. Quick march. 'Alt. Left turn." He closed the door
+and ranged himself alongside the prisoner facing the table.
+
+"No. 8469, Private Meyrick--you are charged with being late on the 8
+a.m. parade this morning. Sergeant-Major, what do you know about it?"
+
+"Sir, on the 8 a.m. parade this morning, Private Meyrick came running on
+'alf a minute after the bugle sounded. 'Is puttees were not put on
+tidily. I'd like to say, sir, that it's not the first time this man has
+been late falling in. 'E seems to me to be always a dreaming,
+somehow--not properly awake like. I warned 'im for office."
+
+The officer's eyes rested on the hatless soldier facing him. "Well,
+Meyrick," he said quietly, "what have you got to say?"
+
+"Nothing, sir. I'm sorry as 'ow I was late. I was reading, and I never
+noticed the time."
+
+"What were you reading?" The question seemed superfluous--almost
+foolish; but something in the eyes of the man facing him, something in
+his short, stumpy, uncouth figure interested him.
+
+"I was a'reading Kipling, sir." The Sergeant-Major snorted as nearly as
+such an august disciplinarian could snort in the presence of his
+officer.
+
+"'E ought, sir, to 'ave been 'elping the cook's mate--until 'e was due
+on parade."
+
+"Why do you read Kipling or anyone else when you ought to be doing other
+things?" queried the officer. His interest in the case surprised
+himself; the excuse was futile, and two or three days to barracks is an
+excellent corrective.
+
+"I dunno, sir. 'E sort of gets 'old of me, like. Makes me want to do
+things--and then I can't. I've always been slow and awkward like, and I
+gets a bit flustered at times. But I do try 'ard." Again a doubtful
+noise from the Sergeant-Major; to him trying 'ard and reading Kipling
+when you ought to be swabbing up dishes were hardly compatible.
+
+For a moment or two the officer hesitated, while the Sergeant-Major
+looked frankly puzzled. "What the blazes 'as come over 'im," he was
+thinking; "surely he ain't going to be guyed by that there wash. Why
+don't 'e give 'im two days and be done with it--and me with all them
+returns."
+
+"I'm going to talk to you, Meyrick." Major Seymour's voice cut in on
+these reflections. For the fraction of a moment "Two days C.B." had been
+on the tip of his tongue, and then he'd changed his mind. "I want to try
+and make you understand why you were brought up to office to-day. In
+every community--in every body of men--there must be a code of rules
+which govern what they do. Unless those rules are carried out by all
+those men, the whole system falls to the ground. Supposing everyone came
+on to parade half a minute late because they'd been reading Kipling?"
+
+"I know, sir. I see as 'ow I was wrong. But--I dreams sometimes as 'ow
+I'm like them he talks about, when 'e says as 'ow they lifted 'em
+through the charge as won the day. And then the dream's over, and I know
+as 'ow I'm not."
+
+The Sergeant-Major's impatience was barely concealed; those returns were
+oppressing him horribly.
+
+"You can get on with your work, Sergeant-Major. I know you're busy."
+Seymour glanced at the N.C.O. "I want to say a little more to Meyrick."
+
+The scandalised look on his face amused him; to leave a prisoner alone
+with an officer--impossible, unheard of.
+
+"I am in no hurry, sir, thank you."
+
+"All right then," Seymour spoke briefly. "Now, Meyrick, I want you to
+realise that the principle at the bottom of all discipline is the motive
+that makes that discipline. I want you to realise that all these rules
+are made for the good of the regiment, and that in everything you do and
+say you have an effect on the regiment. You count in the show, and I
+count in it, and so does the Sergeant-Major. We're all out for the same
+thing, my lad, and that is the regiment. We do things not because we're
+afraid of being punished if we don't, but because we know that they are
+for the good of the regiment--the finest regiment in the world. You've
+got to make good, not because you'll be dropped on if you don't, but
+because you'll pull the regiment down if you fail. And because you
+count, you, personally, must not be late on parade. It _does_ matter
+what you do yourself. I want you to realise that, and why. The rules you
+are ordered to comply with are the best rules. Sometimes we alter
+one--because we find a better; but they're the best we can get, and
+before you can find yourself in the position of the men you dream
+about--the men who lift others, the men who lead others--you've got to
+lift and lead yourself. Nothing is too small to worry about, nothing too
+insignificant. And because I think, that at the back of your head
+somewhere you've got the right idea; because I think it's natural to you
+to be a bit slow and awkward and that your failure isn't due to laziness
+or slackness, I'm not going to punish you this time for breaking the
+rules. If you do it again, it will be a different matter. There comes a
+time when one can't judge motives; when one can only judge results. Case
+dismissed."
+
+Thoughtfully the officer lit a cigarette as the door closed, and though
+for the present there was nothing more for him to do in office, he
+lingered on, pursuing his train of thoughts. Fully conscious of the
+aggrieved wrath of his Sergeant-Major at having his time wasted, a
+slight smile spread over his face. He was not given to making
+perorations of this sort, and now that it was over he wondered rather
+why he'd done it. And then he recalled the look in the private's eyes as
+he had spoken of his dreams.
+
+"He'll make good that man." Unconsciously he spoke aloud. "He'll make
+good."
+
+The discipline of habit is what we soldiers had before the war, and that
+takes time. Now it must be the discipline of intelligence, of ideal. And
+for that fear is the worst conceivable teacher. We have no time to form
+habits now; the routine of the army is of too short duration before the
+test comes. And the test is too crushing....
+
+The bed-rock now as then is the same, only the methods of getting down
+to that bed-rock have to be more hurried. Of old habitude and constant
+association instilled a religion--the religion of obedience, the
+religion of esprit de corps. But it took time. Now we need the same
+religion, but we haven't the same time.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In the office next door the Sergeant-Major was speaking soft words to
+the Pay Corporal.
+
+"Blimey, I dunno what's come over the bloke. You know that there
+Meyrick..."
+
+"Who, the Slug?" interpolated the other.
+
+"Yes. Well 'e come shambling on to parade this morning with 'is puttees
+flapping round his ankles--late as usual; and 'e told me to run 'im up
+to office." A thumb indicated the Major next door. "When I gets 'im
+there, instead of giving 'im three days C.B. and being done with it, 'e
+starts a lot of jaw about motives and discipline. 'E hadn't got no ruddy
+excuse; said 'e was a'reading Kipling, or some such rot--when 'e ought
+to have been 'elping the cook's mate."
+
+"What did he give him?" asked the Pay Corporal, interested.
+
+"Nothing. His blessing and dismissed the case. As if I had nothing
+better to do than listen to 'im talking 'ot air to a perisher like that
+there Meyrick. 'Ere, pass over them musketry returns."
+
+Which conversation, had Seymour overheard it, he would have understood
+and fully sympathised with. For C.-S.-M. Hayton, though a prince of
+sergeant-majors, was no student of physiology. To him a spade was a
+spade only as long as it shovelled earth.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Now, before I go on to the day when the subject of all this trouble and
+talk was called on to make good, and how he did it, a few words on the
+man himself might not be amiss. War, the great forcing house of
+character, admits no lies. Sooner or later it finds out a man, and he
+stands in the pitiless glare of truth for what he is. And it is not by
+any means the cheery hail-fellow-well-met type, or the thruster, or the
+sportsman, who always pool the most votes when the judging starts....
+
+John Meyrick, before he began to train for the great adventure, had been
+something in a warehouse down near Tilbury. And "something" is about the
+best description of what he was that you could give. Moreover there
+wasn't a dog's chance of his ever being "anything." He used to help the
+young man--I should say young gentleman--who checked weigh bills at one
+of the dock entrances. More than that I cannot say, and incidentally the
+subject is not of surpassing importance. His chief interests in life
+were contemplating the young gentleman, listening open-mouthed to his
+views on life, and, dreaming. Especially the latter. Sometimes he would
+go after the day's work, and, sitting down on a bollard, his eyes would
+wander over the lines of some dirty tramp, with her dark-skinned crew.
+Visions of wonderful seas and tropic islands, of leafy palms with the
+blue-green surf thundering in towards them, of coral reefs and
+glorious-coloured flowers, would run riot in his brain. Not that he
+particularly wanted to go and see these figments of his imagination for
+himself; it was enough for him to dream of them--to conjure them up for
+a space in his mind by the help of an actual concrete ship--and then to
+go back to his work of assisting his loquacious companion. He did not
+find the work uncongenial; he had no hankerings after other modes of
+life--in fact the thought of any change never even entered into his
+calculations. What the future might hold he neither knew nor cared; the
+expressions of his companion on the rottenness of life in general and
+their firm in particular awoke no answering chord in his breast He had
+enough to live on in his little room at the top of a tenement house--he
+had enough over for an occasional picture show--and he had his dreams.
+He was content.
+
+Then came the war. For a long while it passed him by; it was no concern
+of his, and it didn't enter his head that it was ever likely to be until
+one night, as he was going in to see "Jumping Jess, or the Champion Girl
+Cowpuncher" at the local movies, a recruiting sergeant touched him on
+the arm.
+
+He was not a promising specimen for a would-be soldier, but that
+recruiting sergeant was not new to the game, and he'd seen worse.
+
+"Why aren't you in khaki, young fellow me lad?" he remarked genially.
+
+The idea, as I say, was quite new to our friend. Even though that very
+morning his colleague in the weigh-bill pastime had chucked it and
+joined, even though he'd heard a foreman discussing who they were to put
+in his place as "that young Meyrick was habsolutely 'opeless," it still
+hadn't dawned on him that he might go too. But the recruiting sergeant
+was a man of some knowledge; in his daily round he encountered many and
+varied types. In two minutes he had fired the boy's imagination with a
+glowing and partially true description of the glories of war and the
+army, and supplied him with another set of dreams to fill his brain.
+Wasting no time, he struck while the iron was hot, and in a few minutes
+John Meyrick, sometime checker of weigh-bills, died, and No. 8469,
+Private John Meyrick, came into being....
+
+But though you change a man's vocation with the stroke of a pen, you do
+not change his character. A dreamer he was in the beginning, and a
+dreamer he remained to the end. And dreaming, as I have already pointed
+out, was not a thing which commended itself to Company-Sergeant-Major
+Hayton, who in due course became one of the chief arbiters of our
+friend's destinies. True it was no longer coral islands--but such
+details availed not with cook's mates and other busy movers in the
+regimental hive. Where he'd got them from, Heaven knows, those tattered
+volumes of Kipling; but their matchless spirit had caught his brain and
+fired his soul, with the result--well, the first of them has been given.
+
+There were more results to follow. Not three days after he was again
+upon the mat for the same offence, only to say much the same as before.
+
+"I do try, sir--I do try; but some'ow----"
+
+And though in the bottom of his heart the officer believed him, though
+in a very strange way he felt interested in him, there are limits and
+there are rules. There comes a time, as he had said, when one can't
+judge by motives, when one can only judge by results.
+
+"You mustn't only try; you must succeed. Three days to barracks."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+That night in mess the officer sat next to the Colonel. "It's the
+thrusters, the martinets, the men of action who win the V.C.'s and
+D.C.M.'s, my dear fellow," said his C.O., as he pushed along the wine.
+"But it's the dreamers, the idealists who deserve them. They suffer so
+much more."
+
+And as Major Seymour poured himself out a glass of port, a face came
+into his mind--the face of a stumpy, uncouth man with deep-set eyes. "I
+wonder," he murmured--"I wonder."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The opportunities for stirring deeds of heroism in France do not occur
+with great frequency, whatever outsiders may think to the contrary. For
+months on end a battalion may live a life of peace and utter boredom,
+getting a few casualties now and then, occasionally bagging an unwary
+Hun, vegetating continuously in the same unprepossessing hole in the
+ground--saving only when they go to another, or retire to a town
+somewhere in rear to have a bath. And the battalion to which No. 8469,
+Private Meyrick, belonged was no exception to the general rule.
+
+For five weeks they had lived untroubled by anything except flies--all
+of them, that is, save various N.C.O.'s in A company. To them flies were
+quite a secondary consideration when compared to their other worry. And
+that, it is perhaps superfluous to add, was Private Meyrick himself.
+
+Every day the same scene would be enacted; every day some sergeant or
+corporal would dance with rage as he contemplated the Company Idiot--the
+title by which he was now known to all and sundry.
+
+"Wake up! Wake up! Lumme, didn't I warn you--didn't I warn yer 'arf an
+'our ago over by that there tree, when you was a-staring into the
+branches looking for nuts or something--didn't I warn yer that the
+company was parading at 10.15 for 'ot baths?"
+
+"I didn't 'ear you, Corporal--I didn't really."
+
+"Didn't 'ear me! Wot yer mean, didn't 'ear me? My voice ain't like the
+twitter of a grass'opper, is it? It's my belief you're balmy, my boy,
+B-A-R-M-Y. Savez. Get a move on yer, for Gawd's sake! You ought to 'ave
+a nurse. And when you gets to the bath-'ouse, for 'Eaven's sake pull
+yerself together! Don't forget to take off yer clothes before yer gets
+in; and when they lets the water out, don't go stopping in the bath
+because you forgot to get out. I wouldn't like another regiment to see
+you lying about when they come. They might say things."
+
+And so with slight variations the daily strafe went on. Going up to the
+trenches it was always Meyrick who got lost; Meyrick who fell into shell
+holes and lost his rifle or the jam for his section; Meyrick who forgot
+to lie down when a flare went up, but stood vacantly gazing at it until
+partially stunned by his next-door neighbour. Periodically messages
+would come through from the next regiment asking if they'd lost the
+regimental pet, and that he was being returned. It was always
+Meyrick....
+
+"I can't do nothing with 'im, sir." It was the Company-Sergeant-Major
+speaking to Seymour. "'E seems soft like in the 'ead. Whenever 'e does
+do anything and doesn't forget, 'e does it wrong. 'E's always dreaming
+and 'alf balmy."
+
+"He's not a flier, I know, Sergeant-Major, but we've got to put up with
+all sorts nowadays," returned the officer diplomatically. "Send him to
+me, and let me have a talk to him."
+
+"Very good, sir; but 'e'll let us down badly one of these days."
+
+And so once again Meyrick stood in front of his company officer, and was
+encouraged to speak of his difficulties. To an amazing degree he had
+remembered the discourse he had listened to many months previously; to
+do something for the regiment was what he desired more than anything--to
+do something big, really big. He floundered and stopped; he could find
+no words....
+
+"But don't you understand that it's just as important to do the little
+things? If you can't do them, you'll never do the big ones."
+
+"Yes, sir--I sees that; I do try, sir, and then I gets thinking, and
+some'ow--oh! I dunno--but everything goes out of my head like. I wants
+the regiment to be proud of me--and then they calls me the Company
+Idiot." There was something in the man's face that touched Seymour.
+
+"But how can the regiment be proud of you, my lad," he asked gently, "if
+you're always late on parade, and forgetting to do what you're told? If
+I wasn't certain in my own mind that it wasn't slackness and
+disobedience on your part, I should ask the Colonel to send you back to
+England as useless."
+
+An appealing look came into the man's eyes. "Oh! don't do that, sir. I
+will try 'ard--straight I will."
+
+"Yes, but as I told you once before, there comes a time when one must
+judge by results. Now, Meyrick, you must understand this finally. Unless
+you do improve, I shall do what I said. I shall tell the Colonel that
+you're not fitted to be a soldier, and I shall get him to send you away.
+I can't go on much longer; you're more trouble than you're worth. We're
+going up to the trenches again to-night, and I shall watch you. That
+will do; you may go."
+
+And so it came about that the Company Idiot entered on what was destined
+to prove the big scene in his uneventful life under the eyes of a
+critical audience. To the Sergeant-Major, who was a gross materialist,
+failure was a foregone conclusion; to the company officer, who went a
+little nearer to the heart of things, the issue was doubtful. Possibly
+his threat would succeed; possibly he'd struck the right note. And the
+peculiar thing is that both proved right according to their own
+lights....
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+This particular visit to the trenches was destined to be of a very
+different nature to former ones. On previous occasions peace had
+reigned; nothing untoward had occurred to mar the quiet restful
+existence which trench life so often affords to its devotees. But this
+time....
+
+It started about six o'clock in the morning on the second day of their
+arrival--a really pleasant little intensive bombardment. A succession of
+shells came streaming in, shattering every yard of the front line with
+tearing explosions. Then the Huns turned on the gas and attacked behind
+it. A few reached the trenches--the majority did not; and the ground
+outside was covered with grey-green figures, some of which were writhing
+and twitching and some of which were still. The attack had failed....
+
+But that sort of thing leaves its mark on the defenders, and this was
+their first baptism of real fire. Seymour had passed rapidly down the
+trench when he realised that for the moment it was over; and though
+men's faces were covered with the hideous gas masks, he saw by the
+twitching of their hands and by the ugly high-pitched laughter he heard
+that it would be well to get into touch with those behind. Moreover, in
+every piece of trench there lay motionless figures in khaki....
+
+It was as he entered his dugout that the bombardment started again.
+Quickly he went to the telephone, and started to get on to brigade
+headquarters. It took him twenty seconds to realise that the line had
+been cut, and then he cursed dreadfully. The roar of the bursting shells
+was deafening; his cursing was inaudible; but in a fit of almost
+childish rage--he kicked the machine. Men's nerves are jangled at
+times....
+
+It was merely coincidence doubtless, but a motionless figure in a gas
+helmet crouching outside the dugout saw that kick, and slowly in his
+bemused brain there started a train of thought. Why should his company
+officer do such a thing; why should they all be cowering in the trench
+waiting for death to come to them; why...? For a space his brain refused
+to act; then it started again.
+
+Why was that man lying full length at the bottom of the trench, with the
+great hole torn out of his back, and the red stream spreading slowly
+round him; why didn't it stop instead of filling up the little holes at
+the bottom of the trench and then overflowing into the next one? He was
+the corporal who'd called him balmy; but why should he be dead? He was
+dead--at least the motionless watcher thought he must be. He lay so
+still, and his body seemed twisted and unnatural. But why should one of
+the regiment be dead; it was all so unexpected, so sudden? And why did
+his Major kick the telephone?...
+
+For a space he lay still, thinking; trying to figure things out. He
+suddenly remembered tripping over a wire coming up to the trench, and
+being cursed by his sergeant for lurching against him. "You would," he
+had been told--"you would. If it ain't a wire, you'd fall over yer own
+perishing feet."
+
+"What's the wire for, sergint?" he had asked.
+
+"What d'you think, softie. Drying the washing on? It's the telephone
+wire to Headquarters."
+
+It came all back to him, and it had been over by the stunted pollard
+that he'd tripped up. Then he looked back at the silent, motionless
+figure--the red stream had almost reached him--and the Idea came. It
+came suddenly--like a blow. The wire must be broken, otherwise the
+officer wouldn't have kicked the telephone; he'd have spoken through it.
+
+"I wants the regiment to be proud of me--and then they calls me the
+Company Idiot." He couldn't do the little things--he was always
+forgetting, but...! What was that about "lifting 'em through the charge
+that won the day"? There was no charge, but there was the regiment. And
+the regiment was wanting him at last. Something wet touched his
+fingers, and when he looked at them, they were red. "B-A-R-M-Y. You
+ought to 'ave a nurse...."
+
+Then once again coherent thought failed him--utter physical weakness
+gripped him--he lay comatose, shuddering, and crying softly over he knew
+not what. The sweat was pouring down his face from the heat of the gas
+helmet, but still he held the valve between his teeth, breathing in
+through the nose and out through the mouth as he had been told. It was
+automatic, involuntary; he couldn't think, he only remembered certain
+things by instinct.
+
+Suddenly a high explosive shell burst near him--quite close: and a mass
+of earth crashed down on his legs and back, half burying him. He
+whimpered feebly, and after a while dragged himself free. But the action
+brought him close to that silent figure, with the ripped up back....
+
+"You ought to 'ave a nurse..." Why? Gawd above--why? Wasn't he as good a
+man as that there dead corporal? Wasn't he one of the regiment too? And
+now the Corporal couldn't do anything, but he--well, he hadn't got no
+hole torn out of his back. It wasn't his blood that lay stagnant,
+filling the little holes at the bottom of the trench....
+
+Kipling came back to him--feebly, from another world. The dreamer was
+dreaming once again.
+
+    "If your officer's dead and the sergeants look white,
+    Remember it's ruin to run from a fight."
+
+Run! Who was talking of running? He was going to save the regiment--once
+he could think clearly again. Everything was hazy just for the moment.
+
+    "And wait for supports like a soldier."
+
+But there weren't no supports, and the telephone wire was broken--the
+wire he'd tripped over as he came up. Until it was mended there wouldn't
+be any supports--until it was mended--until----
+
+With a choking cry he lurched to his feet: and staggering, running,
+falling down, the dreamer crossed the open. A tearing pain through his
+left arm made him gasp, but he got there--got there and collapsed. He
+couldn't see very well, so he tore off his gas helmet, and, peering
+round, at last saw the wire. And the wire was indeed cut. Why the
+throbbing brain should have imagined it would be cut _there_, I know
+not; perhaps he associated it particularly with the pollard--and after
+all he was the Company Idiot. But it was cut there, I am glad to say;
+let us not begrudge him his little triumph. He found one end, and some
+few feet off he saw the other. With infinite difficulty he dragged
+himself towards it. Why did he find it so terribly hard to move? He
+couldn't see clearly; everything somehow was getting hazy and red. The
+roar of the shells seemed muffled strangely--far-away, indistinct. He
+pulled at the wire, and it came towards him; pulled again, and the two
+ends met. Then he slipped back against the pollard, the two ends grasped
+in his right hand....
+
+The regiment was safe at last. The officer would not have to kick the
+telephone again. The Idiot had made good. And into his heart there came
+a wonderful peace.
+
+There was a roaring in his ears; lights danced before his eyes; strange
+shapes moved in front of him. Then, of a sudden, out of the gathering
+darkness a great white light seared his senses, a deafening crash
+overwhelmed him, a sharp stabbing blow struck his head. The roaring
+ceased, and a limp figure slipped down and lay still, with two ends of
+wire grasped tight in his hand.
+
+"They are going to relieve us to-night, Sergeant-Major." The two men
+with tired eyes faced one another in the Major's dugout The bombardment
+was over, and the dying rays of a blood-red sun glinted through the
+door. "I think they took it well."
+
+"They did, sir--very well."
+
+"What are the casualties? Any idea?"
+
+"Somewhere about seventy or eighty, sir--but I don't know the exact
+numbers."
+
+"As soon as it's dark I'm going back to headquarters. Captain Standish
+will take command."
+
+"That there Meyrick is reported missing, sir."
+
+"Missing! He'll turn up somewhere--if he hasn't been hit."
+
+"Probably walked into the German trenches by mistake," grunted the
+C.-S.-M. dispassionately, and retired. Outside the dugout men had moved
+the corporal; but the red pools still remained--stagnant at the bottom
+of the trench....
+
+"Well, you're through all right now, Major," said a voice in the
+doorway, and an officer with the white and blue brassard of the signals
+came in and sat down. "There are so many wires going back that have been
+laid at odd times, that it's difficult to trace them in a hurry." He
+gave a ring on the telephone, and in a moment the thin, metallic voice
+of the man at the other end broke the silence.
+
+"All right. Just wanted to make sure we were through. Ring off."
+
+"I remember kicking that damn thing this morning when I found we were
+cut off," remarked Seymour, with a weary smile. "Funny how childish one
+is at times."
+
+"Aye--but natural. This war's damnable." The two men fell silent. "I'll
+have a bit of an easy here," went on the signal officer after a while,
+"and then go down with you."
+
+A few hours later the two men clambered out of the back of the trench.
+"It's easier walking, and I know every stick," remarked the Major. "Make
+for that stunted pollard first."
+
+Dimly the tree stood outlined against the sky--a conspicuous mark and
+signpost. It was the signal officer who tripped over it first--that
+huddled quiet body, and gave a quick ejaculation. "Somebody caught it
+here, poor devil. Look out--duck."
+
+A flare shot up into the night, and by its light the two motionless
+officers close to the pollard looked at what they had found.
+
+"How the devil did he get here!" muttered Seymour. "It's one of my men."
+
+"Was he anywhere near you when you kicked the telephone?" asked the
+other, and his voice was a little hoarse.
+
+"He may have been--I don't know. Why?"
+
+"Look at his right hand." From the tightly clenched fingers two broken
+ends of wire stuck out.
+
+"Poor lad." The Major bit his lip. "Poor lad--I wonder. They called him
+the Company Idiot. Do you think...?"
+
+"I think he came out to find the break in the wire," said the other
+quietly. "And in doing so he found the answer to the big riddle."
+
+"I knew he'd make good--I knew it all along. He used to dream of big
+things--something big for the regiment."
+
+"And he's done a big thing, by Jove," said the signal officer gruffly,
+"for it's the motive that counts. And he couldn't know that he'd got the
+wrong wire."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"When 'e doesn't forget, 'e does things wrong."
+
+As I said, both the Sergeant-Major and his officer proved right
+according to their own lights.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+SPUD TREVOR OF THE RED HUSSARS
+
+
+It would be but a small exaggeration to say that in every God-forsaken
+hole and corner of the world, where soldiers lived and moved and had
+their being, before Nemesis overtook Europe, the name of Spud Trevor of
+the Red Hussars was known. From Simla to Singapore, from Khartoum to the
+Curragh his name was symbolical of all that a regimental officer should
+be. Senior subalterns guiding the erring feet of the young and frivolous
+from the tempting paths of night clubs and fair ladies, to the
+infinitely better ones of hunting and sport, were apt to quote him.
+Adjutants had been known to hold him up as an example to those of their
+flock who needed chastening for any of the hundred and one things that
+adjutants do not like--if they have their regiment at heart. And he
+deserved it all.
+
+I, who knew him, as well perhaps as anyone; I, who was privileged to
+call him friend, and yet in the hour of his greatest need failed him; I,
+to whose lot it has fallen to remove the slur from his name, state this
+in no half-hearted way. He deserved it, and a thousand times as much
+again. He was the type of man beside whom the ordinary English
+gentleman--the so-called white man--looked dirty-grey in comparison. And
+yet there came a day when men who had openly fawned on him left the room
+when he came in, when whispers of an unsuspected yellow streak in him
+began to circulate, when senior subalterns no longer held him up as a
+model. Now he is dead: and it has been left to me to vindicate him.
+Perchance by so doing I may wipe out a little of the stain of guilt that
+lies so heavy on my heart; perchance I may atone, in some small degree,
+for my doubts and suspicions; and, perchance too, the whitest man that
+ever lived may of his understanding and knowledge, perfected now in the
+Great Silence to which he has gone, accept my tardy reparation, and
+forgive. It is only yesterday that the document, which explained
+everything, came into my hands. It was sent to me sealed, and with it a
+short covering letter from a firm of solicitors stating that their
+client was dead--killed in France--and that according to his
+instructions they were forwarding the enclosed, with the request that I
+should make such use of it as I saw fit.
+
+To all those others, who, like myself, doubted, I address these words.
+Many have gone under: to them I venture to think everything is now
+clear. Maybe they have already met Spud, in the great vast gulfs where
+the mists of illusion are rolled away. For those who still live, he has
+no abuse--that incomparable sportsman and sahib; no recriminations for
+us who ruined his life. He goes farther, and finds excuses for us; God
+knows we need them. Here is what he has written. The document is
+reproduced exactly as I received it--saving only that I have altered all
+names. The man, whom I have called Ginger Bathurst, and everyone else
+concerned, will, I think, recognise themselves. And, pour les
+autres--let them guess.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In two days, old friend, my battalion sails for France; and, now with
+the intention full formed and fixed in my mind, that I shall not return,
+I have determined to put down on paper the true facts of what happened
+three years ago: or rather, the true motives that impelled me to do what
+I did. I put it that way, because you already know the facts. You know
+that I was accused of saving my life at the expense of a woman's when
+the _Astoria_ foundered in mid-Atlantic; you know that I was accused of
+having thrust her aside and taken her place in the boat. That accusation
+is true. I did save my life at a woman's expense. But the motives that
+impelled my action you do not know, nor the identity of the woman
+concerned. I hope and trust that when you have read what I shall write
+you will exonerate me from the charge of a cowardice, vile and
+abominable beyond words, and at the most only find me guilty of a
+mistaken sense of duty. These words will only reach you in the event of
+my death; do with them what you will. I should like to think that the
+old name was once again washed clean of the dirty blot it has on it now;
+so do your best for me, old pal, do your best.
+
+You remember Ginger Bathurst--of course you do. Is he still a budding
+Staff Officer at the War Office, I wonder, or is he over the water? I'm
+out of touch with the fellows in these days--(_the pathos of it: Spud
+out of touch, Spud of all men, whose soul was in the Army_)--one doesn't
+live in the back of beyond for three years and find Army lists and
+gazettes growing on the trees. You remember also, I suppose, that I was
+best man at his wedding when he married the Comtesse de Grecin. I told
+you at the time that I was not particularly enamoured of his choice, but
+it was _his_ funeral; and with the old boy asking me to steer him
+through, I had no possible reason for refusing. Not that I had anything
+against the woman: she was charming, fascinating, and had a pretty
+useful share of this world's boodle. Moreover, she seemed
+extraordinarily in love with Ginger, and was just the sort of woman to
+push an ambitious fellow like him right up to the top of the tree. He,
+of course, was simply idiotic: he was stark, raving mad about her; vowed
+she was the most peerless woman that ever a wretched being like himself
+had been privileged to look at; loaded her with presents which he
+couldn't afford, and generally took it a good deal worse than usual. I
+think, in a way, it was the calm acceptance of those presents that first
+prejudiced me against her. Naturally I saw a lot of her before they were
+married, being such a pal of Ginger's, and I did my best for his sake to
+overcome my dislike. But he wasn't a wealthy man--at the most he had
+about six hundred a year private means--and the presents of jewellery
+alone that he gave her must have made a pretty large hole in his
+capital.
+
+However that is all by the way. They were married, and shortly
+afterwards I took my leave big game shooting and lost sight of them for
+a while. When I came back Ginger was at the War Office, and they were
+living in London. They had a delightful little flat in Hans Crescent,
+and she was pushing him as only a clever woman can push. Everybody who
+could be of the slightest use to him sooner or later got roped in to
+dinner and was duly fascinated.
+
+To an habitual onlooker like myself, the whole thing was clear, and I
+must quite admit that much of my first instinctive dislike--and dislike
+is really too strong a word--evaporated. She went out of her way to be
+charming to me, not that I could be of any use to the old boy, but
+merely because I was his great friend; and of course she knew that I
+realised--what he never dreamed of--that she was paving the way to pull
+some really big strings for him later.
+
+I remember saying good-bye to her one afternoon after a luncheon, at
+which I had watched with great interest the complete capitulation of two
+generals and a well-known diplomatist.
+
+"You're a clever man, Mr. Spud," she murmured, with that charming air of
+taking one into her confidence, with which a woman of the world routs
+the most confirmed misogynist. "If only Ginger----" She broke off and
+sighed: just the suggestion of a sigh; but sufficient to imply--lots.
+
+"My lady," I answered, "keep him fit; make him take exercise: above all
+things don't let him get fat. Even you would be powerless with a fat
+husband. But provided you keep him thin, and never let him decide
+anything for himself, he will live to be a lasting monument and example
+of what a woman can do. And warriors and statesmen shall bow down and
+worship, what time they drink tea in your boudoir and eat buns from your
+hand. Bismillah!"
+
+But time is short, and these details are trifling. Only once again, old
+pal, I am living in the days when I moved in the pleasant paths of
+life, and the temptation to linger is strong. Bear with me a moment. I
+am a sybarite for the moment in spirit: in reality--God! how it hurts.
+
+    "Gentlemen rankers out on the spree,
+    Damned from here to eternity:
+    God have mercy on such as we.
+      Bah! Yah! Bah!"
+
+I never thought I should live to prove Kipling's lines. But that's what
+I am--a gentleman ranker; going out to the war of wars--a private. I,
+and that's the bitterest part of it, I, who had, as you know full well,
+always, for years, lived for this war, the war against those cursed
+Germans. I knew it was coming--you'll bear me witness of that fact--and
+the cruel irony of fate that has made that very knowledge my downfall is
+not the lightest part of the little bundle fate has thrown on my
+shoulders. Yes, old man, we're getting near the motives now; but all in
+good time. Let me lay it out dramatically; don't rob me of my exit--I'm
+feeling a bit theatrical this evening. It may interest you to know that
+I saw Lady Delton to-day: she's a V.A.D., and did not recognise me,
+thank Heaven!
+
+(_Need I say again that Delton is not the name he wrote. Sufficient that
+she and Spud knew one another_ _very well, in other days. But in some
+men it would have emphasised the bitterness of spirit._)
+
+Let's get on with it. A couple of years passed, and the summer of 1912
+found me in New York. I was temporarily engaged on a special job which
+it is unnecessary to specify. It was not a very important one, but, as
+you know, a gift of tongues and a liking for poking my nose into the
+affairs of nations had enabled me to get a certain amount of more or
+less diplomatic work. The job was over, and I was merely marking time in
+New York waiting for the _Astoria_ to sail. Two days before she was due
+to leave, and just as I was turning into the doors of my hotel, I ran
+full tilt into von Basel--a very decent fellow in the Prussian
+Guard--who was seconded and doing military attache work in America. I'd
+met him off and on hunting in England--one of the few Germans I know who
+really went well to hounds.
+
+"Hullo! Trevor," he said, as we met. "What are you doing here?"
+
+"Marking time," I answered. "Waiting for my boat."
+
+We strolled to the bar, and over a cocktail he suggested that if I had
+nothing better to do I might as well come to some official ball that was
+on that evening. "I can get you a card," he remarked. "You ought to
+come; your friend, Mrs. Bathurst--Comtesse de Grecin that was--is going
+to be present."
+
+"I'd no idea she was this side of the water," I said, surprised.
