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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/4287-h.zip b/4287-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..279c933 --- /dev/null +++ b/4287-h.zip diff --git a/4287-h/4287-h.htm b/4287-h/4287-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b6da726 --- /dev/null +++ b/4287-h/4287-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,16887 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<HTML> +<HEAD> + +<META HTTP-EQUIV="Content-Type" CONTENT="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1"> + +<TITLE> +The Project Gutenberg E-text of The Red Planet, by William J. Locke +</TITLE> + +<STYLE TYPE="text/css"> +BODY { color: Black; + background: White; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; + text-align: justify } + +P {text-indent: 4% } + +P.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +P.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-size: small } + +P.letter {text-indent: 0%; + font-size: small ; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +P.footnote {font-size: small ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +P.transnote {font-size: small ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +P.intro {font-size: medium ; + text-indent: -5% ; + margin-left: 5% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +P.finis { font-size: larger ; + text-align: center ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +</STYLE> + +</HEAD> + +<BODY> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Red Planet, by William J. Locke + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Red Planet + +Author: William J. Locke + +Release Date: July, 2003 [EBook #4287] +First Posted: December 30, 2001 +Last Updated: September 3, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RED PLANET *** + + + + +Produced by Robert Rowe, Charles Franks and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team. HTML version by Al Haines. + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<BR><BR> + +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +THE RED PLANET +</H1> + +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +BY +</H3> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +WILLIAM J. LOCKE +</H2> + +<BR><BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +AUTHOR OF "THE WONDERFUL YEAR," "JAFFERY," <BR>"THE BELOVED VAGABOND," ETC. +</H4> + +<BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="poem" STYLE="margin-left: 20%"> + Not only over death strewn plains,<BR> + Fierce mid the cold white stars,<BR> + But over sheltered vales of home,<BR> + Hides the Red Planet Mars.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<TABLE ALIGN="center" WIDTH="80%"> +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="25%"> +<A HREF="#chap01">CHAPTER I</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="25%"> +<A HREF="#chap02">CHAPTER II</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="25%"> +<A HREF="#chap03">CHAPTER III</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="25%"> +<A HREF="#chap04">CHAPTER IV</A> +</TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap05">CHAPTER V</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap06">CHAPTER VI</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap07">CHAPTER VII</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap08">CHAPTER VIII</A> +</TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap09">CHAPTER IX</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap10">CHAPTER X</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap11">CHAPTER XI</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap12">CHAPTER XII</A> +</TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap13">CHAPTER XIII</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap14">CHAPTER XIV</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap15">CHAPTER XV</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap16">CHAPTER XVI</A> +</TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap17">CHAPTER XVII</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap18">CHAPTER XVIII</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap19">CHAPTER XIX</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap20">CHAPTER XX</A> +</TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap21">CHAPTER XXI</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap22">CHAPTER XXII</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap23">CHAPTER XXIII</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap24">CHAPTER XXIV</A> +</TD> +</TR> + +</TABLE> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap01"></A> +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +THE RED PLANET +</H1> + +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER I +</H3> + +<P> +"Lady Fenimore's compliments, sir, and will you be so kind as to step +round to Sir Anthony at once?" +</P> + +<P> +Heaven knows that never another step shall I take in this world again; +but Sergeant Marigold has always ignored the fact. That is one of the +many things I admire about Marigold. He does not throw my poor +paralysed legs, so to speak, in my face. He accepts them as the normal +equipment of an employer. I don't know what I should do without +Marigold.... You see we were old comrades in the South African War, +where we both got badly knocked to pieces. He was Sergeant in my +battery, and the same Boer shell did for both of us. At times we join +in cursing that shell heartily, but I am not sure that we do not hold +it in sneaking affection. It initiated us into the brotherhood of +death. Shortly afterwards when we had crossed the border-line back into +life, we exchanged, as tokens, bits of the shrapnel which they had +extracted from our respective carcases. I have not enquired what he did +with his bit; but I keep mine in a certain locked drawer.... There were +only the two of us left on the gun when we were knocked out.... I +should like to tell you the whole story, but you wouldn't listen to me. +And no wonder. In comparison with the present world convulsion in which +the slaughtered are reckoned by millions, the Boer War seems a trumpery +affair of bows and arrows. I am a back-number. Still, back-numbers have +their feelings—and their memories. +</P> + +<P> +I sometimes wonder, as I sit in this wheel-chair, with my abominable +legs dangling down helplessly, what Sergeant Marigold thinks of me. I +know what I think of Marigold. I think him the ugliest devil that God +ever created and further marred after creating him. He is a long, bony +creature like a knobbly ram-rod, and his face is about the colour and +shape of a damp, mildewed walnut. To hide a bald head into which a +silver plate has been fixed, he wears a luxuriant curly brown wig, like +those that used to adorn waxen gentlemen in hair-dressing windows. His +is one of those unhappy moustaches that stick out straight and scanty +like a cat's. He has the slit of a letter-box mouth of the Irishman in +caricature, and only half a dozen teeth spaced like a skeleton company. +Nothing will induce him to procure false ones. It is a matter of +principle. Between the wearing of false hair and the wearing of false +teeth he makes a distinction of unfathomable subtlety. He is an +obstinate beast. If he wasn't he would not, with four fingers of his +right hand shot away, have remained with me on that gun. In the same +way, neither tears nor entreaties nor abuse have induced him to wear a +glass eye. On high days and holidays, whenever he desires to look smart +and dashing, he covers the unpleasing orifice with a black shade. In +ordinary workaday life he cares not how much he offends the aesthetic +sense. But the other eye, the sound left eye, is a wonder—the precious +jewel set in the head of the ugly toad. It is large, of ultra-marine +blue, steady, fearless, humorous, tender—everything heroic and +beautiful and romantic you can imagine about eyes. Let him clap a hand +over that eye and you will hold him the most dreadful ogre that ever +escaped out of a fairy tale. Let him clap a hand over the other eye and +look full at you out of the good one and you will think him the +Knightliest man that ever was—and in my poor opinion, you would not be +far wrong. +</P> + +<P> +So, out of this nightmare of a face, the one beautiful eye of Sergeant +Marigold was bent on me, as he delivered his message. +</P> + +<P> +I thrust back my chair from the writing-table. +</P> + +<P> +"Is Sir Anthony ill?" +</P> + +<P> +"He rode by the gate an hour ago looking as well as either you or me, +sir." +</P> + +<P> +"That's not very reassuring," said I. +</P> + +<P> +Marigold did not take up the argument. "They've sent the car for you, +sir." +</P> + +<P> +"In that case," said I, "I'll start immediately." +</P> + +<P> +Marigold wheeled my chair out of the room and down the passage to the +hall, where he fitted me with greatcoat and hat. Then, having trundled +me to the front gate, he picked me up—luckily I have always been a +small spare man—and deposited me in the car. I am always nervous of +anyone but Marigold trying to carry me. They seem to stagger and fumble +and bungle. Marigold's arms close round me like an iron clamp and they +lift me with the mechanical certainty of a crane. +</P> + +<P> +He jumped up beside the chauffeur and we drove off. +</P> + +<P> +Perhaps when I get on a little further I may acquire the trick of +telling a story. At present I am baffled by the many things that +clamour for prior record. Before bringing Sir Anthony on the scene, I +feel I ought to say something more about myself, to explain why Lady +Fenimore should have sent for me in so peremptory a fashion. Following +the model of my favourite author Balzac—you need the awful leisure +that has been mine to appreciate him—I ought to describe the house in +which I live, my establishment—well, I have begun with Sergeant +Marigold—and the little country town which is practically the scene of +the drama in which were involved so many bound to me by close ties of +friendship and affection. +</P> + +<P> +I ought to explain how I come to be writing this at all. +</P> + +<P> +Well, to fill in my time, I first started by a diary—a sort of War +Diary of Wellingsford, the little country town in question. Then things +happened with which my diary was inadequate to cope. Everyone came and +told me his or her side of the story. All through, I found thrust upon +me the parts of father-confessor, intermediary, judge, advocate, and +conspirator.... For look you, what kind of a life can a man lead +situated as I am? The crowning glory of my days, my wife, is dead. I +have neither chick nor child. No brothers or sisters, dead or alive. +The Bon Dieu and Sergeant Marigold (the latter assisted by his wife and +a maid or two) look after my creature comforts. What have I in the +world to do that is worth doing save concern myself with my country and +my friends? +</P> + +<P> +With regard to my country, in these days of war, I do what I can. Until +finally flattened out by the War Office, I pestered them for such +employment as a cripple might undertake. As an instance of what a +paralytic was capable I quoted Couthon, member of the National +Convention and the Committee of Public Safety. You can see his chair, +not very unlike mine, in the Musee Carnavalet in Paris. Perhaps that is +where I blundered. The idea of a shrieking revolutionary in Whitehall +must have sent a cold shiver down their spines. In the meanwhile, I +serve on as many War Committees in Wellingsford as is physically +possible for Sergeant Marigold to get me into. I address recruiting +meetings. I have taken earnest young Territorial artillery officers in +courses of gunnery. You know they work with my own beloved old fifteen +pounders, brought up to date with new breeches, recoils, shields, and +limbers. For months there was a brigade in Wellings Park, and I used to +watch their drill. I was like an old actor coming once again before the +footlights.... Of course it was only in the mathematics of the business +that I could be of any help, and doubtless if the War Office had heard +of the goings on in my study, they would have dropped severely on all +of us. Still, I taught them lots of things about parabolas that they +did not know and did not know were to be known—things that, +considering the shells they fired went in parabolas, ought certainly to +be known by artillery officers; so I think, in this way, I have done a +little bit for my country. +</P> + +<P> +With regard to my friends, God has given me many in this quiet market +town—once a Sleepy Hollow awakened only on Thursdays by bleating sheep +and lowing cattle and red-faced men in gaiters and hard felt hats; its +life flowing on drowsily as the gaudily painted barges that are towed +on the canal towards which, in scattered buildings, it drifts +aimlessly; a Sleepy Hollow with one broad High Street, melting +gradually at each end through shops, villas, cottages, into the King's +Highway, yet boasting in its central heart a hundred yards or so of +splendour, where the truculent new red brick Post Office sneers across +the flagged market square at the new Portland-stone Town Hall, while +the old thatched corn-market sleeps in the middle and the Early English +spire of the Norman church dreams calmly above them. Once, I say, a +Sleepy Hollow, but now alive with the tramp of soldiers and the rumble +of artillery and transport; for Wellingsford is the centre of a +district occupied by a division, which means twenty thousand men of all +arms, and the streets and roads swarm with men in khaki, and troops are +billeted in all the houses. The War has changed many aspects, but not +my old friendships. I had made a home here during my soldiering days, +long before the South African War, my wife being a kinswoman of Sir +Anthony, and so I have grown into the intimacy of many folks around. +And, as they have been more than good to me, surely I must give them of +my best in the way of sympathy and counsel. So it is in no spirit of +curiosity that I have pried into my friends' affairs. They have become +my own, very vitally my own; and this book is a record of things as I +know them to have happened. +</P> + +<P> +My name is Meredyth, with a "Y," as my poor mother used proudly to say, +though what advantage a "Y" has over an "I," save that of a swaggering +tail, I have always been at a loss to determine; Major Duncan Meredyth, +late R.F.A., aged forty-seven; and I live in a comfortable little house +at the extreme north end of the High Street, standing some way back +from the road; so that in fine weather I can sit in my front garden and +watch everybody going into the town. And whenever any of my friends +pass by, it is their kindly habit to cast an eye towards my gate, and, +if I am visible, to pass the time of day with me for such time as they +can spare. +</P> + +<P> +Years ago, when first I realised what would be my fate for the rest of +my life, I nearly broke my heart. But afterwards, whether owing to the +power of human adaptability or to the theory of compensation, I grew to +disregard my infirmity. By building a series of two or three rooms on +to the ground floor of the house, so that I could live in it without +the need of being carried up and down stairs, and by acquiring skill in +the manipulation of my tricycle chair, I can get about the place pretty +much as I choose. And Marigold is my second self. So, in spite of the +sorrow and grief incident to humanity of which God has given me my +share, I feel that my lot is cast in pleasant places and I am thankful. +</P> + +<P> +The High Street, towards its southern extremity, takes a sudden bend, +forming what the French stage directions call a pan coupe. On the inner +angle are the gates of Wellings Park, the residence of Sir Anthony +Fenimore, third baronet, and the most considerable man in our little +community. Through these gates the car took me and down the long avenue +of chestnut trees, the pride of a district braggart of its chestnuts +and its beeches, but now leafless and dreary, spreading out an infinite +tracery of branch and twig against a grey February sky. Thence we +emerged into the open of rolling pasture and meadow on the highest +ground of which the white Georgian house was situated. As we neared the +house I shivered, not only with the cold, but with a premonition of +disaster. For why should Lady Fenimore have sent for me to see Sir +Anthony, when he, strong and hearty, could have sent for me himself, +or, for the matter of that, could have visited me at my own home? The +house looked stark and desolate. And when we drew up at the front door +and Pardoe, the elderly butler, appeared, his face too looked stark and +desolate. +</P> + +<P> +Marigold lifted me out and carried me up the steps and put me into a +chair like my own which the Fenimores have the goodness to keep in a +hall cupboard for my use. +</P> + +<P> +"What's the matter, Pardoe?" I asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Sir Anthony and her ladyship will tell you, sir. They're in the +morning room." +</P> + +<P> +So I was shewn into the morning room—a noble square room with French +windows, looking on to the wintry garden, and with a log fire roaring +up a great chimney. On one side of the fire sat Sir Anthony, and on the +other, Lady Fenimore. And both were crying. He rose as he saw me—a +short, crop-haired, clean-shaven, ruddy, jockey-faced man of +fifty-five, the corners of his thin lips, usually curled up in a cheery +smile, now piteously drawn down, and his bright little eyes now dim +like those of a dead bird. She, buxom, dark, without a grey hair in her +head, a fine woman defying her years, buried her face in her hands and +sobbed afresh. +</P> + +<P> +"It's good of you to come, old man," said Sir Anthony, "but you're in +it with us." +</P> + +<P> +He handed me a telegram. I knew, before reading it, what message it +contained. I had known, all along, but dared not confess it to myself. +</P> + +<P> +"I deeply regret to inform you that your son, Lieutenant Oswald +Fenimore, was killed in action yesterday while leading his men with the +utmost gallantry." +</P> + +<P> +I had known him since he was a child. By reason of my wife's kinship, I +was "Uncle Duncan." He was just one and twenty, but a couple of years +out of Sandhurst. Only a week before I had received an exuberant letter +from him extolling his men as "super-devil-angels," and imploring me if +I loved him and desired to establish the supremacy of British arms, to +send him some of Mrs. Marigold's potted shrimp. +</P> + +<P> +And now, there he was dead; and, if lucky, buried with a little wooden +cross with his name rudely inscribed, marking his grave. +</P> + +<P> +I reached out my hand. +</P> + +<P> +"My poor old Anthony!" +</P> + +<P> +He jerked his head and glance towards his wife and wheeled me to her +side, so that I could put my hand on her shoulder. +</P> + +<P> +"It's bitter hard, Edith, but—" +</P> + +<P> +"I know, I know. But all the same—" +</P> + +<P> +"Well, damn it all!" cried Sir Anthony, in a quavering voice, "he died +like a man and there's nothing more to be said." +</P> + +<P> +Presently he looked at his watch. +</P> + +<P> +"By George," said he, "I've only just time to get to my Committee." +</P> + +<P> +"What Committee?" I asked. +</P> + +<P> +"The Lord Lieutenant's. I promised to take the chair." +</P> + +<P> +For the first time Lady Fenimore lifted her stricken face. +</P> + +<P> +"Are you going, Anthony?" +</P> + +<P> +"The boy didn't shirk his duty. Why should I?" +</P> + +<P> +She looked at him squarely and the most poignant simulacrum of a smile +I have ever seen flitted over her lips. +</P> + +<P> +"Why not, darling? Duncan will keep me company till you come back." +</P> + +<P> +He kissed his wife, a trifle more demonstratively than he had ever done +in alien presence, and with a nod at me, went out of the room. +</P> + +<P> +And suddenly she burst into sobbing again. +</P> + +<P> +"I know it's wrong and wicked and foolish," she said brokenly. "But I +can't help it. Oh, God! I can't help it." +</P> + +<P> +Then, like an ass, I began to cry, too; for I loved the boy, and that +perhaps helped her on a bit. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap02"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER II +</H3> + +<P> +Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori. The tag has been all but outworn +during these unending days of death; it has become almost a cant phrase +which the judicious shrink from using. Yet to hundreds of thousands of +mourning men and women there has been nothing but its truth to bring +consolation. They are conscious of the supreme sacrifice and thereby +are ennobled. The cause in which they made it becomes more sacred. The +community of grief raises human dignity. In England, at any rate, there +are no widows of Ashur. All are silent in their lamentations. You see +little black worn in the public ways. The Fenimores mourned for their +only son, the idol of their hearts; but the manifestation of their +grief was stoical compared with their unconcealed desolation on the +occasion of a tragedy that occurred the year before. +</P> + +<P> +Towards the end of the preceding June their only daughter, Althea, had +been drowned in the canal. Here was a tragedy unrelieved, stupid, +useless. Here was no consoling knowledge of glorious sacrifice; no +dying for one's country. There was no dismissing it with a heroic word +that caught in the throat. +</P> + +<P> +I have not started out to write this little chronicle of Wellingsford +in order to weep over the pain of the world. God knows there is in it +an infinity of beauty, fresh revelations of which are being every day +unfolded before my eyes. +</P> + +<P> +If I did not believe with all my soul that out of Darkness cometh +Light, I would take my old service revolver from its holster and blow +out my brains this very minute. The eternal laughter of the earth has +ever since its creation pierced through the mist of tears in which at +times it has been shrouded. What has been will be. Nay, more, what has +been shall be. It is the Law of what I believe to be God.... As a +concrete instance, where do you find a fuller expression of the divine +gaiety of the human spirit than in the Houses of Pain, strewn the +length and breadth of the land, filled with maimed and shattered men +who have looked into the jaws of Hell? If it comes to that, I have +looked into them myself, and have heard the heroic jests of men who +looked with me. +</P> + +<P> +For some years up to the outbreak of the war which has knocked all +so-called modern values silly, my young friends, with a certain +respectful superciliousness, regarded me as an amiable person +hopelessly out of date. Now that we are at grip with elementals, I find +myself, if anything, in advance of the fashion. This, however, by the +way. What I am clumsily trying to explain is that if I am to make this +story intelligible I must start from the darkness where its roots lie +hidden. And that darkness is the black depths of the canal by the lock +gates where Althea Fenimore's body was found. +</P> + +<P> +It was high June, in leafy England, in a world at peace. Can one +picture it? With such a wrench of memory does one recall scenes of +tender childhood. In the shelter of a stately house lived Althea +Fenimore. She was twenty-one; pretty, buxom, like her mother, modern, +with (to me) a pathetic touch of mid-Victorian softness and +sentimentality; independent in outward action, what we call "open-air"; +yet an anomaly, fond at once of games and babies. I have seen her in +the morning tearing away across country by the side of her father, the +most passionate and reckless rider to hounds in the county, and in the +evening I have come across her, a pretty mass of pink flesh and +muslin—no, it can't be muslin—say chiffon—anyhow, something white +and filmy and girlish—curled up on a sofa and absorbed in a novel of +Mrs. Henry Wood, borrowed, if one could judge by the state of its +greasy brown paper cover, from the servants' hall. I confess that, +though to her as to her brother I was "Uncle Duncan," and loved her as +a dear, sweet English girl, I found her lacking in spirituality, in +intellectual grasp, in emotional distinction. I should have said that +she was sealed by God to be the chaste, healthy, placid mother of men. +She was forever laughing—just the spontaneous laughter of the gladness +of life. +</P> + +<P> +On the last afternoon of her existence she came to see me, bringing me +a basket of giant strawberries from her own particular bed. We had tea +in the garden, and with her young appetite she consumed half the fruit +she had brought. At the time I did not notice an unusual touch of +depression. I remember her holding by its stalk a great half-eaten +strawberry and asking me whether sometimes I didn't find life rather +rotten. I said idly: +</P> + +<P> +"You can't expect the world to be a peach without a speck on it. Of +such is the Kingdom of Heaven. The wise person avoids the specks." +</P> + +<P> +"But suppose you've bitten a specky bit by accident?" +</P> + +<P> +"Spit it out," said I. +</P> + +<P> +She laughed. "You think you're like the wise Uncle in the Sunday School +books, don't you?" +</P> + +<P> +"I know I am," I said. +</P> + +<P> +Whereupon she laughed again, finished the strawberry, and changed the +conversation. +</P> + +<P> +There seemed to be no foreshadowing of tragedy in that. I had known her +(like many of her kind) to proclaim the rottenness of the Universe when +she was off her stroke at golf, or when a favourite young man did not +appear at a dance. I attributed no importance to it. But the next day I +remembered. What was she doing after half-past ten o'clock, when she +had bidden her father and mother goodnight, on the steep and lonely +bank of the canal, about a mile and a half away? No one had seen her +leave the house. No one, apparently, had seen her walking through the +town. Nothing was known of her until dawn when they found her body by +the lock gate. She had been dead some hours. It was a mysterious +affair, upon which no light was thrown at the inquest. No one save +myself had observed any sign of depression, and her half-bantering talk +with me was trivial enough. No one could adduce a reason for her +midnight walk on the tow-path. The obvious question arose. Whom had she +gone forth to meet? What man? There was not a man in the neighbourhood +with whom her name could be particularly associated. Generally, it +could be associated with a score or so. The modern young girl of her +position and upbringing has a drove of young male intimates. With one +she rides, with another she golfs, with another she dances a two-step, +with another she Bostons; she will let Tom read poetry to her, +although, as she expresses it, "he bores her stiff," because her sex +responds to the tribute; she plays lady patroness to Dick, and tries to +intrigue him into a soft job; and as for Harry she goes on telling him +month after month that unless he forswears sack and lives cleanly she +will visit him with her high displeasure. Meanwhile, most of these +satellites have affaires de coeur of their own, some respectable, +others not; they regard the young lady with engaging frankness as a +woman and a sister, they have the run of her father's house, and would +feel insulted if anybody questioned the perfect correctness of their +behaviour. Each man has, say, half a dozen houses where he is welcomed +on the same understanding. Of course, when one particular young man and +one particular young woman read lunatic things in each other's eyes, +then the rest of the respective quasi-sisters and quasi-brothers have +to go hang. (In parenthesis, I may state that the sisters are more +ruthlessly sacrificed than the brothers.) At any rate, frankness is the +saving quality of the modern note. +</P> + +<P> +In the case of Althea, there had been no sign of such specialisation. +She could not have gone forth, poor child, to meet the twenty with whom +she was known to be on terms of careless comradeship. She had gone from +her home, driven by God knows what impulse, to walk in the +starlight—there was no moon—along the banks of the canal. In the +darkness, had she missed her footing and stepped into nothingness and +the black water? The Coroner's Jury decided the question in the +affirmative. They brought in a verdict of death by misadventure. And up +to the date on which I begin this little Chronicle of Wellingsford, +namely that of the summons to Wellings Park, when I heard of the death +of young Oswald Fenimore, that is all I knew of the matter. +</P> + +<P> +Throughout July my friends were like dead people. There was nothing +that could be said to them by way of consolation. The sun had gone out +of their heaven. There was no light in the world. Having known Death as +a familiar foe, and having fought against its terrors; having only by +the grace of God been able to lift up a man's voice in my hour of awful +bereavement, and cry, "O Death, where is thy sting, O Grave, thy +Victory?" I could suffer with them and fear for their reason. They +lived in a state of coma, unaware of life, performing, like automata, +their daily tasks. +</P> + +<P> +Then, in the early days of August, came the Trumpet of War, and they +awakened. In my life have I seen nothing so marvellous. No broken spell +of enchantment in an Arabian tale when dead warriors spring into life +was ever more instant and complete. They arose in their full vigour; +the colour came back to their cheeks and the purpose into their eyes. +They laughed once more. Their days were filled with work and +cheerfulness. In November Sir Anthony was elected Mayor. Being a +practical, hard-headed little man, loved and respected by everybody, he +drove a hitherto contentious Town Council into paths of high patriotism +like a flock of sheep. And no less energy did Lady Fenimore exhibit in +the sphere of her own activities. +</P> + +<P> +A few days after the tidings came of Oswald's death, Sir Anthony was +riding through the town and pulled up before Perkins' the fishmonger's. +Perkins emerged from his shop and crossed the pavement. +</P> + +<P> +"I hear you've had bad news." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, indeed, Sir Anthony." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm sorry. He was a fine fellow. So was my boy. We're in the same +boat, Perkins." +</P> + +<P> +Perkins assented. "It sort of knocks one's life to bits, doesn't it?" +said he. "We've nothing left." +</P> + +<P> +"We have our country." +</P> + +<P> +"Our country isn't our only son," said the other dully. +</P> + +<P> +"No. She's our mother," said Sir Anthony. +</P> + +<P> +"Isn't that a kind of abstraction?" +</P> + +<P> +"Abstraction!" cried Sir Anthony, indignantly. "You must be imbibing +the notions of that poisonous beast Gedge." +</P> + +<P> +Gedge was a smug, socialistic, pacifist builder who did not hold with +war—and with this one least of all, which he maintained was being +waged for the exclusive benefit of the capitalist classes. In the eyes +of the stalwarts of Wellingsford, he was a horrible fellow, capable of +any stratagem or treason. +</P> + +<P> +Perkins flushed. "I've always voted conservative, like my father before +me, Sir Anthony, and like yourself I've given my boy to my country. +I've no dealings with unpatriotic people like Gedge, as you know very +well." +</P> + +<P> +"Of course I do," cried Sir Anthony. "And that's why I ask you what the +devil you mean by calling England an abstraction. For us, she's the +only thing in the world. We're elderly chaps, you and I, Perkins, and +the only thing we can do to help her is to keep our heads high. If +people like you and me crumple up, the British Empire will crumple up." +</P> + +<P> +"That's quite true," said Perkins. +</P> + +<P> +Sir Anthony bent down and held out his hand. +</P> + +<P> +"It's damned hard lines for us, and for the women. But we must keep our +end up. It's doing our bit." +</P> + +<P> +Perkins wrung his hand. "I wish to God," said he, "I was young enough—" +</P> + +<P> +"By God! so do I!" said Sir Anthony. +</P> + +<P> +This little conversation (which I afterwards verified) was reported to +me by my arch-gossip, Sergeant Marigold. +</P> + +<P> +"And I tell you what, sir," said he after the conclusion, "I'm of the +same way of thinking and feeling." +</P> + +<P> +"So am I." +</P> + +<P> +"Besides, I'm not so old, sir. I'm only forty-two." +</P> + +<P> +"The prime of life," said I. +</P> + +<P> +"Then why won't they take me, sir?" +</P> + +<P> +If there had been no age limit and no medical examination Marigold +would have re-enlisted as John Smith, on the outbreak of war, without a +moment's consideration of the position of his wife and myself. And Mrs. +Marigold, a soldier's wife of twenty years' standing, would have taken +it, just like myself, as a matter of course. But as he could not +re-enlist, he pestered the War Office (just as I did) and I pestered +for him to give him military employment. And all in vain. +</P> + +<P> +"Why don't they take me, sir? When I see these fellows with three +stripes on their arms, and looking at them and wondering at them as if +they were struck three stripes by lightning, and calling themselves +Sergeants and swanking about and letting their men waddle up to their +gun like cows—and when I see them, as I've done with your eyes—watch +one of their men pass by an officer in the street without saluting, and +don't kick the blighter to—to—to barracks—it fairly makes me sick. +And I ask myself, sir, what I've done that I should be loafing here +instead of serving my country." +</P> + +<P> +"You've somehow mislaid an eye and a hand and gone and got a tin head. +That's what you've done," said I. "And the War Office has a mark +against you as a damned careless fellow." +</P> + +<P> +"Tin head or no tin head," he grumbled, "I could teach those mother's +darlings up there the difference between a battery of artillery and a +skittle-ally." +</P> + +<P> +"I believe you've mentioned the matter to them already," I observed +softly. +</P> + +<P> +Marigold met my eye for a second and then looked rather sheepish. I had +heard of a certain wordy battle between him and a Territorial Sergeant +whom he had set out to teach. Marigold encountered a cannonade of +blasphemous profanity, new, up-to-date, scientific, against which the +time-worn expletives in use during his service days were ineffectual. +He was routed with heavy loss. +</P> + +<P> +"This is a war of the young," I continued. "New men, new guns, new +notions. Even a new language," I insinuated. +</P> + +<P> +"I wish 'em joy of their language," said Marigold. Then seeing that I +was mildly amusing myself at his expense, he asked me stiffly if there +was anything more that he could do for me, and on my saying no, he +replied "Thank you, sir," most correctly and left the room. +</P> + +<P> +On the 3d of March Betty Fairfax came to tea. +</P> + +<P> +Of all the young women of Wellingsford she was my particular favourite. +She was so tall and straight, with a certain Rosalind boyishness about +her that made for charm. I am not yet, thank goodness, one of the +fossils who hold up horror-stricken hands at the independent ways of +the modern young woman. If it were not for those same independent ways +the mighty work that English women are doing in this war would be left +undone. Betty Fairfax was breezily independent. She had a little money +of her own and lived, when it suited her, with a well-to-do and +comfortable aunt. She was two and twenty. I shall try to tell you more +about her, as I go on. +</P> + +<P> +As I have said, and as my diary tells me, she came to tea on the 3d of +March. She was looking particularly attractive that afternoon. Shaded +lamps and the firelight of a cosy room, with all their soft shadows, +give a touch of mysterious charm to a pretty girl. Her jacket had a +high sort of Medici collar edged with fur, which set off her shapely +throat. The hair below her hat was soft and brown. Her brows were wide, +her eyes brown and steady, nose and lips sensitive. She had a way of +throwing back her head and pointing her chin fearlessly, as though in +perpetual declaration that she cared not a hang either for +black-beetles or Germans. And she was straight as a dart, with the +figure of a young Diana—Diana before she began to worry her head about +beauty competitions. A kind of dark hat stuck at a considerable angle +on her head gave her the prettiest little swaggering air in the +world.... Well, there was I, a small, brown, withered, grizzled, +elderly, mustachioed monkey, chained to my wheel-chair; there were the +brave logs blazing up the wide chimney; there was the tea table on my +right with its array of silver and old china; and there, on the other +side of it, attending to my wants, sat as brave and sweet a type of +young English womanhood as you could find throughout the length and +breadth of the land. Had I not been happy, I should have been an +ungrateful dog. +</P> + +<P> +We talked of the war, of local news, of the wounded at the hospital. +</P> + +<P> +And here I must say that we are very proud of our Wellingsford +Hospital. It is the largest and the wealthiest in the county. We owe it +to the uneasy conscience of a Wellingsford man, a railway speculator in +the forties, who, having robbed widows and orphans and, after trial at +the Old Bailey, having escaped penal servitude by the skin of his +teeth, died in the odour of sanctity, and the possessor of a colossal +fortune in the year eighteen sixty-three. This worthy gentleman built +the hospital and endowed it so generously that a wing of it has been +turned into a military hospital with forty beds. I have the honour to +serve on the Committee. Betty Fairfax entered as a Probationer early in +September, and has worked there night and day ever since. That is why +we chatted about the wounded. Having a day off, she had indulged in the +luxury of pretty clothes. Of these I had duly expressed my admiration. +</P> + +<P> +Tea over, she lit a cigarette for me and one for herself and drew her +chair a trifle nearer the fire. After a little knitting of the brow, +she said:— +</P> + +<P> +"You haven't asked me why I invited myself to tea." +</P> + +<P> +"I thought," said I, "it was for my beaux yeux." +</P> + +<P> +"Not this time. I rather wanted you to be the first to receive a +certain piece of information." +</P> + +<P> +I glanced at her sharply. "You don't mean to say you're going to be +married at last?" +</P> + +<P> +In some astonishment she retorted:— +</P> + +<P> +"How did you guess?" +</P> + +<P> +"Holy simplicity!" said I. "You told me so yourself." +</P> + +<P> +She laughed. Suddenly, on reflection, her face changed. +</P> + +<P> +"Why did you say 'at last'?" +</P> + +<P> +"Well—" said I, with a significant gesture. +</P> + +<P> +She made a defiant announcement:— +</P> + +<P> +"I am going to marry Willie Connor." +</P> + +<P> +It was my turn to be astonished. "Captain Connor?" I echoed. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. What have you to say against him?" +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing, my dear, nothing." +</P> + +<P> +And I hadn't. He was an exemplary young fellow, a Captain in a +Territorial regiment that had been in hard training in the +neighbourhood since August. He was of decent family and upbringing, a +barrister by profession, and a comely pink-faced boy with a fair +moustache. He brought a letter or two of introduction, was billeted on +Mrs. Fairfax, together with one of his subs, and was made welcome at +various houses. Living under the same roof as Betty, it was natural +that he should fall in love with her. But it was not at all natural +that she should fall in love with him. She was not one of the kind that +suffer fools gladly.... No; I had nothing against Willie Connor. He was +merely a common-place, negative young man; patriotic, keen in his work, +an excellent soldier, and, as far as I knew, of blameless life; but +having met him two or three times in general company, I had found him a +dull dog, a terribly dull dog,—the last man in the world for Betty +Fairfax. +</P> + +<P> +And then there was Leonard Boyce. I naturally had him in my head, when +I used the words "at last." +</P> + +<P> +"You don't seem very enthusiastic," said Betty. +</P> + +<P> +"You've taken me by surprise," said I. "I'm not young enough to be +familiar with these sudden jerks." +</P> + +<P> +"You thought it was Major Boyce." +</P> + +<P> +"I did, Betty. True, you've said nothing about it to me for ever so +long, and when I have asked you for news of him your answers have +shewed me that all was not well. But you've never told me, or anyone, +that the engagement was broken off." +</P> + +<P> +Her young face was set sternly as she looked into the fire. +</P> + +<P> +"It's not broken off—in the formal sense. Leonard thought fit to let +it dwindle, and it has dwindled until it has perished of inanition." +She flashed round. "I'm not the sort to ask any man for explanations." +</P> + +<P> +"Boyce went out with the first lot in August," I said. "He has had +seven awful months. Mons and all the rest of it. You must excuse a man +in the circumstances for not being aux petits soins des dames. And he +seems to be doing magnificently—twice mentioned in dispatches." +</P> + +<P> +"I know all that," she said. "I'm not a fool. But the war has nothing +to do with it. It started a month before the war broke out. Don't let +us talk of it." +</P> + +<P> +She threw the end of her cigarette into the fire and lit a fresh one. I +accepted the action as symbolical. I dismissed Boyce, and said:— +</P> + +<P> +"And so you're engaged to Captain Connor?" +</P> + +<P> +"More than that," she laughed. "I'm going to marry him. He's going out +next week. It's idiotic to have an engagement. So I'm going to marry +him the day after to-morrow." +</P> + +<P> +Now here was a piece of news, all flung at my head in a couple of +minutes. The day after to-morrow! I asked for the reason of this +disconcerting suddenness. +</P> + +<P> +"He's going out next week." +</P> + +<P> +"My dear," said I, "I have known you for a very long time—and I +suppose it's because I'm such a very old friend that you've come to +tell me all about it. So I can talk to you frankly. Have you considered +the terrible chances of this war? Heaven knows what may happen. He may +be killed." +</P> + +<P> +"That's why I'm marrying him," she said. +</P> + +<P> +There was a little pause. For the moment I had nothing to say, as I was +busily searching for her point of view. Then, with pauses between each +sentence, she went on:— +</P> + +<P> +"He asked me two months ago, and again a month ago. I told him to put +such ideas out of his head. Yesterday he told me they were off to the +front and said what a wonderful help it would be to him if he could +carry away some hope of my love. So I gave it to him."—She threw back +her head and looked at me, with flushed cheeks. "The love, not the +hope." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't think it was right of him to press for an immediate marriage," +said I, in a grandfatherly way—though God knows if I had been mad for +a girl I should have done the same myself when I was young. +</P> + +<P> +"He didn't" said Betty, coolly. "It was all my doing. I fixed it up +there and then. Looked up Whitaker's Almanack for the necessary +information, and sent him off to get a special license." +</P> + +<P> +I nodded a non-committal head. It all seemed rather mad. Betty rose and +from her graceful height gazed down on me. +</P> + +<P> +"If you don't look more cheerful, Major, I shall cry. I've never done +so yet, but I'm sure I've got it in me." +</P> + +<P> +I stretched out my hand. She took it, and, still holding it, seated +herself on a footstool close to my chair. +</P> + +<P> +"There are such a lot of things that occur to me," I said. "Things that +your poor mother, if she were alive, would be more fitted to touch on +than myself." +</P> + +<P> +"Such as—" +</P> + +<P> +She knelt by me and gave me both her hands. It was a pretty way she +had. She had begun it soon after her head overtopped mine in my eternal +wheelbarrow. There was a little mockery in her eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Well—" said I. "You know what marriage means. There is the question +of children." +</P> + +<P> +She broke into frank laughter. +</P> + +<P> +"My darling Majy—" That is the penalty one pays for admitting +irresponsible modern young people into one's intimacy. They miscall one +abominably. I thought she had outgrown this childish, though +affectionate appellation of disrespect. "My darling Majy!" she said. +"Children! How many do you think I'm going to have?" +</P> + +<P> +I was taken aback. There was this pure, proud, laughing young face a +foot away from me. I said in desperation:— +</P> + +<P> +"You know very well what I mean, young woman. I want to put things +clearly before you—" It is the most difficult thing in the world for a +man—even without legs—to talk straight about the facts of life to a +young girl. He has no idea how much she knows about them and how much +she doesn't. To tear away veils and reveal frightening starkness is an +act from which he shrinks with all the modesty of a (perhaps) deluded +sex. I took courage. "I want," I repeated, "to put things clearly +before you. You are marrying this young man. You will have a week's +married life. He goes away like a gallant fellow to fight for his +country. He may be killed in the course of the next few weeks. Like a +brave girl you've got to face it. In the course of time a child may be +born—without a father to look after him. It's a terrific +responsibility." +</P> + +<P> +She knelt upright and put both her hands on my shoulders, almost +embracing me, and the laughter died away from her eyes, giving place to +something which awakened memories of what I had seen once or twice in +the eyes of the dearest of all women. She put her face very close to +mine and whispered: +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you see, dear, it's in some sort of way because of that? Don't +you think it would be awful for a strong, clean, brave English life +like his to go out without leaving behind him someone to—well, you +know what I mean—to carry on the same traditions—to be the same clean +brave Englishman in the future?" +</P> + +<P> +I smiled and nodded. Quite a different kind of nod from the previous +one. +</P> + +<P> +"Thousands of girls are doing it, you dear old Early Victorian, and +aren't ashamed to say so to those who really love and can understand +them. And you do love and understand, don't you?" +</P> + +<P> +She set me off at arm's length, and held me with her bright unflinching +eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"I do, my dear," said I. "But there's only one thing that troubles me. +Marriage is a lifelong business. Captain Connor may win through to a +green old age. I hope to God the gallant fellow will. Your present +motives are beautiful and heroic. But do you care for him sufficiently +to pass a lifetime with him—after the war—an ordinary, commonplace +lifetime?" +</P> + +<P> +With the same clear gaze full on me she said:— +</P> + +<P> +"Didn't I tell you that I had given him my love?" +</P> + +<P> +"You did." +</P> + +<P> +"Then," she retorted with a smile, "my dear Major Didymus, what more do +you want?" +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing, my dear Betty." +</P> + +<P> +I kissed her. She threw her arms round my neck and kissed me again. +Sergeant Marigold entered on the sentimental scene and preserved a face +of wood. Betty rose to her feet slowly and serenely and smiled at +Marigold. +</P> + +<P> +"Miss Fairfax's car," he announced. +</P> + +<P> +"Marigold," said I, "Miss Fairfax is going to be married the day after +to-morrow to Captain Connor of the—" +</P> + +<P> +"I know, sir," interrupted my one-eyed ramrod. "I'm very glad, if I may +be permitted to say so, Miss. I've made it my duty to inspect all the +troops that have been quartered hereabouts during the last eight +months. And Captain Connor is one of the few that really know their +business. I shouldn't at all mind to serve under him. I can't say more, +Miss. I wish you happiness." +</P> + +<P> +She flushed and laughed and looked adorable, and held out her hand, +which he enclosed in his great left fist. +</P> + +<P> +"And you'll come to my wedding, Sergeant?" +</P> + +<P> +"I will, Miss," said he. "With considerable pleasure." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap03"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER III +</H3> + +<P> +When I want to shew how independent I am of everybody, I drive abroad +in my donkey carriage. I am rather proud of my donkey, a lithe-limbed +pathetically eager little beast, deep bay with white tips to his ears. +Marigold bought him for me last spring, from some gipsies, when his +predecessor, Dan, who had served me faithfully for some years, struck +work and insisted on an old-age pension. He is called Hosea, a name +bestowed on him, by way of clerical joke, and I am sure with a profane +reminiscence of Jorrocks, by the Vicar, because he "came after Daniel." +At first I thought it rather silly; but when I tried to pull him up I +found that "Whoa-Ho-sea!" came in rather pat; so Hosea he has remained. +He has quite a fast, stylish little trot, and I can square my elbows +and cock my head on one side as I did in the days of my youth when the +brief ownership of a tandem and a couple of thoroughbreds would have +landed me in the bankruptcy court, had it not mercifully first landed +me in the hospital. +</P> + +<P> +The afternoon after Betty's visit, I took Hosea to Wellings Park. The +Fenimores shewed me a letter they had received from Oswald's Colonel, +full of praise of the gallant boy, and after discussing it, which they +did with brave eyes and voices, Sir Anthony said:— +</P> + +<P> +"I want your advice, Duncan, on a matter that has been worrying us +both. Briefly it is this. When Oswald came of age I promised to allow +him a thousand a year till I should be wiped out and he should come in. +Now I'm only fifty-five and as strong as a horse. I can reasonably +expect to live, say, another twenty years. If Oswald were alive I +should owe him, in prospectu, twenty thousand pounds. He has given his +life for his country. His country, therefore, is his heir, comes in for +his assets, his twenty years' allowance—" +</P> + +<P> +"And the whole of your estate at your death?" I interposed. +</P> + +<P> +"No. Not at all," said he. "At my death, it would have been his to +dispose of as he pleased. Up to my death, he would have had no more +claim to deal with it than you have. Look at things from my point of +view, and don't be idiotic. I am considering my debt to Oswald, and +therefore, logically, my debt to the country. It is twenty thousand +pounds. I'm going to pay it. The only question is—and the question has +kept Edith and myself awake the last two nights—is what's the best +thing to do with it? Of course I could give it to some fund,—or +several funds,—but it's a lot of money and I should like it to be used +to the best advantage. Now what do you say?" +</P> + +<P> +"I say," said I, "that you Croesuses make a half-pay Major of +Artillery's head reel. If I were like you, I should go into a shop and +buy a super-dreadnought, and stick a card on it with a drawing pin, and +send it to the Admiralty with my compliments." +</P> + +<P> +"Duncan," said Lady Fenimore, severely, "don't be flippant." +</P> + +<P> +Heaven knows I was in no flippant mood; but it was worth a foolish jest +to bring a smile to Sir Anthony's face. Also this grave, conscientious +proposition had its humorous side. It was so British. It reminded me of +the story of Swift, who, when Gay and Pope visited him and refused to +sup, totted up the cost of the meal and insisted on their accepting +half-a-crown apiece. It reminded me too of the rugged old Lancashire +commercial blood that was in him—blood that only shewed itself on the +rarest and greatest of occasions—the blood of his grandfather, the +Manchester cotton-spinner, who founded the fortunes of his house. Sir +Anthony knew less about cotton than he did about ballistics and had +never sat at a desk in a business office for an hour in his life; but +now and again the inherited instinct to put high impulses on a +scrupulously honest commercial basis asserted itself in the quaintest +of fashions. +</P> + +<P> +"There's some sense in what he says, Edith," remarked Sir Anthony. +"It's only vanity that prompted us to ear-mark this sum for something +special." +</P> + +<P> +"Vanity!" cried Lady Fenimore. "You weren't by any chance thinking of +advertising our gift or contribution or whatever you like to call it in +the Daily Mail?" +</P> + +<P> +"Heaven forbid, my dear," Sir Anthony replied warmly; and he stood, his +hands under his coat-tails and his gaitered legs apart, regarding her +with the air of a cock-sparrow accused of murdering his young, or a +sensitive jockey repudiating a suggestion of crooked riding. "Heaven +forbid!" he repeated. "Such an idea never entered my head." +</P> + +<P> +"Then where does the vanity come in?" asked Lady Fenimore. +</P> + +<P> +They had their little argument. I lit a cigarette and let them argue. +In such cases, every married couple has its own queer and private and +particular and idiosyncratic way of coming to an agreement. The third +party who tries to foist on it his own suggestion of a way is an +imbecile. The dispute on the point of vanity, charmingly conducted, +ended by Sir Anthony saying triumphantly:— +</P> + +<P> +"Well, my dear, don't you see I'm right?" and by his wife replying with +a smile:— +</P> + +<P> +"No, darling, I don't see at all. But since you feel like that, there's +nothing more to be said." +</P> + +<P> +I was mildly enjoying myself. Perhaps I'm a bit of a cynic. I broke in. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't think it's vanity to see that you get your money's worth. +There's lots of legitimate fun in spending twenty thousand pounds +properly. It's too big to let other people manage or mis-manage. +Suppose you decided on motor-ambulances or hospital trains, for +instance, it would be your duty to see that you got the best and most +up-to-date ambulances or trains, with the least possible profits, to +contractors and middle-men." +</P> + +<P> +"As far as that goes, I think I know my way about," said Sir Anthony. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course. And as for publicity—or the reverse, hiding your light +under a bushel—any fool can remain anonymous." +</P> + +<P> +Sir Anthony nodded at me, rubbed his hands, and turned to his wife. +</P> + +<P> +"That's just what I was saying, Edith." +</P> + +<P> +"My dear, that is just what I was trying to make you understand." +</P> + +<P> +Neither of the two dear things had said, or given the other to +understand, anything of the kind. But you see they had come in their +own quaint married way to an agreement and were now receptive of +commonsense. +</P> + +<P> +"The motor ambulance is a sound idea," said Sir Anthony, rubbing his +chin between thumb and forefinger. +</P> + +<P> +"So is the hospital train," said Lady Fenimore. +</P> + +<P> +What an idiot I was to suggest these alternatives! I looked at my +watch. It was getting late. Hosea, like a silly child, is afraid of the +dark. He just stands still and shivers at the night, and the more he is +belaboured the more he shivers, standing stock-still with ears thrown +back and front legs thrown forward. As I can't get out and pull, I'm at +the mercy of Hosea. And he knows it. Since the mount of Balaam, there +was never such an intelligent idiot of an ass. +</P> + +<P> +"What do you say?" asked Sir Anthony. "Ambulance or train?" +</P> + +<P> +"Donkey carriage," said I. "This very moment minute." +</P> + +<P> +I left them and trotted away homewards. +</P> + +<P> +Just as I had turned a bend of the chestnut avenue near the Park gates, +I came upon a couple of familiar figures—familiar, that is to say, +individually, but startlingly unfamiliar in conjunction. They were a +young man and girl, Randall Holmes and Phyllis Gedge. Randall had +concluded a distinguished undergraduate career at Oxford last summer. +He was a man of birth, position, and, to a certain extent, of fortune. +Phyllis Gedge was the daughter, the pretty and attractive daughter, of +Daniel Gedge, the socialistic builder who did not hold with war. What +did young Randall mean by walking in the dark with his arm round +Phyllis's waist? Of course as soon as he heard the click-clack of +Hosea's hoofs he whipped his arm away; but I had already caught him. +They tried to look mighty unconcerned as I pulled up. I took off my hat +politely to the lady and held out my hand to the young man. +</P> + +<P> +"Good evening, Randall," said I. "I haven't seen you for ages." +</P> + +<P> +He was a tall, clean-limbed, clear-featured boy, with black hair, which +though not long, yet lacked the military trimness befitting the heads +of young men at the present moment. He murmured something about being +busy. +</P> + +<P> +"It will do you good to take a night off," I said; "drop in after +dinner and smoke a pipe with an old friend." +</P> + +<P> +I smiled, bowed again politely, whipped up Hosea and trotted off. I +wondered whether he would come. He had said: "Delighted, I'm sure," but +he had not looked delighted. Very possibly he regarded me as a +meddlesome, gossiping old tom-cat. Perhaps for that reason he would +deem it wise to adopt a propitiatory attitude. Perhaps also he retained +a certain affectionate respect for me, seeing that I had known him as a +tiny boy in a sailor suit, and had fed him at Harrow (as I did poor +Oswald Fenimore at Wellington) with Mrs. Marigold's famous potted +shrimp and other comestibles, and had put him up, during here and there +holidays and later a vacation, when his mother and aunts, with whom he +lived, had gone abroad to take inefficacious cures for the tedium of a +futile life. Oxford, however, had set him a bit off my plane. +</P> + +<P> +As an ordinary soldierman, trained in the elementary virtues of +plain-speaking and direct dealing, love of country and the sacredness +of duty, I have had no use for the metaphysician. I haven't the +remotest notion what his jargon means. From Aristotle to William James, +I have dipped into quite a lot of them—Descartes, Berkeley, Kant, +Schopenhauer (the thrice besotted Teutonic ass who said that women +weren't beautiful), for I hate to be thought an ignorant duffer—and I +have never come across in them anything worth knowing, thinking, or +doing that I was not taught at my mother's knee. And as for her, dear, +simple soul, if you had asked her what was the Categorical Imperative +(having explained beforehand the meaning of the words), she would have +said, "The Sermon on the Mount." +</P> + +<P> +Of course, please regard this as a criticism not of the metaphysicians +and the philosophers, but of myself. All these great thinkers have +their niches in the Temple of Fame, and I'm quite aware that the +consensus of human judgment does not immortalise even such an ass as +Schopenhauer, without sufficient reason. All I want to convey to you is +that I am only a plain, ordinary God-fearing, law-abiding Englishman, +and that when young Randall Holmes brought down from Oxford all sorts +of highfalutin theories about everything, not only in God's Universe, +but in the super-Universe that wasn't God's, and of every one of which +he was cocksure, I found my homely self very considerably out of it. +</P> + +<P> +Then—young Randall was a poet. He had won the Newdigate. The subject +was Andrea del Sarto, one of my favourite painters—il pittore senza +errore—and his prize poem—it had, of course, to be academic in +form—was excellent. It said just the things about him which Browning +somehow missed, and which I had always been impotently wanting to say. +And a year or so afterwards—when I praised his poem—he would shrink +in a more than deprecating attitude: I might just as well have extolled +him for seducing the wife of his dearest friend. His later poems, of +which he was immodestly proud—"Sensations Captured on the Wing," he +defined them—left me cold and unsympathetic. So, for these reasons, +the boy and I had drifted apart. Until I had caught him in flagrante +delicto of walking with his arm round the waist of pretty Phyllis +Gedge, I had not seen him to speak to for a couple of months. +</P> + +<P> +He came, however, after dinner, looking very sleek and handsome and +intellectual, and wearing a velvet dinner jacket which I did not like. +After we had gossiped awhile:— +</P> + +<P> +"You said you were very busy?" I remarked. +</P> + +<P> +He flicked off his cigarette ash and nodded. +</P> + +<P> +"What at?" +</P> + +<P> +"War poetry," he replied. "I am trying to supply the real note. It is +badly wanted. There are all kinds of stuff being written, but all +indifferent and valueless. If it has a swing, it's merely vulgar, and +what isn't vulgar is academic, commonplace. There's a crying need for +the high level poetry that shall interpret with dignity and nobility +the meaning of the war." +</P> + +<P> +"Have you written much?" +</P> + +<P> +"I have an ode every week in the Albemarle Review. I also write the +political article. Didn't you know? Haven't you seen them?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't take in that periodical," said I. "The omniscience of the last +copy I saw dismayed me. I couldn't understand why the Government were +such insensate fools as not to move from Downing Street to their +Editorial offices." +</P> + +<P> +Randall, with a humouring smile, defended the Albemarle Review. +</P> + +<P> +"It is run," said he, "by a little set of intellectuals—some men up +with me at Oxford—who must naturally have a clearer vision than men +who have been living for years in the yellow fog of party politics." +</P> + +<P> +He expounded the godlike wisdom of young Oxford at some length, +replying vividly to here and there a Socratic interpolation on my part. +After a while I began to grow irritated. His talk, like his verse, +seemed to deal with unrealities. It was a negation of everything, save +the intellectual. If he and his friends had been in power, there would +never have been a war; there never would have been a German menace; the +lamb would have lain down in peace, outside the lion. He had an airy +way of dismissing the ruder and more human aspects of the war. Said I:— +</P> + +<P> +"Anyone can talk of what might have been. But that's all over and done +with. We're up against the tough proposition of the present. What are +you doing for it?" +</P> + +<P> +He waved a hand. "That's just the point. The present doesn't +matter—not in the wide conception of things. It is the past and the +future that count. The present is mere fluidity." +</P> + +<P> +"The poor devils up to their waists in water in the trenches would +agree with you," said I. +</P> + +<P> +"They would also agree with me," he retorted, "if they had time to go +into the reconstruction of the future that we are contemplating." +</P> + +<P> +At this juncture Marigold came in with the decanters and syphons. I +noticed his one eye harden on the velvet dinner-jacket. He fidgeted +about the room, threw a log on the fire, drew the curtains closer, +always with an occasional malevolent glance at the jacket. Then +Randall, like a silly young ass, said, from the depths of his easy +chair, a very silly thing. +</P> + +<P> +"I see you've not managed to get into khaki yet, Sergeant." +</P> + +<P> +Marigold took a tactical pace or two to the door. +</P> + +<P> +"Neither have you, sir," he said in a respectful tone, and went out. +</P> + +<P> +Randall laughed, though I saw his dark cheek flush. "If Marigold had +his way he would have us all in a barrack square." +</P> + +<P> +"Preferably in those fluid trenches of the present," said I. "And he +wouldn't be far wrong." +</P> + +<P> +My eyes rested on him somewhat stonily. People have complained +sometimes—defaulters, say, in the old days—that there can be a +beastly, nasty look in them. +</P> + +<P> +"What do you mean, Major?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Sergeant Marigold," said I, "is a brave, patriotic Englishman who has +given his country all he can spare from the necessary physical +equipment to carry on existence; and it's making him hang-dog miserable +that he's not allowed to give the rest to-morrow. You must forgive his +plain speaking," I continued, gathering warmth as I went on, "but he +can't understand healthy young fellows like you not wanting to do the +same. And, for the matter of that, my dear Randall, neither do I. Why +aren't you serving your country?" +</P> + +<P> +He started forward in his chair and threw out his arms, and his dark +eyes flashed and a smile of conscious rectitude overspread his +clear-cut features. +</P> + +<P> +"My dear Major—serving my country? Why, I'm working night and day for +it. You don't understand." +</P> + +<P> +"I've already told you I don't." +</P> + +<P> +The boy was my guest. I had not intended to hold a pistol to his head +in one hand and dangle a suit of khaki before his eyes in the other. I +had been ill at ease concerning him for months, but I had proposed to +regain his confidence in a tactful, fatherly way. Instead of which I +found myself regarding him with my beastly defaulter glare. The blood +sometimes flies to one's head. +</P> + +<P> +He condescended to explain. +</P> + +<P> +"There are millions of what the Germans call 'cannon fodder' about. But +there are few intellects—few men, shall I say?