+
+"Oh, yes! Come over to see her people or something. Well! will you
+come?"
+
+I agreed, having nothing else on, and as he left the hotel, he laughed.
+"Funny the vagaries of fate. I don't suppose I come into this hotel once
+in three months. I only came down this evening to tell a man not to come
+and call as arranged, as my kid has got measles--and promptly ran into
+you."
+
+Truly the irony of circumstances! If one went back far enough, one might
+find that the determining factor of my disgrace was the quarrel of a
+nurse and her lover which made her take the child another walk than
+usual and pick up infection. Dash it all! you might even find that it
+was a spot on her nose that made her do so, as she didn't want to meet
+him when not looking at her best! But that way madness lies.
+
+Whatever the original cause--I went: and in due course met the Comtesse.
+She gave me a couple of dances, and I found that she, too, had booked
+her passage on the _Astoria_. I met very few people I knew, and having
+found it the usual boring stunt, I decided to get a glass of champagne
+and a sandwich and then retire to bed. I took them along to a small
+alcove where I could smoke a cigarette in peace, and sat down. It was as
+I sat down that I heard from behind a curtain which completely screened
+me from view, the words "English Army" spoken in German. And the voice
+was the voice of the Comtesse.
+
+Nothing very strange in the words you say, seeing that she spoke German,
+as well as several other languages, fluently. Perhaps not--but you know
+what my ideas used to be--how I was obsessed with the spy theory: at any
+rate, I listened. I listened for a quarter of an hour, and then I got my
+coat and went home--went home to try and see a way through just about
+the toughest proposition I'd ever been up against. For the
+Comtesse--Ginger Bathurst's idolised wife--was hand in glove with the
+German Secret Service. She was a spy, not of the wireless installation
+up the chimney type, not of the document-stealing type, but of a very
+much more dangerous type than either, the type it is almost impossible
+to incriminate.
+
+I can't remember the conversation I overheard exactly, I cannot give it
+to you word for word, but I will give you the substance of it. Her
+companion was von Basel's chief--a typical Prussian officer of the most
+overbearing description.
+
+"How goes it with you, Comtesse?" he asked her, and I heard the scrape
+of a match as he lit a cigarette.
+
+"Well, Baron, very well."
+
+"They do not suspect?"
+
+"Not an atom. The question has never been raised even as to my national
+sympathies, except once, and then the suggestion--not forced or
+emphasised in any way--that, as the child of a family who had lost
+everything in the '70 war, my sympathies were not hard to discover, was
+quite sufficient. That was at the time of the Agadir crisis."
+
+"And you do not desire revanche?"
+
+"My dear man, I desire money. My husband with his pay and private income
+has hardly enough to dress me on."
+
+"But, dear lady, why, if I may ask, did you marry him? With so many
+others for her choice, surely the Comtesse de Grecin could have
+commanded the world?"
+
+"Charming as a phrase, but I assure you that the idea of the world at
+one's feet is as extinct as the dodo. No, Baron, you may take it from me
+he was the best I could do. A rising junior soldier, employed on a staff
+job at the War Office, _persona grata_ with all the people who really
+count in London by reason of his family, and moreover infatuated with
+his charming wife." Her companion gave a guttural chuckle; I could feel
+him leering. "I give the best dinners in London; the majority of his
+senior officers think I am on the verge of running away with them, and
+when they become too obstreperous, I allow them to kiss my--fingers.
+
+"Listen to me, Baron," she spoke rapidly, in a low voice so that I could
+hardly catch what she said. "I have already given information about some
+confidential big howitzer trials which I saw; it was largely on my
+reports that action was stopped at Agadir; and there are many other
+things--things intangible, in a certain sense--points of view, the state
+of feeling in Ireland, the conditions of labour, which I am able to hear
+the inner side of, in a way quite impossible if I had not the entree
+into that particular class of English society which I now possess. Not
+the so-called smart set, you understand; but the real ruling set--the
+leading soldiers, the leading diplomats. Of course they are
+discreet----"
+
+"But you are a woman and a peerless one, chere Comtesse. I think we may
+leave that cursed country in your hands with perfect safety. And, sooner
+perhaps than even we realise, we may see der Tag."
+
+Such then was briefly the conversation I overheard. As I said, it is not
+given word for word--but that is immaterial. What was I to do? That was
+the point which drummed through my head as I walked back to my hotel;
+that was the point which was still drumming through my head as the dawn
+came stealing in through my window. Put yourself in my place, old man;
+what would you have done?
+
+I, alone, of everyone who knew her in London, had stumbled by accident
+on the truth. Bathurst idolised her, and she exaggerated no whit when
+she boasted that she had the entree to the most exclusive circle in
+England. I know; I was one of it myself. And though one realises that it
+is only in plays and novels that Cabinet Ministers wander about
+whispering State secrets into the ears of beautiful adventuresses, yet
+one also knows in real life how devilish dangerous a really pretty and
+fascinating woman can be--especially when she's bent on finding things
+out and is clever enough to put two and two together.
+
+Take one thing alone, and it was an aspect of the case that particularly
+struck me. Supposing diplomatic relations became strained between us and
+Germany--and I firmly believed, as you know, that sooner or later they
+would; supposing mobilisation was ordered--a secret one; suppose any of
+the hundred and one things which would be bound to form a prelude to a
+European war--and which at all costs must be kept secret--had occurred;
+think of the incalculable danger a clever woman in her position might
+have been, however discreet her husband was. And, my dear old boy, you
+know Ginger!
+
+Supposing the Expeditionary Force were on the point of embarkation. A
+wife might guess their port of departure and arrival by an artless
+question or two as to where her husband on the Staff had motored to that
+day. But why go on? You see what I mean. Only to me, at that time--and
+now I might almost say that I am glad events have justified me--it
+appealed even more than it would have, say, to you. For I was so
+convinced of the danger that threatened us.
+
+But what was I to do? It was only my word against hers. Tell Ginger? The
+idea made even me laugh. Tell the generals and the diplomatists? They
+didn't want to kiss _my_ hand. Tell some big bug in the Secret Service?
+Yes--that anyway; but she was such a devilish clever woman, that I had
+but little faith in such a simple remedy, especially as most of them
+patronised her dinners themselves.
+
+Still, that was the only thing to be done--that, and to keep a look-out
+myself, for I was tolerably certain she did not suspect me. Why should
+she?
+
+And so in due course I found myself sitting next her at dinner as the
+_Astoria_ started her journey across the water.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I am coming to the climax of the drama, old man; I shall not bore you
+much longer. But before I actually give you the details of what occurred
+on that ill-fated vessel's last trip, I want to make sure that you
+realise the state of mind I was in, and the action that I had decided
+on. Firstly, I was convinced that my dinner partner--the wife of one of
+my best friends--was an unscrupulous spy. That the evidence would not
+have hung a fly in a court of law was not the point; the evidence was my
+own hearing, which was good enough for me.
+
+Secondly, I was convinced that she occupied a position in society which
+rendered it easy for her to get hold of the most invaluable information
+in the event of a war between us and Germany.
+
+Thirdly, I was convinced that there would be a war between us and
+Germany.
+
+So much for my state of mind; now, for my course of action.
+
+I had decided to keep a watch on her, and, if I could get hold of the
+slightest incriminating evidence, expose her secretly, but mercilessly,
+to the Secret Service. If I could not--and if I realised there was
+danger brewing--to inform the Secret Service of what I had heard, and,
+sacrificing Ginger's friendship if necessary, and my own reputation for
+chivalry, swear away her honour, or anything, provided only her capacity
+for obtaining information temporarily ceased. Once that was done, then
+face the music, and be accused, if needs be, of false swearing,
+unrequited love, jealousy, what you will. But to destroy her capacity
+for harm to my country was my bounden duty, whatever the social or
+personal results to me.
+
+And there was one other thing--and on this one thing the whole course of
+the matter was destined to hang: _I alone could do it, for I alone knew
+the truth._ Let that sink in, old son; grasp it, realise it, and read my
+future actions by the light of that one simple fact.
+
+I can see you sit back in your chair, and look into the fire with the
+light of comprehension dawning in your eyes; it does put the matter in a
+different complexion, doesn't it, my friend? You begin to appreciate the
+motives that impelled me to sacrifice a woman's life; so far so good.
+You are even magnanimous: what is one woman compared to the danger of a
+nation?
+
+Dear old boy, I drink a silent toast to you. Have you no suspicions?
+What if the woman I sacrificed was the Comtesse herself? Does it
+surprise you; wasn't it the God-sent solution to everything?
+
+Just as a freak of fate had acquainted me with her secret; so did a
+freak of fate throw me in her path at the end....
+
+We hit an iceberg, as you may remember, in the middle of the night, and
+the ship foundered in under twenty minutes.
+
+You can imagine the scene of chaos after we struck, or rather you
+can't. Men were running wildly about shouting, women were screaming, and
+the roar of the siren bellowing forth into the night drove people to a
+perfect frenzy. Then all the lights went out, and darkness settled down
+like a pall on the ship. I struggled up on deck, which was already
+tilting up at a perilous angle, and there--in the mass of scurrying
+figures--I came face to face with the Comtesse. In the panic of the
+moment I had forgotten all about her. She was quite calm, and smiled at
+me, for of course our relations were still as before.
+
+Suddenly there came the shout from close at hand, "Room for one more
+only." What happened then, happened in a couple of seconds; it will take
+me longer to describe.
+
+There flashed into my mind what would occur if I were drowned and the
+Comtesse was saved. There would be no one to combat her activities in
+England; she would have a free hand. My plans were null and void if I
+died; I must get back to England--or England would be in peril. I must
+pass on my information to someone--for I alone knew.
+
+"Hurry up! one more." Another shout from near by, and looking round I
+saw that we were alone. It was she or I.
+
+She moved towards the boat, and as she did so I saw the only possible
+solution--I saw what I then thought to be my duty; what I still
+consider--and, God knows, that scene is never long out of my mind--what
+I still consider to have been my duty. I took her by the arm and twisted
+her facing me.
+
+"As Ginger's wife, yes," I muttered; "as the cursed spy I know you to
+be, no--a thousand times no."
+
+"My God!" she whispered. "My God!"
+
+Without further thought I pushed by her and stepped into the boat, which
+was actually being lowered into the water. Two minutes later the
+_Astoria_ sank, and she went down with her....
+
+That is what occurred that night in mid-Atlantic. I make no excuses, I
+offer no palliation; I merely state facts.
+
+Only had I not heard what I did hear in that alcove she would have been
+just--Ginger's wife. Would the Expeditionary Force have crossed so
+successfully, I wonder?
+
+As I say, I did what I still consider to have been my duty. If both
+could have been saved, well and good; but if it was only one, it _had_
+to be me, or neither. That's the rub; should it have been neither?
+
+Many times since then, old friend, has the white twitching face of that
+woman haunted me in my dreams and in my waking hours. Many times since
+then have I thought that--spy or no spy--I had no right to save my life
+at her expense; I should have gone down with her. Quixotical, perhaps,
+seeing she was what she was; but she was a woman. One thing and one
+thing only I can say. When you read these lines, I shall be dead; they
+will come to you as a voice from the dead. And, as a man who faces his
+Maker, I tell you, with a calm certainty that I am not deceiving myself,
+that that night there was no trace of cowardice in my mind. It was not a
+desire to save my own life that actuated me; it was the fear of danger
+to England. An error of judgment possibly; an act of cowardice--no. That
+much I state, and that much I demand that you believe.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+And now we come to the last chapter--the chapter that you know. I'd been
+back about two months when I first realised that there were stories
+going round about me. There were whispers in the club; men avoided me;
+women cut me. Then came the dreadful night when a man--half drunk--in
+the club accused me of cowardice point-blank, and sneeringly contrasted
+my previous reputation with my conduct on the _Astoria_. And I realised
+that someone must have seen. I knocked that swine in the club down; but
+the whispers grew. I knew it. Someone had seen, and it would be sheer
+hypocrisy on my part to pretend that such a thing didn't matter. It
+mattered everything: it ended me. The world--our world--judges deeds,
+not motives; and even had I published at the time this document I am
+sending to you, our world would have found me guilty. They would have
+said what you would have said had you spoken the thoughts I saw in your
+eyes that night I came to you. They would have said that a sudden wave
+of cowardice had overwhelmed me, and that brought face to face with
+death I had saved my own life at the expense of a woman's. Many would
+have gone still further, and said that my black cowardice was rendered
+blacker still by my hypocrisy in inventing such a story; that first to
+kill the woman, and then to blacken her reputation as an excuse, showed
+me as a thing unfit to live. I know the world.
+
+Moreover, as far as I knew then--I am sure of it now--whoever it was who
+saw my action, did not see who the woman was, and therefore the
+publication of this document at that time would have involved Ginger,
+for it would have been futile to publish it without names. Feeling as I
+did that perhaps I should have sunk with her; feeling as I did that, for
+good or evil, I had blasted Ginger's life, I simply couldn't do it. You
+didn't believe in me, old chap; at the bottom of their hearts all my old
+pals thought I'd shown the yellow streak; and I couldn't stick it. So I
+went to the Colonel, and told him I was handing in my papers. He was in
+his quarters, I remember, and started filling his pipe as I was
+speaking.
+
+"Why, Spud?" he asked, when I told him my intention.
+
+And then I told him something of what I have written to you. I said it
+to him in confidence, and when I'd finished he sat very silent.
+
+"Good God!" he muttered at length. "Ginger's wife!"
+
+"You believe me, Colonel?" I asked.
+
+"Spud," he said, putting his hands on my shoulders, "that's a damn
+rotten thing to ask me--after fifteen years. But it's the regiment." And
+he fell to staring at the fire.
+
+Aye, that was it. It was the regiment that mattered. For better or for
+worse I had done what I had done, and it was my show. The Red Hussars
+must not be made to suffer; and their reputation would have suffered
+through me. Otherwise I'd have faced it out. As it was, I had to go; I
+knew it. I'd come to the same decision myself.
+
+Only now, sitting here in camp with the setting sun glinting through the
+windows of the hut, just a Canadian private under an assumed name,
+things are a little different. The regiment is safe; I must think now of
+the old name. The Colonel was killed at Cambrai; therefore you alone
+will be in possession of the facts. Ginger, if he reads these words,
+will perhaps forgive me for the pain I have inflicted on him. Let him
+remember that though I did a dreadful thing to him, a thing which up to
+now he has been ignorant of, yet I suffered much for his sake after.
+During my life it was one thing; when I am dead his claims must give way
+to a greater one--my name.
+
+Wherefore I, Patrick Courtenay Trevor, having the unalterable intention
+of meeting my Maker during the present war, and therefore feeling in a
+measure that I am, even as I write, standing at the threshold of His
+Presence, do swear before Almighty God that what I have written is the
+truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. So help me, God.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The fall-in is going, old man. Good-bye.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+THE FATAL SECOND
+
+
+It was in July of 1914--on the Saturday of Henley Week. People who were
+there may remember that, for once in a way, our fickle climate was
+pleased to smile upon us.
+
+Underneath the wall of Phyllis Court a punt was tied up. The prizes had
+been given away, and the tightly packed boats surged slowly up and down
+the river, freed at last from the extreme boredom of watching crews they
+did not know falling exhausted out of their boats. In the punt of which
+I speak were three men and a girl. One of the men was myself, who have
+no part in this episode, save the humble one of narrator. The other
+three were the principals; I would have you make their acquaintance. I
+would hurriedly say that it is not the old, old story of a woman and two
+men, for one of the men was her brother.
+
+To begin with--the girl. Pat Delawnay--she was always called Pat, as she
+didn't look like a Patricia--was her name, and she was--well, here I
+give in. I don't know the colour of her eyes, nor can I say with any
+certainty the colour of her hair; all I know is that she looked as if
+the sun had come from heaven and kissed her, and had then gone back
+again satisfied with his work. She was a girl whom to know was to
+love--the dearest, most understanding soul in God's whole earth. I'd
+loved her myself since I was out of petticoats.
+
+Then there was Jack Delawnay, her brother. Two years younger he was, and
+between the two of them there was an affection and love which is
+frequently conspicuous by its absence between brother and sister. He was
+a cheery youngster, a good-looking boy, and fellows in the regiment
+liked him. He rode straight, and he had the money to keep good cattle.
+In addition, the men loved him, and that means a lot when you size up an
+officer.
+
+And then there was the other. Older by ten years than the boy--the same
+age as myself--Jerry Dixon was my greatest friend. We had fought
+together at school, played the ass together at Sandhurst, and entered
+the regiment on the same day. He had "A" company and I had "C," and the
+boy was one of his subalterns. Perhaps I am biassed, but to me Jerry
+Dixon had one of the finest characters I have ever seen in any man. He
+was no Galahad, no prig; he was just a man, a white man. He had that
+cheerily ugly face which is one of the greatest gifts a man can have,
+and he also had Pat as his fiancee, which was another.
+
+My name is immaterial, but everyone calls me Winkle, owing to---- Well,
+some day I may tell you.
+
+The regiment, our regiment, was the, let us call it the Downshires.
+
+We had come over from Aldershot and were week-ending at the Delawnays'
+place--they always took one on the river for Henley. At the moment Jerry
+was holding forth, quite unmoved by exhortations to "Get out and get
+under" bawled in his ears by blackened gentlemen of doubtful voice and
+undoubted inebriation.
+
+As I write, the peculiar--the almost sinister--nature of his
+conversation, in the light of future events, seems nothing short of
+diabolical. And yet at the time we were just three white-flannelled men
+and a girl with a great floppy hat lazing over tea in a punt. How the
+gods must have laughed!
+
+"My dear old Winkle"--he was lighting a cigarette as he spoke--"you
+don't realise the deeper side of soldiering at all. The subtle nuances
+(French, Pat, in case my accent is faulty) are completely lost upon
+you."
+
+I remember smiling to myself as I heard Jerry getting warmed up to his
+subject, and then my attention wandered, and I dozed off. I had heard it
+all before so often from the dear old boy. We always used to chaff him
+about it in the mess. I can see him now, after dinner, standing with his
+back to the ante-room fire, a whisky-and-soda in his hand and a dirty
+old pipe between his teeth.
+
+"It's all very well for you fellows to laugh," he would say, "but I'm
+right for all that. It is absolutely essential to think out beforehand
+what one would do in certain exceptional eventualities, so that when
+that eventuality does arise you won't waste any time, but will
+automatically do the right thing."
+
+And then the adjutant recalled in a still small voice how he first
+realised the orderly-room sergeant's baby was going to be sick in his
+arms at the regiment's Christmas-tree festivities, and, instead of
+throwing it on the floor, he had clung to it for that fatal second of
+indecision. As he admitted, it was certainly not one of the things he
+had thought out beforehand.
+
+He's gone, too, has old Bellairs the adjutant. I wonder how many fellows
+I'll know when I get back to them next week? But I'm wandering.
+
+"Winkle, wake up!" It was Pat speaking. "Jerry is being horribly
+serious, and I'm not at all certain it will be safe to marry him; he'll
+be experimenting on me."
+
+"What's he been saying?" I murmured sleepily.
+
+"He's been thinking what he'd do," laughed Jack, "if the stout female
+personage in yonder small canoe overbalanced and fell in. There'll be no
+fatal second then, Jerry, my boy. It'll be a minute even if I have to
+hold you. You'd never be able to look your friends in the face again if
+you didn't let her drown."
+
+"Ass!" grunted Jerry. "No, Winkle, I was just thinking, amongst other
+things, of what might very easily happen to any of us three here, and
+what did happen to old Grantley in South Africa." Grantley was one of
+our majors. "He told me all about it one day in one of his expansive
+moods. It was during a bit of a scrap just before Paardeburg, and he had
+some crowd of irregular Johnnies. He was told off to take a position,
+and apparently it was a fairly warm proposition. However, it was
+perfectly feasible if only the men stuck it. Well, they didn't, but they
+would have except for his momentary indecision. He told me that there
+came a moment in the advance when one man wavered. He knew it and felt
+it all through him. He saw the man--he almost saw the deadly contagion
+spreading from that one man to the others--and he hesitated and was
+lost. When he sprang forward and tried to hold 'em, he failed. The fear
+was on them, and they broke. He told me he regarded himself as every bit
+as much to blame as the man who first gave out."
+
+"But what could he have done, Jerry?" asked Pat.
+
+"Shot him, dear--shot him on the spot without a second's thought--killed
+the origin of the fear before it had time to spread. I venture to say
+that there are not many fellows in the Service who would do it--without
+thinking: and you can't think--you dare not, even if there was time. It
+goes against the grain, especially if you know the man well, and it's
+only by continually rehearsing the scene in your mind that you'd be able
+to do it."
+
+We were all listening to him now, for this was a new development I'd
+never heard before.
+
+"Just imagine the far-reaching results one coward--no, not coward,
+possibly--but one man who has reached the breaking-point, may have.
+Think of it, Winkle. A long line stretched out, attacking. One man in
+the centre wavers, stops. Spreading outwards, the thing rushes like
+lightning, because, after all, fear is only an emotion, like joy and
+sorrow, and one knows how quickly they will communicate themselves to
+other people. Also, in such a moment as an attack, men are particularly
+susceptible to emotions. All that is primitive is uppermost, and their
+reasoning powers are more or less in abeyance."
+
+"But the awful thing, Jerry," said Pat quietly, "is that you would never
+know whether it had been necessary or not. It might not have spread; he
+might have answered to your voice--oh! a thousand things might have
+happened."
+
+"It's not worth the risk, dear. One man's life is not worth the risk.
+It's a risk you just dare not take. It may mean everything--it may mean
+failure--it may mean disgrace." He paused and looked steadily across the
+shifting scene of gaiety and colour, while a long bamboo pole with a
+little bag on the end, wielded by some passing vocalist, was thrust
+towards him unheeded. Then with a short laugh he pulled himself
+together, and lit a cigarette. "But enough of dull care. Let us away,
+and gaze upon beautiful women and brave men. What's that little tune
+they're playing?"
+
+"That's that waltz--what the deuce is the name, Pat?" asked Jack,
+untying the punt.
+
+"'Destiny,'" answered Pat briefly, and we passed out into the stream.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A month afterwards we three were again at Henley, not in flannels in a
+punt on the river, but in khaki, with a motor waiting at the door of the
+Delawnays' house to take us back to Aldershot. I do not propose to dwell
+over the scene, but in the setting down of the story it cannot be left
+out. Europe was at war; the long-expected by those scoffed-at alarmists
+had actually come. England and Germany were at each other's throats.
+
+Inside the house Jack was with his mother. Personally, I was standing in
+the garden with the grey-haired father; and Jerry was--well, where else
+could he have been?
+
+As is the way with men, we discussed the roses, and the rascality of the
+Germans, and everything except what was in our hearts. And in one of the
+pauses in our spasmodic conversation we heard her voice, just over the
+hedge:
+
+"God guard and keep you, my man, and bring you back to me safe!" And the
+voice was steady, though one could feel those dear eyes dim with tears.
+
+And then Jerry's, dear old Jerry's voice--a little bit gruff it was, and
+a little bit shaky: "My love! My darling!"
+
+But the old man was going towards the house, blowing his nose; and
+I--don't hold with love and that sort of thing at all. True, I blundered
+into a flower-bed, which I didn't see clearly, as I went towards the
+car, for there are things which one may not hear and remain unmoved.
+Perhaps, if things had been different, and Jerry--dear old
+Jerry--hadn't---- But there, I'm wandering again.
+
+At last we were in the car and ready to start.
+
+"Take care of him, Jerry; he and Pat are all we've got." It was Mrs.
+Delawnay speaking, standing there with the setting sun on her sweet
+face and her husband's arm about her.
+
+"I'll be all right, mater," answered Jack gruffly. "Buck up! Back for
+Christmas!"
+
+"I'll look after him, Mrs. Delawnay," answered Jerry, but his eyes were
+fixed on Pat, and for him the world held only her.
+
+As the car swung out of the gate, we looked back the last time and
+saluted, and it was only I who saw through a break in the hedge two
+women locked in each other's arms, while a grey-haired gentleman sat
+very still on a garden-seat, with his eyes fixed on the river rolling
+smoothly by.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was on the Aisne I took it. Through that ghastly fourteen days we had
+slogged dully south away from Mons, ever getting nearer Paris. Through
+the choking dust, with the men staggering as they walked--some asleep,
+some babbling, some cursing--but always marching, marching, marching;
+digging at night, only to leave the trenches in two hours and march on
+again; with ever and anon a battery of horse tearing past at a gallop,
+with the drivers lolling drunkenly in their saddles, and the guns
+jolting and swaying behind the straining, sweating horses, to come into
+action on some ridge still further south, and try to check von Kluck's
+hordes, if only for a little space. Every bridge in the hands of
+anxious-faced sapper officers, prepared for demolition one and all, but
+not to be blown up till all our troops were across. Ticklish work, for
+should there be a fault, there is not much time to repair it.
+
+But at last it was over, and we turned North. A few days later, in the
+afternoon, my company crossed a pontoon bridge on the Aisne, and two
+hours afterwards we dug ourselves in a mile and a half beyond it. The
+next morning, as I was sitting in one of the trenches, there was a
+sudden, blinding roar--and oblivion.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I will pass rapidly over the next six weeks--over my journey from the
+clearing hospital to the base at Havre, of my voyage back to England in
+a hospital ship, and my ultimate arrival at Drayton Hall, the Delawnays'
+place in Somerset, where I had gone to convalesce.
+
+During the time various fragments of iron were being picked from me and
+the first shock of the concussion was wearing off, we had handed over
+our trenches on the Aisne to the French, and moved north to Flanders.
+
+Occasional scrawls came through from Jack and Jerry, but the people in
+England who had any knowledge at all of the fighting and of what was
+going on, grew to dread with an awful dread the sight of the
+telegraph-boy, and it required an effort of will to look at those
+prosaic casualty lists in the morning papers.
+
+Then suddenly without warning, as such news always does, it came. The
+War Office, in the shape of a whistling telegraph-boy, regretted to
+inform Mr. Delawnay that his son, Lieutenant Jack Delawnay of the Royal
+Downshire Regiment, had been killed in action.
+
+Had it been possible during the terrible days after the news came, I
+would have gone away, but I was still too weak to move; and I like to
+think that, perhaps, my presence there was some comfort to them, as a
+sort of connection through the regiment with their dead boy. After the
+first numbing shock, the old man bore it grandly.
+
+"He was all I had," he said to me one day as I lay in bed, "but I give
+him gladly for his country's sake." He stood looking at the broad
+fields. "All his," he muttered; "all would have been the dear lad's--and
+now six inches of soil and a wooden cross, perhaps not that."
+
+And Pat, poor little Pat, used to come up every day and sit with me,
+sometimes in silence, with her great eyes fixed on the fire, sometimes
+reading the paper, because my eyes weren't quite right yet.
+
+For about a fortnight after the news we did not think it strange; but
+then, as day by day went by, the same fear formulated in both our minds.
+I would have died sooner than whisper it; but one afternoon I found her
+eyes fixed on mine. We had been silent for some time, and suddenly in
+the firelight I saw the awful fear in her mind as clearly as if she had
+spoken it.
+
+"You're thinking it too, Winkle," she whispered, leaning forward. "Why
+hasn't he written? Why hasn't Jerry written one line? Oh, my God! don't
+say that _he_ has been----"
+
+"Hush, dear!" I said quietly. "His people would have let you know if
+they had had a wire."
+
+"But, Winkle, the Colonel has written that Jack died while gallantly
+leading a counter attack to recover lost trenches. Surely, Jerry would
+have found time for a line, unless something had happened to him; Jack
+was actually in his company."
+
+All of which I knew, but could not answer.
+
+"Besides," she went on after a moment, "you know how dad is longing for
+details. He wants to know everything about Jack, and so do we all. But
+oh, Winkle! I want to know if my man is all right. Brother and
+lover--not both, oh, God--not both!" The choking little sobs wrung my
+heart.
+
+The next day we got a wire from him. He was wounded slightly in the arm,
+and was at home. He was coming to us. Just that--no more. But, oh! the
+difference to the girl. Everything explained, everything clear, and the
+next day Jerry would be with her. Only as I lay awake that night
+thinking, and the events of the last three weeks passed through my mind,
+the same thought returned with maddening persistency. Slightly wounded
+in the arm, evidently recently as there was no mention in the casualty
+list, and for three weeks no line, no word. And then I cursed myself as
+an ass and a querulous invalid.
+
+At three o'clock he arrived, and they all came up to my room. The first
+thing that struck me like a blow was that it was his left arm which was
+hit--and the next was his face. Whether Pat had noticed that his writing
+arm was unhurt, I know not; but she had seen the look in his eyes, and
+was afraid.
+
+Then he told the story, and his voice was as the voice of the dead. Told
+the anxious, eager father and mother the story of their boy's heroism.
+How, having lost some trenches, the regiment made a counter attack to
+regain them. How first of them all was Jack, the men following him, as
+they always did, until a shot took him clean through the heart, and he
+dropped, leaving the regiment to surge over him for the last forty
+yards, and carry out gloriously what they had been going to do.
+
+And then the old man, pulling out the letter from the Colonel, and
+trying to read it through his blinding tears: "He did well, my boy," he
+whispered, "he did well, and died well. But, Jerry, the Colonel says in
+his letter," and he wiped his eyes and tried to read, "he says in his
+letter that Jack must have been right into their trenches almost, as he
+was killed at point-blank range with a revolver. One of those swine of
+German officers, I suppose." He shook his fist in the air. "Still he was
+but doing his duty. I must not complain. But you say he was forty yards
+away?"
+
+"It's difficult to say, sir, in the dark," answered Jerry, still in the
+voice of an automatic machine. "It may have been less than forty."
+
+And then he told them all over again; and while they, the two old dears,
+whispered and cried together, never noticing anything amiss, being only
+concerned with the telling, and caring no whit for the method thereof,
+Pat sat silently in the window, gazing at him with tearless eyes, with
+the wonder and amazement of her soul writ clear on her face for all to
+see. And I--I lay motionless in bed, and there was something I could not
+understand, for he would not look at me, nor yet at her, but kept his
+eyes fixed on the fire, while he talked like a child repeating a lesson.
+
+At last it was over; their last questions were asked, and slowly,
+arm-in-arm, they left the room, to dwell alone upon the story of their
+idolised boy. And in the room the silence was only broken by the
+crackling of the logs.
+
+How long we sat there I know not, with the firelight flickering on the
+stern set face of the man in the chair. He seemed unconscious of our
+existence, and we two dared not speak to him, we who loved him best, for
+there was something we could not understand. Suddenly he got up, and
+held out his arms to Pat. And when she crept into them, he kissed her,
+straining her close, as if he could never stop. Then, without a word, he
+led her to the door, and, putting her gently through, shut it behind
+her. Still without a word he came back to the chair, and turned it so
+that the firelight no longer played on his face. And then he spoke.
+
+"I have a story to tell you, Winkle, which I venture to think will
+entertain you for a time." His voice was the most terrible thing I have
+ever listened to.... "Nearly four weeks ago the battalion was in the
+trenches a bit south of Ypres. It was bad in the retreat, as you know;
+it was bad on the Aisne; but they were neither of them in the same
+county as the doing we had up north. One night--they'd shelled us off
+and on for three days and three nights--we were driven out of our
+trenches. The regiment on our right gave, and we had to go too. The next
+morning we were ordered to counter attack, and get back the ground we
+had lost. It was the attack in which we lost so heavily."
+
+He stopped speaking for a while, and I did not interrupt.
+
+"When I got that order overnight Jack was with me, in a hole that passed
+as a dugout. At the moment everything was quiet; the Germans were
+patching up their new position; only a maxim spluttered away a bit to
+one flank. To add to the general desolation a steady downpour of rain
+drenched us, into which, without cessation the German flares went
+shooting up. I think they were expecting a counter attack at once...."
+
+Again he paused, and I waited.
+
+"You know the condition one gets into sometimes when one is heavy for
+sleep. We had it during the retreat if you remember--a sort of coma, the
+outcome of utter bodily exhaustion. One used to go on walking, and all
+the while one was asleep--or practically so. Sounds came to us dimly as
+from a great distance; they made no impression on us--they were just a
+jumbled phantasmagoria of outside matters, which failed to reach one's
+brain, except as a dim dream. I was in that condition on the night I am
+speaking of; I was utterly cooked--beat to the world; I was finished for
+the time. I've told you this, because I want you to understand the
+physical condition I was in."
+
+He leaned forward and stared at the fire, resting his head on his hands.
+
+"How long I'd dozed heavily in that wet-sodden hole I don't know, but
+after a while above the crackle of the maxim, separate and distinct from
+the soft splash of the rain, and the hiss of the flares, and the hundred
+and one other noises that came dimly to me out of the night, I heard
+Jack's voice--at least I think it was Jack's voice."
+
+Of a sudden he sat up in the chair, and rising quickly he came and leant
+over the foot of the bed.
+
+"Devil take it," he cried bitterly, "I know it was Jack's voice--_now_.
+I knew it the next day when it was too late. What he said exactly I
+shall never know--at the time it made no impression on me; but at this
+moment, almost like a spirit voice in my brain, I can hear him. I can
+hear him asking me to watch him. I can hear him pleading--I can hear his
+dreadful fear of being found afraid. As a whisper from a great distance
+I can hear one short sentence--'Jerry, my God, Jerry--I'm frightened!'
+
+"Winkle, he turned to me in his weakness--that boy who had never failed
+before, that boy who had reached the breaking-point--and I heeded him
+not. I was too dead beat; my brain couldn't grasp it."
+
+"But, Jerry," I cried, "it turned out all right the next day; he..."
+The words died away on my lips as I met the look in his eyes.
+
+"You'd better let me finish," he interrupted wearily. "Let me get the
+whole hideous tragedy off my mind for the first and the last time. Early
+next morning we attacked. In the dim dirty light of dawn I saw the boy's
+face as he moved off to his platoon; and even then I didn't remember
+those halting sentences that had come to me out of the night. So instead
+of ordering him to the rear on some pretext or other as I should have
+done, I let him go to his platoon.
+
+"As we went across the ground that morning through a fire like nothing I
+had ever imagined, a man wavered in front of me. I felt it clean through
+me. I knew fear had come. I shouted and cheered--but the wavering was
+spreading; I knew that too. So I shot him through the heart from behind
+at point-blank range as I had trained myself to do--in that eternity
+ago--before the war. The counter attack was successful."
+
+"Great Heavens, Jerry!" I muttered, "who did you shoot?" though I knew
+the answer already.
+
+"The man I shot was Jack Delawnay. Whether at the time I was actively
+conscious of it, I cannot say. Certainly my training enabled me to act
+before any glimmering of the aftermath came into my mind. _This_ is the
+aftermath."
+
+I shuddered at the utter hopelessness of his tone, though the full
+result of his action had not dawned on me yet; my mind was dazed.
+
+"But surely Jack was no coward," I said at length.
+
+"He was not; but on that particular morning he gave out. He had reached
+the limit of his endurance."
+
+"The Colonel's letter," I reminded him; "it praised the lad."
+
+"Lies," he answered wearily, "all lies, engineered by me. Not because I
+am ashamed of what I did, but for the lad's sake, and hers, and the old
+people. I loved the boy, as you know, but he failed, and _there was no
+other way_. And where the fiend himself is gloating over it is that he
+knows it was the only time Jack did fail. If only I hadn't been so beat
+the night before; if only his words had reached my brain before it was
+too late. If only ... I think," he added, after a pause, "I think I
+shall go mad. Sometimes I wish I could."
+
+"And what of Pat?" I asked, at length breaking the silence.
+
+The hands grasping the bed tightened, and grew white.
+
+"I said 'Good-bye' to her before your eyes, ten minutes ago. I shall
+never see her again."
+
+"But, Great Heavens, Jerry!" I cried, "you can't give her up like that.
+She idolises the ground you walk on, she worships you, and she need
+never know. You were only doing your duty after all."
+
+"Stop!" he cried, and his voice was a command. "As you love me, old
+friend, don't tempt me. For three weeks those arguments have been
+flooding everything else from my mind. Do you remember at Henley, when
+she said, 'He might have answered to your voice?' Winkle, it's true,
+Jack might have. And I killed him. Just think if I married her, and she
+did find out. Her brother's murderer--in her eyes. The man who has
+wrecked her home, and broken her father and mother. It's inconceivable,
+it's hideous. Ah! don't you see how utterly final it all is? She may
+have been right; and if she was, then I, who loved her better than the
+world, have murdered her brother, and broken the old people's hearts for
+the sake of a theory. The fact that my theory has been put into
+practice, at the expense of everything I have to live for, is full of
+humour, isn't it?" And his laugh was wild.
+
+"Steady, Jerry," I said sternly. "What do you mean to do?"
+
+"You'll see, old man, in time," he answered. "First and foremost, get
+back to the regiment, arm or no arm. I would not have come home, but I
+had to see her once more."
+
+"You talk as if it was the end." I looked at him squarely.
+
+"It is," he answered. "It's easy out there."
+
+"Your mind is made up?"
+
+"Absolutely." He gave a short laugh. "Good-bye, old friend. Ease it to
+her as well as you can. Say I'm unstrung by the trenches, anything you
+like; but don't let her guess the truth."
+
+For a long minute he held my hand. Then he turned away. He walked to the
+mantelpiece, and there was a photograph of her there. For a long time he
+looked at it, and it seemed to me he whispered something. A sudden
+dimness blinded my eyes, and when I looked again he had gone--through
+the window into the night.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I did not see Pat until I left Drayton Hall after that ghastly night,
+save only once or twice with her mother in the room.
+
+But an hour before I left she came to me, and her face was that of a
+woman who has passed through the fires.
+
+"Tell me, Winkle, shall I ever see him again? You know what I mean."
+
+"You will never see him again, Pat," and the look in her eyes made me
+choke.
+
+"Will you tell me what it was he told you before he went through the
+window? You see, I was in the hall waiting for him," and she smiled
+wearily.
+
+"I can't, Pat dear; I promised him," I muttered. "But it was nothing
+disgraceful."
+
+"Disgraceful!" she cried proudly. "Jerry, and anything disgraceful. Oh,
+my God! Winkle dear," and she broke down utterly, "do you remember the
+waltz they were playing that day--'Destiny'?"
+
+And then I went. Whether that wonderful woman's intuition has told her
+something of what happened, I know not. But yesterday morning I got a
+letter from the Colonel saying that Jerry had chucked his life away,
+saving a wounded man. And this morning she will have seen it in the
+papers.
+
+God help you, Pat, my dear.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+JIM BRENT'S V.C.
+
+
+If you pass through the Menin-Gate at Ypres, and walk up the slight rise
+that lies on the other side of the moat, you will come to the parting of
+the ways. You will at the same time come to a spot of unprepossessing
+aspect, whose chief claim to notoriety lies in its shell-holes and
+broken-down houses. If you keep straight on you will in time come to the
+little village of Potige; if you turn to the right you will eventually
+arrive at Hooge. In either case you will wish you hadn't.
+
+Before the war these two roads--which join about two hundred yards east
+of the rampart walls of Ypres--were adorned with a fair number of
+houses. They were of that stucco type which one frequently sees in
+England spreading out along the roads that lead to a largish town.
+Generally there is one of unusually revolting aspect that stands proudly
+by itself a hundred yards or so from the common herd and enclosed in a
+stuccoesque wall. And there my knowledge of the type in England ends.
+
+In Belgium, however, my acquaintance with this sort of abode is
+extensive. In taking over a house in Flanders that stands unpleasantly
+near the Hun, the advertisement that there are three sitting, two bed,
+h. and c. laid on, with excellent onion patch, near railway and good
+golf-links, leaves one cold. The end-all and be-all of a house is its
+cellar. The more gloomy, and dark, and generally horrible the cellar,
+the higher that house ranks socially, and the more likely are you to
+find in it a general consuming his last hamper from Fortnum & Mason by
+the light of a tallow dip. And this applies more especially to the Hooge
+road.
+
+Arrived at the fork, let us turn right-handed and proceed along the
+deserted road. A motor-car is not to be advised, as at this stage of the
+promenade one is in full sight of the German trenches. For about two or
+three hundred yards no houses screen you, and then comes a row of the
+stucco residences I have mentioned. Also at this point the road bends to
+the left. Here, out of sight, occasional men sun themselves in the
+heavily-scented air, what time they exchange a little playful badinage
+in a way common to Thomas Atkins. At least, that is what happened some
+time ago; now, of course, things may have changed in the garden city.
+
+And at this point really our journey is ended, though for interest we
+might continue for another quarter of a mile. The row of houses stops
+abruptly, and away in front stretches a long straight road. A few
+detached mansions of sorts, in their own grounds, flank it on each side.
+At length they cease, and in front lies the open country. The
+poplar-lined road disappears out of sight a mile ahead, where it tops a
+gentle slope. And half on this side of the rise, and half on the other,
+there are the remnants of the tit-bit of the whole bloody charnel-house
+of the Ypres salient--the remnants of the village of Hooge. A closer
+examination is not to be recommended. The place where you stand is known
+in the vernacular as Hell Fire Corner, and the Hun--who knows the range
+of that corner to the fraction of an inch--will quite possibly resent
+your presence even there. And shrapnel gives a nasty wound.
+
+Let us return and seek safety in a cellar. It is not what one would call
+a good-looking cellar; no priceless prints adorn the walls, no Turkey
+carpet receives your jaded feet. In one corner a portable gramophone
+with several records much the worse for wear reposes on an upturned
+biscuit-box, and lying on the floor, with due regard to space economy,
+are three or four of those excellent box-mattresses which form the
+all-in-all of the average small Belgian house. On top of them are laid
+some valises and blankets, and from the one in the corner the sweet
+music of the sleeper strikes softly on the ear. It is the senior
+subaltern, who has been rambling all the preceding night in Sanctuary
+Wood--the proud authors of our nomenclature in Flanders quite rightly
+possess the humour necessary for the production of official communiques.
+
+In two chairs, smoking, are a couple of officers. One is a major of the
+Royal Engineers, and another, also a sapper, belongs to the gilded
+staff. The cellar is the temporary headquarters of a field
+company--office, mess, and bedroom rolled into one.
+
+"I'm devilish short-handed for the moment, Bill." The Major thoughtfully
+filled his pipe. "That last boy I got a week ago--a nice boy he was,
+too--was killed in Zouave Wood the day before yesterday, poor devil.
+Seymour was wounded three days ago, and there's only Brent, Johnson, and
+him"--he indicated the sleeper. "Johnson is useless, and Brent----" He
+paused, and looked full at the Staff-captain. "Do you know Brent well,
+by any chance?"
+
+"I should jolly well think I did. Jim Brent is one of my greatest pals,
+Major."
+
+"Then perhaps you can tell me something I very much want to know. I have
+knocked about the place for a good many years, and I have rubbed
+shoulders, officially and unofficially, with more men than I care to
+remember. As a result, I think I may claim a fair knowledge of my
+fellow-beings. And Brent--well, he rather beats me."
+
+He paused as if at a loss for words, and looked in the direction of the
+sleeping subaltern. Reassured by the alarming noise proceeding from the
+corner, he seemed to make up his mind.
+
+"Has Brent had some very nasty knock lately--money, or a woman, or
+something?"
+
+The Staff-captain took his pipe from his mouth, and for some seconds
+stared at the floor. Then he asked quietly, "Why? What are you getting
+at?"
+
+"This is why, Bill. Brent is one of the most capable officers I have
+ever had. He's a man whose judgment, tact, and driving power are
+perfectly invaluable in a show of this sort--so invaluable, in fact"--he
+looked straight at his listener--"that his death would be a very real
+loss to the corps and the Service. He's one of those we can't replace,
+and--he's going all out to make us have to."
+
+"What do you mean?" The question expressed no surprise; the speaker
+seemed merely to be demanding confirmation of what he already knew.
+
+"Brent is deliberately trying to get killed. There is not a shadow of
+doubt about it in my mind. Do you know why?"
+
+The Staff-officer got up and strolled to a table on which were lying
+some illustrated weekly papers. "Have you last week's _Tatler_?" He
+turned over the leaves. "Yes--here it is." He handed the newspaper to
+the Major. "That is why."
+
+"_A charming portrait of Lady Kathleen Goring; who was last week married
+to that well-known sportsman and soldier Sir Richard Goring. She was, it
+will be remembered, very popular in London society as the beautiful Miss
+Kathleen Tubbs--the daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Silas P. Tubbs, of
+Pittsburg, Pa._"
+
+The Major put down the paper and looked at the Staff-captain; then
+suddenly he rose and hurled it into the corner. "Oh, damn these women,"
+he exploded.
+
+"Amen," murmured the other, as, with a loud snort, the sleeper awoke.
+
+"Is anything th' matter?" he murmured, drowsily, only to relapse at once
+into unconsciousness.
+
+"Jim was practically engaged to her; and then, three months ago, without
+a word of explanation, she gave him the order of the boot, and got
+engaged to Goring." The Staff-captain spoke savagely. "A damn rotten
+woman, Major, and Jim's well out of it, if he only knew. Goring's a
+baronet, which is, of course, the reason why this excrescence of the
+house of Tubbs chucked Jim. As a matter of fact, Dick Goring's not a bad
+fellow--he deserves a better fate. But it fairly broke Jim up. He's not
+the sort of fellow who falls in love easily; this was his one and only
+real affair, and he took it bad. He told me at the time that he never
+intended to come back alive."
+
+"Damn it all!" The Major's voice was irritable. "Why, his knowledge of
+the lingo alone makes him invaluable."
+
+"Frankly, I've been expecting to hear of his death every day. He's not
+the type that says a thing of that sort without meaning it."
+
+A step sounded on the floor above. "Look out, here he is. You'll stop
+and have a bit of lunch, Bill?"
+
+As he spoke the light in the doorway was blocked out, and a man came
+uncertainly down the stairs.
+
+"Confound these cellars. One can't see a thing, coming in out of the
+daylight. Who's that? Halloa, Bill, old cock, 'ow's yourself?"
+
+"Just tottering, Jim. Where've you been?"
+
+"Wandered down to Vlamertinghe this morning early to see about some
+sandbags, and while I was there I met that flying wallah Petersen in the
+R.N.A.S. Do you remember him, Major? He was up here with an armoured car
+in May. He told me rather an interesting thing."
+
+"What's that, Jim?" The Major was attacking a brawn with gusto. "Sit
+down, Bill. Whisky and Perrier in that box over there."
+
+"He tells me the Huns have got six guns whose size he puts at about
+9-inch; guns, mark you, not howitzers--mounted on railway trucks at
+Tournai. From there they can be rushed by either branch of the line--the
+junction is just west--to wherever they are required."
+
+"My dear old boy," laughed Bill, as he sat down. "I don't know your
+friend Petersen, and I have not the slightest hesitation in saying that
+he is in all probability quite right. But the information seems to be
+about as much use as the fact that it is cold in Labrador."
+
+"I wonder," answered Brent, thoughtfully--"I wonder." He was rummaging
+through a pile of papers in the stationery box.
+
+The other two men looked at one another significantly. "What
+hare-brained scheme have you got in your mind now, Brent?" asked the
+Major.
+
+Brent came slowly across the cellar and sat down with a sheet of paper
+spread out on his knee. For a while he examined it in silence, comparing
+it with an ordnance map, and then he spoke. "It's brick, and the drop is
+sixty feet, according to this--with the depth of the water fifteen."
+
+"And the answer is a lemon. What on earth are you talking about, Jim?"
+
+"The railway bridge over the river before the line forks."
+
+"Good Lord! My good fellow," cried the Major, irritably, "don't be
+absurd. Are you proposing to blow it up?" His tone was ponderously
+sarcastic.
+
+"Not exactly," answered the unperturbed Brent, "but something of the
+sort--if I can get permission."
+
+The two men laid down their knives and stared at him solemnly.
+
+"You are, I believe, a sapper officer," commenced the Major. "May I ask
+first how much gun-cotton you think will be necessary to blow up a
+railway bridge which gives a sixty-foot drop into water; second, how you
+propose to get it there; third, how you propose to get yourself there;
+and fourth, why do you talk such rot?"
+
+Jim Brent laughed and helped himself to whisky. "The answer to the first
+question is unknown at present, but inquiries of my secretary will be
+welcomed--probably about a thousand pounds. The answer to the second
+question is that I don't. The answer to the third is--somehow; and for
+the fourth question I must ask for notice."
+
+"What the devil are you driving at, Jim?" said the Staff-captain,
+puzzled. "If you don't get the stuff there, how the deuce are you going
+to blow up the bridge?"
+
+"You may take it from me, Bill, that I may be mad, but I never
+anticipated marching through German Belgium with a party of sappers and
+a G.S. wagon full of gun-cotton. Oh, no--it's a one-man show."
+
+"But," ejaculated the Major, "how the----"
+
+"Have you ever thought, sir," interrupted Brent, "what would be the
+result if, as a heavy train was passing over a bridge, you cut one rail
+just in front of the engine?"
+
+"But----" the Major again started to speak, and was again cut short.
+
+"The outside rail," continued Brent, "so that the tendency would be for
+the engine to go towards the parapet wall. And no iron girder to hold it
+up--merely a little brick wall"--he again referred to the paper on his
+knee--"three feet high and three bricks thick. No nasty parties of men
+carrying slabs of gun-cotton; just yourself--with one slab of gun-cotton
+in your pocket and one primer and one detonator--that and the
+psychological moment. Luck, of course, but when we dispense with the
+working party we lift it from the utterly impossible into the realm of
+the remotely possible. The odds are against success, I know; but----" He
+shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"But how do you propose to get there, my dear chap?" asked the Major,
+peevishly. "The Germans have a rooted objection to English officers
+walking about behind their lines."
+
+"Yes, but they don't mind a Belgian peasant, do they? Dash it, they've
+played the game on us scores of times, Major--not perhaps the bridge
+idea, but espionage by men disguised behind our lines. I only propose
+doing the same, and perhaps going one better."
+
+"You haven't one chance in a hundred of getting through alive." The
+Major viciously stabbed a tongue.
+
+"That is--er--beside the point," answered Brent, shortly.
+
+"But how could you get through their lines to start with?" queried Bill.
+
+"There are ways, dearie, there are ways. Petersen is a man of much
+resource."
+
+"Of course, the whole idea is absolutely ridiculous." The Major snorted.
+"Once and for all, Brent, I won't hear of it. We're far too short of
+fellows as it is."
+
+And for a space the subject languished, though there was a look on Jim
+Brent's face which showed it was only for a space.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Now when a man of the type of Brent takes it badly over a woman, there
+is a strong probability of very considerable trouble at any time. When,
+in addition to that, it occurs in the middle of the bloodiest war of
+history, the probability becomes a certainty. That he should quite fail
+to see just what manner of woman the present Lady Goring was, was
+merely in the nature of the animal. He was--as far as women were
+concerned--of the genus fool. To him "the rag, and the bone, and the
+hank of hair" could never be anything but perfect. It is as well that
+there are men like that.
+
+All of which his major--who was a man of no little understanding--knew
+quite well. And the knowledge increased his irritation, for he realised
+the futility of trying to adjust things. That adjusting business is
+ticklish work even between two close pals; but when the would-be
+adjuster is very little more than a mere acquaintance, the chances of
+success might be put in a small-sized pill-box. To feel morally certain
+that your best officer is trying his hardest to get himself killed, and
+to be unable to prevent it, is an annoying state of affairs. Small
+wonder, then, that at intervals throughout the days that followed did
+the Major reiterate with solemnity and emphasis his remark to the
+Staff-captain anent women. It eased his feelings, if it did nothing
+else.
+
+The wild scheme Brent had half suggested did not trouble him greatly. He
+regarded it merely as a temporary aberration of the brain. In the South
+African war small parties of mounted sappers and cavalry had undoubtedly
+ridden far into hostile country, and, getting behind the enemy, had
+blown up bridges, and generally damaged their lines of communication.
+But in the South African war a line of trenches did not stretch from
+sea to sea.
+
+And so, seated one evening at the door of his commodious residence
+talking things over with his colonel, he did not lay any great stress on
+the bridge idea. Brent had not referred to it again; and in the cold
+light of reason it seemed too foolish to mention.
+
+"Of course," remarked the C.R.E., "he's bound to take it soon. No man
+can go on running the fool risks you say he does without stopping one.
+It's a pity; but, if he won't see by himself that he's a fool, I don't
+see what we can do to make it clear. If only that confounded girl--" He
+grunted and got up to go. "Halloa! What the devil is this fellow doing?"
+
+Shambling down the road towards them was a particularly decrepit and
+filthy specimen of the Belgian labourer. In normal circumstances, and in
+any other place, his appearance would have called for no especial
+comment; the brand is not a rare one. But for many months the salient of
+Ypres had been cleared of its civilian population; and this sudden
+appearance was not likely to pass unnoticed.
+
+"Venez, ici, monsieur, tout de suite." At the Major's words the old man
+stopped, and paused in hesitation; then he shuffled towards the two men.
+
+"Will you talk to him, Colonel?" The Major glanced at his senior
+officer.
+
+"Er--I think not; my--er--French, don't you know--er--not what it was."
+The worthy officer retired in good order, only to be overwhelmed by a
+perfect deluge of words from the Belgian.
+
+"What's he say?" he queried, peevishly. "That damn Flemish sounds like a
+dog fight."
+
+"Parlez-vous Francais, monsieur?" The Major attempted to stem the tide
+of the old man's verbosity, but he evidently had a grievance, and a
+Belgian with a grievance is not a thing to be regarded with a light
+heart.
+
+"Thank heavens, here's the interpreter!" The Colonel heaved a sigh of
+relief. "Ask this man what he's doing here, please."
+
+For a space the distant rattle of a machine-gun was drowned, and then
+the interpreter turned to the officers.
+
+"'E say, sare, that 'e has ten thousand franc behind the German line,
+buried in a 'ole, and 'e wants to know vat 'e shall do."
+
+"Do," laughed the Major. "What does he imagine he's likely to do? Go and
+dig it up? Tell him that he's got no business here at all."
+
+Again the interpreter spoke.
+
+"Shall I take 'im to Yper and 'and 'im to the gendarmes, sare?"
+
+"Not a bad idea," said the Colonel, "and have him----"
+
+What further order he was going to give is immaterial, for at that
+moment he looked at the Belgian, and from that villainous old ruffian he
+received the most obvious and unmistakable wink.
+
+"Er--thank you, interpreter; I will send him later under a guard."
+
+The interpreter saluted and retired, the Major looked surprised, the
+Colonel regarded the Belgian with an amazed frown. Then suddenly the old
+villain spoke.
+
+"Thank you, Colonel. Those Ypres gendarmes would have been a nuisance."
+
+"Great Scot!" gasped the Major. "What the----"
+
+"What the devil is the meaning of this masquerade, sir?" The Colonel was
+distinctly angry.
+
+"I wanted to see if I'd pass muster as a Belgian, sir. The interpreter
+was an invaluable proof."
+
+"You run a deuced good chance of being shot, Brent, in that rig. Anyway,
+I wish for an explanation as to why you're walking about in that get-up.
+Haven't you enough work to do?"
+
+"Shall we go inside, sir? I've got a favour to ask you."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+We are not very much concerned with the conversation that took place
+downstairs in that same cellar, when two senior officers of the corps
+of Royal Engineers listened for nearly an hour to an apparently
+disreputable old farmer. It might have been interesting to note how the
+sceptical grunts of those two officers gradually gave place to silence,
+and at length to a profound, breathless interest, as they pored over
+maps and plans. And the maps were all of that country which lies behind
+the German trenches.
+
+But at the end the old farmer straightened himself smartly.
+
+"That is the rough outline of my plan, sir. I think I can claim that I
+have reduced the risk of not getting to my objective to a minimum. When
+I get there I am sure that my knowledge of the patois renders the chance
+of detection small. As for the actual demolition itself, an enormous
+amount will depend on luck; but I can afford to wait. I shall have to be
+guided by local conditions. And so I ask you to let me go. It's a long
+odds chance, but if it comes off it's worth it."
+
+"And if it does, what then? What about you?" The Colonel's eyes and Jim
+Brent's met.
+
+"I shall have paid for my keep, Colonel, at any rate."
+
+Everything was very silent in the cellar; outside on the road a man was
+singing.
+
+"In other words, Jim, you're asking me to allow you to commit suicide."
+
+He cleared his throat; his voice seemed a little husky.
+
+"Good Lord! sir--it's not as bad as that. Call it a forlorn hope, if you
+like, but ..." The eyes of the two men met, and Brent fell silent.
+
+"Gad, my lad, you're a fool, but you're a brave fool! For Heaven's sake,
+give me a drink."
+
+"I may go, Colonel?"
+
+"Yes, you may go--as far, that is, as I am concerned. There is the
+General Staff to get round first."
+
+But though the Colonel's voice was gruff, he seemed to have some
+difficulty in finding his glass.
+
+As far as is possible in human nature, Jim Brent, at the period when he
+gained his V.C. in a manner which made him the hero of the hour--one
+might almost say of the war--was, I believe, without fear. The blow he
+had received at the hands of the girl who meant all the world to him had
+rendered him utterly callous of his life. And it was no transitory
+feeling: the mood of an hour or a week. It was deeper than the ordinary
+misery of a man who has taken the knock from a woman, deeper and much
+less ostentatious. He seemed to view life with a contemptuous toleration
+that in any other man would have been the merest affectation. But it was
+not evinced by his words; it was shown, as his Major had said, by his
+deeds--deeds that could not be called bravado because he never
+advertised them. He was simply gambling with death, with a cool hand and
+a steady eye, and sublimely indifferent to whether he won or lost. Up to
+the time when he played his last great game he had borne a charmed life.
+According to the book of the words, he should have been killed a score
+of times, and he told me himself only last week that he went into this
+final gamble with a taunt on his lips and contempt in his heart. Knowing
+him as I do, I believe it. I can almost hear him saying to his grim
+opponent, "Dash it all! I've won every time; for Heaven's sake do
+something to justify your reputation."
+
+But--he didn't; Jim won again. And when he landed in England from a
+Dutch tramp, having carried out the maddest and most hazardous exploit
+of the war unscathed, he slipped up on a piece of orange-peel and broke
+his right leg in two places, which made him laugh so immoderately when
+the contrast struck him that it cured him--not his leg, but his mind.
+However, all in due course.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The first part of the story I heard from Petersen, of the Naval Air
+Service. I ran into him by accident in a grocer's shop in
+Hazebrouck--buying stuff for the mess.
+
+"What news of Jim?" he cried, the instant he saw me.
+
+"Very sketchy," I answered. "He's the worst letter-writer in the world.
+You know he trod on a bit of orange-peel and broke his leg when he got
+back to England."
+
+"He would." Petersen smiled. "That's just the sort of thing Jim would
+do. Men like him usually die of mumps, or the effects of a bad oyster."
+
+"Quite so," I murmured, catching him gently by the arm. "And now come to
+the pub over the way and tell me all about it. The beer there is of a
+less vile brand than usual."
+
+"But I can't tell you anything, my dear chap, that you don't know
+already!" he expostulated. "I am quite prepared to gargle with you,
+but----"
+
+"Deux bieres, ma'm'selle, s'il vous plait." I piloted Petersen firmly to
+a little table. "Tell me all, my son!" I cried. "For the purposes of
+this meeting I know nix, and you as part hero in the affair have got to
+get it off your chest."
+
+He laughed, and lit a cigarette. "Not much of the heroic in my part of
+the stunt, I assure you. As you know, the show started from Dunkirk,
+where in due course Jim arrived, armed with credentials extracted only
+after great persuasion from sceptical officers of high rank. How he ever
+got there at all has always been a wonder to me: his Colonel was the
+least of his difficulties in that line. But Jim takes a bit of stopping.
+
+"My part of the show was to transport that scatter-brained idiot over
+the trenches and drop him behind the German lines. His idea was novel, I
+must admit, though at the time I thought he was mad, and for that matter
+I still think he's mad. Only a madman could have thought of it, only Jim
+Brent could have done it and not been killed.
+
+"From a height of three thousand feet, in the middle of the night, he
+proposed to bid me and the plane a tender farewell and descend to terra
+firma by means of a parachute."
+
+"Great Scot," I murmured. "Some idea."
+
+"As you say--some idea. The thing was to choose a suitable night. As Jim
+said, 'the slow descent of a disreputable Belgian peasant like an angel
+out of the skies will cause a flutter of excitement in the tender heart
+of the Hun if it is perceived. Therefore, it must be a dark and overcast
+night.'
+
+"At last, after a week, we got an ideal one. Jim arrayed himself in his
+togs, took his basket on his arm--you know he'd hidden the gun-cotton in
+a cheese--and we went round to the machine. By Jove! that chap's a
+marvel. Think of it, man." Petersen's face was full of enthusiastic
+admiration. "He'd never even been up in an aeroplane before, and yet the
+first time he does, it is with the full intention of trusting himself to
+an infernal parachute, a thing the thought of which gives me cold feet;
+moreover, of doing it in the dark from a height of three thousand odd
+feet behind the German lines with his pockets full of detonators and
+other abominations, and his cheese full of gun-cotton. Lord! he's a
+marvel. And I give you my word that of the two of us--though I've flown
+for over two years--I was the shaky one. He was absolutely cool; not the
+coolness of a man who is keeping himself under control, but just the
+normal coolness of a man who is doing his everyday job."
+
+Petersen finished his beer at a gulp, and we encored the dose.
+
+"Well, we got off about two. We were not aiming at any specific spot,
+but I was going to go due east for three-quarters of an hour, which I
+estimated should bring us somewhere over Courtrai. Then he was going to
+drop off, and I was coming back. The time was chosen so that I should be
+able to land again at Dunkirk about dawn.
+
+"I can't tell you much more. We escaped detection going over the lines,
+and about ten minutes to three, at a height of three thousand five
+hundred, old Jim tapped me on the shoulder. He understood exactly what
+to do--as far as we could tell him: for the parachute is still almost in
+its infancy.
+
+"As he had remarked to our wing commander before we started: 'A most
+valuable experiment, sir; I will report on how it works in due course.'
+
+"We shook hands. I could see him smiling through the darkness; and then,
+with his basket under his arm, that filthy old Belgian farmer launched
+himself into space.
+
+"I saw him for a second falling like a stone, and then the parachute
+seemed to open out all right. But of course I couldn't tell in the dark;
+and just afterwards I struck an air-pocket, and had a bit of trouble
+with the bus. After that I turned round and went home again. I'm looking
+forward to seeing the old boy and hearing what occurred."
+
+And that is the unvarnished account of the first part of Jim's last game
+with fate. Incidentally, it's the sort of thing that hardly requires any
+varnishing.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The rest of the yarn I heard later from Brent himself, when I went round
+to see him in hospital, while I was back on leave.
+
+"For Heaven's sake, lady, dear," he said to the sister as I arrived,
+"don't let anyone else in. Say I've had a relapse and am biting the
+bed-clothes. This unpleasant-looking man is a great pal of mine, and I
+would commune with him awhile."
+
+"It's appalling, old boy," he said to me as she went out of the room,
+"how they cluster. Men of dreadful visage; women who gave me my first
+bath; unprincipled journalists--all of them come and talk hot air until
+I get rid of them by swooning. My young sister brought thirty-four
+school friends round last Tuesday! Of course, my swoon is entirely
+artificial; but the sister is an understanding soul, and shoos them
+away." He lit a cigarette.
+
+"I saw Petersen the other day in Hazebrouck," I told him as I sat down
+by the bed. "He wants to come round and see you as soon as he can get
+home."
+
+"Good old Petersen. I'd never have brought it off without him."
+
+"What happened, Jim?" I asked. "I've got up to the moment when you left
+his bus, with your old parachute, and disappeared into space. And of
+course I've seen the official announcement of the guns being seen in the
+river, as reported by that R.F.C. man. But there is a gap of about three
+weeks; and I notice you have not been over-communicative to the
+half-penny press."
+
+"My dear old man," he answered, seriously, "there was nothing to be
+communicative about. Thinking it over now, I am astounded how simple the
+whole thing was. It was as easy as falling off a log. I fell like a
+stone for two or three seconds, because the blessed umbrella wouldn't
+open. Then I slowed up and floated gently downwards. It was a most
+fascinating sensation. I heard old Petersen crashing about just above
+me; and in the distance a search-light was moving backwards and forwards
+across the sky, evidently looking for him. I should say it took me about
+five minutes to come down; and of course all the way down I was
+wondering where the devil I was going to land. The country below me was
+black as pitch: not a light to be seen--not a camp-fire--nothing. As the
+two things I wanted most to avoid were church steeples and the temporary
+abode of any large number of Huns, everything looked very favourable. To
+be suspended by one's trousers from a weathercock in the cold, grey
+light of dawn seemed a sorry ending to the show; and to land from the
+skies on a general's stomach requires explanation."
+
+He smiled reminiscently. "I'm not likely to forget that descent,
+Petersen's engine getting fainter and fainter in the distance, the first
+pale streaks of light beginning to show in the east, and away on a road
+to the south the headlamps of a car moving swiftly along. Then the
+humour of the show struck me. Me, in my most picturesque disguise,
+odoriferous as a family of ferrets in my borrowed garments, descending
+gently on to the Hun like the fairy god-mother in a pantomime. So I
+laughed, and--wished I hadn't. My knees hit my jaw with a crack, and I
+very nearly bit my tongue in two. Cheeses all over the place, and there
+I was enveloped in the folds of the collapsing parachute. Funny, but for
+a moment I couldn't think what had happened. I suppose I was a bit dizzy
+from the shock, and it never occurred to me that I'd reached the ground,
+which, not being able to see in the dark, I hadn't known was so close.
+Otherwise I could have landed much lighter. Yes, it's a great machine
+that parachute." He paused to reach for his pipe.
+
+"Where did you land?" I asked.
+
+"In the middle of a ploughed field. Couldn't have been a better place if
+I'd chosen it. A wood or a river would have been deuced awkward. Yes,
+there's no doubt about it, old man, my luck was in from the very start.
+I removed myself from the folds, picked up my cheeses, found a
+convenient ditch alongside to hide the umbrella in, and then sat tight
+waiting for dawn.
+
+"I happen to know that part of Belgium pretty well, and when it got
+light I took my bearings. Petersen had borne a little south of what we
+intended, which was all to the good--it gave me less walking; but it was
+just as well I found a sign-post almost at once, as I had no map, of
+course--far too dangerous; and I wasn't very clear on names of villages,
+though I'd memorized the map before leaving. I found I had landed
+somewhere south of Courtrai, and was about twelve kilometres due north
+of Tournai.
+
+"And it was just as I'd decided that little fact that I met a horrible
+Hun, a large and forbidding-looking man. Now, the one thing on which I'd
+been chancing my arm was the freedom allowed to the Belgians behind the
+German lines, and luck again stepped in.
+
+"Beyond grunting 'Guten Morgen' he betrayed no interest in me whatever.
+It was the same all along. I shambled past Uhlans, and officers and
+generals in motor-cars--Huns of all breeds and all varieties, and no one
+even noticed me. And after all, why on earth should they?
+
+"About midday I came to Tournai; and here again I was trusting to luck.
+I'd stopped there three years ago at a small estaminet near the station
+kept by the widow Demassiet. Now this old lady was, I knew, thoroughly
+French in sympathies; and I hoped that, in case of necessity, she would
+pass me off as her brother from Ghent, who was staying with her for a
+while. Some retreat of this sort was, of course, essential. A homeless
+vagabond would be bound to excite suspicion.