—of genius, scarcely a +poet. And men like myself who can express—that's the whole vital +point—who can EXPRESS the higher philosophy of the Empire, and can +point the way to its realisation are surely more valuable than the +yokel or factory hand, who, as the sum-total of his capabilities, can +be trained merely into a sort of shooting machine. Just look at it, my +dear Major, from a commonsense point of view—" He forgot, the amazing +young idiot, that he was talking not to a maiden aunt, but to a +hard-bitten old soldier. "What good would it serve to stick the +comparatively rare man—I say it in all modesty—the comparatively rare +man like myself in the trenches? It would be foolish waste. I assure +you I'm putting all my talents at the disposal of the country." Seeing, +I suppose, in my eyes, the maintained stoniness of non-conviction, he +went on, "But, my dear sir, be reasonable." ... Reasonable! I nearly +choked. If I could have stood once more on my useless legs, I should +have swung my left arm round and clouted him on the side of the head. +Reasonable indeed! This well-fed, able-bodied, young Oxford prig to +tell me, an honourable English officer and gentleman, to be reasonable, +when the British Empire, in peril of its existence, was calling on all +its manhood to defend it in arms! I glared at him. He continued:— +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, be reasonable. Everyone has his place in this World conflict. We +can't all be practical fighters. You wouldn't set Kitchener or Grey or +Lord Crewe to bayonet Germans—" +</P> + +<P> +"By God, sir," I cried, smiting one palm with the fist of the other +hand. "By God, sir, I would, if they were three and twenty." I had +completely lost my temper. "And if I saw them doing nothing, while the +country was asking for MEN, but writing rotten doggerel and messing +about with girls far beneath them in station, I should call them the +damnedest skunks unskinned!" +</P> + +<P> +He had the decency to rise. "Major Meredyth," said he, "you're under a +terrible misapprehension. You're a military man and must look at +everything from a military point of view. It would be useless to +discuss the philosophy of the situation with you. We're on different +planes." +</P> + +<P> +Just what I said. +</P> + +<P> +"You," said I, "seem to be hovering near Tophet and the Abyss." +</P> + +<P> +"No, no," he answered with an indulgent smile. "You are quoting +Carlyle. You must give him up." +</P> + +<P> +"Damned pro-German, I should think I do," I cried. I had forgotten +where my phrase came from. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm glad to hear it. He's a back-number. I'm a modern. I represent +equilibrium—" He made a little rocking gesture with his graceful hand. +"I am out for Eternal Truth, which I think I perceive." +</P> + +<P> +"In poor little Phyllis Gedge, I suppose?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why not? Look. I am the son, grandson, great-grandson, of English +Tories. She is the daughter of socialism, syndicalism, pacifism, +internationalism—everything that is most apart from my traditions. But +she brings to me beauty, innocence, the feminine solution of all +intellectual concepts. She, the woman, is the soul of conflicting +England. She is torn both ways. But as she has to breed men, some day, +she is instinctively on our side. She is invaluable to me. She inspires +my poems. You may not believe it, but she is at the back of my +political articles. You must really be a little more broad-minded, +Major, and look at these things from the right point of view. From the +point of view of my work, she is merely a symbol." +</P> + +<P> +"And you?" said I, wrathfully. "What are you to her? Do you suppose she +takes you for a symbol? I wish to Heaven she did. A round cipher of +naught, the symbol of inanity. She takes you for an honourable +gentleman. I've known the child since she was born. As good a little +girl as you could wish to meet." +</P> + +<P> +He drew himself up. "That's the opinion of her I am endeavouring to +express." +</P> + +<P> +"Quite so. You win a good decent girl's affection,—if you hadn't, she +would never have let you walk about with her at nightfall, with your +arm round her waist,—and you have the cynical audacity to say that +she's only a symbol." +</P> + +<P> +"When you asked me to come in this evening," said he, "I naturally +concluded you would broach this subject. I came prepared to give you a +complete explanation of what I am ready to admit was a compromising +situation." +</P> + +<P> +"There is only one explanation," said I angrily. "What are your +intentions regarding the girl?" +</P> + +<P> +He smiled. "Quite honourable." +</P> + +<P> +"You mean marriage?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, no," said he, emphatically. +</P> + +<P> +"Then the other thing? That's not honourable." +</P> + +<P> +"Of course not. Certainly not the other thing. I'm not a blackguard." +</P> + +<P> +"Then what on earth are you playing at?" +</P> + +<P> +He sighed. "I'm afraid you will never understand." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm afraid I won't," said I. "By your own confession you are neither a +lusty blackguard nor an honourable gentleman. You're a sort of +philanderer, somewhere in between. You neither mean to fight like a man +nor love like a man. I'm sorry to say it, but I've no use for you. As I +can't do it myself, will you kindly ring the bell?" +</P> + +<P> +"Certainly," said he, white with anger, which I was glad to see, and +pressed the electric button beside the mantelpiece. He turned on me, +his head high. There was still some breeding left in him. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm sorry we're at such cross-purposes, Major. All my life long I've +owed you kindnesses I can't ever repay. But at present we're hopelessly +out of sympathy!" +</P> + +<P> +"It seems so," said I. "I had hoped your father's son would be a better +man!" +</P> + +<P> +"My father," said he, "was a successful stockbroker, without any ideas +in his head save the making of money. I don't see what he has got to do +with my well-considered attitude towards life." +</P> + +<P> +"Your callow attitude towards life, my poor boy," said I, "is a matter +of profound indifference to me. But I shall give orders that you are no +longer admitted to this house except in uniform." +</P> + +<P> +"That's absurd," said he. +</P> + +<P> +"Not at all," said I. +</P> + +<P> +In obedience to the summons of the bell Sergeant Marigold appeared and +stood in his ramrod fashion by the door. +</P> + +<P> +Randall came forward to my wheel-chair, with hand outstretched. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm desperately sorry, Major, for this disastrous misunderstanding." +</P> + +<P> +I thrust my hands beneath the light shawl that covered my legs. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't be such a self-sufficient fool, Randall," I said, "as to think I +don't understand. In the present position there are no subtleties and +no complications. Good-night." +</P> + +<P> +Marigold, with a wooden face, opened wide the door, and Randall, with a +shrug of the shoulders, went out. +</P> + +<P> +I stayed awake the whole of that livelong night. +</P> + +<P> +When I learned the death of young Oswald Fenimore, whom I loved far +more dearly than Randall Holmes, I went to bed and slept peacefully. A +gallant lad died in battle; there is nothing more to be said, nothing +more to be thought. The finality, heroically sublime, overwhelms the +poor workings of the brain. But in the case of a fellow like Randall +Holmes—well, as I have said, I did not get a wink of sleep the whole +night long. +</P> + +<P> +Someone, a few months ago, told me of a young university man—Oxford or +Cambridge, I forget—who, when asked why he was not fighting, replied; +"What has the war to do with me? I disapprove of this brawling." +</P> + +<P> +Was that the attitude of Randall, whom I had known all his life long? I +shivered, like a fool, all night. The only consolation I had was to +bring commonsense to my aid and to meditate on the statistical fact +that the Universities of Oxford and Cambridge were practically empty. +</P> + +<P> +But my soul was sick for young Randall Holmes. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap04"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER IV +</H3> + +<P> +On the wedding eve Betty brought the happy young man to dine with me. +He was in that state of unaccustomed and somewhat embarrassed bliss in +which a man would have dined happily with Beelzebub. A fresh-coloured +boy, with fair crisply set hair and a little moustache a shade or two +fairer, he kept on blushing radiantly, as if apologising in a gallant +sort of fashion for his existence in the sphere of Betty's affection. +As I had known him but casually and desired to make his closer +acquaintance, I had asked no one to meet them, save Betty's aunt, whom +a providential cold had prevented from facing the night air. So, in the +comfortable little oak-panelled dining-room, hung round with my beloved +collection of Delft, I had the pair all to myself, one on each side; +and in this way I was able to read exchanges of glances whence I might +form sage conclusions. Bella, spruce parlour-maid, waited deftly. +Sergeant Marigold, when not occupied in the mild labour of filling +glasses, stood like a guardian ramrod behind my chair—a self-assigned +post to which he stuck grimly like a sentinel. As I always sat with my +back to the fire there must have been times when, the blaze roaring +more fiercely than usual up the chimney, he must have suffered +martyrdom in his hinder parts. +</P> + +<P> +As I talked—for the first time on such intimate footing—with young +Connor, I revised my opinion of him and mentally took back much that I +had said in his disparagement. He was by no means the dull dog that I +had labelled him. By diligent and sympathetic enquiry I learned that he +had been a Natural Science scholar at Trinity College, Cambridge, where +he had taken a first-class degree—specialising in geology; that by +profession (his father's) he was a mining-engineer, and, in pursuit of +his vocation, had travelled in Galicia, Mexico and Japan; furthermore, +that he had been one of the ardent little band who of recent years had +made the Cambridge Officers Training Corps an effective school. +Hitherto, when I had met him he had sat so agreeably smiling and +modestly mumchance that I had accepted him at his face value. +</P> + +<P> +I was amused to see how Betty, in order to bring confusion on me, led +him to proclaim himself. And I loved the manner in which he did so. To +hear him, one would have thought that he owed everything in the world +to Betty—from his entrance scholarship at the University to the word +of special commendation which his company had received from the General +of his Division at last week's inspection. Yes, he was the modest, +clean-bred, simple English gentleman who, without self-consciousness or +self-seeking, does his daily task as well as it can be done, just +because it is the thing that is set before him to do. And he was over +head and ears in love with Betty. +</P> + +<P> +I took it upon myself to dismiss her with a nod after she had smoked a +cigarette over her coffee. Mrs. Marigold, as a soldier's wife, I +announced, had a world of invaluable advice to give her. Willie Connor +opened the door. On the threshold she said very prettily: +</P> + +<P> +"Don't drink too much of Major Meredyth's old port. It has been known +before now to separate husbands and wives for years and years." +</P> + +<P> +He looked after her for a few seconds before he closed the door. +</P> + +<P> +Oh, my God! I've looked like that, in my time, after one dear woman.... +Humanity is very simple, after all. Every generation does exactly the +same beautiful, foolish things as its forerunner. As he approached the +table, I said with a smile:— +</P> + +<P> +"You're only copying your great-great-grandfather." +</P> + +<P> +"In what way, sir?" he asked, resuming his place. +</P> + +<P> +I pushed the decanter of port. "He watched the disappearing skirt of +your great-great-grandmother." +</P> + +<P> +"She was doubtless a very venerable old lady," said he, flushing and +helping himself to wine. "I never knew her, but she wasn't a patch on +Betty!" +</P> + +<P> +"But," said I, "when your great-great-grandfather opened the door for +her to pass out, she wasn't venerable at all, but gloriously young." +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose he was satisfied, poor old chap." He took a sip. "But those +days did not produce Betty Fairfaxes." He laughed. "I'm jolly sorry for +my ancestors." +</P> + +<P> +Well—that is the way I like to hear a young man talk. It was the +modern expression of the perfect gentle knight. In so far as went his +heart's intention and his soul's strength to assure it, I had no fear +for Betty's happiness. He gave it to her fully into her own hands; +whether she would throw it away or otherwise misuse it was another +matter. +</P> + +<P> +Though I have ever loved women, en tout bien et tout honneur, their +ways have never ceased from causing me mystification. I think I can +size up a man, especially given such an opportunity as I had in the +case of Willie Connor—I have been more or less trained in the business +all my man's life; but Betty Fairfax, whom I had known intimately for +as many years as she could remember, puzzled me exceedingly. I defy +anyone to have picked a single fault in her demeanour towards her +husband of to-morrow. She lit a cigarette for him in the most charming +way in the world, and when he guided the hand that held the match, she +touched his crisp hair lightly with the fingers of the other. She was +all smiles. When we met in the drawing-room, she retailed with a spice +of mischief much of Mrs. Marigold's advice. She had seated herself on +the music stool. Swinging round, she quoted: +</P> + +<P> +"'Even the best husband,' she said, 'will go on swelling himself up +with vanity just because he's a man. A sensible woman, Miss, lets him +go on priding of himself, poor creature. It sort of helps his dignity +when the time comes for him to eat out of your hand, and makes him +think he's doing you a favour.'" +</P> + +<P> +"When are you going to eat out of my hand, Willie?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Haven't I been doing it for the past week?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, they always do that before they're married—so Mrs. Marigold +informed me. I mean afterwards." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you think, my dear," I interposed, "it depends on what your +hands hold out for him to eat?" +</P> + +<P> +Her eyes wavered a bit under mine. +</P> + +<P> +"If he's good," she answered, "they'll be always full of nice things." +</P> + +<P> +She sat, flushed, happy, triumphant, her arms straight down, her +knuckles resting on the leathern seat, her silver-brocaded, slender +feet, clear of the floor, peeping close together beneath her white +frock. +</P> + +<P> +"And if he isn't good?" +</P> + +<P> +"They'll be full of nasty medicine." +</P> + +<P> +She laughed and pivoted round and, after running over the keys of the +piano for a second or two, began to play Gounod's "Death March of a +Marionette." She played it remarkably well. When she had ended, Connor +walked from the hearth, where he had been standing, to her side. I +noticed a little puzzled look in his eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Delightful," said he. "But, Betty, what put that thing suddenly into +your head?" +</P> + +<P> +"We had been talking nonsense," she replied, picking out a chord or +two, without looking at him. "And I thought we ought to give all past +vanities and frivolities and lunacies a decent burial." +</P> + +<P> +He put both hands very tenderly on her shoulders. +</P> + +<P> +"Requiescat," said he. +</P> + +<P> +She spread out her fingers and struck the two resonant chords of an +"Amen," and then glanced up at him, laughing. +</P> + +<P> +After a while, Marigold announced her car, or, rather, her aunt's car. +They took their leave. I gave them my benediction. Presently, Betty, +fur-coated, came running in alone. She flung herself down, in her +impetuous way, beside my wheel-chair. No visit of Betty's would have +been complete without this performance. +</P> + +<P> +"I haven't had a word with you all the evening, Majy, dear. I've told +Willie to discuss strategy with Sergeant Marigold in the hall, till I +come. Well—you thought I was a damn little fool the other day, didn't +you? What do you think now?" +</P> + +<P> +"I think, my dear," said I, with a hand on her forehead, "that you are +marrying a very gallant English gentleman of whose love any woman in +the land might be proud." +</P> + +<P> +She clutched me round the neck and brought her young face near +mine—and looked at me—I hesitate to say it,—but so it +seemed,—somewhat haggardly. +</P> + +<P> +"I love to hear you say that, it means so much to me. Don't think I +haven't a sense of proportion. I have. In all this universal slaughter +and massacre, a woman's life counts as much as that of a mosquito." She +freed an arm and snapped her fingers. "But to the woman herself, her +own life can't help being of some value. Such as it is, I want to give +it all, every bit of it, to Willie. He shall have everything, +everything, everything that I can give him." +</P> + +<P> +I looked into the young, drawn, pleading face long and earnestly. No +longer was I mystified. I remembered her talk with me a couple of days +before, and I read her riddle. +</P> + +<P> +She had struck gold. She knew it. Gold of a man's love. Gold of a man's +strength. Gold of a man's honour. Gold of a man's stainless past. Gold +of a man's radiant future. And though she wore the mocking face and +talked the mocking words of the woman who expected such a man to "eat +out of her hand," she knew that never out of her hand would he eat save +that which she should give him in honourable and wifely service. She +knew that. She was exquisitely anxious that I should know it too. +Floodgates of relief were expressed when she saw that I knew it. Not +that I, personally, counted a scrap. What she craved was a decent human +soul's justification of her doings. She craved recognition of her +action in casting away base metal forever and taking the pure gold to +her heart. +</P> + +<P> +"Tell me that I am doing the right thing, dear," she said, "and +to-morrow I'll be the happiest woman in the world." +</P> + +<P> +And I told her, in the most fervent manner in my power. +</P> + +<P> +"You quite understand?" she said, standing up, looking very young and +princess-like, her white throat gleaming between her furs and up-turned +chin. +</P> + +<P> +"You will find, my dear," said I, "that the significance of your Dead +March of a Marionette will increase every day of your married life." +</P> + +<P> +She stiffened in a sudden stroke of passion, looking, for the instant, +electrically beautiful. +</P> + +<P> +"I wish," she cried, "someone had written the Dead March of a Devil." +</P> + +<P> +She bent down, kissed me, and went out in a whirr of furs and draperies. +</P> + +<P> +Of course, all I could do was to scratch my thin iron-grey hair and +light a cigar and meditate in front of the fire. I knew all about +it—or at any rate I thought I did, which, as far as my meditation in +front of the fire is concerned, comes to the same thing. +</P> + +<P> +Betty had cast out the base metal of her love for Leonard Boyce in +order to accept the pure gold of the love of Willie Connor. So she +thought, poor girl. She had been in love with Boyce. She had been +engaged to Boyce. Boyce, for some reason or the other, had turned her +down. Spretae injuria formae—she had cast Boyce aside. But for all her +splendid surrender of her womanhood to Willie Connor, for the sake of +her country, she still loved Leonard Boyce. Or, if she wasn't in love +with him, she couldn't get him out of her head or her senses. Something +like that, anyhow. I don't pretend to know exactly what goes on in the +soul or nature, or whatever it is, of a young girl, who has given her +heart to a man. I can only use the crude old phrase: she was still in +love (in some sort of fashion) with Leonard Boyce, and she was going to +marry, for the highest motives, somebody else. +</P> + +<P> +"Confound the fellow," said I, with an irritable gesture and covered +myself with cigar ash. +</P> + +<P> +She had called Boyce a devil and implied a wish that he were dead. For +myself I did not know what to make of him, for reasons which I will +state. I never approved of the engagement. As a matter of fact, I +knew—and was one of the very few who knew—of a black mark against +him—the very blackest mark that could be put against a soldier's name. +It was a puzzling business. And when I say I knew of the mark, I must +be candid and confess that its awful justification lies in the +conscience of one man living in the world to-day—if indeed he be still +alive. +</P> + +<P> +Boyce was a great bronzed, bull-necked man, with an overpowering +personality. People called him the very model of a soldier. He was +always admired and feared by his men. His fierce eye and deep, resonant +voice, and a suggestion of hidden strength, even of brutality, +commanded implicit obedience. But both glance and voice would soften +caressingly and his manner convey a charm which made him popular with +men—brother officers and private soldiers alike—and with women. With +regard to the latter—to put things crudely—they saw in him the +essential, elemental male. Of that I am convinced. It was the open +secret of his many successes. And he had a buoyant, boyish, disarming, +chivalrous way with him. If he desired a woman's lips he would always +begin by kissing the hem of her skirt. +</P> + +<P> +Had I not known what I did, I, an easy-going sort of Christian +temperamentally inclined to see the best in my fellow-creatures, and, +as I boastingly said a little while ago, a trained judge of men, should +doubtless have fallen, like most other people, under the spell of his +fascination. But whenever I met him, I used to look at him and say to +myself: "What's at the back of you anyway? What about that business at +Vilboek's Farm?" +</P> + +<P> +Now this is what I knew—with the reservation I have made above—and to +this day he is not aware of my knowledge. +</P> + +<P> +It was towards the end of the Boer War. Boyce had come out rather late; +for which, of course, he was not responsible. A soldier has to go when +he is told. After a period of humdrum service he was sent off with a +section of mounted infantry to round up a certain farm-house suspected +of harbouring Boer combatants. The excursion was a mere matter of +routine—of humdrum commonplace. As usual it was made at night, but +this was a night of full dazzling moon. The farm lay in a hollow of the +veldt, first seen from the crest of a kopje. There it lay below, +ramshackle and desolate, a rough wall around; flanked by +outbuildings—barn and cowsheds. The section rode down. The stoep led +to a shuttered front. There was no sign of life. The moonlight blazed +full on it. They dismounted, tethered their horses behind the wall, and +entered the yard. The place was deserted, derelict—not even a cat. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly a shot rang out from somewhere in the main building, and the +Sergeant, the next man to Boyce, fell dead, shot through the brain. The +men looked at Boyce for command and saw a hulking idiot paralysed by +fear. +</P> + +<P> +"His mouth hung open and his eyes were like a silly servant girl's +looking at a ghost." So said my informant. +</P> + +<P> +Two more shots and two men fell. Boyce still stood white and gasping, +unable to move a muscle or utter a sound. His face looked ghastly in +the moonlight. A shot pierced his helmet, and the shock caused him to +stagger and lose his legs. A corporal rushed up, thinking he was hit, +and, finding him whole, rose, in order to leave him there, and, in +rising, got a bullet through the neck. Thus there were four men killed, +and the Commanding Officer, of his own accord, put out of action. It +all happened in a few confused moments. Then the remaining men did what +Boyce should have commanded as soon as the first shot was fired—they +rushed the house. +</P> + +<P> +It contained one solitary inmate, an old man with a couple of Mauser +rifles, whom they had to shoot in self-defence. +</P> + +<P> +Meanwhile Boyce, white and haggard-eyed, had picked himself up; +revolver in hand he stood on the stoep. His men came out, cursed him to +his face while giving him their contemptuous report brought the dead +bodies of their comrades into the house and laid them out decently, +together with the body of the white-bearded Boer. After that they +mounted their horses without a word to him and rode off. And he let +them ride; for his authority was gone; and he knew that they justly +laid the deaths of their comrades at the door of his cowardice. +</P> + +<P> +What he did during the next few awful hours is known only to God and to +Boyce himself. The four dead men, his companions, have told no tales. +But at last, one of his men—Somers was his name—came riding back at +break-neck speed. When he had left the moon rode high in the heavens; +when he returned it was dawn—and he had a bloody tunic and the face of +a man who had escaped from hell. He threw himself from his horse and +found Boyce, sitting on the stoep with his head in his hands. He shook +him by the shoulder. Boyce started to his feet. At first he did not +recognise Somers. Then he did and read black tidings in the man's eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"What's the matter?" +</P> + +<P> +"They're all wiped out, sir. The whole blooming lot." +</P> + +<P> +He told a tale of heroic disaster. The remnant of the section had +ridden off in hot indignation and had missed their way. They had gone +in a direction opposite to safety, and after a couple of hours had +fallen in with a straggling portion of a Boer Commando. Refusing to +surrender, they had all been killed save Somers, who, with a bullet +through his shoulder, had prudently turned bridle and fled hell for +leather. +</P> + +<P> +Boyce put his hands up to his head and walked about the yard for a few +moments. Then he turned abruptly and stood toweringly over the scared +survivor—a tough, wizened little Cockney of five foot six. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, what's going to happen now?" he asked, in his soft, dangerous +voice. +</P> + +<P> +Somers replied, "I must leave that to you, sir." +</P> + +<P> +Boyce regarded him glitteringly for a long time. A scheme of salvation +was taking vivid shape in his mind.... +</P> + +<P> +"My report of this occurrence will be that as soon as, say, three men +dropped here, the rest of the troop got into a panic and made a bolt of +it. Say the Sergeant and myself remained. We broke into the house and +did for the old Boer, who, however, unfortunately did for the Sergeant. +Then I alone went out in search of my men and following their track +found they had gone in a wrong direction, and eventually scented +danger, which was confirmed by my meeting you, with your bloody tunic +and your bloody tale." +</P> + +<P> +"But good God! sir," cried the man, "You'd be having me shot for +running away. I could tell a damned different story, Captain Boyce." +</P> + +<P> +"Who would believe you?" +</P> + +<P> +The Cockney intelligence immediately appreciated the situation. It also +was ready for the alternative it guessed at the back of Boyce's mind. +</P> + +<P> +"I know it's a mess, sir," he replied, with a straight look at Boyce. +"A mess for both of us, and, as I have said, I'll leave it to you, sir." +</P> + +<P> +"Very well," said Boyce. "It's the simplest thing in the world. There +were four killed at once, including Sergeant Oldham. You remained +faithful when the others bolted. You and I tackled the old Boer and you +got wounded. You and I went on trek for the rest of the troop. We got +within breathing distance of the Commando—how many strong?" +</P> + +<P> +"About a couple of hundred, sir." +</P> + +<P> +"And of course we bolted back without knowing anything about the troop, +except that we are sure that, dead or alive, the Boers have accounted +for them. If you'll agree to this report, we can ride back to +Headquarters and I think I can promise you sergeant's stripes in a very +short time!" +</P> + +<P> +"I agree to the report, sir," said Somers, "because I don't see that I +can do anything else. But to hell with the stripes under false +pretences and don't you try playing that sort of thing off on me." +</P> + +<P> +"As you like," replied Boyce, unruffled. "Provided we understand each +other on the main point." +</P> + +<P> +So they left the farm and rode to Headquarters and Boyce made his +report, and as all save one of his troop were dead, there were none, +save that one, to gainsay him. On his story no doubt was cast; but an +officer who loses his whole troop in the military operation of storming +a farm-house garrisoned by one old man does not find peculiar favour in +the eyes of his Colonel. Boyce took a speedy opportunity of +transference, and got into the thick of some fighting. Then he served +with distinction and actually got mentioned in dispatches for pluckily +rescuing a wounded man under fire. +</P> + +<P> +For a long time Somers kept his mouth shut; but at last he began to +talk. The ugly rumour spread. It even reached my battery which was a +hundred miles away; for Johnny Dacre, one of my subs, had a brother in +Boyce's old regiment. For my own part I scouted the story as soon as I +heard it, and I withered up young Dacre for daring to bring such +abominable slander within my Rhadamanthine sphere. I dismissed the +calumny from my mind. Providentially, (as I heard later), the news came +of Boyce's "mention," and Somers was set down as a liar. The poor devil +was had up before the Colonel and being an imaginative and nervous man +denied the truth of the rumour and by dexterous wriggling managed to +exculpate himself from the charge of being its originator. +</P> + +<P> +I must, parenthetically, crave indulgence for these apparently +irrelevant details. But as, in this chronicle, I am mainly concerned +with the career of Leonard Boyce, I have no option but to give them. +They are necessary for a conception of the character of a remarkable +man to whom I have every reason and every honourable desire to render +justice. It is necessary, too, that I should state clearly the manner +in which I happened to learn the facts of the affair at Vilboek's Farm, +for I should not like you to think that I have given a credulous ear to +idle slander. +</P> + +<P> +It was in Cape Town, whither I had been despatched, on a false alarm of +enteric. I was walking with Johnny Dacre up Adderley Street, dun with +kahki, when he met his brother Reginald, who was promptly introduced to +Johnny's second in command. Reggie was off to hospital to see one of +his men who had been badly hurt. +</P> + +<P> +"It's the chap," he said to his brother, "who was with Boyce through +that shady affair at Vilboek's Farm." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know why you call it a shady affair," said I, somewhat acidly. +"I know Captain Boyce—he is a near neighbour of mine at home—and he +has proved himself to be a gallant officer and a brave man." +</P> + +<P> +The young fellow reddened. "I'm awfully sorry, sir. I withdraw the word +'shady.' But this poor chap has something on his mind, and everyone has +a down on him. He led a dog's life till he was knocked out, and he has +been leading a worse one since. I don't call it fair." He looked at me +squarely out of his young blue eyes—the lucky devil, he is commanding +his regiment now in Flanders, with the D.S.O. ribbon on his tunic. +"Will you come with me and see him, sir?" +</P> + +<P> +"Certainly," said I, for I had nothing to do, and the boy's earnestness +impressed me. +</P> + +<P> +On our way he told me of such mixture of rumour and fact as he was +acquainted with. It was then that I heard the man Somers's name for the +first time. We entered the hospital, sat by the side of the man's bed, +and he told us the story of Vilboek's Farm which I have, in bald terms, +just related. Shortly afterwards I returned to the front, where the +famous shell knocked me out of the Army forever. +</P> + +<P> +What has happened to Somers I don't know. He was, I learned, soon +afterwards discharged from the Army. He either died or disappeared in +the full current of English life. Perhaps he is with our armies now. It +does not matter. What matters is my memory of his nervous, sallow, +Cockney face, its earnestness, its imprint of veracity, and the damning +lucidity of his narrative. +</P> + +<P> +I exacted from my young friends a promise to keep the unsavoury tale to +themselves. No good would arise from a publicity which would stain the +honour of the army. Besides, Boyce had made good. They have kept their +promise like honest gentlemen. I have never, personally, heard further +reference to the affair, and of course I have never mentioned it to +anyone. +</P> + +<P> +Now, it is right for me to mention that, for many years, I lived in a +horrible state of dubiety with regard to Boyce. There is no doubt that, +after the Vilboek business, he acted in an exemplary manner; there is +no doubt that he performed the gallant deed for which he got his +mention. But what about Somers's story? I tried to disbelieve it as +incredible. That an English officer—not a nervous wisp of a man like +Somers, but a great, hulking, bull-necked gladiator—should have been +paralysed with fear by one shot coming out of a Boer farm, and thereby +demoralised and incapacitated from taking command of a handful of men; +that, instead of blowing his brains out, he should have imposed his +Mephistophelian compact upon the unhappy Somers and carried off the +knavish business successfully—I could not believe it. On the other +hand, there was the British private. I have known him all my life, God +bless him! Thank God, it is my privilege to know him now, as he lies +knocked to bits, cheerily, in our hospital. It was inconceivable that +out of sheer funk he could abandon a popular officer. And his was not +even a scratch crowd, but a hard-bitten regiment with all sorts of +glorious names embroidered on its colours.... +</P> + +<P> +I hope you see my difficulty in regard to my Betty's love affairs. I +had nothing against Boyce, save this ghastly story, which might or +might not be true. Officially, he had made an unholy mess of such a +simple military operation as rounding up a Boer farm, and the prize of +one dead old Boer had covered him with ridicule; but officially, also, +he had retrieved his position by distinguished service. After all, it +was not his fault that his men had run away. On the other hand...well, +you cannot but appreciate the vicious circle of my thoughts, when +Betty, in her frank way, came and told me of her engagement to him. +What could I say? It would have been damnable of me to hint at scandal +of years gone by. I received them both and gave them my paralytic +blessing, and Leonard Boyce accepted it with the air of a man who might +have been blessed, without a qualm of conscience, by the Third Person +of the Trinity in Person. +</P> + +<P> +This was in April, 1914. He had retired from the Army some years before +with the rank of Major, and lived with his mother—he was a man of +means—in Wellingsford. In the June of that year he went off salmon +fishing in Norway. On the outbreak of war he returned to England and +luckily got his job at once. He did not come back to Wellingsford. His +mother went to London and stayed there until he was ordered out to the +front. I had not seen him since that June. And, as far as I am aware, +my dear Betty had not seen him either. +</P> + +<P> +Marigold entered. +</P> + +<P> +"Well?" said I. +</P> + +<P> +"I thought you rang, sir." +</P> + +<P> +"You didn't," I said. "You thought I ought to have rung, But you were +mistaken." +</P> + +<P> +I have on my mantelpiece a tiny, corroded, wooden Egyptian bust, of so +little value that Mr. Hatoun of Cairo (and every visitor to Cairo knows +Hatoun) gave it me as Baksheesh; it is, however, a genuine bit from a +poor humble devil's tomb of about five thousand years ago. And it has +only one positive eye and no expression. +</P> + +<P> +Marigold was the living replica of it—with his absurd wig. +</P> + +<P> +"In a quarter of an hour," said I, "I shall have rung." +</P> + +<P> +"Very good, sir," said Marigold. +</P> + +<P> +But he had disturbed the harmonical progression of my reflections. They +all went anyhow. When he returned, all I could say was: +</P> + +<P> +"It's Miss Betty's wedding to-morrow. I suppose I've got a morning coat +and a top hat." +</P> + +<P> +"You have a morning coat, sir," said Marigold. "But your last silk hat +you gave to Miss Althea, sir, to make a work-bag out of the outside." +</P> + +<P> +"So I did," said I. +</P> + +<P> +It was an unpleasant reminiscence. A hat is about as symbolical a +garment as you may be pleased to imagine. I wanted to wear at the live +Betty's wedding the ceremonious thing which I had given, for purposes +of vanity, to the dead Althea. I was cross with Marigold. +</P> + +<P> +"Why did you let me do such a silly thing? You might have known that I +should want it some day or other. Why didn't you foresee such a +contingency?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why," asked Marigold woodenly, "didn't you or I, sir, or many wiser +than us, foresee the war?" +</P> + +<P> +"Because we were all damned fools," said I. +</P> + +<P> +Marigold approached my chair with his great inexorable tentacles of +arms. It was bed time. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm sorry about the hat, sir," said he. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap05"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER V +</H3> + +<P> +In due course Captain Connor's regiment went off to France; not with +drums beating and colours flying—I wish to Heaven it had; if there had +been more pomp and circumstance in England, the popular imagination +would not have remained untouched for so long a time—but in the cold +silent hours of the night, like a gang of marauders. Betty did not go +to bed after he had left, but sat by the fire till morning. Then she +dressed in uniform and resumed her duties at the hospital. Many a +soldier's bride was doing much the same. And her days went on just as +they did before her marriage. She presented a smiling face to the +world; she said: +</P> + +<P> +"If I'm as happy as can be expected in the circumstances, I think it my +duty to look happier." +</P> + +<P> +It was a valiant philosophy. +</P> + +<P> +The falling of a chimney-stack brought me up against Daniel Gedge, who +before the war did all my little repairs. The chimney I put into the +hands of Day & Higgins, another firm of builders. +</P> + +<P> +A day or two afterwards Hosea shied at something and I discovered it +was Gedge, who had advanced into the roadway expressing a desire to +have a word with me. I quieted the patriotic Hosea and drew up by the +kerb. Gedge was a lean foxy-faced man with a long, reddish nose and a +long blunt chin from which a grizzled beard sprouted aggressively +forwards. He had hard, stupid grey eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"I hope you 'll excuse the liberty I take in stopping you, sir," he +said, civilly. +</P> + +<P> +"That's all right," said I. "What's the matter?" +</P> + +<P> +"I thought I had given you satisfaction these last twenty years." +</P> + +<P> +I assented. "Quite correct," said I. +</P> + +<P> +"Then, may I ask, sir, without offence, why you've called in Day & +Higgins?" +</P> + +<P> +"You may," said I, "and, with or without offence, I'll answer your +question. I've called them in because they're good loyal people. +Higgins has joined the army, and so has Day's eldest boy, while you +have been going on like a confounded pro-German." +</P> + +<P> +"You've no right to say that, Major Meredyth." +</P> + +<P> +"Not when you go over to Godbury"—the surging metropolis of the County +some fifteen miles off—"and tell a pack of fools to strike because +this is a capitalists' war? Not when you go round the mills here, and +do your best to stop young fellows from fighting for their country? God +bless my soul, in whose interests are you acting, if not Germany's?" +</P> + +<P> +He put on his best platform manner. "I'm acting in the best interests +of the people of this country. The war is wrong and incredibly foolish +and can bring no advantage to the working man. Why should he go and be +killed or maimed for life? Will it put an extra penny in his pocket or +his widow's? No. Oh!"—he checked my retort—"I know everything you +would say. I see the arguments every day in all your great newspapers. +But the fact remains that I don't see eye to eye with you, or those you +represent. You think one way, I think another. We agree to differ." +</P> + +<P> +"We don't," said I. "I don't agree at all." +</P> + +<P> +"At any rate," he said, "I can't see how a difference of political +opinion can affect my ability now to put a new chimney-stack in your +house, any more than it has done in the past." +</P> + +<P> +"In the past," said I, "political differences were parochial squabbles +in comparison with things nowadays. You're either for England, or +against her." +</P> + +<P> +He smiled wryly. "I'm for England. We both are. You think her salvation +lies one way. I think another. This is a free country in which every +man has a right to his own opinion." +</P> + +<P> +"Exactly so," said I. "Therefore you'll admit that I've a right to the +opinion that you ought to be locked up either in a gaol or a lunatic +asylum as a danger to the state, and that, having that rightful +opinion, I'm justified in not entrusting the safety of my house to one +who, in my aforesaid opinion, is either a criminal or a lunatic." +</P> + +<P> +Dialectically, I had him there. It afforded me keen enjoyment. Besides +being a John Bull Englishman, I am a cripple and therefore ever so +little malicious. +</P> + +<P> +"It's all very well for you to talk, Major Meredyth," said he, "but +your opinions cost you nothing—mine are costing me my livelihood. It +isn't fair." +</P> + +<P> +"You might as well say," I replied, "that I, who have never dared to +steal anything in my life, live in ease and comfort, whereas poor Bill +Sykes, who has devoted all his days to burglary, has seven years' penal +servitude. No, Gedge," said I, gathering up the reins, "it can't be +done. You can't have it both ways." +</P> + +<P> +He put a detaining hand on Hosea's bridle and an evil flash came into +his hard grey eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll have it some other way, then," he said. "A way you've no idea of. +A way that'll knock all you great people of Wellingsford off your high +horses. If you drive me to it, you'll see. I'll bide my time and I +don't care whether it breaks me." +</P> + +<P> +He stamped his foot and tugged at the bridle. Two or three passers-by +halted wonderingly and Prettilove, the hairdresser, moved across the +pavement from his shop door where he had been taking the air. +</P> + +<P> +"My good fellow," said I, "you have lost your temper and are talking +drivel. Kindly unhand my donkey." +</P> + +<P> +Prettilove, who has a sycophantic sense of humour, burst into a loud +guffaw. Gedge swung angrily away, and Hosea and I continued our +interrupted progress down the High Street. Although I had called his +dark menaces drivel, I could not help wondering what it meant. Was he +going to guide a German Army to Wellingsford? Was he, a modern Guy +Fawkes, plotting to blow up the Town Hall while Mayor and Corporation +sat in council? He was not the man to utter purely idle threats. What +the dickens was he going to do? Something mean and dirty and underhand. +I knew his ways, He was always getting the better of somebody. The wise +never let him put in a pane of glass without a specification and +estimate, and if he had not been by far the most competent builder in +the town—perhaps the only one who thoroughly knew his business in all +its branches—no one would have employed him. +</P> + +<P> +When I next saw Betty, it was in one of the corridors of the hospital, +after a committee meeting; she stopped by my chair to pass the time of +day. Through the open doorway of a ward I perceived a well-known figure +in nurse's uniform. +</P> + +<P> +"Why," said I, "there's Phyllis Gedge." +</P> + +<P> +Betty nodded. "She has just come in as a probationer." +</P> + +<P> +"I thought her father wouldn't let her. I've heard—Heaven knows +whether it's true, but it sounds likely—that he said if men were such +fools as to get shot he didn't see why his daughter should help to mend +them." +</P> + +<P> +"He has consented now," said Betty, "and Phyllis is delighted." +</P> + +<P> +"No doubt it's a bid for popular favour," said I. And I told her of his +dwindling business and of my encounter with him. When I came to his +threat Betty's brows darkened. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't like that at all," she said. +</P> + +<P> +"Why? What do you think he means?" +</P> + +<P> +"Mischief." She lowered her voice, for, it being visiting day at the +hospital, people were passing up and down the corridor. "Suppose he has +some of the people here in his power?" +</P> + +<P> +"Blackmail—?" I glanced up at her sharply. "What do you know about it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing," she replied abruptly. Then she looked down and fingered her +wedding-ring. "I only said 'suppose.'" +</P> + +<P> +A Sister appeared at the door of the ward and seeing us together paused +hoveringly. +</P> + +<P> +"I rather think you're wanted," said I. +</P> + +<P> +I left the hospital somewhat disturbed in mind. Summons to duty had cut +our conversation short; but I knew that no matter how long I had +cross-questioned Betty I should have got nothing further out of her. +She was a remarkably outspoken young woman. What she said she meant, +and what she didn't want to say all the cripples in the British Army +could not have dragged out of her. +</P> + +<P> +I tried her again a few days later. A slight cold, aided and abetted by +a dear exaggerating idiot of a tyrannical doctor, confined me to the +house and she came flying in, expecting to find me in extremis. When +she saw me clothed and in my right mind and smoking a big cigar, she +called me a fraud. +</P> + +<P> +"Look here," said I, after a while. "About Gedge—" again her brow +darkened and her lips set stiffly—"do you think he has his knife into +young Randall Holmes?" +</P> + +<P> +I had worried about the boy. Naturally, if Gedge found the relations +between his daughter and Randall unsatisfactory, no one could blame him +for any outbreak of parental indignation. But he ought to break out +openly, while there was yet time—before any harm was done—not nurse +some diabolical scheme of subterraneous vengeance. Betty's brow +cleared, and she laughed. I saw at once that I was on a wrong track. +</P> + +<P> +"Why should he have his knife into Randall? I suppose you've got +Phyllis in your mind." +</P> + +<P> +"I have. How did you guess?" +</P> + +<P> +She laughed again. +</P> + +<P> +"What other reason could he have? But how did you come to hear of +Randall and Phyllis?" +</P> + +<P> +"Never mind," said I, "I did. And if Gedge is angry, I can to some +extent sympathize with him." +</P> + +<P> +"But he's not. Not the least little bit in the world," she declared, +lighting a cigarette. "Gedge and Randall are as thick as thieves, and +Phyllis won't have anything to do with either of them." +</P> + +<P> +"Now, my dear," said I. "Now that you're married, become a real womanly +woman and fill my empty soul with gossip." +</P> + +<P> +"There's no gossip at all about it," she replied serenely. "It's all +sordid and romantic fact. The two men hold long discussions together at +Gedge's house, Gedge talking anti-patriotism and Randall talking rot +which he calls philosophy. You can hear them, can't you? Their +meeting-ground is the absurdity of Randall joining the army." +</P> + +<P> +"And Phyllis?" +</P> + +<P> +"She is a loyal little soul and as miserable as can be. She's +deplorably in love with Randall. She has told me so. And because she's +in love with a man whom she knows to be a slacker she's eaten up with +shame. Now she won't speak to him. To avoid meeting him she lives +entirely at the hospital—a paying probationer." +</P> + +<P> +"That must be since the last Committee Meeting," I said. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"And Daniel Gedge pays a guinea a week?" +</P> + +<P> +"He doesn't," said Betty. "I do." +</P> + +<P> +I accepted the information with a motion of the head. She went on after +a minute or so. "I have always been fond of the child"—there were only +three or four years difference between them!—"and so I want to protect +her. The time may come when she'll need protection. She has told me +things—not now—but long ago—which frightened her. She came to me for +advice. Since then I've kept an eye on her—as far as I could. Her +coming into the hospital helps me considerably." +</P> + +<P> +"When you say 'things which frightened her,' do you mean in connection +with her father?" +</P> + +<P> +Again the dark look in Betty's eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," she said. "He's an evil, dangerous man." +</P> + +<P> +That was all I could get out of her. If she had meant me to know the +character of Gedge's turpitude, she would have told me of her own +accord. But in our talk at the hospital she had hinted at +blackmail—and blackmailers are evil, dangerous men. +</P> + +<P> +I went to see Sir Anthony about it. Beyond calling him a damned +scoundrel, a term which he applied to all pro-Germans, pacifists and +half the Cabinet, he did not concern himself about Gedge. Young Randall +Holmes's intimacy with the scoundrel seemed to him a matter of far +greater importance. He strode up and down his library, choleric and +gesticulating. +</P> + +<P> +"A gentleman and a scholar to hob-nob with a traitorous beast like +that! I know that he writes for a filthy weekly paper. Somebody sent me +a copy a few days ago. It's rot—but not actually poisonous like that +he must hear from Gedge. That's the reason, I suppose, he's not in the +King's uniform. I've had my eye on him for some time. That's why I've +not asked him to the house." +</P> + +<P> +I told Sir Anthony of my interview with the young man. He waxed wroth. +In a country with a backbone every Randall Holmes in the land would +have been chucked willy-nilly into the army. But the country had spinal +disorders. It had locomotor ataxy. The result of sloth and +self-indulgence. We had the Government we deserved ... I need not quote +further. You can imagine a fine old fox-hunting Tory gentleman, with +England filling all the spaces of his soul, blowing off the steam of +his indignation. +</P> + +<P> +When he had ended, "What," said I, "is to be done?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'll lay my horsewhip across the young beggar's shoulders the next +time I meet him." +</P> + +<P> +"Capital," said I. "If I were you I should never ride abroad except in +my mayor's gown and chain, so that you can give an official character +to the thrashing." +</P> + +<P> +He glanced swiftly at me in his bird-like fashion, his brow creased +into a thousand tiny horizontal lines—it always took him a fraction of +a second to get clear of the literal significance of words—and then he +laughed. Personal violence was out of the question. Why, the young +beggar might summon him for assault. No; he had a better idea. He would +put in a word at the proper quarter, so that every recruiting sergeant +in the district should have orders to stop him at every opportunity. +</P> + +<P> +"I shouldn't do that," said I. +</P> + +<P> +"Then, I don't know what the deuce I can do," said Sir Anthony. +</P> + +<P> +As I didn't know, either, our colloquy was fruitless. Eventually Sir +Anthony said: +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps it's likely, after all, that Gedge may offend young Oxford's +fastidiousness. It can't be long before he discovers Gedge to be +nothing but a vulgar, blatant wind-bag; and then he may undergo some +reaction." +</P> + +<P> +I agreed. It seemed to be the most sensible thing he had said. Give +Gedge enough rope and he would hang himself. So we parted. +</P> + +<P> +I have said before that when I want to shew how independent I am of +everybody I drive abroad in my donkey carriage. But there are times +when I have to be dependent on Marigold for carrying me into the houses +I enter; on these helpless occasions I am driven about by Marigold in a +little two-seater car. That is how I visited Wellings Park and that is +how I set off a day or two later to call on Mrs. Boyce. +</P> + +<P> +As she took little interest in anything foreign to her own inside, she +was not to most people an exhilarating companion. She even discussed +the war in terms of her digestion. But we were old friends. Being a bit +of a practical philosopher I could always derive some entertainment +from her serial romance of a Gastric Juice, and besides, she was the +only person in Wellingsford whom I did not shrink from boring with the +song of my own ailments. Rather than worry the Fenimores or Betty or +Mrs. Holmes with my aches and pains I would have hung on, like the +idiot boy of Sparta with the fox, until my vitals were gnawed +out—parenthetically, it has always worried me to conjecture why a boy +should steal a fox, why it should have been so valuable to the owner, +and to what use he put it. In the case of all my other friends I +regarded myself as too much of an obvious nuisance, as it was, for me +to work on their sympathy for infirmities that I could hide; but with +Mrs. Boyce it was different. The more I chanted antistrophe to her +strophe of lamentation the more was I welcome in her drawing-room. I +had not seen her for some weeks. Perhaps I had been feeling remarkably +well with nothing in the world to complain about, and therefore +unequipped with a topic of conversation. However, hearty or not, it was +time for me to pay her a visit. So I ordered the car. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Boyce lived in a comfortable old house half a mile or so beyond +the other end of the town, standing in half a dozen well-wooded acres. +It was a fair April afternoon, all pale sunshine and tenderness. A +dream of fairy green and delicate pink and shy blue sky melting into +pearl. The air smelt sweet. It was good to be in it, among the trees +and the flowers and the birds. +</P> + +<P> +Others must have also felt the calls of the spring, for as we were +driving up to the house, I caught a glimpse of the lawn and of two +figures strolling in affectionate attitude. One was that of Mrs. Boyce; +the other, khaki-clad and towering above her, had his arm round her +waist. The car pulled up at the front door. Before we had time to ring, +a trim parlour-maid appeared. +</P> + +<P> +"Mrs. Boyce is not at home, sir." +</P> + +<P> +Marigold, who, when my convenience was in question, swept away social +conventions like cobwebs, fixed her with his one eye, and before I +could interfere, said: +</P> + +<P> +"I'm afraid you're mistaken. I've just seen Major Boyce and Madam on +the lawn." +</P> + +<P> +The maid reddened and looked at me appealingly. +</P> + +<P> +"My orders were to say not at home, sir." +</P> + +<P> +"I quite understand, Mary," said I. "Major Boyce is home on short +leave, and they don't want to be disturbed. Isn't that it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, sir." +</P> + +<P> +"Marigold," said I. "Right about turn." +</P> + +<P> +Marigold, who had stopped the car, got out unwillingly and went to the +starting-handle. That I should be refused admittance to a house which I +had deigned to honour with my presence he regarded as an intolerable +insult. He also loved to have tea, as a pampered guest, in other folks' +houses. When he got home Mrs. Marigold, as like as not, would give him +plain slabs of bread buttered by her economical self. I knew my +Marigold. He gave a vicious and ineffectual turn or two and then stuck +his head in the bonnet. +</P> + +<P> +The situation was saved by the appearance from the garden of Mrs. Boyce +herself, a handsome, erect, elegantly dressed old lady in the late +sixties, pink and white like a Dresden figure and in her usual +condition of resplendent health. She held out her hand. +</P> + +<P> +"I couldn't let you go without telling you that Leonard is back. I +don't want the whole town to know. If it did, I should see nothing of +him, his leave is so short. That's why I told Mary to say 'not at +home.' But an old friend like you—Would you like to see him?" +</P> + +<P> +Marigold closed the bonnet and stood up with a grimace which passed for +a happy smile. +</P> + +<P> +"I should, of course," said I, politely. "But I quite understand. You +have everything to say to each other. No. I won't stay"—Marigold's +smile faded into woodenness—"I only turned in idly to see how you were +getting on. But just tell me. How is Leonard? Fit, I hope?" +</P> + +<P> +"He's wonderful," she said. +</P> + +<P> +I motioned Marigold to start the car. +</P> + +<P> +"Give him my kind regards," said I. "No, indeed. He doesn't want to see +an old crock like me." The engine rattled. "I hope he's pleased at +finding his mother looking so bonny." +</P> + +<P> +"It's only excitement at having Leonard," she explained earnestly. "In +reality I'm far from well. But I wouldn't tell him for worlds." +</P> + +<P> +"What's that you wouldn't tell, mother?" cried a soft, cheery voice, +and Leonard, the fine flower of English soldiery, turned the corner of +the house. +</P> + +<P> +There he stood, tall, deep-chested, clear-eyed, bronzed, his heavy chin +in the air, his bull-neck not detracting from his physical +handsomeness, but giving it a seal of enormous strength. +</P> + +<P> +"My dear fellow," he cried, grasping my hand heartily, "how glad I am +to see you. Come along in and let mother give you some tea. Nonsense!" +he waved away my protest. "Marigold, stop that engine and bring in the +Major. I've got lots of things to tell you. That's right." +</P> + +<P> +He strode boyishly to the front door, which he threw open wide to admit +Marigold and myself and followed us with Mrs. Boyce into the +drawing-room, talking all the while. I must confess that I was just a +little puzzled by his exuberant welcome. And, to judge by the blank +expression that flitted momentarily over her face, so was his mother. +If he were so delighted by my visit, why had he not crossed the lawn at +once as soon as he saw the car? Why had he sent his mother on ahead? I +was haunted by an exchange of words overheard in imagination: +</P> + +<P> +"Confound the fellow! What has he come here for?" +</P> + +<P> +"Mary will say 'not at home.'" +</P> + +<P> +"But he has spotted us. Do go and get rid of him." +</P> + +<P> +"Such an old friend, dear." +</P> + +<P> +"We haven't time for old fossils. Tell him to go and bury himself." +</P> + +<P> +And (in my sensitive fancy) she had delivered the import of the +message. I had gathered that my visit was ill-timed. I was preparing to +cut it short, when Leonard himself came up and whisked me against my +will to the tea-table. If my hypothesis were correct he had evidently +changed his mind as to the desirability of getting rid, in so summary a +fashion, of what he may have considered to be an impertinent and +malicious little factor in Wellingsford gossip. +</P> + +<P> +At any rate, if he was playing a part, he played it very well. It was +not in the power of man to be more cordial and gracious. He gave me a +vivid account of the campaign. He had been through everything, the +retreat from Mons, the Battle of the Aisne, the great rush north, and +the Battle of Neuve Chapelle on the 17th of March. I listened, +fascinated, to his tale, which he told with a true soldier's impersonal +modesty. +</P> + +<P> +"I was glad," said I, after a while, "to see you twice mentioned in +dispatches." +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Boyce turned on me triumphantly. "He is going to get his D. S. O." +</P> + +<P> +"By Jove!" said I. +</P> + +<P> +Leonard laughed, threw one gaitered leg over the other and held up his +hands at her. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, you feminine person!" He smiled at me. "I told my dear old mother +as a dead and solemn secret." +</P> + +<P> +"But it will be gazetted in a few days, dear." +</P> + +<P> +"One can never be absolutely sure of these things until they're in +black and white. A pretty ass I'd look if there was a hitch—say +through some fool of a copying clerk—and I didn't get it after all. +It's only dear, silly understanding things like mothers that would +understand. Other people wouldn't. Don't you think I'm right, Meredyth?" +</P> + +<P> +Of course he was. I have known, in my time, of many disappointments. It +is not every recommendation for honours that becomes effective. I +congratulated him, however, and swore to secrecy. +</P> + +<P> +"It's all luck," said he. "Just because a man happens to be spotted. If +my regiment got its deserts, every Jack man would walk about in a suit +of armour made of Victoria Crosses. Give me some more tea, mother." +</P> + +<P> +"The thing I shall never understand, dear," she said, artlessly, +looking up at him, while she handed him his cup, "is when you see a lot +of murderous Germans rushing at you with guns and shells and bayonets, +how you are not afraid." +</P> + +<P> +He threw back his head and laughed in his debonair fashion; but I +watched him narrowly and I saw the corners of his mouth twitch for the +infinitesimal fraction of a second. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, sometimes we're in an awful funk, I assure you," he replied gaily. +"Ask Meredyth." +</P> + +<P> +"We may be," said I, "but we daren't shew it—I'm speaking of officers. +If an officer funks he's generally responsible for the death of +goodness knows how many men. And if the men funk they're liable to be +shot for cowardice in the face of the enemy." +</P> + +<P> +"And what happens to officers who are afraid?" +</P> + +<P> +"If it's known, they get broke," said I. +</P> + +<P> +Boyce swallowed his tea at a gulp, set down the cup, and strode to the +window. There was a short pause. Presently he turned. +</P> + +<P> +"Physical fear is a very curious thing," he said in a voice +unnecessarily loud. "I've seen it take hold of men of proved courage +and paralyse them. It's just like an epileptic fit—beyond a man's +control. I've known a fellow—the most reckless, hare-brained daredevil +you can imagine—to stand petrified with fear on the bank of a river, +and let a wounded comrade drown before his eyes. And he was a good +swimmer too." +</P> + +<P> +"What happened to him?" I asked. +</P> + +<P> +He met my gaze for a moment, looked away, and then met it again—it +seemed defiantly. +</P> + +<P> +"What happened to him? Well—" there was the tiniest possible pause—a +pause that only an uneasy, suspicious repository of the abominable +story of Vilboek's Farm could have noticed—"Well, as he stood there he +got plugged—and that was the end of him. But what I—" +</P> + +<P> +"Was he an officer, dear?