+
+"Dear old woman--she was splendid. After the war I shall search her out,
+and present her with an annuity, or a belle vache, or something dear to
+the Belgian heart. She never even hesitated. From that night I was her
+brother, though she knew it meant her death as well as mine if I was
+discovered.
+
+"'Ah, monsieur,' she said, when I pointed this out to her, 'it is in the
+hands of le bon Dieu. At the most I have another five years, and these
+Allemands--pah!' She spat with great accuracy.
+
+"She was good, was the old veuve Demassiet."
+
+Jim puffed steadily at his pipe in silence for a few moments.
+
+"I soon found out that the Germans frequented the estaminet; and, what
+was more to the point--luck again, mark you--that the gunners who ran
+the battery I was out after almost lived there. When the battery was at
+Tournai they had mighty little to do, and they did it, with some skill,
+round the beer in her big room.
+
+"I suppose you know what my plan was. The next time that battery left
+Tournai I proposed to cut one of the metals on the bridge over the River
+Scheldt, just in front of the engine, so close that the driver couldn't
+stop, and so derail the locomotive. I calculated that if I cut the
+outside rail--the one nearest the parapet wall--the flange on the inner
+wheel would prevent the engine turning inwards. That would merely cause
+delay, but very possibly no more. I hoped, on the contrary, to turn it
+outwards towards the wall, through which it would crash, dragging after
+it with any luck the whole train of guns.
+
+"That being the general idea, so to speak, I wandered off one day to see
+the bridge. As I expected, it was guarded, but by somewhat
+indifferent-looking Huns--evidently only lines of communication troops.
+For all that, I hadn't an idea how I was going to do it. Still, luck,
+always luck; the more you buffet her the better she treats you.
+
+"One week after I got there I heard the battery was going out: and they
+were going out that night. As a matter of fact, that hadn't occurred to
+me before--the fact of them moving by night, but it suited me down to
+the ground. It appeared they were timed to leave at midnight, which
+meant they'd cross the bridge about a quarter or half past. And so at
+nine that evening I pushed gently off and wandered bridgewards.
+
+"Then the fun began. I was challenged, and, having answered thickly, I
+pretended to be drunk. The sentry, poor devil, wasn't a bad fellow, and
+I had some cold sausage and beer. And very soon a gurgling noise
+pronounced the fact that he found my beer good.
+
+"It was then I hit him on the base of his skull with a bit of gas-pipe.
+That sentry will never drink beer again." Brent frowned. "A nasty blow,
+a dirty blow, but a necessary blow." He shrugged his shoulders and then
+went on.
+
+"I took off his top-coat and put it on. I put on his hat and took his
+rifle and rolled him down the embankment into a bush. Then I resumed his
+beat. Discipline was a bit lax on that bridge, I'm glad to say; unless
+you pulled your relief out of bed no one else was likely to do it for
+you. As you may guess, I did not do much pulling.
+
+"I was using two slabs of gun-cotton to make sure--firing them
+electrically. I had two dry-cells and two coils of fine wire for the
+leads. The cells would fire a No. 13 Detonator through thirty yards of
+those leads--and that thirty yards just enabled me to stand clear of the
+bridge. It took me twenty minutes to fix it up, and then I had to wait.
+
+"By gad, old boy, you've called me a cool bird; you should have seen me
+during that wait. I was trembling like a child with excitement:
+everything had gone so marvellously. And for the first time in the whole
+show it dawned on me that not only was there a chance of getting away
+afterwards, but that I actually wanted to. Before that moment I'd
+assumed on the certainty of being killed."
+
+For a moment he looked curiously in front of him, and a slight smile
+lurked round the corners of his mouth. Then suddenly, and apropos of
+nothing, he remarked, "Kathleen Goring tea'd with me yesterday. Of
+course, it was largely due to that damned orange-skin, but I--er--did
+not pass a sleepless night."
+
+Which I took to be indicative of a state of mind induced by the rind of
+that nutritious fruit, rather than any reference to his broken leg. For
+when a man has passed unscathed through parachute descents and little
+things like that, only to lose badly on points to a piece of peel, his
+sense of humour gets a jog in a crucial place. And a sense of humour is
+fatal to the hopeless, undying passion. It is almost as fatal, in fact,
+as a hiccough at the wrong moment.
+
+"It was just about half-past twelve that the train came along. I was
+standing by the end of the bridge, with my overcoat and rifle showing in
+the faint light of the moon. The engine-driver waved his arm and shouted
+something in greeting and I waved back. Then I took the one free lead
+and waited until the engine was past me. I could see the first of the
+guns, just coming abreast, and at that moment I connected up with the
+battery in my pocket. Two slabs of gun-cotton make a noise, as you know,
+and just as the engine reached the charge, a sheet of flame seemed to
+leap from underneath the front wheels. The driver hadn't time to do a
+thing--the engine had left the rails before he knew what had happened.
+And then things moved. In my wildest moments I had never expected such a
+success. The engine crashed through the parapet wall and hung for a
+moment in space. Then it fell downward into the water, and by the mercy
+of Allah the couplings held. The first two guns followed it, through the
+gap it had made, and then the others overturned with the pull before
+they got there, smashing down the wall the whole way along. Every single
+gun went wallop into the Scheldt--to say nothing of two passenger
+carriages containing the gunners and their officers. The whole thing was
+over in five seconds; and you can put your shirt on it that before the
+last gun hit the water yours truly had cast away his regalia of office
+and was legging it like a two-year-old back to the veuve Demassiet and
+Tournai. It struck me that bridge might shortly become an unhealthy
+spot."
+
+Jim Brent laughed. "It did. I had to stop on with the old lady for two
+or three days in case she might be suspected owing to my sudden
+departure--and things hummed. They shot the feldwebel in charge of the
+guard; they shot every sentry; they shot everybody they could think of;
+but--they never even suspected me. I went out and had a look next day,
+the day I think that R.F.C. man spotted and reported the damage. Two of
+the guns were only fit for turning into hairpins, and the other four
+looked very like the morning after.
+
+"Then, after I'd waited a couple of days, I said good-bye to the old
+dear and trekked off towards the Dutch frontier, gaining immense
+popularity, old son, by describing the accident to all the soldiers I
+met.
+
+"That's all, I think. I had words with a sentry at the frontier, but I
+put it across him with his own bundook. Then I wandered to our
+Ambassador, and sailed for England in due course. And--er--that's that."
+
+Such is the tale of Jim Brent's V.C. There only remains for me to give
+the wording of his official report on the matter.
+
+"I have the honour to report," it ran, "that at midnight on the 25th
+ult., I successfully derailed the train conveying six guns of calibre
+estimated at about 9-inch, each mounted on a railway truck. The engine,
+followed by the guns, departed from sight in about five seconds, and
+fell through a drop of some sixty feet into the River Scheldt from the
+bridge just west of Tournai. The gunners and officers--who were in two
+coaches in rear--were also killed. Only one seemed aware that there was
+danger, and he, owing to his bulk, was unable to get out of the door of
+his carriage. He was, I think, in command. I investigated the damage
+next day when the military authorities were a little calmer, and beg to
+state that I do not consider the guns have been improved by their
+immersion. One, at least, has disappeared in the mud. A large number of
+Germans who had no connection with this affair have, I am glad to
+report, since been shot for it.
+
+"I regret that I am unable to report in person, but I am at present in
+hospital with a broken leg, sustained by my inadvertently stepping on a
+piece of orange-peel, which escaped my notice owing to its remarkable
+similarity to the surrounding terrain. This similarity was doubtless due
+to the dirt on the orange-peel."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Which, I may say, should not be taken as a model for official reports by
+the uninitiated.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+RETRIBUTION
+
+
+On the Promenade facing the Casino at Monte Carlo two men were seated
+smoking. The Riviera season was at its height, and passing to and fro in
+front of them were the usual crowd of well-dressed idlers, who make up
+the society of that delectable, if expensive, resort. Now and again a
+casual acquaintance would saunter by, to be greeted with a smile from
+one, and a curt nod from the other, who, with his eyes fixed on the
+steps in front of him, seemed oblivious of all else.
+
+"Cheer up, Jerry; she won't be long. Give the poor girl time to digest
+her luncheon." The cheerful one of the twain lit a cigarette; and in the
+process received the glad eye from a passing siren of striking aspect.
+"Great Caesar, old son!" he continued, when she was swallowed up in the
+crowd, "you're losing the chance of a lifetime. Here, gathered together
+to bid us welcome, are countless beautiful women and brave men. We are
+for the moment the star turn of the show--the brave British sailors whom
+the ladies delight to honour. Never let it be said, old dear, that you
+failed them in this their hour of need."
+
+"Confound it, Ginger, I know all about that!" The other man sighed and,
+coming suddenly out of his brown study, he too leant forward and fumbled
+for his cigarette-case. "But it's no go, old man. I'm getting a deuced
+sight too old and ugly nowadays to chop and change about. There comes a
+time of life when if a man wants to kiss one particular woman, he might
+as well kiss his boot for all the pleasure fooling around with another
+will give him."
+
+Ginger Lawson looked at him critically. "My lad, I fear me that Nemesis
+has at length descended on you. No longer do the ortolans and caviare of
+unregenerate bachelorhood tempt you; rather do you yearn for ground rice
+and stewed prunes in the third floor back. These symptoms----"
+
+"Ginger," interrupted the other, "dry up. You're a dear, good soul, but
+when you try to be funny, I realise the type of man who writes mottoes
+for crackers." He started up eagerly, only to sit down again
+disappointed.
+
+"Not she, not she, my love," continued the other imperturbably. "And, in
+the meanwhile, doesn't it strike you that you are committing a bad
+tactical error in sitting here, with a face like a man that's eaten a
+bad oyster, on the very seat where she's bound to see you when she does
+finish her luncheon and come down?"
+
+"I suppose that means you want me to cocktail with you?"
+
+"More impossible ideas have fructified," agreed Ginger, rising.
+
+"No, I'm blowed if----!"
+
+"Come on, old son." Lawson dragged him reluctantly to his feet. "All the
+world loves a lover, including the loved one herself; but you look like
+a deaf-mute at a funeral, who's swallowed his fee. Come and have a
+cocktail at Ciro's, and then, merry and bright and caracoling like a
+young lark, return and snatch her from under the nose of the accursed
+Teuton."
+
+"Do you think she's going to accept him, Ginger?" he muttered anxiously,
+as they sauntered through the drifting crowd.
+
+"My dear boy, ask me another. But she's coming to the ball dance on
+board to-night, and if the delicate pink illumination of your special
+kala jugger, shining softly on your virile face, and toning down the
+somewhat vivid colour scheme of your sunburned nose, doesn't melt her
+heart, I don't know what will----"
+
+Which all requires a little explanation. Before the war broke out it was
+the custom each year for that portion of the British Fleet stationed in
+the Mediterranean, and whose headquarters were at Malta, to make a
+cruise lasting three weeks or a month to some friendly sea-coast, where
+the ports were good and the inhabitants merry. Trieste, perhaps, and up
+the Adriatic; Alexandria and the countries to the East; or, best of all,
+the Riviera. And at the time when my story opens the officers of the
+British Mediterranean Fleet, which had come to rest in the wonderful
+natural anchorage of Villefranche, were doing their best to live up to
+the reputation which the British naval officer enjoys the world over.
+Everywhere within motor distance of their vessels they were greeted with
+joy and acclamation; there were dances and dinners, women and wine--and
+what more for a space can any hard-worked sailor-man desire? During
+their brief intervals of leisure they slept and recuperated on board,
+only to dash off again with unabated zeal to pastures new, or renewed,
+as the case might be.
+
+Foremost amongst the revellers on this, as on other occasions, was Jerry
+Travers, torpedo-lieutenant on the flagship. Endowed by Nature with an
+infinite capacity for consuming cocktails, and with a disposition which
+not even the catering of the Maltese mess man could embitter, his sudden
+fall from grace was all the more noticeable. From being a tireless
+leader of revels, he became a mooner in secret places, a melancholy
+sigher in the wardroom. Which fact did not escape the eyes of the
+flagship wardroom officers. And Lawson, the navigating lieutenant, had
+deputed himself as clerk of the course.
+
+Staying at the Hotel de Paris was an American, who was afflicted with
+the dreadful name of Honks; with him were his wife and his daughter
+Maisie. Maisie Honks has not a prepossessing sound; but she was the girl
+who was responsible for Jerry Travers's downfall. He had met her at a
+ball in Nice just after the Fleet arrived, and, from that moment he had
+become a trifle deranged. Brother officers entering his cabin unawares
+found him gazing into the infinite with a slight squint. His Marine
+servant spread the rumour on the lower deck that "'e'd taken to poetry,
+and 'orrible noises in his sleep." Like a goodly number of men who have
+walked merrily through life, sipping at many flowers, but leaving each
+with added zest for the next, when he took it he took it hard. And
+Maisie had just about reduced him to idiocy. I am no describer of girls,
+but I was privileged to know and revere the lady from afar, and I can
+truthfully state that I have rarely, if ever, seen a more absolute dear.
+She wasn't fluffy, and she wasn't statuesque; she did not have violet
+eyes which one may liken to mountain pools, or hair of that colour
+described as spun-gold. She was just--Maisie, one of the most adorable
+girls that ever happened. And Jerry, as I say, had taken it very badly.
+
+Unfortunately, there was a fly in the ointment--almost of bluebottle
+size--in the shape of another occupant of the Hotel de Paris, who had
+also taken it very badly, and at a much earlier date. The Baron von
+Dressler--an officer in the German Navy, and a member of one of the
+oldest Prussian families--had been staying at Monte Carlo for nearly a
+month, on sick leave after a severe dose of fever. And he, likewise,
+worshipped with ardour and zeal at the Honks shrine. Moreover, being
+apparently a very decent fellow, and living as he did in the same hotel,
+he had, as Jerry miserably reflected, a bit of a preponderance in
+artillery, especially as he had opened fire more than a fortnight before
+the British Navy had appeared on the scene. This, then, was the general
+situation; and the particular feature of the moment, which caused an
+outlook on life even more gloomy than usual in the heart of the
+torpedo-lieutenant, was that the Baron von Dressler had been invited to
+lunch with his adored one, while he had not.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Something potent, Fritz." Lawson piloted him firmly to the bar and
+addressed the presiding being respectfully. "Something potent and heady
+which will make this officer's sad heart bubble once again with the joie
+de vivre. He has been crossed in love."
+
+"Don't be an ass, Ginger," said the other peevishly.
+
+"My dear fellow, the credit of the Navy is at stake. Admitted that
+you've had a bad start in the Honks stakes, nevertheless--you never
+know--our Teuton may take a bad fall. And, incidentally, there they both
+are, to say nothing of Honks pere et mere." He was peering through the
+window. "No, you don't, my boy!" as the other made a dash for the door.
+"The day is yet young. Lap it up; repeat the dose; and then in the
+nonchalant style for which our name is famous we will sally forth and
+have at them."
+
+"Confound it, Ginger! they seem to be on devilish good terms. Look at
+the blighter, bending towards her as if he owned her." Travers stood in
+the window rubbing his hands with his handkerchief nervously.
+
+"What d'you expect him to do? Look the other way?" The navigating
+officer snorted. "You make me tired, Torps. Come along if you're ready;
+and try and look jaunty and debonair."
+
+"Heavens! old boy; I'm as nervous as an ugly girl at her first party."
+They were passing into the street. "My hands are clammy and my boots are
+bursting with feet."
+
+"I don't mind about your boots; but for goodness' sake dry your hands.
+No self-respecting woman would look at a man with perspiring palms."
+
+Ten minutes later three pairs of people might have been seen strolling
+up and down the Promenade. And as the arrangement of those pairs was
+entirely due to the navigating lieutenant, their composition is perhaps
+worthy of a paragraph. At one end, as was very right and proper, Jerry
+and Miss Honks discussed men and matters--at least, I assume so--with a
+zest that seemed to show his nervousness was only transient. In the
+middle the stage-manager and Mrs. Honks discussed Society, with a
+capital "S"--a subject of which the worthy woman knew nothing and talked
+a lot. At the other end Mr. Honks poured into the unresponsive ear of an
+infuriated Prussian nobleman his new scheme for cornering sausages.
+Which shows what a naval officer can do when he gets down to it.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Now, it is certainly not my intention to recount in detail the course of
+Jerry Travers's love affair during his stay on the Riviera. Sufficient
+to say, it did not run smoothly. But there are one or two things which I
+must relate--things which concern our three principals. They cover the
+first round in the contest--the round which the German won on points.
+And though they have no actual bearing on the strange happenings which
+brought about the second and last round, in circumstances nothing short
+of miraculous at a future date, yet for the proper understanding of the
+retribution that came upon the Hun at the finish it is well that they
+should be told.
+
+They occurred that same evening, at the ball given by the British Navy
+on the flagship. Few sights, I venture to think, are more imposing, and
+to a certain extent more incongruous, than a battleship in gala mood.
+For days beforehand, men skilled in electricity erect with painstaking
+care a veritable fairyland of coloured lights, which shine softly on the
+deck cleared for dancing, and discreet kala juggers prepared with equal
+care by officers skilled in love. Everywhere there is peace and luxury;
+the music of the band steals across the silent water; the engine of
+death is at rest. Almost can one imagine the mighty turbines, the great
+guns, the whole infernal paraphernalia of destruction, laughing grimly
+at their master's amusements--those masters whose brains forged them and
+riveted them and gave them birth; who with the pressure of a finger can
+launch five tons of death at a speck ten miles away; whose lightest
+caprice they are bound to obey--and yet who now cover them with flimsy
+silks and fairy lights, while they dance and make love to laughing,
+soft-eyed girls. And perhaps there was some such idea in the
+gunnery-lieutenant's mind as he leant against the breech of a
+twelve-inch gun, waiting for his particular guest. "Not yet, old man,"
+he muttered thoughtfully--"not yet. To-night we play; to-morrow--who
+knows?"
+
+Above, the lights shone out unshaded, silhouetting the battle-cruiser
+with lines of fire against the vault of heaven, sprinkled with the
+golden dust of a myriad stars; while ceaselessly across the violet water
+steam-pinnaces dashed backwards and forwards, carrying boatloads of
+guests from the landing-stage, and then going back for more. At the top
+of the gangway the admiral, immaculate in blue and gold, welcomed them
+as they arrived; the flag-lieutenant, with the weight of much
+responsibility on his shoulders, having just completed a last lightning
+tour of the ship, only to discover a scarcity of hairpins in
+the ladies' cloak-room, stood behind him. And in the wardroom the
+engineer-commander--a Scotsman of pessimistic outlook--reviled with
+impartiality all ball dances, adding a special clause for the one now
+commencing. But then, off duty, he had no soul above bridge.
+
+In this setting, then, appeared the starters for the Honks stakes on the
+night in question, only, for the time being, the positions were
+reversed. Now the Baron was the stranger in a strange land; Jerry was at
+home--one of the hosts. Moreover, as has already been discreetly hinted,
+there was a certain and very particular kala jugger. And into this very
+particular kala jugger Jerry, in due course, piloted his adored one.
+
+I am now coming to the region of imagination. I was not in that dim-lit
+nook with them, and therefore I am not in a position to state with any
+accuracy what occurred. But--and here I must be discreet--there was a
+midshipman, making up in cheek and inquisitiveness what he lacked in
+years and stature. Also, as I have said, the Honks stakes were not a
+private matter--far from it. The prestige of the British Navy was at
+stake, and betting ran high in the gunroom, or abode of "snotties."
+Where this young imp of mischief hid, I know not; he swore himself that
+his overhearing was purely accidental, and endeavoured to excuse his
+lamentable conduct by saying that he learned a lot!
+
+His account of the engagement was breezy and nautical; and as there is,
+so far as I know, no other description of the operations extant, I give
+it for what it is worth.
+
+Jerry, he told me in the Union Club, Valetta, at a later date, opened
+the action with some tentative shots from his lighter armament. For ten
+minutes odd he alternately Honked and Maisied, till, as my ribald
+informant put it, the deck rang with noises reminiscent of a jibbing
+motor-car. She countered ably with rhapsodies over the ship, the band,
+and life in general, utterly refusing to be drawn into personalities.
+
+Then, it appeared, Jerry's self-control completely deserted him, and
+with a hoarse and throaty noise he opened fire with the full force of
+his starboard broadside; he rammed down the loud pedal and let drive.
+
+He assured her that she was the only woman he could ever love; he seized
+her ungloved hand and fervently kissed it; in short, he offered her his
+hand and heart in the most approved style, the while protesting his
+absolute unworthiness to aspire to such an honour as her acceptance of
+the same.
+
+"Net result, old dear," murmured my graceless informant, pressing the
+bell for another cocktail, "nix--a frost absolute, a frost complete."
+
+"She thought he and the whole ship were bully, and wasn't that little
+boy who'd brought them out in the launch the cutest ever, but she
+reckoned sailors cut no ice with poppa. She was just too sorry for words
+it had ever occurred, but there it was, and there was nothing more to be
+said."
+
+For the truth of these statements I will not vouch. I do know that on
+the night in question Jerry was refused by the only woman he'd ever
+really cared about, because he told me so, and the method of it is of
+little account. And if there be any who may think I have dealt with this
+tragedy in an unfeeling way, I must plead in excuse that I have but
+quoted my informant, and he was one of those in the gunroom who had lost
+money on the event.
+
+Anyway, let me, as a sop to the serious-minded, pass on to the other
+little event which I must chronicle before I come to my finale. In this
+world the serious and the gay, the tears and the laughter, come to us
+out of the great scroll of fate in strange, jumbled succession. The
+lucky dip at a bazaar holds no more variegated procession of surprises
+than the mix up we call life brings to each and all. And so, though my
+tone in describing Jerry's proposal has perhaps been wantonly flippant,
+and though the next incident may seem to some to savour of
+melodrama--yet, is it not life, my masters, is it not life?
+
+I was in the wardroom when it occurred. Jerry, standing by the
+fireplace, was smoking a cigarette, and looking like the proverbial
+gentleman who has lost a sovereign and found sixpence. There were
+several officers in there at the time, and--the Baron von Dressler. And
+the Prussian had been drinking.
+
+Not that he was by any means drunk, but he was in that condition when
+some men become merry, some confidential, some--what shall I say?--not
+exactly pugnacious, but on the way to it. He belonged to the latter
+class. All the worst traits of the Prussian officer, the domineering,
+sneering, aggressive mannerisms--which, to do him justice, in normal
+circumstances he successfully concealed, at any rate, when mixing with
+other nationalities--were showing clearly in his face. He was once again
+the arrogant, intolerant autocrat--truly, _in vino veritas_. Moreover,
+his eyes were wandering with increasing frequency to Jerry, who, so far,
+seemed unconscious of the scrutiny.
+
+After a while I caught Ginger Lawson's eye and he shrugged his shoulders
+slightly. He told me afterwards that he had been fearing a flare-up for
+some minutes, but had hoped it would pass over. However, he strolled
+over to Jerry and started talking.
+
+"Mop that up, Jerry," he said, "and come along and do your duty. Baron,
+you don't seem to be dancing much to-night. Can't I find you a partner?"
+
+"Thank you, but I probably know more people here than you do." The tone
+even more than the words was a studied insult. "Lieutenant Travers's
+duty seems to have been unpleasant up to date, which perhaps accounts
+for his reluctance to resume it. Are you--er--lucky at cards?" This time
+the sneer was too obvious to be disregarded.
+
+Jerry looked up, and the eyes of the two men met. "It is possible, Baron
+von Dressier," he remarked icily, "that in your navy remarks of that
+type are regarded as witty. Would it be asking you too much to request
+that you refrain from using them in a ship where they are merely
+considered vulgar?"
+
+By this time a dead silence had settled on the wardroom, one of those
+awkward silences which any scene of this sort produces on those who are
+in the unfortunate position of onlookers.
+
+Von Dressler was white with passion. "You forget yourself, lieutenant. I
+would have you to know that my uncle is a prince of the blood royal."
+
+"That apparently does not prevent his nephew from failing to remember
+the customs that hold amongst gentlemen."
+
+"Gentlemen!" The Prussian looked round the circle of silent officers
+with a scornful laugh; the fumes of the spirits he had drunk were
+mounting to his head with his excitement. "You mean--shopkeepers."
+
+With a muttered curse several officers started forward; no ball is a
+teetotal affair, I suppose, and scenes of this sort are dangerous at any
+time. Travers held up his hand, sharply, incisively.
+
+"Gentlemen, remember this--er--Prussian officer and gentleman is our
+guest. That being the case, sir"--he turned to the German--"you are
+quite safe in insulting us as much as you like."
+
+"The question of safety would doubtless prove irresistible to an
+Englishman." The face of the German was distorted with rage, he seemed
+to be searching in his mind for insults; then suddenly he tried a new
+line.
+
+"Bah! I am not a guttersnipe to bandy words with you. You will not have
+long to wait, you English, and then--when the day does come, my friends;
+when, at last, we come face to face, then, by God! then----"
+
+"Well, what then, Baron von Dressler?" A stern voice cut like a whiplash
+across the wardroom; standing in the door was the admiral himself, who
+had entered unperceived.
+
+For a moment the coarse, furious face of the Prussian paled a little;
+then with a supreme effort of arrogance he pulled himself together.
+"Then, sir, we shall see--the world will see--whether you or we will be
+the victor. The old and effete versus the new and efficient. Der Tag."
+He lifted his hand and let it drop; in the silence one could have heard
+a pin drop.
+
+"The problem you raise is of interest," answered the admiral, in the
+same icy tone. "In the meanwhile any discussion is unprofitable; and in
+the surroundings in which you find yourself at present it is more than
+unprofitable--it is a gross breach of all good form and service
+etiquette. As our guest we were pleased to see you; you will pardon my
+saying that now I can no longer regard you as a guest. Will you kindly
+give orders, Lieutenant Travers, for a steam-pinnace? Baron von Dressler
+will go ashore."
+
+Such was the other matter that concerned my principals, and which, of
+necessity, I have had to record. Such an incident is probably almost
+unique; but when there's a girl at the bottom of things and wine at the
+top, something is likely to happen. The most unfortunate thing about it
+all, as far as Jerry was concerned, was an untimely indisposition on the
+part of Honks mere. As a coincidence nothing could have been more
+disastrous.
+
+The pinnace was at the foot of the gangway, and the Baron--his eyes
+savage--was just preparing to take an elaborate and sarcastic farewell
+of the silent torpedo-lieutenant, who was regarding him with an air of
+cold contempt, when Mr. Honks appeared on the scene.
+
+"Say, Baron, are you going away?"
+
+"I am, Mr. Honks. My presence seems distasteful to the officers."
+
+The American seemed hardly to hear the last part of the remark. "I guess
+we'll quit too. My wife's been taken bad. Can we come in your boat,
+Baron?"
+
+"I shall be more than delighted." His eyes came round with ill-concealed
+triumph to Travers's impassive face as the American bustled away. "I
+venture to think that the Honks stakes are still open."
+
+"By Heaven! You blackguard!" muttered Jerry, his passion overcoming him
+for a moment. "I believe I'd give my commission to smash your damned
+face in with a marline-spike and chuck you into the sea."
+
+"I won't forget what you say," answered the German vindictively, "One
+day I'll make you eat those words; and then when I've sunk your
+rat-eaten ship, it will be me that uses the marline-spike--you swine."
+
+It was as well for Jerry, and for the Baron too, that at this
+psychological moment the Honks menage arrived, otherwise that German
+would probably have gone into the sea.
+
+"Good night, lady," murmured Jerry, when he had solicitously inquired
+after her mother's health. "Is there no hope?" He was desperately
+anxious to seize the second or two left; he knew she would not hear the
+true account of what had happened from the Baron.
+
+"I guess not," she answered softly. "But come and call." With a smile
+she was gone, and from the boat there came the Baron's voice mocking
+through the still air, "Good night, Lieutenant Travers. Thank you so
+much."
+
+And, drowned by the band that started at that moment, the wonderful and
+fearful curse that left the torpedo-lieutenant's lips drifted into the
+night unheard.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Let us go on a couple of years. The moment thought of by the
+gunnery-lieutenant, the day acclaimed by the Prussian officer had come.
+England was at war. Der Tag was a reality. No longer did silks and
+shaded lights form part of the equipment of the Navy, but grim and
+sombre, ruthlessly stripped of everything not absolutely necessary, the
+great grey monsters watched tirelessly through the flying scud of the
+North Sea for "the fleet that stayed at home." Only their submarines
+were out, and these, day by day, diminished in numbers, until the men
+who sent them out looked at one another fearfully--so many went out, so
+few came back.
+
+Tearing through the water one day, away a bit to the south-west of
+Bantry Bay, with the haze of Ireland lying like a smudge on the horizon,
+was a lean, villainous-looking torpedo-boat-destroyer. She was plunging
+her nose into the slight swell, now and again drenching the oilskinned
+figure standing motionless on the bridge. Behind her a great cloud of
+black smoke drifted across the grey water, and the whole vessel was
+quivering with the force of her engines. She was doing her maximum and a
+bit more, but still the steady, watchful eyes of the officer on the
+bridge seemed impatient, and every now and again he cursed softly and
+with wonderful fluency under his breath.
+
+It was our friend Jerry, who at the end of his time on the flagship had
+been given one of the newest T.B.D.'s, and now with every ounce he could
+get out of her he was racing towards the spot from which had come the
+last S.O.S. message, nearly an hour ago. There was something grimly
+foreboding about those agonised calls sent out to the world for perhaps
+twenty minutes, and then--silence, nothing more. German submarines, he
+reflected, as for the tenth time he peered at his wrist-watch, German
+submarines engaged once again in the only form of war they could compete
+in or dared undertake. And not for the first time his thoughts went back
+to the vainglorious boastings of his friend the Baron.
+
+"Damn him," he muttered. "I haven't forgotten the sweep."
+
+There were many things he hadn't forgotten; how, when he'd gone to call
+on the lady as requested, she had been "out," and it was that sort of
+"out" that means "in." How a letter had been answered courteously but
+distinctly coldly, and, impotent with rage, he had been forced to the
+conclusion that she was offended with him. And with the Prussian able to
+say what he liked, it was not difficult to find the reason.
+
+Then the Fleet left, and Jerry resigned himself to the inevitable, a
+proceeding which was not made easier by the many rumours he heard to the
+effect that the Baron himself had done the trick. Distinctly he wanted
+once again to meet that gentleman.
+
+"We ought to see her, if she hasn't sunk, sir, by now." The
+sub-lieutenant on the bridge spoke in his ear.
+
+Travers nodded and shrugged his shoulders. He had realised that fact for
+some minutes.
+
+"Something on the starboard bow." The voice of the look-out man came to
+his ears.
+
+"It's a boat, an open boat," cried the sub., after a careful inspection,
+"and it's pretty full, by Jove!"
+
+A curt order, and the T.B.D. swung round and tore down on the little
+speck bobbing in the water. And they were still a few hundred yards away
+when a look of dawning horror strangely mixed with joy spread over
+Jerry's face. His glass was fixed on the boat, and who in God's name was
+the woman--impossible, of course--but surely.... If it wasn't her it was
+her twin sister; his hand holding the glass trembled with eagerness, and
+then at last he knew. The woman standing up in the stern of the boat
+_was_ Maisie, and as he got nearer he saw there was a look on her face
+which made him catch his breath sharply.
+
+"Great God!" The sub's voice roused him. "What have they been doing?" No
+need to ask whom he meant by "they." "The boat is a shambles."
+
+The destroyer slowed down, and from the crew who looked into that
+little open boat came dreadful curses. It ran with blood; and at the
+bottom women and children moaned feebly, while an elderly man contorted
+with pain in the stern, writhed and sobbed in agony. And over this black
+scene the eyes of the man and the woman met.
+
+"Carefully, carefully, lads," Travers sang out. This was no time for
+questions, only the poor torn fragments counted. Afterwards, perhaps.
+Very tenderly the sailors lifted out the bodies, and one of them--a
+little girl in his arms, with a dreadful wound in her head--jabbered
+like a maniac with the fury of his rage. And so after many days they
+again came face to face.
+
+"Are you wounded?" he whispered.
+
+"No." Her voice was hard and strained; she was near the breaking point.
+"They sunk us without warning--the _Lucania_--and then shelled us in the
+open boats."
+
+"Dear heavens!" Jerry's voice was shaking. "Ah! but you're not hurt, my
+lady; they didn't hit you?"
+
+"My mother was drowned, and my father too." She was swaying a little.
+"It was the U 99."
+
+"Ah!" The man's voice was almost a sigh.
+
+"Submarine on the port bow, sir." A howl came from the look-out,
+followed by the sharp, detonating reports of the destroyer's
+quick-firers. And then a roaring cheer. Like lightning Jerry was upon
+the bridge, and even he could scarcely contain himself. There, lying
+helpless in the water, with a huge hole in her conning tower, wallowed
+the U 99. Two direct hits from the destroyer's guns in a vital spot, and
+the submarine was a submarine no longer. Just one of those strokes of
+poetic justice which happen so rarely in war.
+
+Like rats from a sinking ship the Germans were pouring up and diving
+into the water, and with snarling faces the Englishmen waited for them,
+waited for them with the dying proofs of their vileness still lying on
+the deck as one by one they came on board. Suddenly with a sucking noise
+the submarine foundered, and over the seething, troubled waters where
+she had been a sheet of blackish oil slowly spread.
+
+But Jerry spared no glance for the sinking boat--he did not so much as
+look at the German sailors huddled fearfully together. With hard,
+merciless eyes he faced the submarine commander. For the first time in
+his life he saw red: for the first time in his life there was murder in
+his soul, and the heavy belaying-pin in his hand seemed to goad him on.
+"Suppose the positions had been reversed," mocked a voice in his brain.
+"Would he have hesitated?" The night two years ago surged back to his
+mind; the plaintive crying of the dying child struck on his ears. He
+stepped a pace forward with a snarl--his grip tightened on the
+bar--when suddenly the man who had carried up the little girl gave a
+hoarse cry, and with all his force smote the nearest German in the
+mouth. The German fell like a stone.
+
+"Stand fast." Jerry's voice dominated the scene. The old traditions had
+come back: the old wonderful discipline. The iron pin dropped with a
+clang on the deck. "It is not their fault, they were only obeying his
+orders." And once again his eyes rested on their officer.
+
+"So we meet again, Baron von Dressler," he remarked, "and the rat-eaten
+ship is not sunk. Is this your work?" He pointed to the mangled bodies.
+
+"It is not," muttered the Prussian.
+
+"You lie, you swine, you lie! Unfortunately for you you didn't quite
+carry out your infamous butchery completely enough. There is one person
+on board who knows the U 99 sank the _Lucania_ without warning and was
+in the boat you shelled."
+
+"I don't believe you, I----"
+
+"Then perhaps you'll believe her. I rather think you know her--very
+well." As he spoke he was looking behind the Prussian, to where
+Maisie--roused from her semi-stupor by the Baron's voice--had got up,
+and with her hand to her heart was swaying backwards and forwards. "Look
+behind you, you cur."
+
+The Prussian turned, and then with a cry staggered back, white to the
+lips. "You, great heavens, you--Maisie----"
+
+And so once again the three principals of my little drama were face to
+face: only the setting had changed. No longer sensuous music and the
+warm, violet waters of the Riviera for a background; this time the
+moaning of dying men and children was the ghastly orchestra, and, with
+the grey scud of the Atlantic flying past them, the Englishman and the
+German faced one another, while the American girl stood by. And watching
+them were the muttering sailors.
+
+At last she spoke. "This ring, I believe, is yours." She took a
+magnificent half-hoop of diamonds from her engagement finger and flung
+it into the sea. Then she moved towards him.
+
+"You drowned my mother, and for that I strike you once." She hit him in
+the face with an iron-shod pin. "You drowned my father, and for that I
+strike you again." Once again she struck him in the face. "I will leave
+a fighting man and a gentleman to deal with you for those poor mites."
+With a choking sob she turned away, and once again sank down on the coil
+of rope.
+
+The Prussian, sobbing with pain and rage, with the blood streaming from
+his face, was not a pretty sight; but in Travers's face there was no
+mercy.
+
+"'The old and effete versus the new and efficient!' I seem to recall
+those words from our last meeting. May I congratulate you on your
+efficiency? Bah! you swine"--his face flamed with sudden passion--"if
+you aren't skulking in Kiel, you're butchering women. By heavens! I can
+conceive of nothing more utterly perfect than flogging you to death."
+
+The Prussian shrank back, his face livid with fear.
+
+"They were my orders," he muttered. "For God's sake----"
+
+"Oh, don't be frightened, Baron von Dressler." The Englishman's voice
+was once again under control. "The old and effete don't do that. You
+were safe as our guest two years ago; you are safe as our prisoner now.
+Your precious carcass will be returned safe and sound to your Royal
+uncle at the end of the war, and my only hope is that your face will
+still bear those honourable scars. Moreover, if what you say is true, if
+the orders of your Government include shelling an open boat crammed with
+defenceless women and children--and neutrals at that--I can only say
+that their infamy is so incredible as to force one to the conclusion
+that they are not responsible for their actions. But--make no
+mistake--they will get their retribution."
+
+For a moment he fell silent, looking at the cowering, blood-stained
+face opposite him, and then a pitiful wail behind him made him turn
+round.
+
+"Mummie, I'se hurted." On her knees beside the little girl was Maisie,
+soothing her as best she could, easing the throbbing head, whispering
+that mummie couldn't come for a while. "I'se hurted, mummie--I'se
+hurted."
+
+Travers turned back again, and the eyes of the two men met.
+
+"My God! Is it possible that a sailor could do such a thing?"
+
+His voice was barely above a whisper, yet the Prussian heard and winced.
+In the depths of even the foulest bully there is generally some little
+redeeming spark.
+
+"I'se hurted; I want my mummie."
+
+The Prussian's lips moved, but no sound came, while in his eyes was the
+look of a man haunted. Travers watched him silently; and at length he
+spoke again.
+
+"As I said, your rulers will get their deserts in time, but I think,
+Baron von Dressler, your Nemesis has come on you already. That little
+poor kid is asking you for her mother. Don't forget it in the years to
+come, Baron. No, I don't think you _will_ forget it."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+My story is finished. Later on, when some of the dreadful nightmare
+through which she had passed had been effaced from her mind, Maisie and
+the man who had come to her out of the grey waters discussed many
+things. And the story which the Prussian had told her after the dance on
+the flagship was finally discredited.
+
+Can anyone recommend me a good cheap book on "Things a Best Man Should
+Know"?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+THE DEATH GRIP
+
+
+Two reasons have impelled me to tell the story of Hugh Latimer, and both
+I think are good and sufficient. First I was his best friend, and second
+I know more about the tragedy than anyone else--even including his wife.
+I saw the beginning and the end; she--poor broken-hearted girl--saw only
+the end.
+
+There have been many tragedies since this war started; there will be
+many more before Finis is written--and each, I suppose, to its own
+particular sufferers seems the worst. But, somehow, to my mind Hugh's
+case is without parallel, unique--the devil's arch of cruelty. I will
+give you the story--and you shall judge for yourself.
+
+Let us lift the curtain and present a dug-out in a support trench
+somewhere near Givenchy. A candle gutters in a bottle, the grease
+running down like a miniature stalactite congeals on an upturned
+packing-case. On another packing-case the remnants of a tongue, some
+sardines, and a goodly array of bottles with some tin mugs and plates
+completes the furniture--or almost. I must not omit the handsome
+coloured pictures--three in all--of ladies of great beauty and charm,
+clad in--well, clad in something at any rate. The occupants of this
+palatial abode were Hugh Latimer and myself; at the rise of the curtain
+both lying in corners, on piles of straw.
+
+Outside, a musician was coaxing noises from a mouth-organ; occasional
+snatches of song came through the open entrance, intermingled with
+bursts of laughter. One man, I remember, was telling an interminable
+story which seemed to be the history of a gentleman called Nobby Clark,
+who had dallied awhile with a lady in an estaminet at Bethune, and had
+ultimately received a knock-out blow with a frying-pan over the right
+eye, for being too rapid in his attentions. Just the usual dull,
+strange, haunting trench life--which varies not from day's end to day's
+end.
+
+At intervals a battery of our own let drive, the blast of the explosion
+catching one through the open door; at intervals a big German shell
+moaned its way through the air overhead--an express bound for somewhere.
+Had you looked out to the front, you would have seen the bright green
+flares lobbing monotonously up into the night, all along the line.
+War--modern war; boring, incredible when viewed in cold blood....
+
+"Hullo, Hugh." A voice at the door roused us both from our doze, and
+the Adjutant came in. "Will you put your watches right by mine? We are
+making a small local attack to-morrow morning, and the battalion is to
+leave the trenches at 6.35 exactly."
+
+"Rather sudden, isn't it?" queried Hugh, setting his watch.
+
+"Just come through from Brigade Headquarters. Bombs are being brought up
+to H.15. Further orders sent round later. Bye-bye."
+
+He was gone, and once more we sat thinking to the same old accompaniment
+of trench noises; but in rather a different frame of mind. To-morrow
+morning at 6.35 peace would cease; we should be out and running over the
+top of the ground; we should be...
+
+"Will they use gas, I wonder?" Hugh broke the silence.
+
+"Wind too fitful," I answered; "and I suppose it's only a small show."
+
+"I wonder what it's for. I wish one knew more about these affairs; I
+suppose one can't, but it would make it more interesting."
+
+The mouth-organ stopped; there were vigorous demands for an encore.
+
+"Poor devils," he went on after a moment. "I wonder how many?--I wonder
+how many?"
+
+"A new development for you, Hugh." I grinned at him. "Merry and bright,
+old son--your usual motto, isn't it?"
+
+He laughed. "Dash it, Ginger--you can't always be merry and bright. I
+don't know why--perhaps it's second sight--but I feel a sort of
+presentiment of impending disaster to-night. I had the feeling before
+Clements came in."
+
+"Rot, old man," I answered cheerfully. "You'll probably win a V.C., and
+the greatest event of the war will be when it is presented to your
+cheeild."
+
+Which prophecy was destined to prove the cruellest mixture of truth and
+fiction the mind of man could well conceive....
+
+"Good Lord!" he said irritably, taking me seriously for a moment; "we're
+a bit too old soldiers to be guyed by palaver about V.C.'s." Then he
+recovered his good temper. "No, Ginger, old thing, there's big things
+happening to-morrow. Hugh Latimer's life is going into the melting-pot.
+I'm as certain of it as--as that I'm going to have a whisky and soda."
+He laughed, and delved into a packing-case for the seltzogene.
+
+"How's the son and heir?? I asked after a while.
+
+"Going strong," he answered. "Going strong, the little devil."
+
+And then we fell silent, as men will at such a time. The trench outside
+was quiet; the musician, having obliged with his encore, no longer
+rendered the night hideous--even the guns were still. What would it be
+to-morrow night? Should I still be...? I shook myself and started to
+scribble a letter; I was getting afraid of inactivity--afraid of my
+thoughts.
+
+"I'm going along the trenches," said Hugh suddenly, breaking the long
+silence. "I want to see the Sergeant-Major and give some orders."
+
+He was gone, and I was alone. In spite of myself my thoughts would drift
+back to what he had been saying, and from there to his wife and the son
+and heir. My mind, overwrought, seemed crowded with pictures: they
+jumbled through my brains like a film on a cinematograph.
+
+I saw his marriage, the bridal arch of officers' swords, the
+sweet-faced, radiant girl. And then his house came on to the screen--the
+house where I had spent many a pleasant week-end while we trained and
+sweated to learn the job in England. He was a man of some wealth was
+Hugh Latimer, and his house showed it; showed moreover his perfect,
+unerring taste. Bits of stuff, curios, knick-knacks from all over the
+world met one in odd corners; prints, books, all of the very best,
+seemed to fit into the scheme as if they'd grown there. Never did a
+single thing seem to whisper as you passed, "I'm really very rare and
+beautiful, but I've been dragged into the wrong place, and now I know
+I'm merely vulgar." There are houses I wot of where those clamorous
+whispers drown the nightingales. But if you can pass through rooms full
+of bric-a-brac--silent bric-a-brac: bric-a-brac conscious of its
+rectitude and needing no self apology, you may be certain that the owner
+will not give you port that is improved by a cigarette.
+
+Then came the son, and Hugh's joy was complete. A bit of a dreamer, a
+bit of a poet, a bit of a philosopher, but with a virility all his own;
+a big man--a man in a thousand, a man I was proud to call Friend. And
+he--at the dictates of "Kultur"--was to-morrow at 6.35 going to expose
+himself to the risk of death, in order to wrest from the Hun a small
+portion of unprepossessing ground. Truly, humour is not dead in the
+world!...
+
+A step outside broke the reel of pictures, and the Sapper Officer looked
+in. "I hear a whisper of activity in the dark and stilly morn," he
+remarked brightly. "Won't it be nice?"
+
+"Very," I said sarcastically. "Are you coming?"
+
+"No, dear one. That's why I thought it would be so nice. My opposite
+number and tireless companion and helper to-morrow morning will prance
+over the greensward with you, leading his merry crowd of minions,
+bristling with bowie knives, sandbags, and other impedimenta."
+
+"Oh! go to Hell," I said crossly. "I want to write a letter."
+
+"Cheer up, Ginger." He dropped his bantering tone. "I'll be up to drink
+a glass of wine with you to-morrow night in the new trench. Tell Latimer
+that the wire is all right--it's been thinned out and won't stop him,
+and that there are ladders for getting out of the trench on each
+traverse."
+
+"Have you been working?" I asked.
+
+"Four hours, and got caught by shrapnel in the middle. Night-night, and
+good luck, old man."
+
+He was gone; and when he had, I wished him back again. For the game
+wasn't new to him--he'd done it before; and I hadn't. It tends to give
+one confidence....
+
+It was about four I woke up. For a few blissful moments I lay forgetful;
+then I turned and saw Hugh. There was a new candle in the bottle, and by
+its flicker I saw the glint in his sombre eyes, the clear-cut line of
+his profile. And I remembered....
+
+I felt as if something had caught me by the stomach--inside: a sinking
+feeling, a feeling of nausea: and for a while I lay still. Outside in
+the darkness the men were rousing themselves; now and again a curse was
+muttered as someone tripped over a leg he didn't see; and once the
+Sergeant-Major's voice rang out--"'Ere, strike a light with them
+breakfasts."
+
+"Awake, Ginger?" Hugh prodded me with his foot. "You'd better get
+something inside you, and then we'll go round and see that everything is
+O.K."
+
+"Have you had any sleep, Hugh?"
+
+"No. I've been reading." He put Maeterlinck's "Blue Bird" on the table.
+With his finger on the title he looked at me musingly, "Shall we find it
+to-day, I wonder?"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I have lingered perhaps a little long on what is after all only the
+introduction to my story. But it is mainly for the sake of Hugh's wife
+that I have written it at all; to show her how he passed the last few
+hours before--the change came. Of what happened just after 6.35 on that
+morning I cannot profess to have any very clear idea. We went over the
+parapet I remember, and forward at the double. For half an hour
+beforehand a rain of our shells had plastered the German trenches in
+front of us, and during those eternal thirty minutes we waited tense.
+Hugh Latimer alone of all the men I saw seemed absolutely unconscious of
+anything unusual. Some of the men were singing below their breath, and
+one I remember sucked his teeth with maddening persistency. And one and
+all watched me curiously, speculatively--or so it seemed to me. Then we
+were off, and of crossing No-Man's-Land I have no recollection. I
+remember a man beside me falling with a crash and nearly tripping me
+up--and then, at last, the Huns. I let drive with my revolver from the
+range of a few inches into the fat, bloated face of a frightened-looking
+man in dirty grey, and as he crashed down I remember shouting, "There's
+the Blue Bird for you, old dear." Little things like that do stick. But
+everything else is just a blurred phantasmagoria in my mind. And after a
+while it was over. The trench was full of still grey figures, with here
+and there a khaki one beside them. A sapper officer forced his way
+through shouting for a working-party. We were the flanking company, and
+vital work had to be done and quick. Barricades rigged up, communication
+trenches which now ran to our Front blocked up, the trench made to fire
+the other way. For we knew there would be a counter-attack, and if you
+fail to consolidate what you've won you won't keep it long. It was while
+I slaved and sweated with the men shifting sandbags--turning the
+parados, or back of the trench into the new parapet, or front--that I
+got word that Hugh was dead. I hadn't seen him since the morning, and
+the rumour passed along from man to man.
+
+"The Captain's took it. Copped it in the head. Bomb took him in the
+napper."
+
+But there was no time to stop and enquire, and with my heart sick within
+me I worked on. One thing at any rate; it had only been a little show,
+but it had been successful--the dear chap hadn't lost his life in a
+failure. Then I saw the doctor for a moment.
+
+"No, he's not dead," he said, "but--he's mighty near it. You know he
+practically ran the show single-handed on the left flank."
+
+"What did he do?" I cried.
+
+"Do? Why he kept a Hun bombing-party who were working up the trench at
+bay for half an hour by himself, which completely saved the situation,
+and then went out into the open, when he was relieved, and pulled in
+seven men who'd been caught by a machine-gun. It was while he was
+getting the last one that a bomb exploded almost on his head. Why he
+wasn't killed on the spot, I simply can't conceive." And the doctor was
+gone.
+
+But strange things happen, and the hand of Death is ever capricious. Was
+it not only the other day that we exploded a mine, and sailing through
+the air there came a Hun--a whole complete Hun. Stunned and winded he
+fell on the parapet of our trench, and having been pulled in and
+revived, at last sat up. "Goot," he murmured; "I hof long vanted to
+surrender...."
+
+Hugh Latimer was not dead--that was the great outstanding fact; though
+had I known the writing in the roll of Fate, I would have wished a
+thousand times that the miracle had not happened. There are worse
+things than death....
+
+And now I bring the first part of my tragedy to a halt; the beginning as
+I called it--that part which Hugh's wife did not know. She, with all the
+world, saw the announcement in the paper, the announcement--bald and
+official of the deed for which he won his V.C. It was much as the doctor
+described it to me. She, with all the world, saw his name in the
+Casualty List as wounded; and on receipt of a telegram from the War
+Office, she crossed to France in fear and trembling--for the wire did
+not mince words; his condition was very critical. He did not know
+her--he was quite unconscious, and had been so for days. That night they
+were trephining, and there was just a hope....
+
+The next morning Hugh knew his wife.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+For the next three months I did not see him. The battalion was still up,
+and I got no chance of going down to Boulogne. He didn't stay there
+long, but, following the ordinary routine of the R.A.M.C., went back to
+England in a hospital ship, and into a home in London. Sir William
+Cremer, the eminent brain specialist, who had operated on him, and been
+particularly interested in his case, kept him under his eye for a
+couple of months, and then he went to his own home to recuperate.
+
+All this and a lot more besides I got in letters from his wife. The King
+himself had graciously come round and presented him with the cross--and
+she was simply brimming over with happiness, dear soul. He was ever so
+much better, and very cheerful; and Sir William was a perfect dear; and
+he'd actually taken out six ounces of brain during the operation, and
+wasn't it wonderful. Also the son and heir grew more perfect every day.
+Which news, needless to say, cheered me immensely.
+
+Then came the first premonition of something wrong. For a fortnight I'd
+not heard from her, and then I got a letter which wasn't quite so
+cheerful.
+
+"... Hugh doesn't seem able to sleep." So ran part of it. "He is
+terribly restless, and at times dreadfully irritable. He doesn't seem to
+have any pain in his head, which is a comfort. But I'm not quite easy
+about him, Ginger. The other evening I was sitting opposite to him in
+the study, and suddenly something compelled me to look at him. I have
+never seen anything like the look in his eyes. He was staring at the
+fire, and his right hand was opening and shutting like a bird's talon. I
+was terrified for a moment, and then I forced myself to speak calmly.
+
+"'Why this ferocious expression, old boy,' I said, with a laugh. For a
+moment he did not answer, but his eyes left the fire, and travelled
+slowly round till they met mine. I never knew what that phrase meant
+till then; it always struck me as a sort of author's license. But that
+evening I felt them coming, and I could have screamed. He gazed at me in
+silence and then at last he spoke.
+
+"'Have you ever heard of the Death Grip? Some day I'll tell you about
+it.' Then he looked away, and I made an excuse to go out of the room,
+for I was shaking with fright. It was so utterly unlike Hugh to make a
+silly remark like that. When I came back later, he was perfectly calm
+and his own self again. Moreover, he seemed to have completely forgotten
+the incident, because he apologised for having been asleep.
+
+"I wanted Sir William to come down and see him; or else for us to go up
+to town, as I expect Sir William is far too busy. But Hugh wouldn't hear
+of it, and got quite angry--so I didn't press the matter. But I'm
+worried, Ginger...."
+
+I read this part of the letter to our doctor. We were having an omelette
+of huit-oeufs, and une bouteille de vin rouge in a little estaminet way
+back, I remember; and I asked him what he thought.
+
+"My dear fellow," he said, "frankly it's impossible to say. You know
+what women are; and that letter may give quite a false impression of
+what really took place. You see what I mean: in her anxiety she may
+have exaggerated some jocular remark. She's had a very wearing time, and
+her own nerves are probably a bit on edge. But----" he paused and leaned
+back. "Encore du vin, s'il vous plait, mam'selle. But, Ginger, it's no
+good pretending, there may be a very much more sinister meaning behind
+it all. The brain is a most complex organisation, and even such men as
+Cremer are only standing on the threshold of knowledge with regard to
+it. They know a lot--but how much more there is to learn! Latimer, as
+you know, owes his life practically to a miracle. Not once in a thousand
+times would a man escape instant death under such circumstances. A great
+deal of brain matter was exposed, and subsequently removed at Boulogne
+by Sir William, when he trephined. And it is possible that some radical
+alteration has taken place in Hugh Latimer's character, soul--whatever
+you choose to call that part of a man which controls his life--as a
+result of the operation. If what Mrs. Latimer says is the truth--and
+when I say that I mean if what she says is to be relied on as a cold,
+bald statement of what happened--then I am bound to say that I think the
+matter is very serious indeed."
+
+"God Almighty!" I cried, "do you mean to say that you think there is a
+chance of Hugh going mad?"
+
+"To be perfectly frank, I do; always granted that that letter is
+reliable. I consider it vital that whether he wishes to or whether he
+doesn't, Sir William Cremer should be consulted. And--_at once_." The
+doctor emphasised his words with his fist on the table.
+
+"Great Scott! Doc," I muttered. "Do you really think there is danger?"
+
+"I don't know enough of the case to say that. But I do know something
+about the brain, enough to say that there might be not only danger, but
+hideous danger, to everyone in the house." He was silent for a bit and
+then rapped out. "Does Mrs. Latimer share the same room as her husband?"
+
+"I really don't know," I answered. "I imagine so."
+
+"Well, I don't know how well you know her; but until Sir William gives a
+definite opinion, if I knew her well enough, I would strongly advise her
+to sleep in another room--_and lock the door_."
+
+"Good God! you think ..."
+
+"Look here, Ginger, what's the good of beating about the bush. It is
+possible--I won't say probable--that Hugh Latimer is on the road to
+becoming a homicidal maniac. And if, by any chance, that assumption is
+correct, the most hideous tragedy might happen at any moment. Mam'selle,
+l'addition s'il vous plait. You're going on leave shortly, aren't you?"
+
+"In two days," I answered.
+
+"Well, go down and see for yourself; it won't require a doctor to
+notice the symptoms. And if what I fear is correct, track out Cremer in
+his lair--find him somehow and find him quickly."
+
+We walked up the road together, and my glance fell on the plot of ground
+on the right, covered so thickly with little wooden crosses. As I looked
+away the doctor's eyes and mine met. And there was the same thought in
+both our minds.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Three days later I was in Hugh's house. His wife met me at the station,
+and before we got into the car my heart sank. I knew something was
+wrong.
+
+"How is he?" I asked, as we swung out of the gates.
+
+"Oh! Ginger," she said. "I'm frightened--frightened to death."
+
+"What is it, lady," I cried. "Has he been looking at you like that
+again, the way you described in the letter?"
+
+"Yes--it's getting more frequent. And at nights--oh! my God! it's awful.
+Poor old Hugh."
+
+She broke down at that, while I noticed that her hands were all
+trembling, and that dark shadows were round her eyes.
+
+"Tell me about it," I said, "for we must do something."
+
+She pulled herself together, and called through the speaking-tube to
+the chauffeur. "Go a little way round, Jervis. I don't want to get in
+till tea-time."
+
+Then she turned to me. "Since his operation I've been using another
+room." The doctor's words flashed into my mind. "Sir William thought it
+essential that he should have really long undisturbed nights, and I'm
+such a light sleeper. For a few weeks everything panned out splendidly.
+He seemed to get better and stronger, and he was just the same dear old
+Hugh he's always been. Then gradually the restlessness started; he
+couldn't sleep, he became irritable,--and the one thing which made him
+most irritable of all was any suggestion that he wasn't going on all
+right; or any hint even that he should see a doctor. Then came the
+incident I wrote to you about. Since that evening I've often caught the
+same look in his eye." She shuddered, and again I noticed the quiver in
+her hands, but she quickly controlled herself. "Last night, I woke up
+suddenly. It must have been about three, for it was pitch dark, and I
+think I'd been asleep some hours. I don't know what woke me; but in an
+instant I knew there was someone in the room. I lay trembling with
+fright, and suddenly out of the darkness came a hideous chuckle. It was
+the most awful, diabolical noise I've ever heard. Then I heard his
+voice.
+
+"He was muttering, and all I could catch were the words 'Death-Grip.' I
+nearly fainted with terror, but forced myself to keep consciousness. How
+long he stood there I don't know, but after an eternity it seemed, I
+heard the door open and shut. I heard him cross the passage, and go into
+his own room. Then there was silence. I forced myself to move; I
+switched on the light, and locked the door. And when dawn came in
+through the windows, I was still sitting in a chair sobbing, shaking
+like a terrified child.
+
+"This morning he was perfectly normal, and just as cheerful and loving
+as he'd ever been. Oh! Ginger, what am I to do?" She broke down and
+cried helplessly.
+
+"You poor kid," I said; "what an awful experience! You must lock your
+door to-night, and to-morrow, with or without Hugh's knowledge, I shall
+go up to see Cremer."
+
+"You don't think; oh! it couldn't be true that Hugh, my Hugh, is
+going----" She wouldn't say the word, but just gazed at me fearfully
+through her tears.
+
+"Hush, my lady," I said quietly. "The brain is a funny thing; perhaps
+there is some pressure somewhere which Sir William will be able to
+remove."
+
+"Why, of course that's it. I'm tired, stupid--it's made me exaggerate
+things. It will mean another operation, that's all. Wasn't it splendid
+about his getting the V.C.; and the King, so gracious, so kind...." She
+talked bravely on, and I tried to help her.
+
+But suppose there wasn't any pressure; suppose there was nothing to
+remove; suppose.... And in my mind I saw the plot with the little wooden
+crosses; in my mind I heard the express for somewhere booming sullenly
+overhead. And I wondered ... shuddered.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Hugh met us at the door; dear old Hugh, looking as well as he ever did.
+
+"Splendid, Ginger, old man! So glad you managed the leave all right."
+
+"Not a hitch, Hugh. You're looking very fit."
+
+"I am. Fit as a flea. You ask Elsie what she thinks."
+
+His wife smiled. "You're just wonderful, old boy, except for your
+sleeplessness at night. I want him to see Sir William Cremer, Ginger,
+but he doesn't think it worth while."
+
+"I don't," said Hugh shortly. "Damn that old sawbones."
+
+In another man the remark would have passed unnoticed; but the chauffeur
+was there, and a maid, and his wife--and the expression was quite
+foreign to Hugh.
+
+But I am bound to say that except for that one trifling thing I noticed
+absolutely nothing peculiar about him all the evening. At dinner he was
+perfectly normal; quite charming--his own brilliant self. When he was in
+the mood, I have seldom heard his equal as a conversationalist, and that
+night he was at the top of his form. I almost managed to persuade myself
+that my fears were groundless....
+
+"I want to have a buck with Ginger, dear," he said to his wife after
+dinner was over. "A talk over the smells and joys of Flanders."
+
+"But I should like to hear," she answered. "It's so hard to get you men
+to talk."
+
+"I don't think you would like to hear, my dear." His tone was quite
+normal, but there was a strange note of insistence in it. "It's shop,
+and will bore you dreadfully." He still stood by the door waiting for
+her to pass through. After a moment's hesitation she went, and Hugh
+closed the door after her. What suggested the analogy to my mind I
+cannot say, but the way in which he performed the simple act of closing
+the door seemed to be the opening rite of some ceremony. Thus could I
+picture a morphomaniac shutting himself in from prying gaze, before
+abandoning himself to his vice; the drunkard, at last alone, returning
+gloatingly to his bottle. Perhaps my perceptions were quickened, but it
+seemed to me that Hugh came back to me as if I were his colleague in
+some guilty secret--as if his wife were alien to his thoughts, and now
+that she was gone, we could talk.... His first words proved I was right.
+
+"Now we can talk, Ginger," he remarked. "These women don't understand."
+He pushed the port towards me.
+
+"Understand what?" I was watching him closely.
+
+"Life, my boy, _the_ life. The life of an eye for an eye and a tooth for
+a tooth. Gad! it was a great day that, Ginger." His eyes were fixed on
+me, and for the first time I noticed the red in them, and a peculiar
+twitch in the lids.
+
+"Did you find the Blue Bird?" I asked quietly.
+
+"Find it?" He laughed--and it was not a pleasant laugh. "I used to think
+it lay in books, in art, in music." Again he gave way to a fit of
+devilish mirth. "What damned fools we are, old man, what damned fools.
+But you mustn't tell her." He leaned over the table and spoke
+confidentially. "She'd never understand; that's why I got rid of her."
+He lifted his glass to the light, looking at it as a connoisseur looks
+at a rare vintage, while all the time a strange smile--a cruel
+smile--hovered round his lips. "Music--art," his voice was full of
+scorn. "Only we know better. Did I ever tell you about that grip I
+learned in Sumatra--the Death Grip?"
+
+He suddenly fired the question at me, and for a moment I did not
+answer. All my fears were rushing back into my mind with renewed
+strength; it was not so much the question as the tone--and the eyes of
+the speaker.
+
+"No, never." I lit a cigarette with elaborate care.
+
+"Ah! Someday I must show you. You take a man's throat in your right
+hand, and you put your left behind his neck--like that." His hands were
+curved in front of him--curved as if a man's throat was in them. "Then
+you press and press with the two thumbs--like that; with the right thumb
+on a certain muscle in the neck, and the left on an artery under the
+ear; and you go on pressing, until--until there's no need to press any
+longer. It's wonderful." I can't hope to give any idea of the dreadful
+gloating tone in his voice.
+
+"I got a Prussian officer like that, that day," he went on after a
+moment. "I saw his dirty grey face close to mine, and I got my hands on
+his throat. I'd forgotten the exact position for the grip, and then
+suddenly I remembered it. I squeezed and squeezed--and, Ginger, the grip
+was right. I squeezed his life out in ten seconds." His voice rose to a
+shout.
+
+"Steady, Hugh," I cried. "You'll be frightening Elsie."
+
+"Quite right," he answered; "that would never do. I haven't told her
+that little incident--she wouldn't understand. But I'm going to show
+her the grip one of these days. As a soldier's wife, I think it's a
+thing she ought to know."
+
+He relapsed into silence, apparently quite calm, though his eyelids
+still twitched, while I watched him covertly from time to time. In my
+mind now there was no shadow of doubt that the doctor's fears were
+justified; I knew that Hugh Latimer was insane. That his loss of mental
+balance was periodical and not permanent was not the point; layman
+though I was, I could realise the danger to everyone in the house. At
+the moment the tragedy of the case hardly struck me; I could only think
+of the look on his face, the gloating, watching look--and Elsie and the
+boy....
+
+At half-past nine he went to bed, and I had a few words with his wife.
+
+"Lock your door to-night," I said insistently, "as you value everything,
+lock your door. I am going to see Cremer to-morrow."
+
+"What's he been saying?" she asked, and her lips were white. "I heard
+him shouting once."
+
+"Enough to make me tell you to lock your door," I said as lightly as I
+could. "Elsie, you've got to be brave; something has gone wrong with
+poor old Hugh for the time, and until he's put right again, there are
+moments when he's not responsible for his actions. Don't be uneasy; I
+shall be on hand to-night."
+
+"I shan't be uneasy" she answered, and then she turned away, and I saw
+her shoulders shaking. "My Hugh--my poor old man." I caught the
+whispered words, and she was gone.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I suppose it was about two that I woke with a start. I had meant to keep
+awake the whole night, and with that idea I had not undressed, but,
+sitting in a chair before the fire, had tried to keep myself awake with
+a book. But the journey from France had made me sleepy, and the book had
+slipped to the floor, as has been known to happen before. The light was
+still on, though the fire had burned low; and I was cramped and stiff.
+For a moment I sat listening intently--every faculty awake; and then I
+heard a door gently close, and a step in the passage. I switched off the
+light and listened.
+
+Instinctively, I knew the crisis had come, and with the need for action
+I became perfectly cool. Soft footsteps, like a man walking in his
+socks, came distinctly through the door which I had left ajar--once a
+board creaked. And after that sharp ominous crack there was silence for
+a space; the nocturnal walker was cautious, cautious with the devilish
+cunning of the madman.
+
+It seemed to me an eternity as I listened--straining to hear in the
+silent house--then once again there came the soft pad-pad of stockinged
+feet; nearer and nearer till they halted outside my door. I could hear
+the heavy breathing of someone outside, and then stealthily my door was
+pushed open. In the dim light which filtered in from the passage Hugh's
+figure was framed in the doorway. With many pauses and very cautious
+steps he moved to the bed, while I pressed against the wall watching
+him.
+
+His hands wandered over the pillows, and then he muttered to himself.
+"Old Ginger--I suppose he hasn't come to bed yet. And I wanted to show
+him that little grip--that little death-grip." He chuckled horribly.
+"Never mind--Elsie, dear little Elsie; I will show her first. Though she
+won't understand so well--only Ginger would really understand."
+
+He moved to the door, and once again the slow padding of his feet
+sounded in the passage; while he still muttered, though I could not hear
+what he said. Then he came to his wife's door and cautiously turned the
+handle....
+
+What happened then happened quickly. He realised quickly that it was
+locked, and this seemed to infuriate him. He gave an inarticulate shout,
+and rattled the door violently; then he drew back to the other side of
+the passage and prepared to charge it. And at that moment we closed.
+
+I had followed him out of my room, and, knowing myself to be far
+stronger than him, I threw myself on him without a thought I hadn't
+reckoned on the strength of a madman, and for two minutes he threw me
+about as if I were a child. We struggled and fought, while frightened
+maids wrung their hands--and a white-faced woman watched with tearless
+eyes. And at last I won; when his temporary strength gave out, he was as
+weak as a child. Poor old Hugh! Poor old chap!...
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Sir William Cremer came down the next day, and to him I told everything.
+He made all the necessary wretched arrangements, and the dear fellow was
+taken away--seemingly quite sane--and telling Elsie he'd be back soon.
+
+"They say I need a change, old dear, and this old tyrant says I've been
+restless at night." He had his hand on Sir William's shoulder as he
+spoke, while the car was waiting at the door.
+
+"Jove! little girl--you do look a bit washed out Have I been worrying
+you?"
+
+"Of course not, old man." Her voice was perfectly steady.
+
+"There you are, Sir William." He turned triumphantly to the doctor.
+"Still perhaps you're right. Where's the young rascal? Give me a kiss,
+you scamp--and look after your mother while I'm away. I'll be back
+soon." He went down the steps and into the car.