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, no, mother, a sergeant," he answered abruptly, and in the same +breath continued. "What I was going to say is this. No one as far as I +know has ever bothered to work out the psychology of fear. Especially +the sudden thing that hits a man's heart and makes him stand +stock-still like a living corpse—unable to move a muscle—all his +willpower out of gear—just as a motor is out of gear. I've seen a lot +of it. Those men oughtn't to be called cowards. It's as much a fit, +say, as epilepsy. Allowances ought to made for them." +</P> + +<P> +It was a warm day, the windows were closed, my valetudinarian hostess +having a horror of draughts, and a cheery fire was blazing up the +chimney. Boyce took out a handkerchief and mopped his forehead. +</P> + +<P> +"Dear old mother," said he, "you keep this room like an oven." +</P> + +<P> +"It is you who have got so excited talking, dear," said Mrs. Boyce. +"I'm sure it can't be good for your heart. It is just the same with me. +I remember I had to speak quite severely to Mary a week—no, to-day's +Tuesday—ten days ago, and I had dreadful palpitations afterwards and +broke out into a profuse perspiration and had to send for Doctor Miles." +</P> + +<P> +"Now, that's funny," said I. "When I'm excited about anything I grow +quite cold." +</P> + +<P> +Boyce lit a cigarette and laughed. "I don't see where the excitement in +the present case comes in. Mother started an interesting hare, and I +followed it up. Anyhow—" he threw himself on the sofa, blew a kiss to +his mother in the most charming way in the world, and smiled on +me—"anyhow, to see you two in this dearest bit of dear old England is +like a dream. And I'm not going to think of the waking up. I want all +the cushions and the lavender and the neat maid's caps and aprons—I +said to Mary this morning when she drew my curtains: 'Stay just there +and let me look at you so that I can realise I'm at home and not in my +little grey trench in West Flanders'—she got red and no doubt thought +me a lunatic and felt inclined to squawk—but she stayed and looked +jolly pretty and refreshing—only for a minute or two, after which I +dismissed her—yes, my dears, I want everything that the old life +means, the white table linen, the spring flowers, the scent of the air +which has never known the taint of death, and all that this beautiful +mother of England, with her knitting needles, stands for. I want to +have a debauch of sweet and beautiful things." +</P> + +<P> +"As far as I can give them you shall have them. My dear—" she dropped +her knitting in her lap and looked over at him tragically—"I quite +forgot to ask. Did Mary put bath-salts, as I ordered, into your bath +this morning?" +</P> + +<P> +Leonard threw away his cigarette and slapped his leg. +</P> + +<P> +"By George!" he cried. "That explains it. I was wondering where the +Dickens that smell of ammonia came from." +</P> + +<P> +"If you use it every day it makes your skin so nice and soft," remarked +Mrs. Boyce. +</P> + +<P> +He laughed, and made the obvious jest on the use of bath-salts in the +trenches. +</P> + +<P> +"I wonder, mother, whether you have any idea of what trenches and +dug-outs look like." +</P> + +<P> +He told her, very picturesquely, and went on to a general sketch of +life at the front. He entertained me with interesting talk for the rest +of my visit. I have already said that he was a man of great personal +charm. +</P> + +<P> +He accompanied me to the car and saw me comfortably tucked in. +</P> + +<P> +"You won't give me away, will you?" he said, shaking hands. +</P> + +<P> +"How?" I asked. +</P> + +<P> +"By telling any one I'm here." +</P> + +<P> +I promised and drove off. Marigold, full of the tea that is given to a +guest, strove cheerfully to engage me in conversation. I hate to snub +Marigold, excellent and devoted fellow, so I let him talk; but my mind +was occupied with worrying problems. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap06"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VI +</H3> + +<P> +Leonard Boyce had received me on sufferance. I had come upon him while +he was imprudently exposing himself to view. There had been no way out +of it. But he made it clear that he desired no other Wellingsfordian to +invade his privacy. Secretly he had come to see his mother and secretly +he intended to go. I remembered that before he went to the front he had +not come home, but his mother had met him in London. He had asked me +for no local news. He had inquired after the welfare of none of his old +friends. Never an allusion to poor Oswald Fenimore's gallant death—he +used to run in and out of Wellings Park as if it were his own house. +What had he against the place which for so many years had been his home? +</P> + +<P> +With regard to Betty Fairfax, he had loved and ridden away, it is true, +leaving her disconsolate. But though everyone knew of the engagement, +no one had suspected the defection. Betty was a young woman who could +keep her own counsel and baffle any curiosity-monger or purveyor of +gossip in the country. So when she married Captain Connor, a little +gasp went round the neighbourhood, which for the first time remembered +Leonard Boyce. There were some who blamed her for callous treatment of +Boyce, away and forgotten at the front. The majority, however, took the +matter calmly, as we have had to take far more amazing social +convulsions. The fact remained that Betty was married, and there was no +reason whatever, on the score of the old engagement, for Boyce to +manifest such exaggerated shyness with regard to Wellingsford society. +</P> + +<P> +If it had been any other man than Boyce, I should not have worried +about the matter at all. Save that I was deeply attached to Betty, what +had her discarded lover's attitude to do with me? But Boyce was Boyce, +the man of the damnable story of Vilboek's Farm. And he, of his own +accord, had revived in my mind that story in all its intensity. A +chance foolish question, such as thousands of gentle, sheltered women +have put to their suddenly uncomprehended, suddenly deified sons and +husbands, had obviously disturbed his nervous equilibrium. That little +reflex twitch at the corner of his lips—I have seen it often in the +old times. I should like to have had him stripped to the waist so that +I could have seen his heart—the infallible test. At moments of mighty +moral strain men can keep steady eyes and nostrils and mouth and +speech; but they cannot control that tell-tale diaphragm of flesh over +the heart. I have known it to cause the death of many a Kaffir spy.... +But, at any rate, there was the twitch of the lips ... I deliberately +threw weight into the scale of Mrs. Boyce's foolish question. If he had +not lost his balance, why should he have launched into an almost +passionate defence of the physical coward? +</P> + +<P> +My memory went back to the narrative of the poor devil in the Cape Town +hospital. Boyce's description of the general phenomenon was a deadly +corroboration of Somers's account of the individual case. They had used +the same word—"paralysed." Boyce had made a fierce and definite +apologia for the very act of which Somers had accused him. He put it +down to the sudden epilepsy of fear for which a man was irresponsible. +Somers's story had never seemed so convincing—the first part of it, at +least—the part relating to the paralysis of terror. But the second +part—the account of the diabolical ingenuity by means of which Boyce +rehabilitated himself—instead of blowing his brains out like a +gentleman—still hammered at the gates of my credulity. +</P> + +<P> +Well—granted the whole thing was true—why revive it after fifteen +years' dead silence, and all of a sudden, just on account of an idle +question? Even in South Africa, his "mention" had proved his courage. +Now, with the D. S. O. a mere matter of gazetting, it was established +beyond dispute. +</P> + +<P> +On the other hand, if the Vilboek story, more especially the second +part, was true, what reparation could he make in the eyes of honourable +men?—in his own eyes, if he himself had succeeded to the status of an +honourable man? Would not any decent soldier smite him across the face +instead of grasping him by the hand? I was profoundly worried. +</P> + +<P> +Moreover Betty, level-headed Betty, had called him a devil. Why? +</P> + +<P> +If the second part of Somers's story were true, he had acted like a +devil. There is no other word for it. Now, what concrete diabolical +facts did Betty know? Or had her instinctive feminine insight pierced +through the man's outer charm and merely perceived horns, tail, and +cloven hoof cast like a shadow over his soul? +</P> + +<P> +How was I to know? +</P> + +<P> +She came to dine with me the next evening: a dear way she had of coming +uninvited, and God knows how a lonely cripple valued it. She was in +uniform, being too busy to change, and looked remarkably pretty. She +brought with her a cheery letter from her husband, received that +morning, and read me such bits as the profane might hear, her eyes +brightening as she glanced over the sections that she skipped. Beyond +doubt her marriage had brought her pleasure and pride. The pride she +would have felt to some extent, I think, if she had married a grampus; +for when a woman has a husband at the front she feels that she is +taking her part in the campaign and exposing herself vicariously to +hardship and shrapnel; and in the eyes of the world she gains thereby a +little in stature, a thing dear to every right-minded woman. But +Betty's husband was not a grampus, but a very fine fellow, a mate to be +wholly proud of: and he loved her devotedly and expressed his love +beautifully loverwise, as her tell-tale face informed me. Gratefully +and sturdily she had set herself out to be happy. She was +succeeding.... Lord bless you! Millions of women who have married, not +the wretch they loved, but the other man, have lived happy ever after. +No: I had no fear for Betty now. I could not see that she had any fear +for herself. +</P> + +<P> +After dinner she sat on the floor by my side and smoked cigarettes in +great content. She had done a hard day's work at the hospital; her +husband had done a hard day's work—probably was still doing it—in +Flanders. Both deserved well of their country and their consciences. +She was giving a poor lonely paralytic, who had given his legs years +ago to the aforesaid country, a delightful evening. ... No, I'm quite +sure such a patronising thought never entered my Betty's head. After +all, my upper half is sound, and I can talk sense or nonsense with +anybody. What have one's legs to do with a pleasant after-dinner +conversation? Years ago I swore a great oath that I would see them +damned before they got in the way of my intelligence. +</P> + +<P> +We were getting on famously. We had put both war and Wellingsford +behind us, and talked of books. I found to my dismay that this fair and +fearless high product of modernity had far less acquaintance with +Matthew Arnold than with the Evangelist of the same praenomen. She had +never heard of "The Forsaken Merman," one of the most haunting romantic +poems in the English language. I pointed to a bookcase and bade her +fetch the volume. She brought it and settled down again by my chair, +and, as a punishment of ignorance, and for the good of her soul, I +began to read aloud. She is an impressionable young person and yet one +of remarkable candour. If she had not been held by the sea-music of the +poem, she would not have kept her deep, steady brown eyes fixed on me. +I have no hesitation in repeating that we were getting on famously and +enjoying ourselves immensely. I got nearly to the end: +</P> + +<P> +"... Here came a mortal, But faithless was she, And alone dwell forever +The Kings of the sea. But, children at midnight—" +</P> + +<P> +The door opened wide. Topping his long stiff body, Marigold's ugly +one-eyed head appeared, and, as if he was tremendously proud of +himself, he announced: +</P> + +<P> +"Major Boyce." +</P> + +<P> +Boyce strode quickly past him and, suddenly aware of Betty by my side, +stopped short, like a private suddenly summoned to attention. Marigold, +unconscious of the blackest curses that had ever fallen upon him during +his long and blundering life, made a perfect and self-satisfied exit. +Betty sprang to her feet, held her tall figure very erect, and faced +the untimely visitor, her cheeks flushing deep red. For an appreciable +time, say, thirty seconds, Boyce stood stock still, looking at her from +under heavy contracted brows. Then he recovered himself, smiled, and +advanced to her with outstretched hand, But, on his movement, she had +been quick to turn and bend down in order to pick up the book that had +fallen from my fingers on the further side of my chair. So, swiftly he +wheeled to me with his handshake. It was very deft manoeuvring on both +sides. +</P> + +<P> +"The faithful Marigold didn't tell me that you weren't alone, +Meredyth," he said in his cordial, charming way. "Otherwise I shouldn't +have intruded. But my dear old mother had an attack of something and +went to bed immediately after dinner, and I thought I'd come round and +have a smoke and a drink in your company." +</P> + +<P> +Betty, who had occupied herself by replacing Matthew Arnold's poems in +the bookcase, caught up the box of cigars that lay on the brass tray +table by my side, and offered it to him. +</P> + +<P> +"Here is the smoke," she said. +</P> + +<P> +And when, after a swift, covert glance at her, he had selected a cigar, +she went to the bell-push by the mantelpiece. +</P> + +<P> +"The drinks will be here in a minute." +</P> + +<P> +In order to do something to save this absurd situation, I drew from my +waistcoat pocket a little cigar-cutter attached to my watch-chain, and +clipped the end of his cigar. I also lit a match from my box and handed +it up to him. When he had finished with the match he threw it into the +fireplace and turned to Betty. +</P> + +<P> +"My congratulations are a bit late, but I hope I may offer them." +</P> + +<P> +She said, "Thank you." Waved a hand. "Won't you sit down?" +</P> + +<P> +"Wasn't it rather sudden?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Everything in war time is sudden—except the action of the British +Government. Your own appearance to-night is sudden." +</P> + +<P> +He laughed at her jest and explained, much as he had done to me, his +reasons for wishing to keep his visit to Wellingsford a secret. +Meanwhile Marigold had brought in decanters and syphons. Betty attended +to Boyce's needs with a provoking air of nonchalance. If a notorious +German imbrued in the blood of babes had chanced to be in her hospital, +she would have given him his medicine with just the same air. Although +no one could have specified a lack of courtesy towards a guest—for in +my house she played hostess—there was an indefinable touch of cold +contumely in her attitude. Whether he felt the hostility as acutely as +I did, I cannot say; but he carried it off with a swaggering grace. He +bowed to her over his glass. +</P> + +<P> +"Here's to the fortunate and gallant fellow over there." +</P> + +<P> +I saw her knuckles whiten as, with an inclination of the head, she +acknowledged the toast. +</P> + +<P> +"By the way," said he, "what's his regiment? My good mother told me his +name. Captain Connor, isn't it? But for the rest she is vague. She's +the vaguest old dear in the world. I found out to-day that she thought +there was a long row of cannons, hundreds of them, all in a line, in +front of the English Army, and a long row in front of the German Army, +and, when there was a battle, that they all blazed away. So when I +asked her whether your husband was in the Life Guards or the Army +Service Corps, she said cheerfully that it was either one or the other +but she wasn't quite sure. So do give me some reliable information." +</P> + +<P> +"My husband is in the 10th Wessex Fusiliers, a Territorial battalion," +she replied coldly. +</P> + +<P> +"I hope some day to have the pleasure of making his acquaintance." +</P> + +<P> +"Stranger things have happened," said Betty. She glanced at the clock +and rose abruptly. "It's time I was getting back to the hospital." +</P> + +<P> +Boyce rose too. "How are you going?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm walking." +</P> + +<P> +He advanced a step towards her. "Won't you let me run you round in the +car?" +</P> + +<P> +"I prefer to walk." +</P> + +<P> +Her tone was final. She took affectionate leave of me and went to the +door, which Boyce held open. +</P> + +<P> +"Good-night," she said, without proffering her hand. +</P> + +<P> +He followed her out into the hall. +</P> + +<P> +"Betty," he said in a low voice, "won't you ever forgive me?" +</P> + +<P> +"I have no feelings towards you either of forgiveness or resentment," +she replied. +</P> + +<P> +They did not mean to be overheard, but my hearing is unusually acute, +and I could not help catching their conversation. +</P> + +<P> +"I know I seem to have behaved badly to you." +</P> + +<P> +"You have behaved worse to others," said Betty. "I don't wonder at your +shrinking from showing your face here." Then, louder, for my benefit. +"Good-night, Major Boyce. I really can walk up to the hospital by +myself." +</P> + +<P> +Evidently she walked away and Boyce after her, for I heard him say: +</P> + +<P> +"You shan't go till you've told me what you mean." +</P> + +<P> +What she replied I don't know. To judge by the slam of the front door +it must have been something defiant. Presently he entered debonair, +with a smile on his lips. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm afraid I've left you in a draught," he said, shutting the door. "I +couldn't resist having a word with her and wishing her happiness and +the rest of it. We were engaged once upon a time." +</P> + +<P> +"I know," said I. +</P> + +<P> +"I hope you don't think I did wrong in releasing her from the +engagement. I don't consider a man has a right to go on active +service—especially on such service as the present war—and keep a girl +bound at home. Still less has he a right to marry her. What happens in +so many cases? A fortnight's married life. The man goes to the front. +Then ping! or whizz-bang! and that's the end of him, and so the girl is +left." +</P> + +<P> +"On the other hand," said I, "you must remember that the girl may hold +very strong opinions and take pings and whizz-bangs very deliberately +into account." +</P> + +<P> +Boyce helped himself to another whisky and soda. "It's a matter for the +individual conscience. I decided one way. Connor obviously decided +another, and, like a lucky fellow, found Betty of his way of thinking. +Perhaps I have old-fashioned notions." He took a long pull at his +drink. "Well, it can't be helped," he said with a smile. "The other +fellow has won, and I must take it gracefully. ... By George! wasn't +she looking stunning to-night—in that kit? ... I hope you didn't mind +my bursting in on you—" +</P> + +<P> +"Of course not," said I, politely. +</P> + +<P> +He drained his glass. "The fact is," said he, "this war is a +nerve-racking business. I never dreamed I was so jumpy until I came +home. I hate being by myself. I've kept my poor devoted mother up till +one o'clock in the morning. To-night she struck, small blame to her; +but, after five minutes on my lones, I felt as if I should go off my +head. So I routed out the car and came along. But of course I didn't +expect to see Betty. The sight of Betty in the flesh as a married woman +nearly bowled me over. May I help myself again?" He poured out a very +much stiffer drink than before, and poured half of it down his throat. +"It's not a joyous thing to see the woman one has been crazy over the +wife of another fellow." +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose it isn't," said I. +</P> + +<P> +Of course I might have made some subtle and cunning remark, suavely put +a leading question which would have led him on, in his unbalanced mood, +to confidential revelations. But the man was a distinguished soldier +and my guest. To what he chose to tell me voluntarily I could listen. I +could do no more. He did not reply to my last unimportant remark, but +lay back in his armchair watching the blue spirals of smoke from the +end of his cigar. There was a fairly long silence. +</P> + +<P> +I was worried by the talk I had overheard through the open door. "You +have behaved worse to others. I don't wonder at your shrinking from +showing your face here." Betty had, weeks ago, called him a devil. She +had treated him to-night in a manner which, if not justified, was +abominable. I was forced to the conclusion that Betty was fully aware +of some discreditable chapter in the man's life which had nothing to do +with the affair at Vilboek's Farm, which, indeed, had to do with +another woman and this humdrum little town of Wellingsford. Otherwise +why did she taunt him with hiding from the light of Wellingsfordian day? +</P> + +<P> +Now, please don't think me little-minded. Or, if you do think so, +please remember the conditions under which I have lived for so many +years and grant me your kind indulgence for a confession I have to +make. Besides being worried, I felt annoyed. Wellingsford was my little +world. I knew everybody in it. I had grown to regard myself as the +repository of all its gossip. The fraction of it that I retailed was a +matter of calculated discretion. I made a little hobby—it was a +foible, a vanity, what you will—of my omniscience. I knew months ahead +the dates of the arrivals of young Wellingsfordians in this world of +pain and plenitude. I knew of maidens who were wronged and youths who +were jilted; of wives who led their husbands a deuce of a dance, and of +wives who kept their husbands out of the bankruptcy court. When young +Trexham, the son of the Lord Lieutenant of the county, married a minor +light of musical comedy at a registrar's office, I was the first person +in the place to be told; and I flatter myself that I was instrumental +in inducing a pig-headed old idiot to receive an exceedingly charming +daughter-in-law. I loved to look upon Wellingsford as an open book. Can +you blame me for my resentment at coming across, so to speak, a couple +of pages glued together? The only logical inference from Betty's remark +was that Boyce had behaved abominably and even notoriously to a woman +in Wellingsford. To do him justice, I declare I had never heard his +name associated with any woman or girl in the place save Betty herself. +I felt that, in some crooked fashion, or the other, I had been done out +of my rights. +</P> + +<P> +And there, placidly smoking his cigar and watching the wreaths of blue +smoke with the air of an idle seraph contemplating a wisp of cirrus in +Heaven's firmament, sat the man who could have given me the word of the +enigma. +</P> + +<P> +He broke the silence by saying: +</P> + +<P> +"Have you ever seriously considered the real problems of the Balkans?" +</P> + +<P> +Now what on earth had the Balkans to do with the thoughts that must +have been rolling at the back of the man's mind? I was both +disappointed and relieved. I expected him to resume the personal talk, +and I dreaded lest he should entrust me with embarrassing confidences. +After three strong whiskies and sodas a man is apt to relax hold of his +discretion.... Anyhow, he jerked me back to my position of host. I made +some sort of polite reply. He smiled. +</P> + +<P> +"You, my dear Meredyth, like the rest of the country, are half asleep. +In a few months' time you'll get the awakening of your life." +</P> + +<P> +He began to discourse on the diplomatic situation. Months afterwards I +remembered what he had said that night and how accurate had been his +forecast. He talked brilliantly for over an hour, during which, keenly +interested in his arguments, I lost the puzzle of the man in admiration +of the fine soldier and clear and daring thinker. It was only when he +had gone that I began to worry again. +</P> + +<P> +And before I went to sleep I had fresh cause for anxious speculation. +</P> + +<P> +"Marigold," said I, when he came in as usual to carry me to bed, +"didn't I tell you that Major Boyce particularly wanted no one to know +that he was in the town?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, sir," said Marigold. "I've told nobody." +</P> + +<P> +"And yet you showed him in without informing him that Mrs. Connor was +here. Really you ought to have had more tact." +</P> + +<P> +Marigold received his reprimand with the stolidity of the old soldier. +I have known men who have been informed that they would be +court-martialled and most certainly shot, make the same reply. +</P> + +<P> +"Very good, sir," said he. +</P> + +<P> +I softened. I was not Marigold's commanding officer, but his very +grateful friend. "You see," said I, "they were engaged before Mrs. +Connor married—I needn't tell you that; it was common knowledge—and +so their sudden meeting was awkward." +</P> + +<P> +"Mrs. Marigold has already explained, sir," said he. +</P> + +<P> +I chuckled inwardly all the way to my bedroom. +</P> + +<P> +"All the same, sir," said he, aiding me in my toilet, which he did with +stiff military precision, "I don't think the Major is as incognighto" +(the spelling is phonetic) "as he would like. Prettilove was shaving me +this morning and told me the Major was here. As I considered it my +duty, I told him he was a liar, and he was so upset that he nicked my +Adam's apple and I was that covered with blood that I accused him of +trying to cut my throat, and I went out and finished shaving myself at +home, which is unsatisfactory when you only have a thumb on your right +hand to work the razor." +</P> + +<P> +I laughed, picturing the scene. Prettilove is an inoffensive little +rabbit of a man. Marigold might sit for the model of a war-scarred +mercenary of the middle ages, and when he called a man a liar he did it +with accentuaton and vehemence. No wonder Prettilove jumped. +</P> + +<P> +"And then again this evening, sir," continued Marigold, slipping me +into my pyjama jacket, "as I was starting the Major's car, who should +be waiting there for him but Mr. Gedge." +</P> + +<P> +"Gedge?" I cried. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, sir. Waiting by the side of the car. 'Can I have a word with you, +Major Boyce?' says he. 'No, you can't,' says the Major. 'I think it's +advisable,' says he. 'Those repairs are very pressing.' 'All right,' +says the Major, 'jump in.' Then he says: 'That'll do, Marigold. +Good-night.' And he drives off with Mr. Gedge. Well, if Mr. Gedge and +Prettilove know he's here, then everyone knows it." +</P> + +<P> +"Was Gedge inside the drive?" I asked. The drive was a small +semicircular sort of affair, between gate and gate. +</P> + +<P> +"He was standing by the car waiting," said Marigold. "Now, sir." He +lifted me with his usual cast-iron tenderness into bed and pulled the +coverings over me. "It's a funny time to talk about house repairs at +eleven o'clock, at night," he remarked. +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing is funny in war-time," said I. +</P> + +<P> +"Either nothing or everything," said Marigold. He fussed methodically +about the room, picked up an armful of clothes, and paused by the door, +his hand on the switch. +</P> + +<P> +"Anything more, sir?" +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing, thank you, Marigold." +</P> + +<P> +"Good-night, sir." +</P> + +<P> +The room was in darkness. Marigold shut the door. I was alone. +</P> + +<P> +What the deuce was the meaning of this waylaying of Boyce by Daniel +Gedge? +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap07"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VII +</H3> + +<P> +"Major Boyce has gone, sir," said Marigold, the next morning, as I was +tapping my breakfast egg. +</P> + +<P> +"Gone?" I echoed. Boyce had made no reference the night before to so +speedy a departure. +</P> + +<P> +"By the 8.30 train, sir." +</P> + +<P> +Every train known by a scheduled time at Wellingsford goes to London. +There may be other trains proceeding from the station in the opposite +direction but nobody heeds them. Boyce had taken train to London. I +asked my omniscient sergeant: +</P> + +<P> +"How did you find that out?" +</P> + +<P> +It appeared it was the driver of the Railway Delivery Van. I smiled at +Boyce's ostrich-like faith in the invisibility of his hinder bulk. What +could occur in Wellingsford without it being known at once to vanmen +and postmen and barbers and servants and masters and mistresses? How +could a man hope to conceal his goings and comings and secret actions? +He might just as well expect to take a secluded noontide bath in the +fountain in Piccadilly Circus. +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps that's why the matter of those repairs was so pressing, sir," +said Marigold. +</P> + +<P> +"No doubt of it," said I. +</P> + +<P> +Marigold hung about, his finger-tips pushing towards me mustard and +apples and tulips and everything that one does not eat with egg. But it +was no use. I had no desire to pursue the conversation. I continued my +breakfast stolidly and read the newspaper propped up against the +coffee-pot. So many circumstances connected with Boyce's visit were of +a nature that precluded confidential discussion with Marigold,—that +precluded, indeed, confidential discussion with anyone else. The +suddenness of his departure I learned that afternoon from Mrs. Boyce, +who sent me by hand a miserable letter characteristically rambling. +From it I gathered certain facts. Leonard had come into her bedroom at +seven o'clock, awakening her from the first half-hour's sleep she had +enjoyed all night, with the news that he had been unexpectedly summoned +back. When she came to think of it, she couldn't imagine how he got the +news, for the post did not arrive till eight o'clock, and Mary said no +telegram had been delivered and there had been no call on the +telephone. But she supposed the War Office had secret ways of +communicating with officers which it would not be well to make known. +The whole of this war, with its killing off of the sons of the best +families in the land, and the sleeping in the mud with one's boots on, +to say nothing of not being able to change for dinner, and the way in +which they knew when to shoot and when not to shoot, was all so +mysterious that she had long ago given up hope of understanding any of +its details. All she could do was to pray God that her dear boy should +be spared. At any rate, she knew the duty of an English mother when the +country was in danger; so she had sent him away with a brave face and +her blessing, as she had done before. But, although English mothers +could show themselves Spartans—(she spelt it "Spartians," dear lady, +but no matter)—yet they were women and had to sit at home and weep. In +the meanwhile, her palpitations had come on dreadfully bad, and so had +her neuritis, and she had suffered dreadfully after eating some fish at +dinner which she was sure Pennideath, the fishmonger—she always felt +that man was an anarchist in disguise—had bought out of the condemned +stock at Billingsgate, and none of the doctor's medicines were of the +slightest good to her, and she was heartbroken at having to part so +suddenly from Leonard, and would I spare half an hour to comfort an old +woman who had sent her only son to die for his country and was ready, +when it pleased God, if not sooner, to die in the same sacred cause? +</P> + +<P> +So of course I went. The old lady, propped on pillows in an overheated +room, gave me tea and poured into my ear all the anguish of her simple +heart. In an abstracted, anxious way, she ate a couple of crumpets and +a wedge of cake with almond icing, and was comforted. +</P> + +<P> +We continued our discussion of the war—or rather Leonard, for with her +Leonard seemed to be the war. She made some remark deliciously inept—I +wish I could remember it. I made a sly rejoinder. She sat bolt upright +and a flush came into her Dresden-china cheek and her old eyes flashed. +</P> + +<P> +"You may think I'm a silly old woman, Duncan. I dare say I am. I can't +take in things as I used to do when I was young. But if Leonard should +be killed in the war—I think of it night and day—what I should like +to do would be to drive to the Market Square of Wellingsford and wave a +Union Jack round and round and fall down dead." +</P> + +<P> +I made some sort of sympathetic gesture. +</P> + +<P> +"And I certainly should," she added. +</P> + +<P> +"My dear friend," said I, "if I could move from this confounded chair, +I would kiss your brave hands." +</P> + +<P> +And how many brave hands of English mothers, white and delicate, coarse +and toil-worn, do not demand the wondering, heart-full homage of us all? +</P> + +<P> +And hundreds of thousands of them don't know why we are fighting. +Hundreds of thousands of them have never read a newspaper in their +lives. I doubt whether they would understand one if they tried, I doubt +whether all could read one in the literal sense of the word. We have +had—we have still—the most expensive and rottenest system of primary +education in the world, the worst that squabbling sectarians can +devise. Arab children squatting round the courtyard of a Mosque and +swaying backwards and forwards as they get by heart meaningless bits of +the Koran, are not sent out into life more inadequately armed with +elementary educational weapons than are English children. Our state of +education has nominally been systematised for forty-five years, and yet +now in