+
+"And very likely he will, Mrs. Latimer. Keep your spirits up and never
+despair." Sir William patted her shoulder paternally, but over her bent
+head I saw his eyes.
+
+"God knows," he said reverently to me as he followed Hugh. "The brain is
+such a wonderful thing; just a tiny speck and a genius becomes a madman.
+God knows."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Later on I too went away, carrying in my mind the picture of a girl--she
+was no more--holding a little bronze cross in front of a laughing
+baby--the cross on which is written, "For Valour." And once again my
+mind went back to that little plot in Flanders covered with wooden
+crosses.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+JAMES HENRY
+
+
+James Henry was the sole remaining son of his mother, and she was a
+widow. His father, some twelve months previously, had inadvertently
+encountered a motor-car travelling at great speed, and had forthwith
+been laid to rest. His sisters--whom James Henry affected to
+despise--had long since left the parental roof and gone to seek their
+Fortunes in the great world; while his brothers had in all cases died
+violent deaths, following in the steps of their lamented father. In
+fact, as I said, James Henry was alone in the world saving only for his
+mother: and as she'd married again since his father's death he felt that
+his responsibility so far as she was concerned was at an end. In fact,
+he frequently cut her when he met her about the house.
+
+Relations had become particularly strained after this second matrimonial
+venture. An aristocrat of the most unbending description himself, he had
+been away during the period of her courtship--otherwise, no doubt, he
+would have protected his father's stainless escutcheon. As it was, he
+never quite recovered from the shock.
+
+It was at breakfast one morning that he heard the news. Lady Monica told
+him as she handed him his tea. "James Henry," she remarked
+reproachfully, "your mother is a naughty woman." True to his
+aristocratic principle of stoical calm he continued to consume his
+morning beverage. There were times when the mention of his mother bored
+him to extinction. "A very naughty woman," she continued. "Dad"--she
+addressed a man who had just come into the room--"it's occurred."
+
+"What--have they come?"
+
+"Yes--last night. Five."
+
+"Are they good ones?"
+
+Lady Alice laughed. "I was just telling James Henry what I thought of
+his Family when you came in. I'm afraid Harriet Emily is incorrigible."
+
+"Look at James!" exclaimed the Earl--"he's spilled his tea all over the
+carpet." He was inspecting the dishes on the sideboard as he spoke.
+
+"He always does. His whiskers dribble. Jervis tells me that he thinks
+Harriet Emily must have--er--flirted with a most undesirable
+acquaintance."
+
+"Oh! has she?" Her father opened the morning paper and started to enjoy
+his breakfast. "We must drown 'em, my dear, drown---- Hullo! the
+Russians have crossed the----" It sounded like an explosion in a
+soda-water factory, and James Henry protested.
+
+"Quite right, Henry. He oughtn't to do it at breakfast. It doesn't
+really make any one any happier. Did _you_ know about your mother? Now
+don't gobble your food." Lady Monica held up an admonishing finger.
+"Four of your brothers and sisters are more or less respectable, James,
+but there's _one_--there's one that is distinctly reminiscent of a
+dachshund. Oh! 'Arriet, 'Arriet--I'm ashamed of you."
+
+James Henry sneezed heavily and got down from the table. Always a
+perfect gentleman, he picked up the crumbs round his chair, and even
+went so far as to salvage a large piece of sausage skin which had
+slipped on to the floor. Then, full of rectitude and outwardly
+unconcerned, he retired to a corner behind a cupboard and earnestly
+contemplated a little hole in the floor.
+
+Outwardly calm--yes: that at least was due to the memory of his
+blue-blooded father. But inwardly, he seethed. With his head on one side
+he alternately sniffed and blew as he had done regularly every morning
+for the past two months. His father's wife the mother of a sausage-dog!
+Incredible! It must have been that miserable fat beast who lived at the
+Pig and Whistle. The insolence--the inconceivable impertinence of such
+an unsightly, corpulent traducer daring to ally himself with One of the
+Fox Terriers. He growled slightly in his disgust, and three mice inside
+the wall laughed gently. But--still, the girls are ever frail. He
+blushed slightly at some recollection, and realised that he must make
+allowances. But a sausage dog! Great Heavens!
+
+"James--avancons, mon brave." Lady Monica was standing in the window.
+"We will hie us to the village. Dad, don't forget that our branch of the
+Federated Association of Women War Workers are drilling here this
+afternoon."
+
+"Good Heavens! my dear girl--is it?" Her father gazed at her in alarm.
+"I think--er--I think I shall have to--er--run up to Town--er--this
+afternoon."
+
+"I thought you'd have to, old dear. In fact, I've ordered the car for
+you. Come along, Henry--we must go and get a boy scout to be bandaged."
+
+James Henry gave one last violently facial contortion at the entrance of
+the mouse's lair, and rose majestically to his feet. If she wanted to go
+out, he fully realised that he must go with her: Emily would have to
+wait. He would go round later and see his poor misguided mother and
+reason with her; but just at present the girl was his principal duty.
+She generally asked his advice on various things when they went for a
+walk, and the least he could do was to pretend to be interested at any
+rate.
+
+Apparently this morning she was in need of much counsel and help.
+Having arrived at a clearing in the wood, on the way to the village, she
+sat down on the fallen trunk of a tree, and addressed him.
+
+"James--what am I to do? Derek is coming this afternoon before he goes
+back to France. What shall I tell him, Henry--what _shall_ I tell him?
+Because I know he'll ask me again. Thank you, old man, but you're not
+very helpful, and I'd much sooner you kept it yourself."
+
+Disgustedly James Henry removed the carcase of a field mouse he had just
+procured, and resigned himself to the inevitable.
+
+"I'm fond of him; I like him--in fact at times more than like him. But
+is it the _real_ thing? Now what do you think, James Henry?--tell me all
+that is in your mind. Ought I----"
+
+It was then that he gave his celebrated rendering of a young typhoon,
+owing to the presence of a foreign substance--to wit, a fly--in a
+ticklish spot on his nose.
+
+"You think that, do you? Well, perhaps you're right. Come on, my lad, we
+must obtain the victim for this afternoon. I wonder if those little boys
+like it? To do some good and kindly action each day--that's their motto,
+James. And as one person to another you must admit that to be revived
+from drowning, resuscitated from fainting, brought to from an epileptic
+fit, and have two knees, an ankle, and a collarbone set at the same
+time is some good action even for a boy scout."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was not until after lunch that James Henry paid his promised call on
+his mother. Maturer considerations had but strengthened his resolve to
+make allowances. After all, these things do happen in the best families.
+He was, indeed, prepared to be magnanimous and forgive; he was even
+prepared to be interested; the only thing he wasn't prepared for was the
+nasty bite he got on his ear. That settled it. It was then that he
+finally washed his hands of his undutiful parent. As he told her, he
+felt more sorrow than anger; he should have realised that anyone who
+could have dealings with a sausage-hound must be dead to all sense of
+decency--and that the only thing he asked was that in the future she
+would conceal the fact that they were related.
+
+Then he left her--and trotting round to the front of the house, found
+great activity in progress on the lawn.
+
+"Good Heavens! James Henry, do they often do this?" With a shout of joy
+he recognised the speaker. And having told him about Harriet, and blown
+heavily at a passing spider and then trodden on it, he sat down beside
+the soldier on the steps. The game on the lawn at first sight looked
+dull; and he only favoured it with a perfunctory glance. In fact, what
+on earth there was in it to make the soldier beside him shake and shake
+while the tears periodically rolled down his face was quite beyond
+Henry.
+
+The principal player seemed to be a large man--also in khaki--with a
+loud voice. Up to date he had said nothing but "Now then, ladies," at
+intervals, and in a rising crescendo. Then it all became complicated.
+
+"Now then, ladies, when I says Number--you numbers from Right to Left in
+an heven tone of voice. The third lady from the left 'as no lady behind
+'er--seeing as we're a hodd number. She forms the blank file. Yes, you,
+mum--you, I means."
+
+"What are you pointing at me for, my good man?" The Vicar's wife
+suddenly realised she was being spoken to. "Am I doing anything wrong?"
+
+"No, mum, no. Not this time. I was only saying as you 'ave no one behind
+you."
+
+"Oh! I'll go there at once--I'm so sorry." She retired to the rear rank.
+"Dear Mrs. Goodenough, _did_ I tread upon your foot?--so clumsy of me!
+Oh, what is that man saying now? But you've just told me to come here.
+You did nothing of the sort? How rude!"
+
+But as I said, the game did not interest James Henry, so he wandered
+away and played in some bushes. There were distinct traces of a recently
+moving mole which was far more to the point. Then having found--after a
+diligent search and much delight in pungent odours--that the mole was a
+has-been, our Henry disappeared for a space. And far be it from me to
+disclose where he went: his intentions were always strictly honourable.
+
+When he appeared again the Earl had just returned from London, and was
+talking to the tall soldier-man. The Women War Workers had departed,
+and, as James Henry approached, his mistress came out and joined the two
+men.
+
+"Have those dreadful women gone, my dear?" asked the Earl as he saw her.
+
+"You're very rude, Dad. The Federated Association of the W.W.W. is a
+very fine body of patriotic women. What did you think of our drill,
+Derek?"
+
+"Wonderful, Monica. Quite the most wonderful thing I've ever seen." The
+soldier solemnly offered her a cigarette.
+
+"You men are all jealous. We're coming out to France as V.A.D.'s soon."
+
+"Good Lord, Derek--you ought to have seen their first drill. In one
+corner of the lawn that poor devil of a sergeant with his face a shiny
+purple alternately sobbed and bellowed like a bull--while twenty-seven
+W.W.W.'s tied themselves into a knot like a Rugby football scrum, and
+told one another how they'd done it. It was the most heart-rending
+sight I've ever seen."
+
+"Dear old Dad!" The girl blew a cloud of smoke. "You told it better last
+time."
+
+"Don't interrupt, Monica. The final tableau----"
+
+"Which one are you going to tell him, dear? The one where James Henry
+bit the Vicar's wife in the leg, or the one where the sergeant with a
+choking cry of 'Double, damn you!' fell fainting into the rhododendron
+bush?"
+
+"I think the second is the better," remarked the soldier pensively.
+"Dogs always bite the Vicar's wife's leg. Not a hobby I should
+personally take up, but----"
+
+They all laughed. "Now run indoors, old 'un, and tell John to get you a
+mixed Vermouth--I want to talk to Derek." The girl gently pushed her
+father towards the open window.
+
+It was at that particular moment in James Henry's career that, having
+snapped at a wasp and partially killed it, he inadvertently sat on the
+carcase by mistake. As he explained to Harriet Emily afterwards, it
+wasn't so much the discomfort of the proceeding which annoyed him, as
+the unfeeling laughter of the spectators. And it was only when she'd
+bitten him in the other ear that he remembered he had disowned her that
+very afternoon.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+But elsewhere, though he was quite unaware of the fact, momentous
+decisions as to his future were being taken. The Earl had gone in to get
+his mixed Vermouth, and outside his daughter and the soldier-man sat and
+talked. It was fragmentary, disjointed--the talk of old friends with
+much in common. Only in the man's voice there was that suppressed note
+which indicates things more than any mere words. Monica heard it and
+sighed--she'd heard it so often before in his voice. James Henry had
+heard it too during a previous talk--one which he had graced with his
+presence--and had gone to the extent of discussing it with a friend. On
+this occasion he had been gently dozing on the man's knee, when suddenly
+he had been rudely awakened. In his dreams he had heard her say, "Dear
+old Derek--I'm afraid it's No. You see, I'm not sure;" which didn't seem
+much to make a disturbance about.
+
+"Would you believe it," he remarked later, "but as she spoke the
+soldier-man's grip tightened on my neck till I was almost choked."
+
+"What did you do?" asked his Friend, a disreputable "long-dog." "Did you
+bite him?"
+
+"I did not." James Henry sniffed. "It was not a biting moment. Tact was
+required. I just gave a little cough, and instantly he took his hand
+away. 'Old man,' he whispered to me--she'd left us--'I'm sorry. I
+didn't mean to--I wasn't thinking.' So I licked his hand to show him I
+understood."
+
+"I know what you mean. I'm generally there when my bloke comes out of
+prison, and he always kicks me. But it's meant kindly."
+
+"As a matter of fact that is not what I mean--though I daresay your
+experiences on such matters are profound." James was becoming
+blue-blooded. "The person who owns you, and who is in the habit of going
+to--er--prison, no doubt shows his affection for you in that way. And
+very suitable too. But the affair to which I alluded is quite different.
+The soldier-man is almost as much in my care as the girl. And so I know
+his feelings. At the time, he was suffering though why I don't
+understand; and therefore it was up to me to suffer with him. It helped
+him."
+
+"H'm," the lurcher grunted. "Daresay you're right. What about a trip to
+the gorse? I haven't seen a rabbit for some time."
+
+And if Henry had not sat on the wasp, his neck might again have been
+squeezed that evening. As it was, the danger period was over by the time
+he reappeared and jumped into the girl's lap. Not only had the sixth
+proposal been gently turned down--but James's plans for the near future
+had been settled for him in a most arbitrary manner.
+
+"Well, old man, how's the tail?" laughed the soldier. James Henry
+yawned--the subject seemed a trifle personal even amongst old friends.
+"Have you heard you're coming with me to France?"
+
+"And you must bring him to me as soon as I get over," cried the girl.
+
+"At once, dear lady. I'll ask for special leave, and if necessary an
+armistice."
+
+"Won't you bark at the Huns, my cherub?" She laughed and got up. "Go to
+your uncle--I'm going to dress."
+
+What happened then was almost more than even the most long-suffering
+terrier could stand. He was unceremoniously bundled into his uncle's
+arms by his mistress, and at the same moment she bent down. A strange
+noise was heard such as he had frequently noted, coming from the top of
+his own head, when his mistress was in an affectionate mood--a peculiar
+form of exercise he deduced, which apparently amused some people. But
+the effect on the soldier was electrical. He sprang out of his chair
+with a shout--"Monica--you little devil--come back," and James Henry
+fell winded to the floor. But a flutter of white disappearing indoors
+was the only answer....
+
+"She's not sure, James, my son--she's not sure." The man pulled out his
+cigarette case and contemplated him thoughtfully. "And how the deuce
+are we to make her sure? I want it, and her father wants it, and so
+does she if she only knew it. They're the devil, James Henry--they're
+the devil."
+
+But his hearer did not want philosophy; he wanted his tummy rubbed. He
+lay with one eye closed, his four paws turned up limply towards the sky,
+and sighed gently. Never before had the suggestion failed; enthusiastic
+admirers had always taken the hint gladly, and he had graciously allowed
+them the pleasure. But this time--horror upon horror--not only was there
+no result, but in a dreamy, contemplative manner the soldier actually
+deposited his used and still warm match carefully on the spot where
+James Henry's wind had been. Naturally there was only one possible
+course open to him. He rose quietly, and left. It was only when he was
+thinking the matter over later that it struck him that his exit would
+have been more dignified if he hadn't sat down halfway across the lawn
+to scratch his right ear. It was more than likely that a completely
+false construction would be put on that simple action by anyone who
+didn't know he'd had words with Harriet Emily.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Thus James Henry--gentleman, at his country seat in England. I have gone
+out of my way to describe what may be taken as an average day in his
+life, in order to show him as he was before he went to France to be
+banished from the country--cashiered in disgrace a few weeks after his
+arrival. Which only goes to prove the change that war causes in even the
+most polished and courtly.
+
+I am told that the alteration for the worse started shortly after his
+arrival at the front. What did it I don't know--but he lost one whisker
+and a portion of an ear, thus giving him a somewhat lopsided appearance;
+though rakish withal. It may have been a detonator which went off as he
+ate it--it may have been foolish curiosity over a maxim--it may even
+have been due to the fact that he found a motor-bicycle standing still,
+what time it made strange provocative noises, and failed to notice that
+the back wheel was off the ground and rotating at a great pace.
+
+Whatever it was it altered James Henry. Not that it soured his
+temper--not at all; but it made him more reckless, less careful of
+appearances. He forgot the repose that stamps the caste of Vere de Vere,
+and a series of incidents occurred which tended to strain relations all
+round.
+
+There was the question of the three dead chickens, for instance. Had
+they disappeared decently and in order much might have been thought but
+nothing would have been known. But when they were deposited on their
+owner's doorstep, with James Henry mounting guard over the corpses
+himself, it was a little difficult to explain the matter away. That was
+the trouble--his sense of humour seemed to have become distorted.
+
+The pastime of hunting for rats in the sewers of Ypres cannot be too
+highly commended; but having got thoroughly wet in the process, James
+Henry's practice of depositing the rat and himself on the Adjutant's bed
+was open to grave criticism.
+
+But enough: these two instances were, I am sorry to state, but types of
+countless other regrettable episodes which caused the popularity of
+James Henry to wane.
+
+The final decree of death or banishment came when James had been in the
+country some seven weeks.
+
+On the day in question a dreadful shout was heard, followed by a flood
+of language which I will refrain from committing to print. And then the
+Colonel appeared in the door of his dug-out.
+
+"Where is that accursed idiot, Murgatroyd? Pass the word along for the
+damn fool."
+
+"'Urry up, Conky. The ole man's a-twittering for you." Murgatroyd
+emerged from a recess.
+
+"What's 'e want?"
+
+"I'd go and find out, cully. I think 'e's going to mention you in 'is
+will." At that moment a fresh outburst floated through the stillness.
+
+"Great 'Eavens!" Murgatroyd reluctantly rose to his feet. "So long,
+boys. Tell me mother she was in me thoughts up to the end." He paused
+outside the dug-out and then went manfully in. "You wanted me, sir."
+
+"Look at this, you blithering ass, look at this." The Colonel was
+searching through his Fortnum and Mason packing-case on the floor.
+"Great Heavens! and the caviar too--imbedded in the butter. Five defunct
+rodents in the brawn"--he threw each in turn at his servant, who dodged
+round the dug-out like a pea in a drum--"the marmalade and the pate de
+fois gras inseparably mixed together, and the whole covered with a thick
+layer of disintegrating cigar."
+
+"It wasn't me, sir," Murgatroyd spoke in an aggrieved tone.
+
+"I didn't suppose it was, you fool." The Colonel straightened himself
+and glared at his hapless minion. "Great Heavens! there's another rat on
+my hairbrush."
+
+"One of the same five, sir. It ricocheted off my face." With a
+magnificent nonchalance his servant threw it out of the door. "I think,
+sir, it must be James 'Enry."
+
+"Who the devil is James Henry?"
+
+"Sir Derek Temple's little dawg, sir."
+
+"Indeed." The Colonel's tone was ominous. "Go round and ask Sir Derek
+Temple to be good enough to come and see me at once."
+
+What happened exactly at that interview I cannot say; although I
+understand that James Henry considered an absurd fuss had been made
+about a trifle. In fact he found it so difficult to lie down with any
+comfort that night that he missed much of his master's conversation with
+him.
+
+"You've topped it, James, you've put the brass hat on. The old man
+threatens to turn out a firing party if he ever sees you again."
+
+James feigned sleep: this continual harping on what was over and done
+with he considered the very worst of form. Even if he had put the caviar
+in the butter and his foot in the marmalade--well, hang it all--what
+then? He'd presented the old buster with five dead rats, which was more
+than he'd do for a lot of people.
+
+"In fact, James, you are not popular, my boy--and I shudder to think
+what Monica will do with you when she gets you. She's come over, you may
+be pleased to hear, Henry. She is V.A.D.-ing at a charming hospital that
+overlooks the sea. James, why can't I go sick--and live for a space at
+that charming hospital that overlooks the sea? Think of it: here am I,
+panting to have my face washed by her, panting----"
+
+For a moment he rhapsodised in silence. "Breakfast in bed, poached egg
+in the bed: oh! James, my boy, and she probably never even thinks of
+me."
+
+He took a letter out of his pocket and held it under the light of the
+candle. "'Not much to do at present, but delightful weather. The
+hospital is nearly empty, though there's one perfect dear who is almost
+fit--a Major in some Highland regiment.'
+
+"Listen to that, James. Some great raw-boned, red-kneed Scotchman, and
+she calls him a perfect dear!" His listener blew resignedly and again
+composed himself to slumber.
+
+"'How is James behaving? I'd love to see the sweet pet again.' Sweet
+pet: yes--my boy--you look it. 'Do you remember how annoyed he was when
+I put him in your arms that afternoon at home?' Do you hear that,
+James?--do I remember? Monica, you adorable soul...." He relapsed into
+moody thought.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At what moment during that restless night the idea actually came I know
+not. Possibly a diabolical chuckle on the part of James Henry, who was
+hunting in his dreams, goaded him to desperation. But it is an undoubted
+fact that when Sir Derek Temple rose the next morning he had definitely
+determined to embark on the adventure which culminated in the tragedy of
+the cat, the General, and James. The latter is reputed to regard the
+affair as quite trifling and unworthy of the fierce glare of publicity
+that beat upon it. The cat, has, or rather had, different views.
+
+Now, be it known to those who live in England that it is one thing to
+say in an airy manner, as Derek had said to Lady Monica, that he would
+come and see her when she landed in France; it is another to do it. But
+to a determined and unprincipled man nothing is impossible; and though
+it would be the height of indiscretion for me to hint even at the
+methods he used to attain his ends, it is a certain fact that in the
+afternoon of the second day following the episode of the five rodents he
+found himself at a certain seaport town with James Henry as the other
+member of the party. And having had his hair cut, and extricated his
+companion from a street brawl, he hired a motor and drove into the
+country.
+
+Now, Derek Temple's knowledge of hospitals and their ways was not
+profound. He had a hazy idea that on arriving at the portals he would
+send in his name, and that in due course he could consume a tete-a-tete
+tea with Monica in her private boudoir. He rehearsed the scene in his
+mind: the quiet, cutting reference to Highlanders who failed to
+understand the official position of nurses--the certainty that this
+particular one was a scoundrel: the fact that, on receiving her letter,
+he had at once rushed off to protect her.
+
+And as he got to this point the car turned into the gates of a palatial
+hotel and stopped by the door. James Henry jumped through the open
+window, and his master followed him up the steps.
+
+"Is Lady Monica Travers at home; I mean--er--is she in the hospital?" He
+addressed an R.A.M.C. sergeant in the entrance.
+
+"No dawgs allowed in the 'ospital, sir." The scandalised N.C.O. glared
+at James Henry, who was furiously growling at a hot-air grating in the
+floor. "You must get 'im out at once, sir: we're being inspected
+to-day."
+
+"Heel, James, heel. He'll be quite all right, Sergeant. Just find out,
+will you, about Lady Monica Travers?"
+
+"Beg pardon, sir, but are you a patient?"
+
+"Patient--of course I'm not a patient. Do I look like a patient?"
+
+"Well, sir, there ain't no visiting allowed when the sisters is on
+duty."
+
+"What? But it's preposterous. Do you mean to say I can't see her unless
+I'm a patient? Why, man, I've got to go back in an hour."
+
+"Very sorry, sir--but no visiting allowed. Very strict 'ere, and as I
+says we're full of brass 'ats to-day."
+
+For a moment Derek was nonplussed; this was a complication on which he
+had not reckoned.
+
+"But look here, Sergeant, you know..." and even as he spoke he looked
+upstairs and beheld Lady Monica. Unfortunately she had not seen him, and
+the situation was desperate. Forcing James Henry into the arms of the
+outraged N.C.O., he rushed up the stairs and followed her.
+
+"Derek!" The girl stopped in amazement. "What in the world are you doing
+here?"
+
+"Monica, my dear, I've come to see you. Tell me that you don't really
+love that damn Scotchman."
+
+An adorable smile spread over her face. "You idiot! I don't love anyone.
+My work fills my life."
+
+"Rot! You said in your letter you had nothing to do at present. Monica,
+take me somewhere where I can make love to you."
+
+"I shall do nothing of the sort. In the first place you aren't allowed
+here at all; and in the second I don't want to be made love to."
+
+"And in the third," said Derek grimly, as the sound of a procession
+advancing down a corridor came from round the corner, "you're being
+inspected to-day, and that--if I mistake not--is the great pan-jan-drum
+himself."
+
+"Oh! good Heavens. Derek, I'd forgotten. Do go, for goodness' sake.
+Run--I shall be sacked."
+
+"I shall not go. As the great man himself rounds that corner I shall
+kiss you with a loud trumpeting noise.'
+
+"You brute! Oh! what shall I do?--there they are. Come in here." She
+grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him into a small deserted
+sitting-room close by.
+
+"You darling," he remarked and promptly kissed her. "Monica, dear, you
+must listen----"
+
+"Sit down, you idiot. I'm sure they saw me. You must pretend you're a
+patient just come in. I know I shall be sacked. The General is
+dreadfully particular. Put this thermometer in your mouth. Quick, give
+me your hand--I must take your pulse."
+
+"I think," said a voice outside the door, "that I saw--er--a patient
+being brought into one of these rooms."
+
+"Surely not, sir. These rooms are all empty." The door opened and the
+cavalcade paused. "Er--Lady Monica... really."
+
+"A new patient, Colonel," she remarked. "I am just taking his
+temperature." Derek, his eyes partially closed, lay back in a chair,
+occasionally uttering a slight groan.
+
+"The case looks most interesting." The General came and stood beside
+him. "Most interesting. Have you--er--diagnosed the symptoms, sister?"
+His lips were twitching suspiciously.
+
+"Not yet, General. The pulse is normal--and the temperature"--she looked
+at the thermometer--"is--good gracious me! have you kept it properly
+under your tongue?" She turned to Derek, who nodded feebly. "The
+temperature is only 93." She looked at the group in an awestruck manner.
+
+"Most remarkable," murmured the General. "One feels compelled to wonder
+what it would have been if he'd had the right end in his mouth." Derek
+emitted a hollow groan. "And where do you feel it worst, my dear boy?"
+continued the great man, gazing at him through his eyeglass.
+
+"Dyspepsia, sir," he whispered feebly. "Dreadful dyspepsia. I can't
+sleep, I--er--Good Lord!" His eyes opened, his voice rose, and with a
+fixed stare of horror he gazed at the door. Through it with due
+solemnity came James Henry holding in his mouth a furless and very dead
+cat. He advanced to the centre of the group--laid it at the General's
+feet--and having sneezed twice sat down and contemplated his handiwork:
+his tail thumping the floor feverishly in anticipation of well-merited
+applause.
+
+It was possibly foolish, but, as Derek explained afterwards to Monica,
+the situation had passed beyond him. He arose and confronted the
+General, who was surveying the scene coldly, and with a courtly
+exclamation of "Your cat, I believe, sir," he passed from the room.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The conclusion of this dreadful drama may be given in three short
+sentences.
+
+The first was spoken by the General. "Let it be buried." And it was so.
+
+The second was whispered by Lady Monica--later. "Darling, I had to _say_
+we were engaged: it looked so peculiar." And it was even more so.
+
+The third was snorted by James Henry. "First I'm beaten and then I'm
+kissed. Damn all cats!"
+
+
+
+
+PART TWO
+
+THE LAND OF TOPSY TURVY
+
+
+
+
+PART TWO
+
+THE LAND OF TOPSY TURVY
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+THE GREY HOUSE
+
+
+You come on it unexpectedly, round a little spur in the side of the
+valley, which screens it from view. It stands below you as you first see
+it, not a big house, not a little one, but just comfortable. It seems in
+keeping with the gardens, the tennis courts, the orchards which lie
+around it in a hap-hazard sort of manner, as if they had just grown
+there years and years ago and had been too lazy to move ever since.
+Peace is the keynote of the whole picture--the peace and contentment of
+sleepy unwoken England.
+
+Down in the valley below, the river, brown and swollen, carries on its
+bosom the flotsam and jetsam of its pilgrimage through the country. Now
+and then a great branch goes bobbing by, only to come to grief in the
+shallows round the corner--the shallows where the noise of the water on
+the rounded stones lulls one to sleep at night, and sounds a ceaseless
+reveille each morning. On the other side of the water the woods stretch
+down close to the bank, though the upper slopes of the hills are bare,
+and bathed in the golden light of the dying winter sun. Slowly the dark
+shadow line creeps up--creeps up to meet the shepherd coming home with
+his flock. Faint, but crisp, the barks of his dog, prancing excitedly
+round him, strike on one's ears, and then of a sudden--silence. They
+have entered the purple country; they have left the golden land, and the
+dog trots soberly at his master's heels. One last peak alone remains,
+dipped in flaming yellow, and then that too is touched by the finger of
+oncoming night. For a few moments it survives, a flicker of fire on its
+rugged tip, and then--the end; like a grim black sentinel it stands
+gloomy and sinister against the evening sky.
+
+The shepherd is out of sight amongst the trees; the purple is changing
+to grey, the grey to black; there is no movement saving only the
+tireless swish of the river....
+
+To the man leaning over the gate the scene was familiar--but familiarity
+had not robbed it of its charm. Involuntarily his mind went back to the
+days before the Madness came--to the days when others had stood beside
+him watching those same darkening hills, with the smoke of their pipes
+curling gently away in the still air. Back from a day's shooting, back
+from an afternoon on the river, and a rest at the top of the hill before
+going in to tea in the house below. So had he stood countless times in
+the past--with those others....
+
+The Rabbit, with a gun under his arm, and his stubby briar glowing red
+in the paling light. The Rabbit, with his old shooting-coat, with the
+yarn of the one woodcock he nearly got, with his cheery laugh. But they
+never found anything of him--an eight-inch shell is at any rate
+merciful.
+
+Torps--the naval candidate: one of the worst and most gallant riders
+that ever threw a leg across a horse. Somewhere in the depths of the
+Pacific, with the great heaving combers as his grave, he lies
+peacefully; and as for a little while he had gasped and struggled while
+hundreds of others gasped and struggled near him--perhaps he, too, had
+seen the hills opposite once again even as the Last Fence loomed in
+front and the whispered Kismet came from his lips....
+
+Hugh--the son of the house close by. Twice wounded, and now out again in
+Mesopotamia. Did the sound of the water come to him as the sun dropped,
+slow and pitiless, into the west? The same parching, crawling days
+following one another in deadly monotony: the same....
+
+"Dreaming, Jim?" A woman's voice behind him broke on the man's thoughts.
+
+"Yes, lady," he answered soberly. "Dreaming. Some of the ghosts we knew
+have been coming to me out of the blue grey mists." He fell into step
+beside her, and they moved towards the house.
+
+"Ah! don't," she whispered--"don't! Oh! it's wicked, this war; cruel,
+damnable." She stopped and faced him, her breast rising and falling
+quickly. "And we can't follow you, Jim--we women. You go into the
+unknown."
+
+"Yes--yours is the harder part. You can only wait and wonder."
+
+"Wait and wonder!" She laughed bitterly. "Hope and pray--while God
+sleeps."
+
+"Hush, lady!" he answered quietly; "for that way there lies no peace. Is
+Sybil indoors?"
+
+"Yes--she's expecting you. Thank goodness you're not going out yet
+awhile, Jim; the child is fretting herself sick over her brother as it
+is--and when you go...."
+
+"Yes--when I go, what then?" he asked quietly. "Because I'm very nearly
+fit again, Lady Alice. My arm is nearly all right."
+
+"Do you want to go back, Jim?" Her quiet eyes searched his face. "Look
+at that."
+
+They had rounded a corner, and in front of them a man was leaning
+against a wall talking to the cook. They were in the stage known as
+walking-out--or is it keeping company? The point is immaterial and
+uninteresting. But the man, fit and strong, was in a starred trade. He
+was a forester--or had been since the first rumour of compulsion had
+startled his poor tremulous spirit. A very fine, but not unique example
+of the genuine shirker....
+
+"What has he to do with us?" said Jim bitterly. "That thing takes his
+stand along with the criminals, and the mental degenerates. He's worse
+than a conscientious objector. And we've got no choice. He reaps the
+benefits for which he refuses to fight. I don't want to go back to
+France particularly; every feeling I've got revolts at the idea just at
+present. I want to be with Sybil, as you know; I want to--oh! God knows!
+I was mad over the water--it bit into me; I was caught by the fever.
+It's an amazing thing how it gets hold of one. All the dirt and
+discomfort, and the boredom and the fright--one would have thought...."
+He laughed. "I suppose it's the madness in the air. But I'm sane now."
+
+"Are you? I wonder for how long. Let's go in and have some tea." The
+woman led the way indoors; there was silence again save only for the
+sound of the river.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+THE WOMEN AND--THE MEN
+
+
+When Jim Denver told Lady Alice Conway that he was sane again, he spoke
+no more than the truth. A few weeks in France, and then a shattered arm
+had brought him back to England with more understanding than he had ever
+possessed before. He had gone out the ordinary Englishman--casual,
+sporting, easy going, somewhat apathetic; he had come back a thinker as
+well, at times almost a dreamer. It affects different men in different
+ways--but none escape. And that is what those others cannot
+understand--those others who have not been across. Even the man who
+comes back on short leave hardly grasps how the thing has changed him:
+hardly realises that the madness is still in his soul. He has not time;
+his leave is just an interlude. He is back again in France almost before
+he realises he has left it. In mind he has never left it.
+
+There is humour there in plenty--farce even; boredom, excitement,
+passion, hatred. Every human emotion runs its full gamut in the Land of
+Topsy Turvy; in the place where the life of a man is no longer
+three-score years and ten, but just so long as the Great Reaper may
+decide and no more. And you are caught in the whirl--you are tossed here
+and there by a life of artificiality, a life not of one's own seeking,
+but a life which, having once caught you, you are loath to let go.
+
+Which is a hard saying, and one impossible of comprehension to those who
+wait behind--to the wives, to the mothers, to the women. To them the
+leave-train pulling slowly out of Victoria Station, with their man
+waving a last adieu from the carriage window, means the ringing down of
+the curtain once again. The unknown has swallowed him up--the unknown
+into which they cannot follow him. Be he in a Staff office at the base
+or with his battalion in the trenches, he has gone where the woman to
+whom he counts as all the world cannot even picture him in her mind. To
+her Flanders is Flanders and war is war--and there are casualty lists.
+What matter that his battalion is resting; what matter that he is going
+through a course somewhere at the back of beyond? He has gone into the
+Unknown; the whistle of the train steaming slowly out is the voice of
+the call-boy at the drop curtain. And now the train has passed out of
+sight--or is it only that her eyes are dim with the tears she kept back
+while he was with her?
+
+At last she turns and goes blindly back to the room where they had
+breakfast; she sees once more the chair he used, the crumpled morning
+paper, the discarded cigarette. And there let us leave her with
+tear-stained face and a pathetic little sodden handkerchief clutched in
+one hand. "O God! dear God! send him back to me." Our women do not show
+us this side very much when we are on leave; perhaps it is as well, for
+the ground on which we stand is holy....
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+And what of the man? The train is grinding through Herne Hill when he
+puts down his _Times_ and catches sight of another man in his brigade
+also returning from leave.
+
+"Hullo, old man! What sort of a time have you had?"
+
+"Top-hole. How's yourself? Was that your memsahib at the station?"
+
+"Yes. Dislike women at these partings as a general rule--but she's
+wonderful."
+
+"They're pulling the brigade out to rest, I hear."
+
+"So I believe. Anyway, I hope they've buried that dead Hun just in front
+of us. He was getting beyond a joke...."
+
+He is back in the life over the water again; there is nothing
+incongruous to him in his sequence of remarks; the time of his leave has
+been too short for the contrast to strike him. In fact, the whirl of
+gaiety in which he has passed his seven days seems more unreal than his
+other life--than the dead German. And it is only when a man is wounded
+and comes home to get fit, when he idles away the day in the home of his
+fathers, with a rod or a gun to help him back to convalescence, when the
+soothing balm of utter peace and contentment creeps slowly through his
+veins, that he looks back on the past few months as a runner on a race
+just over. He has given of his best; he is ready to give of his best
+again; but at the moment he is exhausted; panting, but at rest For the
+time the madness has left him; he is sane. But it is only for the
+time....
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+He is able to think coherently; he is able to look on things in their
+proper perspective. He knows. The bits in the kaleidoscope begin to
+group coherently, to take definite form, and he views the picture from
+the standpoint of a rational man. To him the leave-train contains no
+illusions; the territory is not unknown. No longer does a dead Hun dwarf
+his horizon to the exclusion of all else. He has looked on the thing
+from close quarters; he has been mad with passion and shaking with
+fright; he has been cold and wet, he has been hot and thirsty. Like a
+blaze of tropical vegetation from which individual colours refuse to be
+separated, so does the jumble of his life in Flanders strike him as he
+looks back on it. Isolated occurrences seem unreal, hard to identify.
+The little things which then meant so much now seem so paltry; the
+things he hardly noticed now loom big. Above all, the grim absurdity of
+the whole thing strikes him; civilisation has at last been defined....
+
+He marvels that men can be such wonderful, such super-human fools; his
+philosophy changes. He recalls grimly the particular night on which he
+crept over a dirty ploughed field and scrambled into a shell-hole as he
+saw the thin green streak of a German flare like a bar of light against
+the blackness; then the burst--the ghostly light flooding the desolate
+landscape--the crack of a solitary rifle away to his left. And as the
+flare came slowly hissing down, a ball of fire, he saw the other
+occupant of his hiding-place--a man's leg, just that, nothing more. And
+he laughs; the thing is too absurd.
+
+It is; it is absurd; it is monstrous, farcical. The realisation has come
+to him; he is sane--for a time.
+
+Sane: but for how long? It varies with the type. There are some who love
+the game--who love it for itself alone. They sit on the steps of the War
+Office, and drive their C.O.'s mad: they pull strings both male and
+female, until the powers that be rise in their wrath, and consign them
+to perdition and--France.
+
+There are others who do not take it quite like that. They do not _want_
+to go back particularly--and if they were given an important job in
+England, a job for which they had special aptitude, in which they knew
+they were invaluable, they would take it without regret. But though they
+may not seek earnestly for France--neither do they seek for home. Their
+wants do not matter; their private interests do not count: it is only
+England to-day....
+
+And lastly there is a third class, the class to whom that accursed
+catch-phrase, "Doing his bit," means everything. There are some who
+consider they have done their bit--that they need do no more. They draw
+comparisons and become self-righteous. "Behold I am not as other men
+are," they murmur complacently; "have not I kept the home fires burning,
+and amassed money making munitions?" "I am doing my bit." "I have been
+out; I have been hit--and _he_ has not. Why should I go again? I have
+done my bit." Well, friend, it may be as you say. But methinks there is
+only one question worth putting and answering to-day. Don't bother about
+having done your bit. Are you doing your _all_? Let us leave it at
+that.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+THE WOMAN AND THE MAN
+
+
+"When's your board, Jim?" The flickering light of the fire lit up the
+old oak hall, playing on the face of the girl buried in an easy chair.
+Tea was over, and they were alone.
+
+"On Tuesday, dear," he answered gravely.
+
+"But you aren't fit, old man; you don't think you're fit yet, do you?"
+There was a note of anxiety in her voice.
+
+"I'm perfectly fit, Sybil," he said quietly--"perfectly fit, my dear."
+
+"Then you'll go back soon?" She looked at him with frightened eyes.
+
+"Just as soon as they'll send me. I am going to ask the Board to pass me
+fit 'for General Service.'"
+
+"Oh, Jim!"--he hardly caught the whisper. "Oh, Jim! my man."
+
+"Well----" he came over and knelt in front of her.
+
+"It makes me sick," she cried fiercely, "to think of you and Hugh and
+men like you--and then to think of all these other cowardly beasts. My
+dear, my dear--do you _want_ to go back?"
+
+"At present, I don't. I'm utterly happy here with you, and the old
+peaceful country life. I'm afraid, Syb--I'm afraid of going on with it
+I'm afraid of its sapping my vitality--I'm afraid of never wanting to go
+back." His voice died away, and then suddenly he leant forward and
+kissed her on the mouth.
+
+"Come over here a moment," he stood up and drew her to him. "Come over
+here." With his arm round her shoulders he led her over to a great
+portrait in oils that hung against the wall, the portrait of a
+stern-faced soldier in the uniform of a forgotten century. To the girl
+the picture of her great-grandfather was not a thing of surpassing
+interest--she had seen it too often before. But she was a girl of
+understanding, and she realised that the soul of the man beside her was
+in the melting-pot; and, moreover, that she might make or mar the mould
+into which it must run. So in her wisdom she said nothing, and waited.
+
+"I want you to listen to me for a bit, Syb," he began after a while.
+"I'm not much of a fist at talking--especially on things I feel very
+deeply about. I can't track my people back like you can. The
+corresponding generation in my family to that old buster was a junior
+inkslinger in a small counting-house up North. And that junior
+inkslinger made good: you know what I'm worth to-day if the governor
+died."
+
+He started to pace restlessly up and down the hall, while the girl
+watched him quietly.
+
+"Then came this war and I went into it--not for any highfalutin motives,
+not because I longed to avenge Belgium--but simply because my pals were
+all soldiers or sailors, and it never occurred to me not to. In fact at
+first I was rather pleased with myself--I treated it as a joke more or
+less. The governor was inordinately proud of me; the mater had about
+twelve dozen photographs of me in uniform sent round the country to
+various bored and unwilling recipients; and lots of people combined to
+tell me what a damn fine fellow I was. Do you think he'd have thought
+so?" He stopped underneath the portrait and for a while gazed at the
+painted face with a smile.
+
+"That old blackguard up there--who lived every moment of his life--do
+you think he would have accounted that to me for credit? What would _he_
+say if he knew that in a crisis like this there are men who cloak
+perfect sight behind blue glasses; that there are men who have joined
+home defence units though they are perfectly fit to fight anywhere? And
+what would he say, Sybil, if he knew that a man, even though he'd done
+something, was now resting on his oars--content?"
+
+"Go on, dear!" The girl's eyes were shining now.
+
+"I'm coming to the point This morning the old dad started on the line of
+various fellows he knew whose sons hadn't been out yet; and he didn't
+see why I should go a second time--before they went. The business
+instinct to a certain extent, I suppose--the point of view of a business
+man. But would _he_ understand that?" Again he nodded to the picture.
+
+"I think----" She began to speak, and then fell silent.
+
+"Ah! but would he, my dear? What of Hugh, of the Rabbit, of Torps? With
+them it was bred in the bone--with me it was not. For years I and mine
+have despised the soldier and the sailor: for years you and yours have
+despised the counting-house. And all that is changing. Over there the
+tinkers, the tailors, the merchants, are standing together with the old
+breed of soldier--the two lots are beginning to understand one
+another--to respect one another. You're learning from us, and we're
+learning from you, though _he_ would never have believed that possible."
+
+Jim was standing very close to the girl, and his voice was low.
+
+"It's because I'm not very sure of one of the lessons I've learnt: it's
+because at times I do think it hard that others should not take their
+fair share that I must get back to that show quick--damn quick.
+
+"I want to be worthy of that old ancestor of yours--now that I'm going
+to marry one of his family. I know we're all mad--I know the world's
+mad; but, Syb, dear, you wouldn't have me sane, would you; not for ever?
+And I shall be if I stay here any longer...."
+
+"I understand, Jim," she answered, after a while. "I understand exactly.
+And I wouldn't have you sane, except just now for a little while.
+Because it's a glorious madness, and"--she put both her arms round his
+neck and kissed him passionately--"and I love you."
+
+Which was quite illogical and inconsequent--but there you are. What is
+not illogical and inconsequent nowadays?
+
+From which it will be seen that Jim Denver was not of the first of the
+three types which I have mentioned. He did not love the game for itself
+alone; my masters, there are not many who do. But there was no job in
+England in which he would prove invaluable: though there were many which
+with a little care he might have adorned beautifully.
+
+And just because there _is_ blood in the counting-house, which only
+requires to be brought out to show itself, he knew that he must go
+back--he knew that it was his job.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+That wild enthusiasm which he had shared with other subalterns in his
+battalion before they had been over the first time was lacking now; he
+was calmer--more evenly balanced. He had attained the courage of
+knowledge instead of the courage of ignorance.
+
+No longer did the men who waited to be fetched excuse him--even though
+he had "done his bit." No longer was it possible to shelter behind
+another man's failure, and plead for so-called equality of sacrifice. To
+him had come the meaning of tradition--that strange, nameless something
+which has kept regiments in a position, battered with shells, stunned
+with shock, gassed, brain reeling, mind gone, with nothing to hold them
+except that nameless something which says to them, "Hold on!" While
+other regiments, composed of men as brave, have not held. To him had
+come that quality which has sent men laughing and talking without a
+quaver to their death; that quality which causes men--eaten with fever,
+lonely, weary to death, thinking themselves forsaken even of God--to
+carry on the Empire's work in the uttermost corners of the globe, simply
+because it is their job.
+
+He had assimilated to a certain extent the ideas of that stern, dead
+soldier; he had visualised them; he had realised that the destinies of a
+country are not entrusted to all her children. Many are not worthy to
+handle them, which makes the glory for the few all the greater....
+
+    Winds of the world, give answer! They are whimpering
+        to and fro--
+    And what should they know of England, who only
+        England know?
+    The poor little street-bred people that vapour and fume
+        and brag,
+    They are lifting their heads in the stillness to yelp at
+        the English Flag.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    Never the lotos closes, never the wild-fowl wake,
+        But a soul goes out on the East wind that died for
+            England's sake--
+    Man or woman or suckling, mother or bride or maid--
+        Because on the bones of the English the English flag is
+            stayed.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+"THE REGIMENT"
+
+
+On the Tuesday a board of doctors passed Jim Denver fit for General
+Service, having first given him the option of a month's home service if
+he liked. Two days after he turned up at the depot of his regiment,
+where he found men in various stages of convalescence--light duty,
+ordinary duty at home, and fit to go out like himself. One or two he
+knew, and most of them he didn't. There were a few old regular officers
+and a large number of very new ones--who were being led in the way they
+should go.
+
+But there is little to tell of the time he spent waiting to go out. This
+is not a diary of his life--not even an account of it; it is merely an
+attempt to portray a state of mind--an outlook on life engendered by
+war, in a man whom war had caused to think for the first time.
+
+And so the only incidents which I propose to give of his time at the
+depot is a short account of a smoking concert he attended and a
+conversation he had the following day with one Vane, a stockbroker. The
+two things taken individually meant but little: taken together--well,
+the humour was the humour of the Land of Topsy Turvy. A delicate humour,
+not to be appreciated by all: with subtle shades and delicate strands
+and bloody brutality woven together....
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A sudden silence settled on the gymnasium; the man at the piano turned
+round so as to hear better; the soldiers sitting astride the horse
+ceased laughing and playing the fool.
+
+At a table at the end of the big room, seen dimly through the
+smoke-clouded atmosphere, sat a group of officers, while the regimental
+sergeant-major, supported by other great ones of the non-commissioned
+rank near by, presided over the proceedings.
+
+Occasionally a soldier-waiter passed behind the officers' chairs, armed
+with a business-like bottle and a box of dangerous-looking cigars; and
+unless he was watched carefully he was apt to replenish the liquid
+refreshment in a manner which suggested that he regarded soda as harmful
+in the extreme to the human system. Had he not received his instructions
+from that great man the regimental himself?
+
+For an hour and a half the smoking concert had been in progress; the
+Brothers Bimbo, those masterly knock-about comedians, had given their
+performance amid rapturous applause. In life the famous pair were a
+machine-gun sergeant and a cook's mate; but on such gala occasions they
+became the buffoons of the regiment. They were the star comics: a
+position of great responsibility and not to be lightly thought of. An
+officer had given a couple of rag-time efforts; the melancholy corporal
+in C Company had obliged with a maundering tune of revolting
+sentimentality, and one of A Company scouts had given a so-called comic
+which caused the padre to keep his eyes fixed firmly on the floor,
+though at times his mouth twitched suspiciously, and made the colonel
+exclaim to his second in command in tones of heartfelt relief: "Thank
+Heavens, my wife couldn't come!" Knowing his commanding officer's wife
+the second in command agreed in no less heartfelt voice.
+
+But now a silence had settled on the great room: and all eyes were
+turned on the regimental sergeant-major, who was standing up behind the
+table on which the programme lay, and behind which he had risen every
+time a new performer had appeared during the evening, in order to
+introduce him to the assembly. There are many little rites and
+ceremonies in smoking concerts....
+
+This time, however, he did not inform the audience that Private
+MacPherson would now oblige--that is the mystic formula. He stood there,
+waiting for silence.
+
+"Non-commissioned officers and men"--his voice carried to every corner
+of the building--"I think you will all agree with me that we are very
+pleased to see Colonel Johnson and all our officers here with us
+to-night. It is our farewell concert in England: in a few days we shall
+all be going--somewhere; and it gives us all great pleasure to welcome
+the officers who are going to lead us when we get to that somewhere.
+Therefore I ask you all to fill up your glasses and drink to the health
+of Colonel Johnson and all our officers."
+
+A shuffling of feet; an abortive attempt on the part of the pianist to
+strike up "For he's a jolly good fellow" before his cue, an attempt
+which died horribly in its infancy under the baleful eye of the
+sergeant-major; a general creaking and grunting and then--muttered,
+shouted, whispered from a thousand throats--"Our Officers." The pianist
+started--right this time--and in a second the room was ringing with the
+well-known words. Cheers, thunderous cheers succeeded it, and through it
+all the officers sat silent and quiet. Most were new to the game; to
+them it was just an interesting evening; a few were old at it; a few,
+like Jim, had been across, and it was they who had a slight lump in
+their throats. It brought back memories--memories of other men, memories
+of similar scenes....
+
+At last the cheering died away, only to burst out again with renewed
+vigour. The colonel was standing up, a slight smile playing round his
+lips, the glint of many things in his quiet grey eyes. To the second in
+command, a sterling soldier but one of little imagination, there came
+for the first time in his life the meaning of the phrase, "the windows
+of the soul." For in the eyes of the man who stood beside him he saw
+those things of which no man speaks; the things which words may kill.
+
+He saw understanding, affection, humour, pain; he saw the pride of
+possession struggling with the sorrow of future loss; he saw the desire
+to test his creation struggling with the fear that a first test always
+brings; he saw visions of glorious possibilities, and for a fleeting
+instant he saw the dreadful abyss of a hideous failure. Aye, for a few
+moments the second in command looked not through a glass darkly, but saw
+into the unplumbed depths of a man who had been weighed in the balance
+and not found wanting; a man who had faced responsibility and would face
+it again; a man of honour, a man of humour, a man who knew.
+
+"My lads," he began--and the quiet, well-modulated voice reached every
+man in the room just as clearly as the harsher voice of the previous
+speaker--"as the sergeant-major has just said, in a few days we shall be
+sailing for--somewhere. The bustle and fulness of your training life
+will be over; you will be confronted with the real thing. And though I
+do not want to mar the pleasure of this evening in any way or to
+introduce a serious tone to the proceedings, I do want to say just one
+or two things which may stick in your minds and, perhaps, on some
+occasion may help you. This war is not a joke; it is one of the most
+hideous and ghastly tragedies that have ever been foisted on the world;
+I have been there and I know. You are going to be called on to stand all
+sorts of discomfort and all sorts of boredom; there will be times when
+you'd give everything you possess to know that there was a
+picture-palace round the corner. You may not think so now, but remember
+my words when the time comes--remember, and stick it.
+
+"There will be times when there's a sinking in your stomach and a
+singing in your head; when men beside you are staring upwards with the
+stare that does not see; when the sergeant has taken it through the
+forehead and the nearest officer is choking up his life in the corner of
+the traverse. But--there's still your rifle; perhaps there's a
+machine-gun standing idle; anyway, remember my words then, and stick it.
+
+"Stick it, my lads, as those others have done before you. Stick it, for
+the credit of the regiment, for the glory of our name. Remember always
+that that glory lies in your hands, each one of you individually. And
+just as it is in the power of each one of you to tarnish it irreparably,
+so is it in the power of each one of you to keep it going undimmed. Each
+one of us counts, men"--his voice sank a little--"each one of us has to
+play the game. Not because we're afraid of being punished if we're found
+out, but because it _is_ the game."
+
+He looked round the room slowly, almost searchingly, while the arc light
+spluttered and then burnt up again with a hiss.
+
+"The Regiment, my lads--the Regiment." His voice was tense with feeling.
+"It is only the Regiment that counts."
+
+He raised his glass, and the men stood up:
+
+"The Regiment."
+
+A woman sobbed somewhere in the body of the gym., and for a moment, so
+it seemed to Denver, the wings of Death flapped softly against the
+windows. For a moment only--and then:
+
+"Private Mulvaney will now oblige."
+
+Jim walked slowly home. He remembered just such another evening before
+his own battalion went out. Would those words of the Colonel have their
+effect: would some white-faced man stick it the better for the
+remembrance of that moment: would some machine-gun fired with trembling
+dying hands take its toll? Perhaps--who knows? The ideal of the soldier
+is there--the ideal towards which the New Armies are led. Thus the first
+incident....
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+THE CONTRAST
+
+
+The following afternoon Denver, strolling back from the town, was hailed
+by a man in khaki, standing in the door of his house. He knew the man
+well, Vane, by name--had dined with him often in the days when he was in
+training himself. A quiet man, with a pleasant wife and two children.
+Vane was a stockbroker by trade: and just before Jim went out he had
+enlisted.
+
+"Come in and have a gargle. I've just got back on short leave." Vane
+came to the gate.
+
+"Good," Jim answered. "Mrs. Vane must be pleased." They strolled up the
+drive and in through the door. "You're looking very fit, old man.
+Flanders seems to suit you."
+
+"My dear fellow, it does. It's the goods. I never knew what living was
+before. The thought of that cursed office makes me tired--and once"--he
+shrugged his shoulders--"it filled my life. Say when."
+
+"Cheer oh!" They clinked glasses. "I thought you were taking a
+commission."
+
+"I am--very shortly. The colonel has recommended me for one, and I
+gather the powers that be approve. But in a way I'm sorry, you know.
+I've got a great pal in my section--who kept a whelk stall down in
+Whitechapel."
+
+"They're the sort," laughed Jim. "The Cockney takes some beating."
+
+"This bird's a flier. We had quite a cheery little show the other night,
+just him and me. About a week ago we were up in the trenches--bored
+stiff, and yet happy in a way, you know, when Master Boche started to
+register.[1] I suppose it was a new battery or something, but they were
+using crumps, not shrapnel. They weren't very big, but they were very
+close--and they got closer. You know that nasty droning noise, then the
+hell of an explosion--that great column of blackish yellow smoke, and
+the bits pinging through the air overhead."
+
+"I do," remarked Jim tersely.
+
+Vane laughed. "Well, he got a bracket; the first one was fifty yards
+short of the trench, and the second was a hundred yards over. Then he
+started to come back--always in the same line; and the line passed
+straight through our bit of the trench.
+
+"''Ere, wot yer doing, you perishers? Sargint, go and stop 'em. Tell 'em
+I've been appointed purveyor of winkles to the Royal 'Ouse of the 'Un
+Emperor.' Our friend of the whelk stall was surveying the scene with
+intense disfavour. A great mass of smoke belched up from the ground
+twenty yards away, and he ducked instinctively. Then we waited--fifteen
+seconds about was the interval between shots. The men were a bit white
+about the gills--and, well the feeling in the pit of my tummy was what
+is known as wobbly. You know that feeling too?"
+
+"I do," remarked Jim even more tersely.
+
+Vane finished his drink. "Then it came, and we cowered. There was a roar
+like nothing on earth--the back of the trench collapsed, and the whole
+lot of us were buried. If the shell had been five yards short, it would
+have burst in the trench, and my whelk friend would have whelked no
+more."
+
+Vane laughed. "We emerged, plucking mud from our mouths, and cursed. The
+Hun apparently was satisfied and stopped. The only person who wasn't
+satisfied was the purveyor of winkles to the Royal 'Ouse. He brooded
+through the day, but towards the evening he became more cheerful.
+
+"'Look 'ere,' he said to me, ''ave you ever killed a 'Un?'
+
+"'I think I did once,' I said. 'A fat man with a nasty face.'
+
+"'Oh! you 'ave, 'ave you? Well, wot abaht killing one to-night. If they
+thinks I'm going to stand that sort of thing, they're ---- ---- wrong.'
+The language was the language of Whitechapel, but the sentiments were
+the sentiments of even the most rabid purist of speech.
+
+"To cut a long story short, we went. And we were very lucky."
+
+"You bumped your face into 'em, did you?" asked Jim, interested.
+
+"We did. Man, it was a grand little scrap while it lasted, and it was
+the first one I'd had. It won't be the last."
+
+"Did you kill your men?"
+
+"Did we not? Welks brained his with the butt of his gun; and I did the
+trick with a bayonet." Vane became a little apologetic. "You know it was
+only my first, and I can't get it out of my mind." Then his eyes shone
+again. "To feel that steel go in--Good God! man--it was IT: it was...."
+
+Then came the interruption. "Dear," said a voice at the door, "the
+children are in bed; will you go up and say good night."... Thus the
+second incident....
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+As I said, taken separately the two incidents mean but little: taken
+together--there is humour: the whole humour of war.
+
+An itinerant fishmonger and a worthy stockbroker are inculcated with
+wonderful ideals in order to fit them for sallying forth at night and
+killing complete strangers. And they revel in it....
+
+The highest form of emotionalism on one hand: a hole in the ground full
+of bluebottles and smells on the other....
+
+War ... war in the twentieth century.
+
+But there is nothing incompatible in it: it is only strange when
+analysed in cold blood. And Jim Denver, as I have said, was sane again:
+while Vane, the stockbroker, was still mad.
+
+In fact, it is quite possible that the peculiar significance of the
+interruption in his story never struck him: that he never noticed the
+Contrast.
+
+And what is going to be the result of it all on the Vanes of England?
+"Once the office filled my life." No man can go to the land of Topsy
+Turvy and come back the same--for good or ill it will change him. Though
+the madness leave him and sanity return, it will not be the same
+sanity. Will he ever be content to settle down again after--the lawyer,
+the stockbroker, the small clerk? Back to the old dull routine, the same
+old train in the morning, the same deadly office, the same old home each
+evening. It hardly applies to the Jim Denvers--the men of money: but
+what of the others?
+
+Will the scales have dropped from the eyes of the men who have really
+been through it? Shall we ever get back to the same old way? Heaven
+knows--but let us hope not. Anyway, it is all mere idle conjecture--and
+a digression to boot.
+
+FOOTNOTE:
+
+[Footnote 1: For the benefit of the uninitiated, let me explain that the
+process of registering consists of finding the exact range to a certain
+object from a particular gun or battery. To find this range it is
+necessary to obtain what is known as a bracket: _i.e._ one burst beyond
+the object, and one burst short. The range is then known to lie between
+these two: and by a little adjustment the exact distance can be found.]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+BLACK, WHITE, AND--GREY
+
+
+Four weeks after his board Jim Denver once again found himself in
+France.
+
+Having reported his arrival, he sat down to await orders. Boulogne is
+not a wildly exhilarating place; though there is always the hotel where
+one may consume cocktails and potato chips, and hear strange truths
+about the war from people of great knowledge and understanding.
+
+Moreover--though this is by the way--in Boulogne you get the first sniff
+of that atmosphere which England lacks; that subtle, indefinable
+something which war _in_ a country produces in the spirit of its
+people....
+
+Gone is the stout lady of doubtful charm engaged in mastering the
+fox-trot, what time a band wails dismally in an alcove; gone is the
+wild-eyed flapper who bumps madly up and down the roads on the carrier
+of a motor-cycle. It has an atmosphere of its own this fair land of
+France to-day. It is laughing through its tears, and the laughter has an
+ugly sound--for the Huns. They will hear that laughter soon, and the
+sound will give them to think fearfully.
+
+But at the moment when Jim landed it was all very boring. The R.T.O. at
+Boulogne was bored; the A.S.C. officers at railhead were bored; the
+quartermaster guarding the regimental penates in a field west of Ypres
+was bored.
+
+"Cheer up, old son," Jim remarked, slapping the last-named worthy
+heavily on the back. "You look peevish."
+
+"Confound you," he gasped, when he'd recovered from choking. "This is my
+last bottle of whisky."
+
+"Where's the battalion?" laughed Denver.
+
+"Where d'you think? In a Turkish bath surrounded by beauteous houris?"
+the quartermaster snorted. "Still in the same damn mud-hole near Hooge."
+
+"Good! I'll trot along up shortly. You know, I'm beginning to be glad I
+came back. I didn't want to particularly, at first: I was enjoying
+myself at home--but I felt I ought to, and now--'pon my soul---- How are
+you, Jones?"
+
+A passing sergeant stopped and saluted. "Grand, sir. How's yourself? The
+boys will be glad you've come back."
+
+Denver stood chatting with him for a few moments and then rejoined the
+pessimistic quartermaster.
+
+"Don't rhapsodise," begged that worthy--"don't rhapsodise; eat your
+lunch. If you tell me it will be good to see your men again, I shall
+assault you with the remnants of the tinned lobster. I know it will be
+good--no less than fifteen officers have told me so in the last six
+weeks. But I don't care--it leaves me quite, quite cold. If you're in
+France, you pine for England; when you're in England, you pine for
+France; and I sit in this damn field and get giddy."
+
+Which might be described as to-day's great thought.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Thus did Jim Denver come back to his regiment. Once again the life of
+the moles claimed him--the life of the underworld: that strange
+existence of which so much has been written, and so little has been
+really grasped by those who have not been there. A life of incredible
+dreariness--yet possessing a certain "grip" of its own. A life of
+peculiar contrasts--where the suddenness--the abruptness of things
+strikes a man forcibly: the extraordinary contrasts of black and white.
+Sometimes they stand out stark and menacing, gleaming and brilliant;
+more often do they merge into grey. But always are they there....
+
+As I said before, my object is not to give a diary of my hero's life. I
+am not concerned with his daily vegetation in his particular hole, with
+Hooge on his right front and a battered farm close to. Sleep, eat, read,
+look through a periscope and then repeat the performance. Occasionally
+an aerial torpedo, frequently bombs, at all times pessimistic sappers
+desiring working parties. But it was very much the "grey" of trench life
+during the three days that Jim sat in the front line by the wood that is
+called "Railway."
+
+One episode is perhaps worthy of note. It was just one of those harmless
+little jests which give one an appetite for a hunk of bully washed down
+by a glass of tepid whisky and water. Now be it known to those who do
+not dabble in explosives, there are in the army two types of fuze which
+are used for firing charges. Each type is flexible, and about the
+thickness of a stout and well-nourished worm. Each, moreover, consists
+of an inner core which burns, protected by an outer covering--the idea
+being that on lighting one end a flame should pass along the burning
+inner core and explode in due course whatever is at the other end.
+There, however, their similarity ends; and their difference becomes so
+marked that the kindly powers that be have taken great precautions
+against the two being confused.
+
+The first of these fuzes is called Safety--and the outer covering is
+black. In this type the inner core burns quite slowly at the rate of two
+or three feet to the minute. This is the fuze which is used in the
+preparation of the jam-tin bomb: an instrument of destruction which has
+caused much amusement to the frivolous. A jam tin is taken and is
+filled with gun cotton, nails, and scraps of iron. Into the gun cotton
+is inserted a detonator; and into the detonator is inserted two inches
+of safety-fuze. The end of the safety-fuze is then lit, and the jam tin
+is presented to the Hun. It will readily be seen by those who are
+profound mathematicians, that if three feet of safety-fuze burn in a
+minute, two inches will burn in about three seconds--and three seconds
+is just long enough for the presentation ceremony. This in fact is the
+principal of all bombs both great and small.
+
+The second of these fuzes is called Instantaneous--and the outer
+covering is orange. In this type the inner core burns quite quickly, at
+the rate of some thirty yards to the second, or eighteen hundred times
+as fast as the first. Should, therefore, an unwary person place two
+inches of this second fuze in his jam tin by mistake, and light it, it
+will take exactly one-600th of a second before he gets to the motto.
+Which is "movement with a meaning quite its own."
+
+To Jim then came an idea. Why not with care and great cunning remove
+from the inner core of Instantaneous fuze its vulgar orange covering,
+and substitute instead a garb of sober black--and thus disguised present
+several bombs of great potency _unlighted_ to the Hun.
+
+The afternoon before they left for the reserve trenches he staged his
+comedy in one act and an epilogue. A shower of bombs was propelled in
+the direction of the opposing cave-dwellers to the accompaniment of loud
+cries, cat calls, and other strange noises. The true artist never
+exaggerates, and quite half the bombs had genuine safety-fuze in them
+and were lit before being thrown. The remainder were not lit, it is
+perhaps superfluous to add.
+
+The lazy peace of the afternoon was rudely shattered for the Huns. Quite
+a number of genuine bombs had exploded dangerously near their
+trench--while some had even taken effect in the trench. Then they
+perceived several unlit ones lying about--evidently propelled by nervous
+men who had got rid of them before lighting them properly. And there was
+much laughter in that German trench as they decided to give the epilogue
+by lighting them and throwing them back. Shortly after a series of
+explosions, followed by howls and groans, announced the carrying out of
+that decision. And once again the Hymn of Hate came faintly through the
+drowsy stillness....
+
+Those are the little things which occasionally paint the grey with a dab
+of white; the prowls at night--the joys of the sniper who has just
+bagged a winner and won the bag of nuts--all help to keep the spirits up
+when the pattern of earth in your particular hole causes a rush of blood
+to the head.
+
+Incidentally this little comedy was destined to be Jim Denver's last
+experience of the Hun at close quarters for many weeks to come. The grey
+settled down like a pall, to lift in the fulness of time, to _the_ black
+and white day of his life. But for the present--peace. And yet only
+peace as far as he was concerned personally. That very night, close to
+him so that he saw it all, some other battalions had a chequered hour or
+so--which is all in the luck of the game. To-day it's the man over the
+road--to-morrow it's you....
+
+They occurred about 2 a.m.--the worries of the men over the road. Denver
+had moved to his other hole, courteously known as the reserve trenches,
+and there seated in his dug-out he discussed prospects generally with
+the Major. There were rumours that the division was moving from Ypres,
+and not returning there--a thought which would kindle hope in the most
+pessimistic.
+
+"Don't you believe it," answered the Major gloomily. "Those rumours are
+an absolute frost."
+
+"Cheer up! cully, we'll soon be dead." Denver laughed. "Have some rum."
+
+He poured some out into a mug and passed the water. "Quiet
+to-night--isn't it? I was reading to-day that the Italians----"
+
+"You aren't going to quote any war expert at me, are you?"
+
+"Well--er--I was: why not?"
+
+"Because I have a blood-feud with war experts. I loathe and detest the
+breed. Before I came out here their reiterated statement made monthly
+that we should be on the Rhine by Tuesday fortnight was a real comfort.
+We always got to Tuesday fortnight--but we've never actually paddled in
+the bally river."
+
+"To err is human; to get paid for it is divine," murmured Jim.
+
+"Bah!" the Major filled his pipe aggressively. "What about the
+steam-roller, what about the Germans being reduced to incurable
+epileptics in the third line trenches--what about that drivelling ass
+who said the possession of heavy guns was a disadvantage to an army
+owing to their immobility?"
+
+"Have some more rum, sir?" remarked Jim soothingly.
+
+"But I could have stood all that--they were trifles." The Major was
+getting warmed up to it. "This is what finished me." He pulled a piece
+of paper out of his pocket. "Read that, my boy--read that and ponder."
+
+Jim took the paper and glanced at it.
+
+"I carry that as my talisman. In the event of my death I've given orders
+for it to be sent to the author."
+
+"But what's it all about?" asked Denver.
+
+"'At the risk of repeating myself, I wish again to asseverate what I
+drew especial attention to last week, and the week before, and the one
+before that; as a firm grasp of this essential fact is imperative to an
+undistorted view of the situation. Whatever minor facts may now or again
+crop up in this titanic conflict, we must not shut our eyes to the rules
+of war. They are unchangeable, immutable; the rules of Caesar were the
+rules of Napoleon, and are in fact the rules that I myself have
+consistently laid down in these columns. They cannot change: this war
+will be decided by them as surely as night follows day; and those
+ignorant persons who are permitted to express their opinions elsewhere
+would do well to remember that simple fact.'"
+
+"What the devil is this essential fact?"
+
+"Would you like to know? I got to it after two columns like that."
+
+"What was it?" laughed Jim.
+
+"'An obstacle in an army's path is that which obstructs the path of the
+army in question.'"
+
+"After that--more rum." Jim solemnly decanted the liquid. "You deserve
+it. You...."
+
+"Stand to." A shout from the trench outside--repeated all along until it
+died away in the distance. The Major gulped his rum and dived for the
+door--while Jim groped for his cap. Suddenly out of the still night
+there came a burst of firing, sudden and furious. The firing was taken
+up all along the line, and then the guns started and a rain of shrapnel
+came down behind the British lines.
+
+Away--a bit in front on the other side of the road to Jim's trench there
+were woods--woods of unenviable reputation. Hence the name of
+"Sanctuary." In the middle of them, on the road, lay the ruined chateau
+and village of Hooge--also of unenviable reputation.
+
+And towards these woods the eyes of all were turned.
+
+"What the devil is it?" shouted the man beside Jim. "Look at them lights
+in the trees."
+
+The devil it was. Dancing through the darkness of the trees were flames
+and flickering lights, like will-o'-the-wisps playing over an Irish bog.
+And men, looking at one another, muttered sullenly. They remembered the
+gas; what new devilry was this?
+
+Up in the woods things were moving. Hardly had the relieving regiments
+taken over their trenches, when from the ground in front there seemed to
+leap a wall of flame. It rushed towards them and, falling into the
+trenches and on to the men's clothes, burnt furiously like brandy round
+a plum pudding. The woods were full of hurrying figures dashing blindly
+about, cursing and raving. For a space pandemonium reigned. The Germans
+came on, and it looked as if there might be trouble. The regiments who
+had just been relieved came back, and after a while things straightened
+out a little. But our front trenches in those woods, when morning broke,
+were not where they had been the previous night....
+
+Liquid fire--yet one more invention of "Kultur"; gas; the moat at Ypres
+poisoned with arsenic; crucifixion; burning death squirted from the
+black night--suddenly, without warning: truly a great array of Kultured
+triumphs.... And with it all--failure. To fight as a sportsman fights
+and lose has many compensations; to fight as the German fights and lose
+must be to taste of the dregs of hell.
+
+But that is how they _do_ fight, whatever interesting surmises one may
+make of their motives and feelings. And that is how it goes on over the
+water--the funny mixture of the commonplace of everyday with the great
+crude, cruel realities of life and death.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+But as I said, for the next few weeks the grey screen cloaked those
+crude realities as far as Jim was concerned. Rumour for once had proved
+true; the division was pulled out, and his battalion found itself near
+Poperinghe.
+
+"Months of boredom punctuated by moments of intense fright" is a
+definition of war which undoubtedly Noah would have regarded as a
+chestnut. And I should think it doubtful if there has ever been a war
+in which this definition was more correct.
+
+Jim route marched: he trained bombers: he dined in Poperinghe and went
+to the Follies. Also, he allowed other men to talk to him of their plans
+for leave: than which no more beautiful form of unselfishness is laid
+down anywhere in the Law or the Prophets.
+
+On the whole the time did not drag. There is much of interest for those
+who have eyes to see in that country which fringes the Cock Pit of
+Europe. Hacking round quietly most afternoons on a horse borrowed from
+someone, the spirit of the land got into him, that blood-soaked, quiet,
+uncomplaining country, whose soul rises unconquerable from the battered
+ruins.
+
+Horses exercising, lorries crashing and lurching over the pave roads.
+G.S. wagons at the walk, staff motors--all the necessary wherewithal to
+preserve the safety of the mud holes up in front--came and went in a
+ceaseless procession; while every now and then a local cart with
+mattresses and bedsteads, tables and crockery, tied on perilously with
+bits of string, would come creaking past--going into the unknown,
+leaving the home of years.
+
+Ypres, that tragic charnel house, with the great jagged holes torn out
+of the pave; with the few remaining walls of the Cathedral and Cloth
+Hall cracked and leaning outwards; with the strange symbolical touch of
+the black hearse which stood untouched in one of the arches. Rats
+everywhere, in the sewers and broken walls; in the crumbling belfry
+above birds, cawing discordantly. The statue of the old gentleman which
+used to stand serene and calm amidst the wreckage, now lay broken on its
+face. But the stench was gone--the dreadful stench of death which had
+clothed it during the second battle; it was just a dead town--dead and
+decently buried in great heaps of broken brick....
+
+Vlamertinghe, with the little plot of wooden crosses by the cross roads;
+Elverdinghe, where the gas first came, and the organ pipes lay twisted
+in the wreckage of the unroofed church; where the long row of French
+graves rest against the chateau wall, graves covered with long
+grass--each with an empty bottle upside down at their head.
+
+    And when Thyself with shining Foot shall pass
+    Among the Guests star-scatter'd on the Grass,
+    ... turn down an empty Glass.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+And in the family archives are some excellent reproductions--not
+photographs of course, for the penalty for carrying a camera is death at
+dawn--of ruined churches and shell-battered chateaux. Perhaps the most
+interesting one, at any rate the most human, is a "reproduction" of a
+group of cavalry men. They had been digging in a little village a mile
+behind the firing-line--a village battered and dead from which the
+inhabitants had long since fled. Working in the garden of the local
+doctor, they were digging a trench which ran back to the cellar of the
+house, when on the scene of operations had suddenly appeared the doctor
+himself. By signs he possessed himself of a shovel, and, pacing five
+steps from the kitchen door and three from the tomato frame, he too
+started to dig.
+
+"His wife's portrait, probably," confided the cavalry officer to Jim, as
+they watched the proceeding. "Or possibly an urn with her ashes."
+
+It was a sergeant who first gave a choking cry and fainted; he was
+nearest the hole.
+
+"Yes," remarked Jim, "he's found the urn."
+
+With frozen stares they watched the last of twelve dozen of light beer
+go into the doctor's cart. With pallid lips the officer saw three dozen
+of good champagne snatched from under his nose.
+
+"Heavens! man," he croaked, "it was _dry_ too. If our trench had been a
+yard that way...." He leant heavily on his stick, and groaned.
+
+The moment was undoubtedly pregnant with emotion.
+
+"'E'ad a nasty face, that man--a nasty face. Oh, 'orrible."
+
+Hushed voices came from the group of leaners. The "reproduction" depicts
+the psychological moment when the doctor with a joyous wave of the hand
+wished them "_Bonjour, messieurs,_" and drove off.
+
+"Not one--not one ruddy bottle--not the smell of a perishing cork.
+Stung!"
+
+But Jim had left.
+
+Which very silly and frivolous story is topsy-turvy land up to date, or
+at any rate typical of a large bit of it.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+ARCHIE AND OTHERS
+
+
+However, to be serious. It was as he came away from this scene of alarm
+and despondency that Jim met an old pal who boasted the gunner badge,
+and whom conversation revealed as the proud owner of an Archie, or
+anti-aircraft gun. And as the salient is perhaps more fruitful in
+aeroplanes than any other part of the line, and the time approached five
+o'clock (which is generally the hour of their afternoon activity), Jim
+went to see the fun.
+
+In front, an observing biplane buzzed slowly to and fro, watching the
+effect of a mother[1] shooting at some mark behind the German lines.
+With the gun concealed in the trees, a gunner subaltern altered his
+range and direction as each curt wireless message flashed from the
+'plane. "Lengthen 200--half a degree left." And so on till they got it.
+Occasionally, with a vicious crack, a German anti-aircraft shell would
+explode in the air above in a futile endeavour to reach the observer,
+and a great mass of acrid yellow or black fumes would disperse slowly.
+Various machines, each intent on its own job, rushed to and fro, and in
+the distance, like a speck in the sky, a German monoplane was travelling
+rapidly back over its own lines, having finished its reconnaissance.
+
+Behind it, like the wake of a steamer, little dabs of white plastered
+the blue sky. English shrapnel bursting from other anti-aircraft guns.
+Jim's gunner friend seemed to know most of them by name, as old pals
+whom he had watched for many a week on the same errand; and from him Jim
+gathered that the moment approached for the appearance of Panting
+Lizzie. Lizzie, apparently, was a fast armoured German biplane which
+came over his gun every fine evening about the same hour. For days and
+weeks had he fired at it, so far without any success, but he still had
+hopes. The gun was ready, cocked wickedly upon its motor mounting,
+covered with branches and daubed with strange blotches of paint to make
+it less conspicuous. Round the motor itself the detachment consumed tea,
+a terrier sat up and begged, a goat of fearsome aspect looked pensive.
+In front, in a chair, his eye glued to a telescope on a tripod, sat the
+look-out man.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was just as Jim and his pal were getting down to a whisky and soda
+that Lizzie hove in sight. The terrier ceased to beg, the goat departed
+hurriedly, the officer spoke rapidly in a language incomprehensible to
+Jim, and the fun began. There are few things so trying to listen to as
+an Archie, owing to the rapidity with which it fires; the gun pumps up
+and down with a series of sharp cracks, every two or three shots being
+followed by more incomprehensible language from the officer. Adjustment
+after each shot is impossible owing to the fact that three or four
+shells have left the gun and are on their way before the first one
+explodes. It was while Jim, with his fingers in his ears, was watching
+the shells bursting round the aeroplane and marvelling that nothing
+seemed to happen, that he suddenly realised that the gun had stopped
+firing. Looking at the detachment, he saw them all gazing upwards. From
+high up, sounding strangely faint in the air, came the zipping of a
+Maxim.
+
+"By Gad!" muttered the gunner officer; "this is going to be some fight."
+
+Bearing down on Panting Lizzie came a British armoured 'plane, and from
+it the Maxim was spitting. And now there started a very pretty air duel.
+I am no airman, to tell of spirals, and glides, and the multifarious
+twistings and turnings. At times the German's Maxim got going as well;
+at times both were silent, manoeuvring for position. The Archies were
+not firing--the machines were too close together. Once the German seemed
+to drop like a stone for a thousand feet or so. "Got him!" shouted
+Jim--but the gunner shook his head.
+
+"A common trick," he answered. "He found it getting a bit warm, and that
+upsets one's range. You'll find he'll be off now."
+
+Sure enough he was--with his nose for home he turned tail and fled. The
+gunner shouted an order, and they opened fire again, while the British
+'plane pursued, its Maxim going continuously. Generally honour is
+satisfied without the shedding of blood; each, having consistently
+missed the other and resisted the temptations of flying low over his
+opponents' guns, returns home to dinner. But in this case--well, whether
+it was Archie or whether it was the Maxim is really immaterial. Suddenly
+a great sheet of flame seemed to leap from the German machine and a puff
+of black smoke: it staggered like a shot bird and then, without warning,
+it fell--a streak of light, like some giant shooting star rushing to the
+earth. The Maxim stopped firing, and after circling round a couple of
+times the British machine buzzed contentedly back to bed. And in a
+field--somewhere behind our lines--there lay for many a day, deep
+embedded in a hole in the ground, the battered remnants of Panting
+Lizzie, with its great black cross stuck out of the earth for all to
+see. Somewhere in the debris, crushed and mangled beyond recognition,
+could have been found the remnants of two German airmen. Which might be
+called the black and white of the overworld.
+
+FOOTNOTE:
+
+[Footnote 1: 9.2" Howitzer.]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+ON THE STAFF
+
+
+But now rumour was getting busy in earnest--things were in the air.
+There were talks of a great offensive--and although there be rumour in
+England, though bucolic stationmasters have brushed the snow from the
+steppes of Russia out of railway carriages, I have no hesitation in
+saying that for quality and quantity the rumours that float round the
+army in France have de Rougemont beat to a frazzle. In this case
+expectations were fulfilled, and two or three days after the decease of
+Panting Lizzie, Jim and his battalion shook the dust of the Ypres
+district from their feet and moved away south.
+
+It was then that our hero raised his third star. Shades of Wellington! A
+captain in a year. But I make no comment. A sense of humour, invaluable
+at all times, is indispensable in this war, if one wishes to preserve an
+unimpaired digestion.
+
+But another thing happened to him, too, about this time, for, owing to
+the sudden sickness of a member of his General's Staff, he found himself
+attached temporarily for duty. No longer did he flat foot it, but in a
+large and commodious motor-car he viewed life from a different
+standpoint. And, solely owing to this temporary appointment, he was able
+to see the launching of the attack near Loos at the end of September. He
+saw the wall of gas and smoke roll slowly forward towards the German
+trenches over the wide space that separated the trenches in that part of
+the line. Great belching explosions seemed to shatter the vapour
+periodically, as German shells exploded in it, causing it to rise in
+swirling eddies, as from some monstrous cauldron, only to sink sullenly
+back and roll on. And behind it came the assaulting battalions, lines of
+black pigmies charging forward.
+
+And later he heard of the Scotsmen who chased the flying Huns like
+terriers after rats, grunting, cursing, swearing, down the gentle slope
+past Loos and up the other side; on to Hill 70, where they swayed
+backwards and forwards over the top, while some with the lust of killing
+on them fought their way into the town beyond--and did not return. He
+heard of the battery that blazed over open sights at the Germans during
+the morning, till, running out of ammunition, the guns ceased fire, a
+mark to every German rifle. The battery remained there during the day,
+for there was not cover for a terrier, let alone a team of horses, and
+between the guns were many strange tableaux as Death claimed his toll.
+They got them away that night, but not before the gunners had taken back
+the breech-blocks--in case; for it was touch and go.
+
+But this attack has already been described too often, and so I will say
+no more. I would rather write of those things which happened to Jim
+Denver himself, before he left the Land of Topsy Turvy for the second
+time. Only I venture to think that when the full story comes to be
+written--if ever--of that last week in September, or the surging forward
+past Loos and the Lone Tree to Hulluch and the top of 70, of the cavalry
+who waited for the chance that never came, and the German machine-guns
+hidden in the slag-heaps, the reading will be interesting. What happened
+would fill a book; what might have happened--a library.
+
+It was a couple of days afterwards that he saw his first big batch of
+German prisoners. Five or six miles behind the firing-line in a great
+grass field, fenced in on all sides by barbed wire, was a batch of some
+seven hundred--almost all of them Prussians and Jaegers. Munching food
+contentedly, they sat in rows on the ground; their dirty grey uniforms
+coated with dust and mud--unwashed, unshaven, and--well, if you are
+contemplating German prisoners, get "up wind." All around the field
+Tommies stood and gazed, now and again offering them cigarettes. A few
+prisoners who could speak English got up and talked.
+
+It struck Jim Denver then that he viewed these men with no antipathy; he
+merely gazed at them curiously as one gazes at animals in a "Zoo." And
+as we English are ever prone to such views, and as the Hymn of Hate and
+like effusions are regarded, and rightly so, as occasions for mirth, it
+was perhaps as well for Jim to realise the other point of view. There
+are two sides to every question, and the Germans believe in their hate
+just as we believe in our laughter. But when it is over, it will be
+unfortunate if we forget the hate too quickly.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"What a nation we are!" said a voice beside Jim. He turned round and
+found a doctor watching the scene with a peculiar look in his eyes.
+"Suppose it had been the other way round! Suppose those were our men
+while the Germans were the captors! Do you think the scene would be like
+this?" His face twisted into a bitter smile. "There would have been
+armed soldiers walking up and down the ranks, kicking men in the
+stomach, hitting them on the head with rifle butts, tearing bandages off
+wounds--just for the fun of the thing. Sharing food!"--he laughed
+contemptuously--"why, they'd have been starving. Giving 'em
+cigarettes!--why, they'd have taken away what they had already."
+
+He turned and looked up the road. Walking down it were thirty or so
+German officers. From the button in the centre of their jackets hung in
+nearly every case the ribbon of the Iron Cross. Laughing, talking--one
+or two sneering--they came along and halted by the gate into the field.
+They had been questioned, and were waiting to be marched off with the
+men. A hundred yards or so away the cavalry escort was forming up.
+
+"Man," cried the doctor, suddenly gripping Jim's arm in a vice, "it's
+wicked!" In his eyes there was an ugly look. "Look at those swine--all
+toddling off to Donington Hall--happy as you like. And think of the
+other side of the picture. Stuck with bayonets, hit, brutally treated,
+half-starved, thrown into cattle trucks. Good Heaven! it's horrible."
+
+"We're not the sort to go in for retribution," said Jim, after a moment.
+"After all--oh! I don't know--but it's not quite cricket, is it? Just
+because they're swine...?"
+
+"Cricket!" the other snorted. "You make me tired. I tell you I'm sick to
+death of our kid-glove methods. No retribution! I suppose if a buck
+nigger hit your pal over the head with a club you'd give him a tract on
+charity and meekness. What would our ranting pedagogues say if their
+own sons had been crucified by the Germans as some of our wounded have
+been? You think I'm bitter?" He looked at Jim. "I am. You see, I was a
+prisoner myself until a few weeks ago." He turned and strolled away down
+the road....
+
+And now the escort was ready. An order shouted in the field, and the men
+got up, falling in in some semblance of fours. Slowly they filed through
+the gate and, with their own officers in front, the cortege started. Led
+by an English cavalry subaltern, with troopers at four or five horses'
+lengths alongside--some with swords drawn, the others with rifles--the
+procession moved sullenly off. A throng of English soldiers gazed
+curiously at them as they passed by; small urchins ran in impudently
+making faces at them. And in the doors of the houses dark-haired,
+grim-faced women watched them pass with lowering brows....
+
+A mixture, those prisoners--a strange mixture. Some with the faces of
+educated men, some with the faces of beasts; some men in the prime of
+life, some mere boys; slouching, squelching through the mud with the
+vacant eyes that the Prussian military system seems to give to its
+soldiers. The look of a man who has no vestige of imagination or
+initiative; the look of a stoical automaton; callous, boorish, sottish
+as befits a man who willingly or unwillingly has sold himself body and
+soul to a system.
+
+And as they wind through the mining villages on their way to a railhead,
+these same grim-faced French women watch them as they go by. They do not
+see the offspring of a system; they only see a group of beast-men--the
+men whose brothers have killed their husbands. After all, has not Madame
+got in her house a refugee--her cousin--whose screams even now ring out
+at night...?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+For a few days more Jim stayed on with the general. Their feeding-place
+was a little cafe on the main road to Lens. There each morning might our
+hero have been found, in a filthy little back room, drinking coffee out
+of a thick mug, with an omelette cooked to perfection on his plate.
+Never was there such dirt in any room; never a household so prolific of
+children. Every window was smashed; the back garden one huge shell hole;
+but, absolutely unperturbed by such trifles, that stout, good-hearted
+Frenchwoman pursued her sturdy way. She had had the Boches there--"mais
+oui"--but what matter? They did not stay long. "Une omelette, monsieur;
+du cafe? Certainement, monsieur. Toute de suite."
+
+It might have been in a different world from Ypres and
+Poperinghe--instead of only twenty miles to the south. Gone were the
+flat, cultivated fields; great slag-heaps and smoking chimneys were
+everywhere. And in spite of the fact that active operations were in
+progress, there seemed to be no more gunning than the normal daily
+contribution at Lizerne, Boesinge, and Jim's old friend and first love,
+Hooge. Aeroplanes, too, seemed scarcer. True, one morning, standing in
+the road outside the cafe, he saw for the first time a fleet of 'planes
+starting out on a raid. Now one and then another would disappear behind
+a fleecy white cloud, only to reappear a few moments later glinting in
+the rays of the morning sun, until at length the whole fleet, in
+dressing and order like a flight of geese, their wings tipped with fire,
+moved over the blue vault of heaven. The drone of their engines came
+faintly from a great height, until, as if at some spoken word from the
+leader, the whole swung half-right and vanished into a bank of clouds.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+NO ANSWER
+
+
+But the grey period for Jim was drawing to a close. To-day it's the man
+over the road that tops the bill; to-morrow it's you, as I said before:
+and a change of caste was imminent in our friend's performance. One does
+not seek these things--they occur; and then they're over, and one waits
+for the next. There is no programme laid down, no book of the words
+printed. Things just happen--sometimes they lead to a near acquaintance
+with iodine, and a kind woman in a grey dress who takes your temperature
+and washes your face; and at others to a dinner with much good wine
+where the laughter is merry and the revelry great. Of course there are
+many other alternatives: you may never reach the hospital--you may never
+get the dinner; you may get a cold in the nose, and go to the
+Riviera--or you may get a bad corn and get blood-poisoning from using a
+rusty jack knife to operate. The caprice of the spirit of Topsy Turvy is
+quite wonderful.
+
+For instance, on the very morning that the Staff Officer came back to
+his job, and Jim returned to his battalion, his company commander asked
+him to go to a general bomb store in a house just up the road, and see
+that the men who were working there were getting on all right. The
+regiment was for the support trenches that night, and preparing bombs
+was the order of the day.
+
+Just as he started to go, a message arrived that the C.O. wished to see
+him. So the company commander went instead; and entered the building
+just as a German shell came in by another door. By all known laws a man
+going over Niagara in an open tub would not willingly have changed
+places with him; an 8-inch shell exploding in the same room with you is
+apt to be a decisive moment in your career.
+
+But long after the noise and the building had subsided, and from high up
+in the air had come a fusillade of small explosions and little puffs of
+smoke, where the bombs hurled up from the cellar went off in turn--Jim
+perceived his captain coming down the road. He had been hurled through
+the wall as it came down, across the road, and had landed intact on a
+manure heap. And it was only when he hit the colonel a stunning blow
+over the head with a French loaf at lunch time that they found out he
+was temporarily as mad as a hatter. So they got him away in an ambulance
+and Jim took over the company. As I say--things just happen.
+
+That night they moved up into support trenches--up that dirty, muddy
+road with the cryptic notices posted at various places: "Do not loiter
+here," "This cross-road is dangerous," "Shelled frequently," etc. And at
+length they came to the rise which overlooks Loos and found they were to
+live in the original German front line--now our support trench. They
+were for the front line in the near future--but at present their job was
+work on this support trench and clearing up the battlefield near them.
+
+Now this war is an impersonal sort of thing taking it all the way round.
+Those who stand in front trenches and blaze away at advancing Huns are
+not, I think, actuated by personal fury against the men they kill. You
+may pick out a fat one perhaps with a red beard and feel a little
+satisfaction when you kill him because his face offends you, but you
+don't really feel any individual animosity towards him. One gets so used
+to death on a large scale that it almost ceases to affect one. An
+isolated man lying dead and twisted by the road, where one doesn't
+expect to find him, moves one infinitely more than a wholesale
+slaughter. The thing is too vast, too overpowering for a man's brain to
+realise.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+But of all the things which one may be called on to do, the clearing of
+a battlefield after an advance brings home most poignantly the tragedy
+of war. You see the individual then, not the mass. Every silent figure
+lying sprawled in fantastic attitude, every huddled group, every
+distorted face tells a story.
+
+Here is an R.A.M.C. orderly crouching over a man lying on a stretcher.
+The man had been wounded--a splint is on his leg, while the dressing is
+still in the orderly's hand. Then just as the orderly was at work, the
+end came for both in a shrapnel shell, and the tableau remains,
+horribly, terribly like a tableau at some amateur theatricals.
+
+Here are a group of men caught by the fire of the machine-gun in the
+corner, to which even now a dead Hun is chained--riddled,
+unrecognisable.
+
+Here is an officer lying on his back, his knees doubled up, a revolver
+gripped in one hand, a weighted stick in the other. His face is black,
+so death was instantaneous. Out of the officer's pocket a letter
+protrudes--a letter to his wife. Perhaps he anticipated death before he
+started, for it was written the night before the advance--who knows?
+
+And it is when, in the soft half-light of the moon, one walks among
+these silent remnants, and no sound breaks the stillness save the noise
+of the shovels where men are digging their graves; when the guns are
+silent and only an occasional burst of rifle fire comes from away in
+front, where the great green flares go silently up into the night, that
+for a moment the human side comes home to one. One realises that though
+monster guns and minenwerfer and strange scientific devices be the paper
+money of this war, now as ever the standard coinage--the bed-rock gold
+of barter--is still man's life. The guns count much--but the man counts
+more.
+
+Take out his letter carefully--it will be posted later. Scratch him a
+grave, there's work to be done--much work, so hurry. His name has been
+sent in to headquarters--there's no time to waste. Easy, lads,
+easy--that's right--cover him up. A party of you over there and get on
+with that horse--_there's no time to waste_....
+
+But somewhere in England a telegraph boy comes whistling up the drive,
+and the woman catches her breath. With fingers that tremble she takes
+the buff envelope--with fearful eyes she opens the flimsy paper.
+Superbly she draws herself up--"There is no answer...."
+
+Lady, you are right. There is no answer, no answer this side of the
+Great Divide. Just now--with your aching eyes fixed on _his_ chair you
+face your God, and ask Why? He knows, dear woman, He knows, and in time
+it will all be clear--the why and the wherefore. Surely it must be so.
+
+But just now it's Hell, isn't it? You know so little: you couldn't help
+him at the end; he had to go into the Deep Waters alone. With the
+shrapnel screaming overhead he lies at peace, while above him it still
+goes on--the work of life and death: the work that brooks no delay. He
+is part of the Price....
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+THE MADNESS
+
+
+All the next day the battalion worked on the trenches. To men used to
+the water and slush of Ypres they came as a revelation--the trenches and
+dug-outs in the chalk district. Great caves had been hollowed out of the
+ground under the barbed wire in front, with two narrow shafts sloping
+steeply down from the trench to each, so small and narrow that you must
+crawl on hands and knees to get in or out. And up these shafts they
+hauled and pushed the dead Germans. Caught like rats, they had been
+gassed and bombed before they could get out, though some few had managed
+to crawl up after the assaulting battalions had passed over and to open
+fire on the supporting ones as they came up. Jim and his men threw them
+out to be buried at night, and they confined their attention during the
+day to building up the trenches and shifting the parapet round. German
+sandbags look like an assortment out of a cheap village draper's--pink
+and black and every kind of colour, but they hold earth, which is the
+main point. So with due care the battalion patted them into shape again
+and then took a little sleep.
+
+That night they moved on again. Now the first trench which they had
+occupied had been behind Loos, and there our new line was a mile away to
+their front on the side of a hill. The place they were now bound for was
+nothing like so peaceful. It was that part of the original German front
+where their old line marked the limit of our advance. We had not pushed
+on beyond it, and the fighting was continuous and bloody.
+
+Now without going into details, perhaps a few words of explanation might
+not be amiss. To many who may read them, they will seem as extracts from
+the "Child's Guide to Knowledge," or reminiscent of those great truths
+one learned at one's nurse's knee. But to some, who know nothing about
+it, they may be of use.
+
+When one occupies the German front line and the Hun has been driven into
+his second, the communication trenches which ran between are still
+there. The trenches which used to run to their rear now run to your
+front and are a link between you and the enemy. And as somewhat
+naturally their knowledge of the position is accurate and yours is
+sketchy, the situation is not all it might be. Moreover, as no
+communication trenches exist between the two old front lines--over what
+was No-man's-land--any reserves must come across the open, and should
+it be necessary to retire, a contingency which must always be faced, the
+retreat must be across the open as well.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+But when you're in a German redoubt, where the trenches would have put a
+maze to shame, the work of consolidating the position is urgent and
+difficult. Communication trenches to your front have to be reconnoitred
+and partially filled in; wire put up; Maxims arranged to shoot down
+straight lengths of trench; new trenches dug to the rear. Which is all
+right if the enemy is half a mile away, but when the distance is twenty
+yards, when without cessation he bombs you from unexpected quarters,
+your temper gets frayed.
+
+This type of fighting ceases to be impersonal. No longer do you throw
+bombs mechanically from one trench to another. No longer do you have no
+actual animosity against the men over the way. You understand the
+feelings of the guard when their German prisoners laughed on seeing men
+gassed--earlier in the war. And you realise that when a man's blood is
+up, you might just as well preach on the wickedness of retribution as
+request a man-eating tiger to postpone his dinner. The joy of killing a
+man you hate is wonderful; the unfortunate thing is that in these days,
+when far from leading to the hangman, it frequently leads to much kudos
+and a medal, so few of us have ever really had the opportunity....
+
+In the place where Jim found himself it was at such close quarters that
+bombs were the only possible weapon. For two days and two nights it went
+on. Little parties of Germans surged up unexpected openings, sometimes
+establishing themselves, sometimes fighting hand-to-hand in wet, sticky
+chalk. Then, unless they were driven out--bombers to the fore again: a
+series of sharp explosions, a dash round a traverse, a grunting,
+snarling set-to in the dark, and all would be over one way or the other.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Then one morning Jim's company got driven out of a forward piece of the
+trench they were holding. Worn out and tired, their faces grey with
+exhaustion, their clothes grey with chalk, heavy-eyed, unshaven, driven
+out by sheer weight of numbers and bombs, they fell back--those that
+remained--down a communication trench. But they were different men from
+the men who went into the place three days before; the primitive
+passions of man were rampant--they asked no mercy, they gave none. Back,
+after a short breather, they went, and when they won through by sheer
+bloody fighting, they found a thing which sent them tearing mad with
+rage. The wounded they had left behind had been bombed to death. The
+junior subaltern was pulled out of a corner by a traverse--mangled
+horribly--and he told Jim.
+
+"They packed us in here and between the next two or three traverses and
+lobbed bombs over," he whispered. And Jim swore horribly. "They're
+coming back," muttered the dying boy. "Listen."
+
+The next instant the Germans were at it again, and the fighting became
+like the fighting of wild beasts. Men stabbed and hacked and cursed;
+rifle butts cracked down on heads; triggers were pulled with the muzzle
+an inch from a man's face. And because the German face to face is no
+match for the English or French, in a short time there was peace, while
+men, panting like exhausted runners, bound up one another's scratches,
+and passed back the serious cases to the rear. They knew it was only a
+temporary respite, and while Jim eased the dying boy, they stacked bombs
+in heaps where they could get at them quickly. It was then that the
+German officer crawled out. Down some hole or other in a bomb recess he
+had hidden during the fight--and then, thinking his position dangerous,
+decided for peaceful capture. It was unfortunate for him the junior
+subaltern was still alive--but only Jim heard the whisper:
+
+"That's the man who told them to bomb us."
+
+"That's interesting," said Jim, and his face was white, while his eyes
+were red.
+
+Quietly he picked up a pick, and moved towards the German officer.
+Through the Huns who had come back again, fighting, stabbing, picking
+his way, Jim Denver moved relentlessly. And at last he reached
+him--reached him and laughed gently. The German sprang at him and Jim
+struck him with his fist; the German screamed for help, but there was
+none to help; every man was fighting grimly for his own life. Then still
+without a word he drove the pick.... Once again he laughed gently, and
+turned his mind to other things.
+
+For hours they hung on, bombing, shooting, at a yard's range, and in the
+forefront, cheering them, holding them, doing the work of ten, was Jim.
+His revolver ammunition was exhausted, his loaded stick was broken; his
+eyes had a look of madness: temporarily he was mad--mad with the lust of
+killing. It was almost the last bomb the Germans threw that took him,
+and that took him properly. But the remnant of his company who carried
+him back, when relief came up from the battalion, contained no one more
+cheery than him. As a fight they'll never have a better; and it's better
+to take it when the fighting is bloody, and it's man to man, than to
+stop a shrapnel at the estaminet two miles down the road. That isn't
+even grey--it's mottled; especially if the red wine is just coming....
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+THE GREY HOUSE AGAIN
+
+
+So they carried him home for the second time--back to the Land of
+Sanity: to the place where the noise of the water sounded ceaselessly
+over the rounded stones. And resting one afternoon on a sofa in the
+drawing-room Jim dozed.
+
+The door burst open, and Sybil came in. "Boy, do you see, they've given
+you a D.S.O. 'For conspicuous gallantry in holding up an almost isolated
+position for several hours against vastly superior numbers of the enemy.
+He was badly wounded just before relief came.'"
+
+Her eyes were shining. "Oh! my dear--I'm so proud of you! Do you
+remember saying it was a glorious madness?"
+
+Into his mind there flashed the picture of a German officer's
+face--distorted with terror--cringing: just as a pick came down....
+
+"Yes, girl, I remember," he answered softly. "I remember. But, thank
+God! I'm sane again now."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+And now I will ring down the curtain. For Jim Denver the black and white
+have gone; even the grey of the Land of Topsy Turvy is hazy and
+indistinct. The guns are silent: the men and the women are--sane.
+
+The shepherd is out of sight amongst the trees; the purple is changing
+to grey, the grey to black; there is no sound saving only the tireless
+murmur of the river....
+
+THE END
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Transcriber's Notes
+
+Herman Cyril McNeile was an officer in the Royal Engineers who
+published under the pseudonym "Sapper".
+
+Obvious punctuation errors repaired.
+
+Hyphen added: "bed[-]rock" (p. 303).
+
+Hyphen removed: "ward[-]room" (p. 167), "sand[-]bags" (p. 188),
+"stock[-]broker" (p. 265).
+
+The following words are inconsistently hyphenated but have not been
+changed: "dug[-]out", "half[-]way", "sand[-]bags", "sign[-]post",
+"super[-]human", "table[-]cloth".
+
+Page 291: "Panting Lizze" changed to "Panting Lizzie".
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Men, Women and Guns, by
+H. C. (Herman Cyril) McNeile
+
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