our hospitals we have splendid young fellows in their early +twenties who can neither read nor write. I have talked with them. I +have read to them. I have written letters for them. Clean-cut, decent, +brave, honourable Englishmen—not gutter-bred Hooligans dragged from +the abyss by the recruiting sergeant, but men who have thrown up good +employment because something noble inside them responded to the Great +Call. And to the eternal disgrace of governments in this disastrously +politician-ridden land such men have not been taught to read and write. +It is of no use anyone saying to me that it is not so. I know of my own +certain intimate knowledge that it is so. +</P> + +<P> +Even among those who technically have "the Three R's," I have met +scores of men in our Wellingsford Hospital who, bedridden for months, +would give all they possess to be able to enjoy a novel—say a volume +of W. W. Jacobs, the writer who above all others has conferred the +precious boon of laughter on our wounded—but to whom the intellectual +strain of following the significance of consecutive words is far too +great. Thousands and thousands of men have lain in our hospitals +deprived, by the criminal insanity of party politicians, of the +infinite consolation of books. +</P> + +<P> +Christ, whom all these politicians sanctimoniously pretend to make such +a fuss of, once said that a house divided against itself cannot stand. +And yet we regard this internecine conflict between our precious +political parties as a sacred institution. By Allah, we are a funny +people! +</P> + +<P> +Of course your officials at the Board of Education—that beautiful +timber-headed, timber-hearted, timber-souled structure—could come down +on me with an avalanche of statistics. "Look at our results," they cry. +I look. There are certain brains that even our educational system +cannot benumb. A few clever ones, at the cost of enormously expensive +machinery, are sent to the universities, where they learn how to teach +others the important things whereby they achieved their own unimportant +success. The shining lights are those whom we turn out as syndicalist +leaders and other kinds of anti-patriotic demagogues. We systematically +deny them the wine of thought, but give them the dregs. But in the past +we did not care; they were vastly clever people, a credit to our +national system. It gave them chances which they took. We were devilish +proud of them. +</P> + +<P> +On the other hand, the vast mass are sent away with the intellectual +equipment of a public school-boy of twelve, and, as I have declared, a +large remnant have not been taught even how to read and write. The +storm of political controversy on educational matters has centred round +such questions as whether the story of Joseph and his Brethren and the +Parable of the Prodigal Son should be taught to little Baptists by a +Church of England teacher, and what proportion of rates paid by Church +of England ratepayers should go to giving little Baptists a Baptistical +training. If there was a Christ who could come down among us, with what +scorching sarcasm would he not shrivel up the Scribes and Pharisees, +hypocrites, who in His Name have prevented the People from learning how +to read and write. +</P> + +<P> +Look through Hansard. There never has been a Debate in the House of +Commons devoted to the question of Education itself. If the War can +teach us any lessons, as a nation—and sometimes I doubt whether it +will—it ought at least to teach us the essential vicious rottenness of +our present educational system. +</P> + +<P> +This tirade may seem a far cry from Mrs. Boyce and her sister mothers. +It is not. I started by saying that there are hundreds of thousands of +British mothers, with sons in the Army, who have never read a line of +print dealing with the war, who have the haziest notion of what it is +all about. All they know is that we are fighting Germans, who for some +incomprehensible reason have declared themselves to be our enemies; +that the Germans, by hearsay accounts, are dreadful people who stick +babies on bayonets and drop bombs on women and children. They really +know little more. But that is enough. They know that it is the part of +a man to fight for his country. They would not have their sons be +called cowards. They themselves have the blind, instinctive, and +therefore sacred love of country, which is named patriotism—and they +send forth their sons to fight. +</P> + +<P> +I stand up to kiss the white and delicate hand of the gentlewoman who +sends her boy to the war, for its owner knows as well as I do (or ought +to) all that is involved in this colossal struggle. But to the +toil-worn, coarse-handed mother I go on bended knees; nothing +intellectual comes within the range of her ideas. Her boy is fighting +for England. She would be ashamed if he were not. Were she a man she +would fight too. He has gone "with a good 'eart"—the stereotyped +phrase with which every English private soldier, tongue-tied, hides the +expression of his unconquerable soul. How many times have I not heard +it from wounded men healed of their wounds? I have never heard anything +else. "The man who says he WANTS to go back is a liar. But if they send +me, I'll go WITH A GOOD 'EART"—The phrase which ought to be +immortalized on every grave in Flanders and France and Gallipoli and +Mesopotamia. +</P> + +<BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +17735 P'V'TE THOMAS ATKINS 1ST GOD'S OWN REG'T<BR> +HE DIED WITH A GOOD 'EART +</H4> + +<BR> + +<P> +So, you see, I looked at this rather silly malade imaginaire of an old +lady with whom I was taking tea, and suddenly conceived for her a vast +respect—even veneration. I say "rather silly." I had many a time +qualified the adjective much more forcibly. I took her to have the +intellectual endowment of a hen. But then she flashed out suddenly +before me an elderly Jeanne d'Arc. That to me Leonard Boyce was suspect +did not enter at all into the question. To her—and that was all that +mattered—he was Sir Galahad, Lancelot, King Arthur, Bayard, St. +George, Hector, Lysander, Miltiades, all rolled into one. The passion +of her life was spent on him. To do him justice, he had never failed to +display to her the most tender affection. In her eyes he was +perfection. His death would mean the wiping out of everything between +Earth and Heaven. And yet, paramount in her envisagement of such a +tragedy was the idea of a public proclamation of the cause of England +in which he died. +</P> + +<P> +In this war the women of England—the women of Great Britain and +Ireland—the women of the far-flung regions of the British Empire, have +their part. +</P> + +<P> +Now and then mild business matters call me up to London. On these +occasions Marigold gets himself up in a kind of yachting kit which he +imagines will differentiate him from the ordinary chauffeur and at the +same time proclaim the dignity of the Meredyth-Marigold establishment. +He loves to swagger up the steps of my Service Club and announce my +arrival to the Hall Porter, who already, warned by telephone of my +advent, has my little wicker-work tricycle chair in readiness. I think +he feels, dear fellow, that he and I are keeping our end up; that, +although there are only bits of us left, we are there by inalienable +right as part and parcel of the British Army—none of your Territorials +or Kitcheners, but the old original British Army whose prestige and +honour were those of his own straight soul. The Hall Porter is an +ex-Sergeant-Major, and he and Marigold are old acquaintances, and the +meeting of the two warriors is acknowledged by a wink and a military +jerk of the head. I think it is Marigold that impresses Bunworthy with +a respect for me, for that august functionary never fails to descend +the steps and cross the pavement to my modest little two-seater; an act +of graciousness which (so I am given to understand by my friends) he +will only perform in the case of Royalty Itself. A mere Field-marshal +has to mount the steps unattended like any subaltern. +</P> + +<P> +These red-letter days when I drive through the familiar (and now +exciting) hubbub of London, I love (strange taste!) every motor +omnibus, every pretty woman, every sandwich-man, every fine young +fellow in khaki, every car-load of men in blue hospital uniform. I love +the smell of London, the cinematographic picture of London, the thrill +of London. To understand what I mean you have only got to get rid of +your legs and keep your heart and nerves and memories, and live in a +little country town. +</P> + +<P> +Yes, my visits to London are red-letter days. To get there with any +enjoyment to myself involves such a fussification, and such an +unauthorised claim on the services of other people, that my visits are +few and far between. +</P> + +<P> +A couple of hours in a club smoking-room—to the normal man a mere +putting in of time, a vain surcease from boredom, a vacuous habit—is +to me, a strange wonder and delight. After Wellingsford the place is +resonant with actualities. I hear all sorts of things; mostly lies, I +know; but what matter? When a man tells me that his cousin knows a man +attached as liaison officer to the staff of General Joffre, who has +given out confidentially that such and such a thing is going to happen +I am all ears. I feel that I am sucked into the great whirlpool of Vast +Events. I don't care a bit about being disillusioned afterwards. The +experience has done me good, made a man of me and sent me back to +Wellingsford as an oracle. And if you bring me a man who declares that +he does not like being an oracle, I will say to his face that he is an +unblushing liar. +</P> + +<P> +All this is by way of preface to the statement that on the third of May +(vide diary) I went to the club. It was just after lunch and the great +smoking-room was full of men in khaki and men in blue and gold, with a +sprinkling of men, mostly elderly, in mufti; and from their gilt frames +the full-length portraits of departed men of war in gorgeous uniforms +looked down superciliously on their more sadly attired descendants. I +got into a corner by the door, so as to be out of the way, for I knew +by experience that should there be in the room a choleric general, he +would inevitably trip over the casually extended front wheel of my +chair, greatly to the scandal of modest ears and to my own physical +discomfiture. +</P> + +<P> +Various seniors came up and passed the time of the day with me—one or +two were bald-headed retired colonels of sixty, dressed in khaki, with +belts like equators on a terrestrial globe and with a captain's three +stars on their sleeves. Gallant old boys, full of gout and softness, +they had sunk their rank and taken whatever dull jobs, such as guarding +internment camps or railway bridges, the War Office condescendingly +thought fit to give them. They listened sympathetically to my +grievances, for they had grievances of their own. When soldiers have no +grievances the Army will perish of smug content. +</P> + +<P> +"Why can't they give me a billet in the Army Pay and let me release a +man sounder of wind and limb?" I asked. "What's the good of legs to a +man who sits on his hunkers all day in an office and fills up Army +forms? I hate seeing you lucky fellows in uniform." +</P> + +<P> +"We're not a pretty sight," said the most rotund, who was a wag in his +way. +</P> + +<P> +Then we discussed what we knew and what we didn't know of the Battle of +Ypres, and the withdrawal of our Second Army, and shook our heads +dolorously over the casualty lists, every one of which in those days +contained the names of old comrades and of old comrades' boys. And when +they had finished their coffee and mild cigars they went off well +contented to their dull jobs and the room began to thin. Other +acquaintances on their way out paused for a handshake and a word, and I +gathered scraps of information that had come "straight from Kitchener," +and felt wonderfully wise and cheerful. +</P> + +<P> +I had been sitting alone for a few minutes when a man rose from a far +corner, a tall soldierly figure, his arm in a sling, and came straight +towards me with that supple, easy stride that only years of confident +command can give. He had keen blue eyes and a pleasant bronzed face +which I knew that I had seem somewhere before. I noticed on his sleeve +the crown and star of a lieutenant-colonel. He said pleasantly: +</P> + +<P> +"You're Major Meredyth, aren't you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said I. +</P> + +<P> +"You don't remember me. No reason why you should. But my name's +Dacre—Reggie Dacre, brother of Johnnie Dacre in your battery. We met +in Cape Town." +</P> + +<P> +I held out my hand. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course," said I. "You took me to a hospital. Do sit down for a bit. +You a member here?" +</P> + +<P> +"No. I belong to the Naval and Military. Lunching with old General +Donovan, a sort of god-father of mine. He told me who you were. I +haven't seen you since that day in South Africa." +</P> + +<P> +I asked for news of Johnnie, who had been lost to my ken for years. +Johnnie had been in India, and was now doing splendidly with his +battery somewhere near La Bassee. I pointed to the sling. Badly hurt? +No, a bit of flesh torn by shrapnel. Bone, thank God, not touched. It +was only horny-headed idiots like the British R. A. M. C. that would +send a man home for such a trifle. It was devilish hard lines to be +hoofed away from the regiment practically just after he had got his +command. However, he would be back in a week or two. He laughed. +</P> + +<P> +"Lucky to be alive at all." +</P> + +<P> +"Or not done in for ever like myself," said I. +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't like to ask—" he said. Men would rather die than commit the +indelicacy of appearing to notice my infirmity. +</P> + +<P> +"You haven't been out there?" +</P> + +<P> +"No such luck," said I. "I got this little lot about a fortnight after +I saw you. Johnnie was still on sick leave and so was out of that +scrap." +</P> + +<P> +He commiserated with me on my ill-fortune, and handed me his cigarette +case. We smoked. +</P> + +<P> +"You've been on my mind for months," he said abruptly. +</P> + +<P> +"I?" +</P> + +<P> +He nodded. "I thought I recognised you. I asked the General who you +were. He said 'Meredyth of the Gunners.' So I knew I was right and made +a bee line for you. Do you remember the story of that man in the +hospital?" +</P> + +<P> +"Perfectly," said I. +</P> + +<P> +"About Boyce of the King's Watch?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said I. "I saw Boyce, home on leave, about a fortnight ago. I +suppose you saw his D.S.O. gazetted?" +</P> + +<P> +"I did. And he deserves a jolly sight more," he exclaimed heartily. +"I've come to the conclusion that that fellow in the hospital—I forget +the brute's name—" +</P> + +<P> +"Somers," said I. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, Somers. I've come to the conclusion that he was the damn'dest, +filthiest, lyingest hound that ever was pupped." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm glad to hear it," said I. "It was a horrible story. I remember +making your brother and yourself vow eternal secrecy." +</P> + +<P> +"You can take it from me that we haven't breathed a word to anybody. As +a matter of fact, the whole damn thing had gone out of my head for +years. Then I begin to hear of a fellow called Boyce of the Rifles +doing the most crazy magnificent things. I make enquiries and find it's +the same Leonard Boyce of the Vilboek Farm story. We're in the same +Brigade. +</P> + +<P> +"You don't often hear of individual men out there—your mind's too +jolly well concentrated on your own tiny show. But Boyce has sort of +burst out beyond his own regiment and, with just one or two others, is +beginning to be legendary. He has done the maddest things and won the +V.C. twenty times over. So that blighter Somers, accusing him of +cowardice, was a ghastly liar. And then I remembered taking you up to +hear that damnable slander, and I felt that I had a share in it, as far +as you were concerned, and I longed to get at you somehow and tell you +about it. I wanted to get it off my chest. And now," said he with a +breath of relief, "thank God, I've been able to do so." +</P> + +<P> +"I wish you would tell me of an incident or two," said I. +</P> + +<P> +"He has got a life-preserver that looks like an ordinary cane—had it +specially made. It's quite famous. Men tell me that the knob is a rich, +deep, polished vermilion. He'll take on any number of Boches with it +single-handed. If there's any sign of wire-cutting, he'll not let the +men fire, but will take it on himself, and creep like a Gurkha and do +the devils in. One night he got a whole listening post like that. He +does a lot of things a second in command hasn't any business to do, but +his men would follow him anywhere. He bears a charmed life. I could +tell you lots of things—but I see my old General's getting restive." +He rose, stretched out his hand. "At any rate, take my word for it—if +there's a man in the British Army who doesn't know what fear is, that +man is Leonard Boyce." +</P> + +<P> +He nodded in his frank way and rejoined his old General. As I had had +enough exciting information for one visit to town, I motored back to +Wellingsford. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap08"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VIII +</H3> + +<P> +My house, as I have already mentioned, is situated at the extreme end +of the town on the main road, already called the Rowdon Road, which is +an extension of the High Street. It stands a little way back to allow +room for a semicircular drive, at each end of which is a broad gate. +The semicircle encloses a smooth-shaven lawn of which I am vastly +proud. In the spandrels by the side of the house are laburnums and +lilacs and laurels. From gate to gate stretch iron railings, planted in +a low stone parapet and unencumbered with vegetation, so that the view +from road to lawn and from lawn to road is unrestricted. Thus I can +take up my position on my lawn near the railings and greet all +passers-by. +</P> + +<P> +It was a lovely May morning. My laburnums and lilacs were in flower. On +the other side of the way the hedge of white-thorn screening the +grounds of a large preparatory school was in flower also, and +deliciously scented the air. I sat in my accustomed spot, a table with +writing materials, tobacco, and books by my side, and a mass of +newspapers at my feet. There was going to be a coalition Government. +Great statesmen were going to forget that there was such a thing as +party politics, except in the distribution of minor offices, when the +claims of good and faithful jackals on either side would have to be +considered. And my heart grew sick within me, and I longed for a Man to +arise who, with a snap of his strong fingers, would snuff out the +Little Parish-Pump Folk who have misruled England this many a year with +their limited vision and sordid aspirations, and would take the great, +unshakable, triumphant command of a mighty Empire passionately yearning +to do his bidding... I could read no more newspapers. They disgusted +me. One faction seemed doggedly opposed to any proposition for the +amelioration of the present disastrous state of affairs. The salvation +of wrecked political theories loomed far more important in their +darkened minds than the salvation, by hook or crook, of the British +Empire. The other faction, more patriotic in theory, cried aloud +stinking fish, and by scurrilous over-statement defeated their own +ends. In the general ignoble screech the pronouncements of the one or +two dignified and thoughtful London newspapers passed unheeded.... +</P> + +<P> +I drew what comfort I could from the sight of the continually passing +troops; a platoon off to musketry training; a battalion, brown and +dusty, on a route march with full equipment, whistling "Tipperary"; +sections of an Army Service train cursing good-humouredly at their +mules; a battery of artillery thundering along at a clean, rhythmical +trot which, considering what they were like in their slovenly jogging +and bumping three months ago, afforded me prodigious pleasure. On the +passing of these last-mentioned I felt inclined to clap my hands and +generally proclaim my appreciation. Indeed, I did arrest a fresh-faced +subaltern bringing up the rear of the battery who, having acquaintance +with me, saluted, and I shouted: +</P> + +<P> +"They're magnificent!" +</P> + +<P> +He reared up his horse and flushed with pleasure. +</P> + +<P> +"We've done our best, sir," said he. "We had news last week that we +should be sent out quite soon, and that has bucked them up enormously." +</P> + +<P> +He saluted again and rode off, and my heart went with him. What a joy +it would be to clatter down a road once again with the guns! +</P> + +<P> +And other people passed. Townsfolk who gave me a kindly "Morning, +Major!" and went on, and others who paused awhile and gave me the +gossip of the day. And presently young Randall Holmes went by on a +motor bicycle. He caught sight of me, disappeared, and then suddenly +reappeared, wheeling his machine. He rested it by the kerb of the +sidewalk and approached the railings. He was within a yard of me. +</P> + +<P> +"Would you let me speak to you for half a minute, Major?" +</P> + +<P> +"Certainly," said I. "Come in." +</P> + +<P> +He swung through the gate and crossed the lawn. +</P> + +<P> +"You said very hard things to me some time ago." +</P> + +<P> +"I did," said I, "and I don't think they were undeserved." +</P> + +<P> +"Up to a certain point I agree with you," he replied. +</P> + +<P> +He looked extraordinarily robust and athletic in his canvas kit. Why +should he be tearing about aimlessly on a motor bicycle this May +morning when he ought to be in France? +</P> + +<P> +"I wish you agreed with me all along the line," said I. +</P> + +<P> +He found a little iron garden seat and sat down by my side. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't want to enter into controversial questions," he said. +</P> + +<P> +Confound him! He might have been fifty instead of four-and-twenty. +Controversial questions! His assured young Oxford voice irritated me. +</P> + +<P> +"What do you want to enter into?" I asked. +</P> + +<P> +"A question of honour," he answered calmly. "I have been wanting to +speak to you, but I didn't like to. Passing you by, just now, I made a +sudden resolution. You have thought badly of me on account of my +attitude towards Phyllis Gedge. I want to tell you that you were quite +right. My attitude was illogical and absurd." +</P> + +<P> +"You have discovered," said I, "that she is not the inspiration you +thought she was, and like an honest man have decided to let her alone." +</P> + +<P> +"On the contrary," said he. "I'd give the eyes out of my head to marry +her." +</P> + +<P> +"Why?" +</P> + +<P> +He met my gaze very frankly. "For the simple reason, Major Meredyth, +that I love her." +</P> + +<P> +All this natural, matter-of-fact simplicity coming from so artificial a +product of Balliol as Randall Holmes, was a bit upsetting. After a +pause, I said: +</P> + +<P> +"If that is so, why don't you marry her?" +</P> + +<P> +"She'll have nothing to do with me." +</P> + +<P> +"Have you asked her?" +</P> + +<P> +"I have, in writing. There's no mistake about it. I'm in earnest." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm exceedingly glad to hear it," said I. +</P> + +<P> +And I was. An honest lover I can understand, and a Don Juan I can +understand. But the tepid philanderer has always made my toes tingle. +And I was glad, too, to hear that little Phyllis Gedge had so much +dignity and commonsense. Not many small builders' daughters would have +sent packing a brilliant young gentleman like Randall Holmes, +especially if they happened to be in love with him. As I did not +particularly wish to be the confidant of this love-lorn shepherd, I +said nothing more. Randall lit a cigarette. +</P> + +<P> +"I hope I'm not boring you," he said. +</P> + +<P> +"Not a bit." +</P> + +<P> +"Well—what complicates the matter is that her father's the most +infernal swine unhung." I started, remembering what Betty had told me. +</P> + +<P> +"I thought," said I, "that you were fast friends." +</P> + +<P> +"Who told you so?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"All the birds of Wellingsford." +</P> + +<P> +"I did go to see him now and then," he admitted. "I thought he was much +maligned. A man with sincere opinions, even though they're wrong, is +deserving of some respect, especially when the expression of them +involves considerable courage and sacrifice. I wanted to get to the +bottom of his point of view." +</P> + +<P> +"If you used such a metaphor in the Albemarle," I interrupted, "I'm +afraid you would be sacrificed by your friends." +</P> + +<P> +He had the grace to laugh. "You know what I mean." +</P> + +<P> +"And did you get to the bottom of it?" +</P> + +<P> +"I think so." +</P> + +<P> +"And what did you find?" +</P> + +<P> +"Crass ignorance and malevolent hatred of everyone better born, better +educated, better off, better dressed, better spoken than himself." +</P> + +<P> +"Still," said I, "a human being can have those disabilities and yet not +deserve to be qualified as the most infernal swine unhung." +</P> + +<P> +"That's a different matter," said he, unbuttoning his canvas jacket, +for the morning was warm. "I can talk patiently to a fool—to be able +to do so is an elementary equipment for a life among men and women—" +Why the deuce, thought I, wasn't he expending this precious acquirement +on a platoon of agricultural recruits? The officer who suffers such +gladly has his name inscribed on the Golden Legend (unfortunately +unpublished) of the British Army—"but when it comes," he went on, "to +low-down lying knavery, then I'm done. I don't know how to tackle it. +All I can do is to get out of the knave's way. I've found Gedge to be a +beast, and I'm very honourably in love with Gedge's daughter, and I've +asked her to marry me. I attach some value, Major, to your opinion of +me, and I want you to know these two facts." +</P> + +<P> +I again expressed my gratification at learning his honourable +intentions towards Phyllis, and I commended his discovery of Gedge's +fundamental turpitude. I cannot say that I was cordial. At this period, +the unmilitary youth of England were not affectionately coddled by +their friends. Still, I was curious to see whether Gedge's depravity +extended beyond a purely political scope. I questioned my young visitor. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, it's nothing to do with abstract opinions," said he, thinning away +the butt-end of his cigarette. "And nothing to do with treason, or +anything of that kind. He has got hold of a horrible story—told me all +about it when he was foully drunk—that in itself would have made me +break with him, for I loathe drunken men—and gloats over the fact that +he is holding it over somebody's head. Oh, a ghastly story!" +</P> + +<P> +I bent my brows on him. "Anything to do with South Africa?" +</P> + +<P> +"South Africa—? No. Why?" +</P> + +<P> +The puzzled look on his face showed that I was entirely on the wrong +track. I was disappointed at the faultiness of my acumen. You see, I +argued thus: Gedge goes off on a mysterious jaunt with Boyce. Boyce +retreats precipitately to London. Gedge in his cups tells a horrible +scandal with a suggestion of blackmail to Randall Holmes. What else +could he have divulged save the Vilboek Farm affair? My nimble wit had +led me a Jack o' Lantern dance to nowhere. +</P> + +<P> +"Why South Africa?" he repeated. +</P> + +<P> +I replied with Macchiavellian astuteness, so as to put him on a false +scent: "A stupid slander about illicit diamond buying in connection +with a man, now dead, who used to live here some years ago." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, no," said Randall, with a superior smile "Nothing of that sort." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, what is it?" I asked. +</P> + +<P> +He helped himself to another cigarette. "That," said he, "I can't tell +you. In the first place I gave my word of honour as to secrecy before +he told me, and, in the next, even if I hadn't given my word, I would +not be a party to such a slander by repeating it to any living man." He +bent forward and looked me straight in the eyes. "Even to you, Major, +who have been a second father to me." +</P> + +<P> +"A man," said I, "has a priceless possession that he should always +keep—his own counsel." +</P> + +<P> +"I've only told you as much as I have done," said Randall, "because I +want to make clear to you my position with regard both to Phyllis and +her father." +</P> + +<P> +"May I ask," said I, "what is Phyllis's attitude towards her father?" I +knew well enough from Betty; but I wanted to see how much Randall knew +about it. +</P> + +<P> +"She is so much out of sympathy with his opinions that she has gone to +live at the hospital." +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps she thinks you share those opinions, and for that reason won't +marry you?" +</P> + +<P> +"That may have something to do with it, although I have done my best to +convince her that I hold diametrically opposite views, But you can't +expect a woman to reason." +</P> + +<P> +"The unexpected sometimes happens," I remarked. "And then comes +catastrophe; in this case not to the woman." I cannot say that my tone +was sympathetic. I had cause for interest in his artless tale, but it +was cold and dispassionate. "Tell me," I continued, "when did you +discover the diabolical nature of the man Gedge?" +</P> + +<P> +"Last night." +</P> + +<P> +"And when did you ask Phyllis to marry you?" +</P> + +<P> +"A week ago." +</P> + +<P> +"What's going to happen now?" I asked. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm hanged if I know," said he, gloomily. +</P> + +<P> +I was in no mood to offer the young man any advice. The poor little +wretch at the hospital—so Betty had told me—was crying her eyes out +for him; but it was not for his soul's good that he should know it. +</P> + +<P> +"In heroic days," said I, "a hopeless lover always found a sovereign +remedy against an obdurate mistress." +</P> + +<P> +He rose and buttoned up his canvas jacket. +</P> + +<P> +"I know what you mean," he said. "And I didn't come to discuss it—if +you'll excuse my apparent rudeness in saying so." +</P> + +<P> +"Then things are as they were between us." +</P> + +<P> +"Not quite, I hope," he replied in a dignified way. "When last you +spoke to me about Phyllis Gedge, I really didn't know my own mind. I am +not a cad and the thought of—of anything wrong never entered my head. +On the other hand, marriage seemed out of the question." +</P> + +<P> +"I remember," said I, "you talked some blithering rot about her being a +symbol." +</P> + +<P> +"I am quite willing to confess I was a fool," he admitted gracefully. +"And I merited your strictures." +</P> + +<P> +His reversion to artificiality annoyed me. I'm far from being of an +angelic disposition. +</P> + +<P> +"My dear boy," I cried. "Do, for God's sake, talk human English, and +not the New Oxford Dictionary." +</P> + +<P> +He flushed angrily, snapped an impatient finger and thumb, and marched +away to the gravel path. I sang out sharply: +</P> + +<P> +"Randall!" +</P> + +<P> +He turned. I cried: +</P> + +<P> +"Come here at once." +</P> + +<P> +He came with sullen reluctance. Afterwards I was rather tickled at +realizing that the lame old war-dog had so much authority left. If he +had gone defiantly off, I should have felt rather a fool. +</P> + +<P> +"My dear boy," I said, "I didn't mean to insult you. But can't a clever +fellow like you understand that all the pretty frills and preciousness +of a year ago are as dead as last year's Brussels sprouts? We're up +against elemental things and can only get at them with elemental ideas +expressed in elemental language." +</P> + +<P> +"I'd have you to know," said Randall, "that I spoke classical English." +</P> + +<P> +"Quite so," said I. "But the men of to-day speak Saxon English, Cockney +English, slang English, any damned sort of English that is virile and +spontaneous. As I say, you're a clever fellow. Can't you see my point? +Speech is an index of mental attitude. I bet you what you like Phyllis +Gedge would see it at once. Just imagine a subaltern at the front after +a bad quarter of an hour with his Colonel—'I've merited your +strictures, sir!' If there was a bomb handy, the Colonel would catch it +up and slay him on the spot." +</P> + +<P> +"But I don't happen to be at the front, Major," said Randall. +</P> + +<P> +"Then you damned well ought to be," said I, in sudden wrath. +</P> + +<P> +I couldn't help it. He asked for it. He got it. +</P> + +<P> +He went away, mounted his motor bicycle, and rode off. +</P> + +<P> +I was sorry. The boy evidently was in a chastened mood. If I had +handled him gently and diplomatically, I might have done something with +him. I suppose I'm an irritable, nasty-tempered beast. It is easy to +lay the blame on my helpless legs. It isn't my legs. I've conquered my +damned legs. It isn't my legs. Its ME. +</P> + +<P> +I was ashamed of myself. And when, later, Marigold enquired whether the +doors were still shut against Mr. Holmes, I asked him what the blazes +he meant by not minding his own business. And Marigold said: "Very +good, sir." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap09"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER IX +</H3> + +<P> +For a week or two the sluggish stream of Wellingsfordian life flowed on +undisturbed. The chief incident was a recruiting meeting held on the +Common. Sir Anthony Fenimore in his civic capacity, a staff-officer +with red tabs, a wounded soldier, an elderly, eloquent gentleman from +recruiting headquarters in London, and one or two nondescripts, +including myself, were on the platform. A company of a County +Territorial Battalion and the O.T.C. of the Godbury Grammar School gave +a semblance of military display. The Town Band, in a sort of Hungarian +uniform, discoursed martial music. Old men and maidens, mothers and +children, and contented young fellows in khaki belonging to all kinds +of arms, formed a most respectable crowd. The flower of Wellingsfordian +youth was noticeably absent. They were having too excellent a time to +be drawn into the temptation of a recruiting meeting, in spite of the +band and the fine afternoon and the promiscuity of attractive damsels. +They were making unheard-of money at the circumjacent factories; their +mothers were waxing fat on billeting-money. They never had so much +money to spend on moving-picture-palaces and cheap jewellery for their +inamoratas in their lives. As our beautiful Educational system had most +scrupulously excluded from their school curriculum any reference to +patriotism, any rudimentary conception of England as their sacred +heritage, and as they had been afforded no opportunity since they left +school of thinking of anything save their material welfare and grosser +material appetites, the vague talk of peril to the British Empire left +them unmoved. They were quite content to let others go and fight. They +had their own comfortable theories about it. Some fellows liked that +sort of thing. They themselves didn't. In ordinary times, it amused +that kind of fellow to belong to a Harriers Club, and clad in shorts +and zephyrs, go on Sundays for twenty-mile runs. It didn't amuse them. +A cigarette, a girl, and a stile formed their ideal of Sunday +enjoyment. They had no quarrel with the harrier fellow or the soldier +fellow for following his bent. They were most broad-minded. But they +flattered themselves that they were fellows of a superior and more +intelligent breed. They were making money and living warm, the only +ideal of existence of which they had ever heard, and what did anything +else matter? +</P> + +<P> +If a man has never been taught that he has a country, how the deuce do +you expect him to love her—still less to defend her with his blood? +Our more than damnable governments for the last thirty years have done +everything in their power to crush in English hearts the national +spirit of England. God knows I have no quarrel with Scotland, Ireland, +and Wales. I speak in no disparagement of them. Quite the reverse. In +this war they have given freely of their blood. I only speak as an +Englishman of England, the great Mother of the Empire. Scot, Irishman, +Welshman, Canadian, Australian are filled with the pride of their +nationality. It is part of their being. Wisely they have been trained +to it from infancy. England, who is far bigger, far more powerful than +the whole lot of them put together—it's a statistical fact—has +deliberately sunk herself in her own esteem, in her own pride. Only one +great man has stood for England, as England, the great Mother, for the +last thirty years. And that man is Rudyard Kipling. And the Little Folk +in authority in England have spent their souls in rendering nugatory +his inspired message. +</P> + +<P> +This criminal self-effacement of England is at the root of the peril of +the British Empire during this war. +</P> + +<P> +I told you at the beginning that I did not know how to write a story. +You must forgive me for being led away into divagations which seem to +be irrelevant to the dramatic sequence. But when I remember that the +result of all the pomp and circumstance of that meeting was seven +recruits, of whom three were rejected as being physically unfit, my pen +runs away with my discretion, and my conjecturing as to artistic +fitness. +</P> + +<P> +Yes, the Major spoke. Sir Anthony is a peppery little person and the +audience enjoyed the cayenne piquancy of his remarks. The red-tabbed +Lieutenant-Colonel spoke. He was a bit dull. The elderly orator from +London roused enthusiastic cheers. The wounded sergeant, on crutches, +displaying a foot like a bandaged mop, brought tears into the eyes of +many women and evoked hoarse cheers from the old men. I spoke from my +infernal chair, and I think I was quite a success with the good fellows +in khaki. But the only men we wanted to appeal to had studiously +refrained from being present. The whole affair was a fiasco. +</P> + +<P> +When we got home, Marigold, who had stood behind my chair during the +proceedings, said to me: +</P> + +<P> +"I think I know personally about thirty slackers in this town, sir, and +I'm more than a match for any three of them put together. Suppose I was +to go the rounds, so to speak, and say to each of them, 'You young +blighter, if you don't come with me and enlist, I 'll knock hell out of +you!'—and, if he didn't come, I did knock hell out of him—what +exactly would happen, sir?" +</P> + +<P> +"You would be summoned," said I, "for thirty separate cases of assault +and battery. Reckoning the penalty at six months each, you would have +to go to prison for fifteen years." +</P> + +<P> +Marigold's one eye grew pensive and sad. +</P> + +<P> +"And they call this," said he, "a free country!" +</P> + +<P> +I began this chapter by remarking that for a week or two after my +second interview with Randall Holmes, nothing particular happened. Then +one afternoon came Sir Anthony Fenimore to see me, and with a view to +obtaining either my advice or my sympathy, reopened the story of his +daughter Althea found drowned in the canal eleven months before. +</P> + +<P> +What he considered a most disconcerting light had just been cast on the +tragedy by Maria Beccles. This lady was Lady Fenimore's sister. A +deadly feud, entirely of Miss Beccles' initiating and nourishing, had +existed between them for years. They had been neither on speaking nor +on writing terms. Miss Beccles, ten years Lady Fenimore's senior, was, +from all I had heard, a most disagreeable and ill-conditioned person, +as different from my charming friend Edith Fenimore as the ugly old +sisters were from Cinderella. Although she belonged to a good old South +of England family, she had joined, for reasons known only to herself, +the old Free Kirk of Scotland, found a congenial Calvinistic centre in +Galloway, and after insulting her English relations and friends in the +most unconscionable way, cut herself adrift from them for ever. "Mad as +a hatter," Sir Anthony used to say, and, never having met the lady, I +agreed with him. She loathed her sister, she detested Anthony, and she +appeared to be coldly indifferent to the fact of the existence of her +nephew Oswald. But for Althea, and for Althea alone, she entertained a +curious, indulgent affection, and every now and then Althea went to +spend a week or so in Galloway, where she contrived to obtain +considerable amusement. Aunt Maria did both herself and her visitors +very well, said Althea, who had an appreciative eye for the material +blessings of life. Althea walked over the moors and fished and took +Aunt Maria's cars out for exercise and, except whistle on the Sabbath, +seemed to do exactly what she liked. +</P> + +<P> +Now, in January 1914, Althea announced to her parents that Aunt Maria +had summoned her for a week to Galloway. Sir Anthony stuffed her +handbag with five-pound notes, and at an early hour of the morning sent +her up in the car to London in charge of the chauffeur. The chauffeur +returned saying that he had bought Miss Althea's ticket at Euston and +seen her start off comfortably on her journey. A letter or two had been +received by the Fenimores from Galloway, and letters they had written +to Galloway had been acknowledged by Althea. She returned to +Wellingsford in due course, with bonny cheeks and wind-swept eyes, and +told us all funny little stories about Aunt Maria. No one thought +anything more about it until one fine afternoon in May, 1915, when +Maria Beccles walked unexpectedly into the drawing-room of Wellings +Park, while Sir Anthony and Lady Fenimore were at tea. +</P> + +<P> +"My dear Edith," she said to her astounded hostess, who had not seen +her for fifteen years. "In this orgy of hatred and strife that is going +on in the world, it seems ridiculous to go on hating and fighting one's +own family. We must combine against the Germans and hate them. Let us +be friends." +</P> + +<P> +"Mad as Crazy Jane," said Sir Anthony, telling me the story. But I, who +had never heard Aunt Maria's side of the dispute, thought it very +high-spirited of the old lady to come and hold out the olive-branch in +so uncompromising a fashion. +</P> + +<P> +Lady Fenimore then said that she had never wished to quarrel with +Maria, and Sir Anthony declared that her patriotic sentiments did her +credit, and that he was proud to receive her under his roof, and in a +few minutes Maria was drinking tea and discussing the war in the most +contented way in the world. +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't write to you on the occasion of the death of your two +children because you knew I didn't like you," said this outspoken lady. +"I hate hypocrisy. Also I thought that tribulation might chasten you in +the eyes of the Lord. I've discussed it with our Minister, a poor body, +but a courageous man. He told me I was unchristian. Now, what with all +this universal massacre going on and my unregenerate longing, old woman +as I am, to wade knee-deep in German blood, I don't know what the devil +I am." +</P> + +<P> +The more Anthony told me of Aunt Maria, the more I liked her. +</P> + +<P> +"Can't I come round and make her acquaintance?" I cried. "She's the +sort of knotty, solid human thing that I should love. No wonder Althea +was fond of her." +</P> + +<P> +"This happened a week ago. She only stayed a night," replied Sir +Anthony. "I wish to God we had never seen her or heard of her." +</P> + +<P> +And then the good, heart-wrung little man, who had been beating about +the bush for half an hour, came straight to the point. +</P> + +<P> +"You remember Althea's visit to Scotland in January last year?" +</P> + +<P> +"Perfectly," said I. +</P> + +<P> +He rose from his chair and looked at me in wrinkled anguish. +</P> + +<P> +"She never went there," he said. +</P> + +<P> +That was what he had come to tell me. A natural reference to the last +visit of Althea to her aunt had established the stupefying fact. +</P> + +<P> +"Althea's last visit was in October, 1913," said Miss Beccles. +</P> + +<P> +"But we have letters from your house to prove she was with you in +January," said Sir Anthony. +</P> + +<P> +Most methodical and correspondence-docketing of men, he went to his +library and returned with a couple of letters. +</P> + +<P> +The old lady looked them through grimly. +</P> + +<P> +"Pretty vague. No details. Read 'em again, Anthony." +</P> + +<P> +When he had done so, she said: "Well?" +</P> + +<P> +Lady Fenimore objected: "But Althea did stay with you. She must have +stayed with you." +</P> + +<P> +"All right, Edith," said Maria, sitting bolt upright. "Call me a liar, +and have done with it. I've come here at considerable dislocation of +myself and my principles, to bury the hatchet for the sake of unity +against the enemy, and this is how I'm treated. I can only go back to +Scotland at once." +</P> + +<P> +Sir Anthony succeeded in pacifying her. The letters were evidence that +Edith and himself believed that Althea was in Galloway at the time. +Maria's denial had come upon them like a thunderclap, bewildering, +stunning. If Althea was not in Galloway, where was she? +</P> + +<P> +Maria Beccles did not reply for some time to the question. Then she +took the pins out of her hat and threw it on a chair, thus symbolising +the renunciation of her intention of returning forthwith to Scotland. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, Maria," said Lady Fenimore, with fear in her dark eyes, "we don't +doubt your word—but, as Anthony has said, if she wasn't with you, +where was she?" +</P> + +<P> +"How do I know?" +</P> + +<P> +Maria Beccles pointed a lean finger—she was a dark and shrivelled, +gipsy-like creature. "You might as well ask the canal in which she +drowned herself." +</P> + +<P> +"But, my God, Anthony!" I cried, when he had got thus far, "What did +you think? What did you say?" +</P> + +<P> +I realised that the old lady had her social disqualifications. +Plain-dealing is undoubtedly a virtue. But there are several virtues +which the better class of angel keeps chained up in a dog-kennel. Of +course she was acute. A mind trained in the acrobatics of Calvinistic +Theology is, within a narrow compass, surprisingly agile. It jumped at +one bound from the missing week in Althea's life into the black water +of the canal. It was incapable, however, of appreciating the awful +horror in the minds of the beholders. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know what I said," replied Sir Anthony, walking restlessly +about my library. "We were struck all of a heap. As you know, we never +had reason to think that the poor dear child's death was anything but +an accident. We were not narrow-minded old idiots. She was a dear good +girl. In a modern way she claimed her little independence. We let her +have it. We trusted her. We took it for granted—you know it, Duncan, +as well as I do—that, a hot night in June—not able to sleep—she had +stuck on a hat and wandered about the grounds, as she had often done +before, and a spirit of childish adventure had tempted her, that night, +to walk round the back of the town and—and—well, until in the dark, +she stepped off the tow-path by the lock gates, into nothing—and found +the canal. It was an accident," he continued, with a hand on my +shoulder, looking down on me in my chair. "The inquest proved that. I +accepted it, as you know, as a visitation of God. Edith and I sorrowed +for her like cowards. It took the war to bring us to our senses. But, +now, this damned old woman comes and upsets the whole thing." +</P> + +<P> +"But," said I, "after all, it was only a bow at a venture on the part +of the old lady." +</P> + +<P> +"I wish it were," said he, and he handed me a letter which Maria had +written to him the day after her return to Scotland. +</P> + +<P> +The letter contained a pretty piece of information. She had summarily +discharged Elspeth Macrae, her confidential maid of five-and-twenty +years' standing. Elspeth Macrae, on her own confession, had, out of +love for Althea, performed the time-honoured jugglery with +correspondence. She had posted in Galloway letters which she had +received, under cover, from Althea, and had forwarded letters that had +arrived addressed to Althea to an accommodation address in Carlisle. So +have sentimental serving-maids done since the world began. +</P> + +<P> +"What do you make of it?" asked Sir Anthony. +</P> + +<P> +What else could I make of it but the one sorry theory? What woman +employs all this subterfuge in order to obtain a weeks liberty for any +other purpose than the one elementary purpose of young humanity? +</P> + +<P> +We read the inevitable conclusion in each other's eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Who is the man, Duncan?" +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose you have searched her desk and things?" +</P> + +<P> +"Last year. Everything most carefully. It was awful—but we had to. Not +a scrap of paper that wasn't innocence itself." +</P> + +<P> +"It can't be anyone here," said I. "You know what the place is. The +slightest spark sends gossip aflame like the fumes of petrol." +</P> + +<P> +He sat down by my side and rubbed his close-cropped grey head. +</P> + +<P> +"It couldn't have been young Holmes?" +</P> + +<P> +The little man had a brave directness that sometimes disconcerted me. I +knew the ghastly stab that every word cost him. +</P> + +<P> +"She used to make mock of Randall," said I. "Don't you remember she +used to call him 'the gilded poet'? Once she said he was the most +lady-like young man of her acquaintance. I don't admire our young +friend, but I think you're on the wrong track, Anthony." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't see it," said he. "That sort of flippancy goes for nothing. +Women use it as a sort of quickset hedge of protection." He bent +forward and tapped me on my senseless knee. "Young Holmes always used +to be in and out of the house. They had known each other from +childhood. He had a distinguished Oxford career. When he won the +Newdigate, she came running to me with the news, as pleased as Punch. I +gave him a dinner in honour of it, if you remember." +</P> + +<P> +"I remember," said I. +</P> + +<P> +I did not remind him that he had made a speech which sent cold shivers +down the spine of our young Apollo; that, in a fine rhetorical +flourish—dear old fox-hunting ignoramus—he declared that the winner +of the Newdigate carried the bays of the Laureate in his knapsack; that +Randall, white-lipped with horror, murmured to Betty Fairfax, his +neighbour at the table: "My God! The Poet-Laureate's unhallowed grave! +I must burn the knapsack and take to a hod!" It was too tragical a +conversation for light allusion. +</P> + +<P> +"The poor dear child—Edith and I have sized it up—was all over him +that evening." +</P> + +<P> +"What more youthfully natural," said I, "than that she should carry off +the hero of the occasion—her childhood's playfellow?" +</P> + +<P> +"All sorts of apparently insignificant details, Duncan, taken +together—especially if they fit in—very often make up a whole case +for prosecution." +</P> + +<P> +"You're a Chairman of Quarter Sessions," I admitted, "and so you ought +to know." +</P> + +<P> +"I know this," said he, "that Holmes only spent part of that Christmas +vacation with his mother, and went off somewhere or the other early in +January." I cudgelled back my memory into confirmation of his +statement. To remember trivial incidents before the war takes a lot of +cudgelling. Yes. I distinctly recollected the young man's telling me +that Oxford being an intellectual hothouse and Wellingsford an +intellectual Arabia Petrea, he was compelled, for the sake of his +mental health, to find a period of repose in the intellectual Nature of +London. I mentioned this to Sir Anthony. +</P> + +<P> +"Yet," I said, "I don't think he had anything to do with it." +</P> + +<P> +"Why?" +</P> + +<P> +"It would have been far too much moral exertion—" +</P> + +<P> +"You call it moral?" Sir Anthony burst out angrily. +</P> + +<P> +I pacified him with an analysis, from my point of view, of Randall's +character. Centripetal forces were too strong for the young man. I +dissertated on his amours with Phyllis Gedge. +</P> + +<P> +"No, my dear old friend," said I, in conclusion, "I don't think it was +Randall Holmes." +</P> + +<P> +Sir Anthony rose and shook his fist in my face. As I knew he meant me +no bodily harm, I did not blench. +</P> + +<P> +"Who was it, then?" +</P> + +<P> +"Althea," said I, "often used to stay in town with your sister. Lady +Greatorex has a wide circle of acquaintances. Do you know anything of +the men Althea used to meet at her house?" +</P> + +<P> +"Of course I don't," replied Sir Anthony. Then he sat down again with a +gesture of despair. "After all, what does it matter? Perhaps it's as +well I don't know who the man was, for if I did, I'd kill him!" +</P> + +<P> +He set his teeth and glowered at nothing and smote his left palm with +his right fist, and there was a long silence. Presently he repeated: +</P> + +<P> +"I'd kill him!" +</P> + +<P> +We fell to discussing the whole matter over again. Why, I asked, should +we assume that the poor child was led astray by a villain? Might there +not have been a romantic marriage which, for some reason we could not +guess, she desired to keep secret for a time? Had she not been bright +and happy from January to June? And that night of tragedy... What more +likely than that she had gone forth to keep tryst with her husband and +accidentally met her death? "He arrives," said I, "waits for her. She +never comes. He goes away. The next day he learns from local gossip or +from newspapers what has happened. He thinks it best to keep silent and +let her fair name be untouched...What have you to say against that +theory?" +</P> + +<P> +"Possible," he replied. "Anything conceivable within the limits of +physical possibility is possible. But it isn't probable. I have an +intuitive feeling that there was villainy about—and if ever I get hold +of that man—God help him!" +</P> + +<P> +So there was nothing more to be said. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap10"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER X +</H3> + +<P> +I haven't that universal sympathy which is the most irritating +attribute of saints and other pacifists. When, for instance, anyone of +the fraternity arguing from the Sermon on the Mount tells me that I +ought to love Germans, either I admit the obligation and declare that, +as I am a miserable sinner, I have no compunction in breaking it, or, +if he is a very sanctimonious saint, I remind him that, such creatures +as modern Germans not having been invented on or about the year A.D. +30, the rule about loving your enemies could not possibly apply. At +least I imagine I do one of these two things (sometimes, indeed, I +dream gloatfully over acts of physical violence) when I read the +pronouncements of such a person; for I have to my great good fortune +never met him in the flesh. If there are any saintly pacifists in +Wellingsford, they keep sedulously out of my way, and they certainly do +not haunt my Service Club. And these are the only two places in which I +have my being. Even Gedge doesn't talk of loving Germans. He just lumps +all the belligerents together in one conglomerate hatred, for upsetting +his comfortable social scheme. +</P> + +<P> +As I say, I lack the universal sympathy of the saint. I can't like +people I don't like. Some people I love very deeply; others, being of a +kindly disposition, I tolerate; others again I simply detest. Now +Wellingsford, like every little country town in England, is drab with +elderly gentlewomen. As I am a funny old tabby myself, I have to mix +with them. If I refuse invitations to take tea with them, they invite +themselves to tea with me. "The poor Major," they say, "is so lonely." +And they bait their little hooks and angle for gossip of which I am +supposed—Heaven knows why—to be a sort of stocked pond. They don't +carry home much of a catch, I assure you.... Well, of some of them I am +quite fond. Mrs. Boyce, for all her shortcomings, is an old crony for +whom I entertain a sincere affection. Towards Betty's aunt, Miss +Fairfax, a harmless lady with a passion for ecclesiastical embroidery, +I maintain an attitude of benevolent neutrality. But Mrs. Holmes, +Randall's mother, and her sisters, the daughters of an eminent +publicist who seems to have reared his eminence on bones of talk flung +at him by Carlisle, George Eliot, Lewes, Monckton Milnes, and is now, +doubtless, recording their toe-prints on the banks of Acheron, I never +could and never can abide. My angel of a wife saw good in them, and she +loved the tiny Randall, of whom I too was fond; so, for her sake, I +always treated them with courtesy and kindness. Also for Randall's +father's sake. He was a bluff, honest, stock-broking Briton who fancied +pigeons and bred greyhounds for coursing, and cared less for literature +and art than does the equally honest Mrs. Marigold in my kitchen. But +his wife and her sisters led what they called the intellectual life. +They regarded it as a heritage from their pompous ass of a father. Of +course they were not eighteen-sixty, or even eighteen-eighty. They +prided themselves on developing the hereditary tradition of culture to +its extreme modern expression. They were of the semi-intellectual type +of idiot—and, if it destroys it, the great war will have some +justification—which professes to find in the dull analysis of the drab +adultery and suicide of a German or Scandinavian rabbit-picker a +supreme expression of human existence. All their talk was of Hauptmann +and Sudermann (they dropped them patriotically, I must say, as +outrageous fellows, on the outbreak of war), Strindberg, +Dostoievsky—though I found they had never read either "Crime and +Punishment" or "The Brothers Karamazoff"—Tolstoi, whom they didn't +understand; and in art—God save the mark!—the Cubist school. That is +how my poor young friend, Randall, was trained to get the worst of the +frothy scum of intelligent Oxford. But even he sometimes winced at the +pretentiousness of his mother and his aunts. He was a clever fellow and +his knowledge was based on sound foundations. I need not say that the +ladies were rather feared than loved in Wellingsford. +</P> + +<P> +All this to explain why it was that when Marigold woke me from an +afternoon nap with the information that Mrs. Holmes desired to see me, +I scowled on him. +</P> + +<P> +"Why didn't you say I was dead?" +</P> + +<P> +"I told Mrs. Holmes you were asleep, sir, and she said: 'Will you be so +kind as to wake him?' So what could I do, sir?" +</P> + +<P> +I have never met with an idiot so helpless in the presence of a woman. +He would have defended my slumbers before a charge of cavalry; but one +elderly lady shoo'd him aside like a chicken. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Holmes was shewn in, a tall, dark, thin, nervous woman wearing +pince-nez and an austere sad-coloured garment. +</P> + +<P> +She apologised for disturbing me. +</P> + +<P> +"But," she said, sitting down on the couch, "I am in such great trouble +and I could think of no one but you to advise me." +</P> + +<P> +"What's the matter?" I asked. +</P> + +<P> +"It's Randall. He left the house the day before yesterday, without +telling any of us good-bye, and he hasn't written, and I don't know +what on earth has become of him." +</P> + +<P> +"Did he take any luggage?" +</P> + +<P> +"Just a small suit-case. He even packed it himself, a thing he has +never done at home in his life before." +</P> + +<P> +This was news. The proceedings were unlike Randall, who in his goings +and comings loved the domestic brass-band. To leave his home without +valedictory music and vanish into the unknown, betokened some unusual +perturbation of mind. +</P> + +<P> +I asked whether she knew of any reason for such perturbation. +</P> + +<P> +"He was greatly upset," she replied, "by the stoppage of The Albemarle +Review for which he did such fine work." +</P> + +<P> +I strove politely to hide my inability to condole and wagged my head +sadly: +</P> + +<P> +"I'm afraid there was no room for it in a be-bombed and be-shrapnelled +world." +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose the still small voice of reason would not be heard amid the +din," she sighed. "And no other papers—except the impossible +ones—would print Randall's poems and articles." +</P> + +<P> +More news. This time excellent news. A publicist denied publicity is as +useful as a German Field Marshal on a desert island. I asked what The +Albemarle died of. +</P> + +<P> +"Practically all the staff deserted what Randall called the Cause and +dribbled away into the army," she replied mournfully. +</P> + +<P> +As to what this precious Cause meant I did not enquire, having no wish +to enter into an argument with the good lady which might have become +exacerbated. Besides, she would only have parroted Randall. I had never +yet detected her in the expression of an original idea. +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps he has dribbled away too?" I suggested grimly. She was silent. +I bent forward. "Wouldn't you like him to dribble into the great flood?" +</P> + +<P> +She lifted her lean shoulders despairingly. +</P> + +<P> +"He's the only son of a widow. Even in France and Germany they're not +expected to fight. But if he were different I would let him go +gladly—I'm not selfish and unpatriotic, Major," she said with an +unaccustomed little catch in her throat—and for the very first time I +found in her something sympathetic—"but," she continued, "it seems so +foolish to sacrifice all his intellectual brilliance to such crudities +as fighting, when it might be employed so much more advantageously +elsewhere." +</P> + +<P> +"But, good God, my dear lady!" I cried. "Where are your wits? Where's +your education? Where's your intelligent understanding of the daily +papers? Where's your commonsense?"—I'm afraid I was brutally rude. +"Can't you give a minute's thought to the situation? If there's one +institution on earth that's shrieking aloud for intellectual +brilliance, it's the British Army! Do you think it's a refuge for +fools? Do you think any born imbecile is good enough to outwit the +German Headquarters Staff? Do you think the lives of hundreds of his +men—and perhaps the fate of thousands—can be entrusted to any +brainless ass? An officer can't have too much brains. We're clamouring +for brains. It's the healthy, brilliant-brained men like Randall that +the Army's yelling for—simply yelling for," I repeated, bringing my +hand down on the arm of my chair. +</P> + +<P> +Two little red spots showed on each side of her thin face. +</P> + +<P> +"I've never looked at it in that light before," she admitted. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course I agree with you," I said diplomatically, "that Randall +would be more or less wasted as a private soldier. The heroic stuff of +which Thomas Atkins is made is, thank God, illimitable. But intellect +is rare—especially in the ranks of God's own chosen, the British +officer. And Randall is of the kind we want as officers. As for a +commission, he could get one any day. I could get one for him myself. I +still have a few friends. He's a good-looking chap and would carry off +a uniform. Wouldn't you be proud to see him?" +</P> + +<P> +A tear rolled down her cheek. I patted myself on the back for an artful +fellow. But I had underrated her wit. To my chagrin she did not fall +into my trap. +</P> + +<P> +"It's the uncertainty that's killing me," she said. And then she burst +out disconcertingly: "Do you think he has gone off with that dreadful +little Gedge girl?" +</P> + +<P> +Phyllis! I was a myriad miles from Phyllis. I was talking about real +things. The mother, however, from her point of view, was talking of +real things also. But how did she come to know about her son's amours? +I thought it useless to enquire. Randall must have advertised his +passion pretty widely. I replied: +</P> + +<P> +"It's extremely improbable. In the first place Phyllis Gedge isn't +dreadful, but a remarkably sweet and modest young woman, and in the +second place she won't have anything to do with him." +</P> + +<P> +"That's nonsense," she said, bridling. +</P> + +<P> +"Why?" +</P> + +<P> +"Because—" +</P> + +<P> +A gesture and a smile completed the sentence. That a common young +person should decline to have dealings with her paragon was incredible. +</P> + +<P> +"I can find out in a minute," I smiled, "whether she is still in +Wellingsford." +</P> + +<P> +I wheeled myself to the telephone on my writing-table and rang up Betty +at the hospital. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you know where Phyllis Gedge is?" +</P> + +<P> +Betty's voice came. "Yes. She's here. I've just left her to come to +speak to you. Why do you want to know?" +</P> + +<P> +"Never mind so long as she is safe and sound. There's no likelihood of +her running away or eloping?" +</P> + +<P> +Betty's laughter rang over the wires. "What lunacy are you talking? You +might as well ask me whether I'm going to elope with you." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't think you're respectful, Betty," I replied. "Good-bye." +</P> + +<P> +I rang off and reported Betty's side of the conversation to my visitor. +</P> + +<P> +"On that score," said I, "you can make your mind quite easy." +</P> + +<P> +"But where can the boy have gone?" she cried. +</P> + +<P> +"Into the world somewhere to learn wisdom," I said, and in order to +show that I did not speak ironically, I wheeled myself to her side and +touched her hand. "I think his swift brain has realised at last that +all his smart knowledge hasn't brought him a little bit of wisdom worth +a cent. I shouldn't worry. He's working out his salvation somehow, +although he may not know it." +</P> + +<P> +"Do you really think so?" +</P> + +<P> +"I do," said I. "And if he finds that the path of wisdom leads to the +German trenches—will you be glad or sorry?" +</P> + +<P> +She grappled with the question in silence for a moment or two. Then she +broke down and, to my dismay, began to cry. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you suppose there's a woman in England that, in her heart of +hearts, doesn't want her men folk to fight?" +</P> + +<P> +I only allow the earlier part of this chapter to stand in order to show +how a man quite well-meaning, although a trifle irascible, may be +wanting in Christian charity and ordinary understanding; and of how +many tangled knots of human motive, impulse, and emotion this war is a +solvent. You see, she defended her son to the last, adopting his own +specious line of argument; but at the last came the breaking-point.... +</P> + +<P> +The rest of our interview was of no great matter. I did my best to +reassure and comfort her; and when I next saw Marigold, I said affably: +</P> + +<P> +"You did quite well to wake me." +</P> + +<P> +"I thought I was acting rightly, sir. Mr. Randall having bolted, so to +speak, it seemed only natural that Mrs. Holmes should come to see you." +</P> + +<P> +"You knew that Mr. Randall had bolted and you never told me?" +</P> + +<P> +I glared indignantly. Marigold stiffened himself—the degree of +stiffness beyond his ordinary inflexibility of attitude could only have +been ascertained by a vernier, but that degree imparted an appreciable +dignity to his demeanour. +</P> + +<P> +"I beg pardon, sir, but lately I've noticed that my little bits of +local news haven't seemed to be welcome." +</P> + +<P> +"Marigold," said I, "don't be an ass." +</P> + +<P> +"Very good, sir." +</P> + +<P> +"My mind," said I, "is in an awful muddle about all sorts of things +that are going on in this town. So I should esteem it a favour if you +would tell me at once any odds and ends of gossip you may pick up. They +may possibly be important." +</P> + +<P> +"And if I have any inferences to draw from what I hear," said he +gravely, fixing me with his clear eye, "may I take the liberty of +acquainting you with them?" +</P> + +<P> +"Certainly." +</P> + +<P> +"Very good, sir," said Marigold. +</P> + +<P> +Now what was Marigold going to draw inferences about? That was another +puzzle. I felt myself being drawn into a fog-filled labyrinth of +intrigue in which already groping were most of the people I knew. What +with the mysterious relations between Betty and Boyce and Gedge, what +with young Dacre's full exoneration of Boyce, what with young Randall's +split with Gedge and his impeccable attitude towards Phyllis, things +were complicated enough; Sir Anthony's revelations regarding poor +Althea and his dark surmises concerning Randall complicated them still +more; and now comes Mrs. Holmes to tell me of Randall's mysterious +disappearance. +</P> + +<P> +"A plague on the whole lot!" I exclaimed wrathfully. +</P> + +<P> +I dined that evening with the Fenimores. My dear Betty was there too, +the only other guest, looking very proud and radiant. A letter that +morning from Willie Connor informed her that the regiment, by holding a +trench against an overwhelming German attack, had achieved glorious +renown. The Brigadier-General had specially congratulated the Colonel, +and the Colonel had specially complimented Willie on the magnificent +work of his company. Of course there was a heavy price in +casualties—poor young Etherington, whom we all knew, for instance, +blown to atoms—but Willie, thank God! was safe. +</P> + +<P> +"I wonder what would happen to me, if Willie were to get the V.C. I +think I should go mad with pride!" she exclaimed with flushed cheeks, +forgetful of poor young Etherington, a laughter-loving boy of twenty, +who had been blown to atoms. It is strange how apparently callous this +universal carnage has made the noblest and the tenderest of men and +women. We cling passionately to the lives of those near and dear to us. +But as to those near and dear to others, who are killed—well—we pay +them the passing tribute not even of a tear, but only of a sign. They +died gloriously for their country. What can we say more? If we—we +survivors, not only invalids and women and other stay-at-homes, but +also comrades on the field—were riven to our souls by the piteous +tragedy of splendid youth destroyed in its flower, we could not stand +the strain, we should weep hysterically, we should be broken folk. But +a merciful Providence steps in and steels our hearts. The loyal hearts +are there beating truly; and in order that they should beat truly and +stoutly, they are given this God-sent armour. +</P> + +<P> +So, when we raised our glasses and drank gladly to the success of +Willie Connor the living, and put from our thoughts Frank Etherington +the dead, you must not account it to us as lack of human pity. You must +be lenient in your judgment of those who are thrown into the furnace of +a great war. +</P> + +<P> +Lady Fenimore smiled on Betty. "We should all be proud, my dear, if +Captain Connor won the Victoria Cross. But you mustn't set your heart +on it. That would be foolish. Hundreds of thousands of men deserve the +V.C. ten times a day, and they can't all be rewarded." +</P> + +<P> +Betty laughed gaily at good Lady Fenimore's somewhat didactic reproof. +"You know I'm not an absolute idiot. Fancy the poor dear coming home +all over bandages and sticking-plaster. 'Where's your V. C?' 'I haven't +got it.' 'Then go back at once and get it or I shan't love you.' Poor +darling!" Suddenly the laughter in her eyes quickened into something +very bright and beautiful. "There's not a woman in England prouder of +her husband than I am. No V.C. could possibly reward him for what he +has done. But I want it for myself. I'd like my babies to cut their +teeth on it." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +When I went out to the Boer War, the most wonderful woman on earth said +to me on parting: +</P> + +<P> +"Wherever you are, dear, remember that I am always with you in spirit +and soul and heart and almost in body." +</P> + +<P> +And God knows she was. And when I returned a helpless cripple she +gathered me in her brave arms on the open quay at Southampton, and +after a moment or two of foolishness, she said: +</P> + +<P> +"Do you know, when I die, what you'll find engraven on my heart?" +</P> + +<P> +"No," said I. +</P> + +<P> +"Your D.S.O. ribbon." +</P> + +<P> +So when Betty talked about her babies and the little bronze cross, my +eyes grew moist and I felt ridiculously sentimental. +</P> + +<P> +Not a word, of course, was spoken before Betty of the new light, or the +new darkness, whichsoever you will, that had been cast on the tragedy +of Althea. I could not do otherwise than agree with the direct-spoken +old lady who had at once correlated the adventure in Carlisle with the +plunge into the Wellingsford Canal. And so did Sir Anthony. They were +very brave, however, the little man and Edith, in their dinner-talk +with Betty. But I saw that the past fortnight had aged them both by a +year or more. They had been stabbed in their honour, their trust, and +their faith. It was a secret terror that stalked at their side by day +and lay stark at their side by night. It was only when the ladies had +left us that Sir Anthony referred to the subject. +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose you know that young Randall Holmes has bolted." +</P> + +<P> +"So his mother informed me to-day." +</P> + +<P> +He pricked his ears. "Does she know where he has gone to?" +</P> + +<P> +"No," said I. +</P> + +<P> +"What did I tell you?" said Sir Anthony. +</P> + +<P> +I held up my glass of port to the light and looked through it. +</P> + +<P> +"A lot of damfoolishness, my dear old friend," said I. +</P> + +<P> +He grew angry. A man doesn't like to be coldly called a damfool at his +own table. He rose on his spurs, in his little red bantam way. Was I +too much of an idiot to see the connection? As soon as the Carlisle +business became known, this young scoundrel flies the country. Couldn't +I see an inch before my blind nose? Forbearing to question this +remarkable figure of speech, I asked him how so confidential a matter +could have become known. +</P> + +<P> +"Everything gets known in this infernal little town," he retorted. +</P> + +<P> +"That's where you're mistaken," said I. "Half everything gets +known—the unimportant half. The rest is supplied by malicious or +prejudiced invention." +</P> + +<P> +We discussed the question after the futile way of men until we went +into the drawing-room, where Betty played and sang to us until it was +time to go home. +</P> + +<P> +Marigold was about to lift me into the two-seater when Betty, who had +been lurking in her car a little way off, ran forward. +</P> + +<P> +"Would it bore you if I came in for a quarter of an hour?" +</P> + +<P> +"Bore me, my dear?" said I. "Of course not." +</P> + +<P> +So a short while afterwards we were comfortably established in my +library. +</P> + +<P> +"You rang me up to-day about Phyllis Gedge." +</P> + +<P> +"I did," said I. +</P> + +<P> +She lit a cigarette and seated herself on the fender-stool. She has an +unconscious knack of getting into easy, loose-limbed attitudes. I said +admiringly: +</P> + +<P> +"Do you know you're a remarkably well-favoured young person?" +</P> + +<P> +And as soon as I said it, I realised what a tremendous factor Betty was +in my circumscribed life. What could I do without her sweet intimacy? +If Willie Connor's Territorial regiment, like so many others, had been +ordered out to India, and she had gone with him, how blank would be the +days and weeks and months! I thanked God for granting me her +graciousness. +</P> + +<P> +She smiled and blew me a kiss. "That's very gratifying to know," she +said. "But it has nothing to do with Phyllis." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, what about Phyllis?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'll tell you," she replied. +</P> + +<P> +And she told me. Her story was not of world-shaking moment, but it +interested me. I have since learned its substantial correctness and am +able to add some supplementary details. +</P> + +<P> +You see, things were like this.... In order to start I must go back +some years.... I have always had a warm corner in my heart for little +Phyllis Gedge, ever since she was a blue-eyed child. My wife had a +great deal to do with it. She was a woman of dauntless courage and +clear vision into the heart of things. I find many a reflection of her +in Betty. Perhaps that is why I love Betty so dearly. +</P> + +<P> +Some strange, sweet fool feminine of gentle birth and deplorable +upbringing fell in love with a vehemently socialistic young artisan by +the name of Gedge and married him. Her casual but proud-minded family +wiped her off the proud family slate. She brought Phyllis into the +world and five years afterwards found herself be-Gedged out of +existence. They were struggling people in those days, and before her +death my wife used to employ her, when she could, for household sewing +and whatnot. And tiny Phyllis, in a childless home, became a petted +darling. When my great loneliness came upon me, it was a solace to have +the little dainty prattling thing to spend an occasional hour in my +company. Gedge, an excellent workman, set up as a contractor. He took +my modest home under his charge. A leaky tap, a broken pane, a new set +of bookshelves, a faulty drainpipe—all were matters for Gedge. I +abhorred his politics but I admired his work, and I continued, with +Mrs. Marigold's motherly aid, to make much of Phyllis. +</P> + +<P> +Gedge, for queer motives of his own, sent her to as good a school as he +could afford, as a matter of fact an excellent school, one where she +met girls of a superior social class and learned educated speech and +graceful manners. Her holidays, poor child, were somewhat dreary, for +her father, an anti-social creature, had scarce a friend in the town. +Save for here and there an invitation to tea from Betty or myself, she +did not cross the threshold of a house in Wellingsford. But to my +house, all through her schooldays and afterwards, Phyllis came, and on +such occasions Mrs. Marigold prepared teas of the organic lusciousness +dear to the heart of a healthy girl. +</P> + +<P> +Now, here comes the point of all this palaver. Young Master Randall +used also to come to my house. Now and then by chance they met there. +They were good boy and girl friends. +</P> + +<P> +I want to make it absolutely clear that her acquaintance with Randall +was not any vulgar picking-up-in-the-street affair. +</P> + +<P> +When she left school, her father made her his book-keeper, secretary, +confidential clerk. Anybody turning into the office to summon Gedge to +repair a roof or a burst boiler had a preliminary interview with +Phyllis. Young Randall, taking over the business of the upkeep of his +mother's house, gradually acquired the habit of such preliminary +interviews. The whole imbroglio was very simple, very natural. They had +first met at my own rich cake and jam-puff bespread tea-table. When +Randall went into the office to speak, presumably, about a defective +draught in the kitchen range, and really about things quite different, +the ethics of the matter depended entirely on Randall's point of view. +Their meetings had been contrived by no unmaidenly subterfuge on the +part of Phyllis. She knew him to be above her in social station. She +kept him off as long as she could. But que voulez-vous? Randall was a +very good-looking, brilliant, and fascinating fellow; Phyllis was a +dear little human girl. And it is the human way of such girls to fall +in love with such fascinating, brilliant fellows. I not only hold a +brief for Phyllis, but I am the judge, too, and having heard all the +evidence, I deliver a verdict overwhelmingly in her favour. Given the +circumstances as I have stated them, she was bound to fall in love with +Randall, and in doing so committed not the little tiniest speck of a +peccadillo. +</P> + +<P> +My first intimation of tender relations between them came from my sight +of them in February in Wellings Park. Since then, of course, I have +much which I will tell you as best I may. +</P> + +<P> +So now for Betty's story, confirmed and supplemented by what I have +learned later. But before plunging into the matter, I must say that +when Betty had ended I took up my little parable and told her of all +that Randall had told me concerning his repudiation of Gedge. And Betty +listened with a curiously stony face and said nothing. +</P> + +<P> +When Betty puts on that face of granite I am quite unhappy. That is why +I have always hated the statues of Egypt. There is something beneath +their cold faces that you can't get at. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap11"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XI +</H3> + +<P> +Gedge bitterly upbraided his daughter, both for her desertion of his +business and her criminal folly in abandoning it so as to help mend the +shattered bodies of fools and knaves who, by joining the forces of +militarism, had betrayed the Sacred Cause of the International +Solidarity of Labour. His first ground for complaint was scarcely +tenable; with his dwindling business the post of clerk had dwindled +into a sinecure. To sit all day at the receipt of imaginary custom is +not a part fitted for a sane and healthy young human being. Still, from +Gedge's point of view her defection was a grievance; but that she could +throw in her lot openly with the powers of darkness was nothing less +than an outrage. +</P> + +<P> +I suppose, in a kind of crabbed way, the crabbed fellow was fond of +Phyllis. She was pretty. She had dainty tricks of dress. She flitted, +an agreeable vision, about his house. He liked to hear her play the +piano, not because he had any ear for music, but because it tickled his +vanity to reflect that he, the agricultural labourer's son and +apprentice to a village carpenter, was the possessor both of a Broadway +Grand and of a daughter who, entirely through his efforts, had learned +to play on it. Like most of his political type, he wallowed in his own +peculiar snobbery. But of anything like companionship between father +and daughter there had existed very little. While railing, wherever he +found ears into which to rail, against the vicious luxury and sordid +shallowness of the upper middle classes, his instinctive desire to +shine above his poorer associates had sent Phyllis to an upper middle +class school. Now Gedge had a certain amount of bookish and political +intelligence. Phyllis inheriting the intellectual equipment of her +sentimental fool of a mother, had none, Oh! she had a vast fund of +ordinary commonsense. Of that I can assure you. A bit of hard brain +fibre from her father had counteracted any over-sentimental folly in +the maternal heritage. And she came back from school a very ladylike +little person. If pressed, she could reel off all kinds of artificial +scraps of knowledge, like a dear little parrot. But she had never heard +of Karl Marx and didn't want to hear. She had a vague notion that +International Socialism was a movement in favour of throwing bombs at +monarchs and of seizing the wealth of the rich in order to divide it +among the poor—and she regarded it as abominable. When her father gave +her Fabian Society tracts to read, he might just as well, for all her +understanding of the argument, set her down to a Treatise on the +Infinitesimal Calculus. Her brain stood blank before such abstract +disquisitions. She loved easily comprehended poetry and novels that +made her laugh or cry and set her mind dancing round the glowing +possibilities of life; all disastrous stuff abhorred by the +International Socialist, to whom the essential problems of existence +are of no interest whatever. So, after a few futile attempts to darken +her mind, Gedge put her down as a mere fool woman, and ceased to bother +his head about her intellectual development. That came to him quite +naturally. There is no Turk more contemptuous of his womankind's +political ideas than the Gedges of our enlightened England. But on +other counts she was a distinct asset. He regarded her with immense +pride, as a more ornamental adjunct to his house than any other county +builder and contractor could display, and, recognising that she was +possessed of some low feminine cunning in the way of adding up figures +and writing letters, made use of her in his office as general clerical +factotum. +</P> + +<P> +When the war broke out, he discovered, to his horror, that Phyllis +actually had political ideas—unshakable, obstinate ideas opposed to +his own—and that he had been nourishing in his bosom a viperous +patriot. Phyllis, for her part, realised with equal horror the +practical significance of her father's windy theories. When Randall, +who had stolen her heart, took to visiting the house, in order, as far +as she could make out, to talk treason with her father, the strain of +the situation grew more than she could bear. She fled to Betty for +advice. Betty promptly stepped in and whisked her off to the hospital. +</P> + +<P> +It was on the morning on which Randall interviewed me in the garden, +the morning after he had broken with Gedge, that Phyllis, having a +little off-time, went home. She found her father in the office making +out a few bills. He thrust forward his long chin and aggressive beard +and scowled at her. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, it's you, is it? Come at last where your duty calls you, eh?" +</P> + +<P> +"I always come when I can, father," she replied. +</P> + +<P> +She bent down and kissed his cheek. He caught her roughly round the +waist and, leaning back in his chair, looked up at her sourly. +</P> + +<P> +"How long are you going on defying me like this?" +</P> + +<P> +She tried to disengage herself, but his arm was too strong. "Oh, +father," she said, rather wearily, "don't let us go over this old +argument again." +</P> + +<P> +"But suppose I find some new argument? Suppose I send you packing +altogether, refuse to contribute further to your support. What then?" +</P> + +<P> +She started at the threat but replied valiantly: "I should have to earn +my own living." +</P> + +<P> +"How are you going to do it?" +</P> + +<P> +"There are heaps of ways." +</P> + +<P> +He laughed. "There ain't; as you'd soon find out. They don't even pay +you for being scullery-maid to a lot of common soldiers." +</P> + +<P> +She protested against that view of her avocation. In the perfectly +appointed Wellingsford Hospital she had no scullery work. She was a +probationer, in training as a nurse. He still gripped her. +</P> + +<P> +"The particular kind of tomfoolery you are up to doesn't matter. We +needn't quarrel. I've another proposition to put before you—much more +to your fancy, I think. You like this Mr. Randall Holmes, don't you?" +</P> + +<P> +She shivered a little and flushed deep red. Her father had never +touched on the matter before. She said, straining away: +</P> + +<P> +"I don't want to talk about Mr. Holmes." +</P> + +<P> +"But I do. Come, my dear. In this life there must be always a certain +amount of give and take. I'm not the man to drive a one-sided bargain. +I'll make you a fair offer—as between father and daughter. I'll wipe +out all that's past. In leaving me like this, when misfortune has come +upon me, you've been guilty of unfilial conduct—no one can deny it. But +I'll overlook everything, forgive you fully and take you to my heart +again and leave you free to do whatever you like without interfering +with your opinions, if you'll promise me one thing—" +</P> + +<P> +"I know what you're going to say." She twisted round on him swiftly. +"I'll promise at once. I'll never marry Mr. Holmes. I've already told him +I won't marry him." +</P> + +<P> +Surprise relaxed his grip. She took swift advantage and sheered away to +the other side of the table. He rose and brought down his hand with a +thump. +</P> + +<P> +"You refused him? Why, you silly little baggage, my condition is that +you should marry him. You're sweet on him aren't you?" +</P> + +<P> +"I detest him," cried Phyllis. "Why should I marry him?" +</P> + +<P> +Her eyes, young and pure, divined some sordid horror behind eyes crafty +and ignoble. Once before she had had such a fleeting, uncomprehended +vision into the murky depths of the man's soul. This was some time ago. +In the routine of her secretarial duties she had, one morning, opened +and read a letter, not marked "Private" or "Personal," whose tenor she +could scarcely understand. When she handed it to her father, he smiled, +vouchsafed a specious explanation, and looked at her in just the same +crafty and ignoble fashion, and she shrank away frightened. The matter +kept her awake for a couple of nights. Then, for sheer easing of her +heart, she went to her adored Betty Fairfax, her Lady Patroness and +Mother Confessor, who, being wise and strong, and possessing the power +of making her kind eyes unfathomable, laughed, bade her believe her +father's explanation, and sent her away comforted. The incident passed +out of her mind. But now memory smote her, as she shrank from her +father's gaze and the insincere smile on his thin lips. +</P> + +<P> +"For one thing," he replied after a pause, pulling his straggly beard, +"your poor dear mother was a lady, and if she had lived she would have +wanted you to marry a gentleman. It's for her sake I've given you an +education that fits you to consort with gentlefolk—just for her +sake—don't make any mistake about it, for I've always hated the breed. +If I've violated my principles in order to meet her wishes, I think you +ought to meet them too. You wouldn't like to marry a small tradesman or +a working man, would you?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not going to marry anybody," cried Phyllis. She was only a pink +and white, very ordinary little girl. I have no idealisations or +illusions concerning Phyllis. But she had a little fine steel of +character running through her. It flashed on Gedge. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't want to marry anybody," she declared. "But I'd sooner marry a +bricklayer who was fighting for his country than a fine gentleman like +Mr. Holmes who wasn't. I'd sooner die," she cried passionately. +</P> + +<P> +"Then go and die and be damned to you!" snarled Gedge, planting himself +noisily in his chair. "I've no use for khaki-struck drivelling idiots. +I've no use for patriots. Bah! Damn patriots! The upper classes are out +for all they can get, and they befool the poor imbecile working man +with all their highfalutin phrases to get it for them at the cost of +his blood. I've no use for them, I tell you. And I've no use either for +undutiful daughters. I've no use for young women who blow hot and cold. +Haven't I seen you with the fellow? Do you think I'm a blind dodderer? +Do you think I haven't kept an eye on you? Haven't I seen you blowing +as hot as you please? And now because he refuses to be a blinking idiot +and have his guts blown out in this war of fools and knaves and +capitalists, you blast him like a three-farthing iceberg." +</P> + +<P> +Everything in her that was tender, maidenly, English, shrank lacerated. +But the steel held her. She put both her hands on the table and bent +over towards him. +</P> + +<P> +"But, father, except that he's a gentleman, you haven't told me why you +want me to marry Mr. Holmes." +</P> + +<P> +He fidgeted with his fingers. "Haven't you a spark of affection for me +left?" +</P> + +<P> +She said dutifully, "Yes, father." +</P> + +<P> +"I want you to marry him. I've set my heart on it. It has been the one +bright hope in my life for months. Can't you marry him because you love +me?" +</P> + +<P> +"One generally marries because one loves the man one's going to marry," +said Phyllis. +</P> + +<P> +"But you do love him," cried Gedge. "Either you're just a wanton little +hussy or you must care for the fellow." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't. I hate him. And I don't want to have anything more to do with +him." The tears came. "He's a pro-German and I won't have anything to +do with pro-Germans." +</P> + +<P> +She fled precipitately from the office into the street and made a blind +course to the hospital; feeling, in dumb misery, that she had committed +the unforgivable sin of casting off her father and, at the same time, +that she had made stalwart proclamation of her faith. If ever a good, +loyal little heart was torn into piteous shreds, that little heart was +Phyllis's. +</P> + +<P> +In the bare X-ray room of the hospital, which happened to be vacant, +Betty sat on the one straight-backed wooden chair, while a weeping +damsel on the uncarpeted floor sobbed in her lap and confessed her sins +and sought absolution. +</P> + +<P> +Of course Gedge was a fool. If I, or any wise, diplomatic, tactful +person like myself, had found it necessary to tackle a young woman on +the subject of a matrimonial alliance, we should have gone about the +business in quite a different way. But what could you expect from an +anarchical Turk like Gedge? +</P> + +<P> +Phyllis, not knowing whether she were outcast and disinherited or not, +found, of course, a champion in Betty, who, in her spacious manner, +guaranteed her freedom from pecuniary worries for the rest of her life. +But Phyllis was none the less profoundly unhappy, and it took a whole +convoy of wounded to restore her to cheerfulness. You can't attend to a +poor brave devil grinning with pain, while a surgeon pokes a six-inch +probe down a sinus in search of bits of bone or shrapnel, and be +acutely conscious of your own two-penny-half-penny little miseries. +Many a heartache, in this wise, has been cured in the Houses of Pain. +</P> + +<P> +Now, nothing much would have happened, I suppose, if Phyllis, driven +from the hospital by superior decree that she should take fresh air and +exercise, had not been walking some days afterwards across the common +by the canal. Bordering the latter, Wellingsford has an avenue of +secular chestnuts of which it is inordinately proud. Dispersed here and +there are wooden benches sanctified by generations of lovers. Carven +thereon are the presentments, often interlaced, of hearts that have +long since ceased to beat; lonely hearts transfixed by arrows, which in +all probability survived the wound and inspired the owner to the +parentage of a dozen children; initials once, individually, the record +of many a romance, but now, collectively, merely an alphabet run mad. +</P> + +<P> +Phyllis entered the avenue, practically deserted at midday, and rested, +a pathetically lonely little grey-uniformed figure on one of the +benches. On the common, some distance behind her, stretched the lines +of an Army Service train, with mules and waggons, and here and there a +tent. In front of her, beyond the row of trees, was the towing-path; an +old horse in charge of a boy jogged by, pulling something of which only +a moving stove pipe like a periscope was visible above the bank. +Overhead the chestnuts rioted in broad leaf and pink and white blossom, +showing starry bits of blue sky and admitting arrow shafts of spring +sunshine. A dirty white mongrel dog belonging to the barge came up to +her, sniffed, and made friends; then, at last obeying a series of +whistles from the boy, looked at her apologetically and trotted off. +Her gaze followed him wistfully, for he was a very human dear dog, and +with a sympathetic understanding of all her difficulties in his deep +topaz eyes. After that she had as companions a couple of butterflies +and a bumble-bee and a perky, portly robin who hopped within an inch of +her feet and looked up at her sideways out of his hard little eye (so +different from the dog's) with the expression of one who would say: +"The most beauteous and delectable worm I have ever encountered. If I +were a bit bigger, say the size of the roc of the Arabian Nights, what +a dainty morsel you would make! In the meantime can't you shed +something of yourself for my entertainment like others, though grosser, +of your species?" She laughed at the cold impudence of the creature, +just as she had smiled at the butterflies and the bumble-bee. She +surrendered herself to the light happiness of the moment. It was good +to escape for an hour from the rigid lines of beds and the pale +suffering faces and the eternal faint odour of disinfectants, into all +this greenery and the fellowship of birds and beasts unconscious of +war. She remembered that once, in the pocket of her cloak, there had +been a biscuit or two. Very slowly and carefully, her mind fixed on the +robin, she fished for crumbs and very carefully and gently she fed the +impudent, stomach-centred fellow. She had attracted him to the end of +the seat, when, whizz and clatter, came a motor cycle down the avenue, +and off in a terrible scare flew the robin; the idyll of tree and beast +and birds suffered instant disruption and Randall Holmes, in his canvas +suit, stood before her. +</P> + +<P> +He said: +</P> + +<P> +"Good morning, Phyllis." +</P> + +<P> +She said, with cold politeness: "Good morning." But she asked the +spring morning in dumb piteousness, "Oh, why has he come? Why has he +come to spoil it all?" +</P> + +<P> +He sat down by her side. "This is the luckiest chance I've ever +had—finding you here," he said. "You've had all my letters, haven't +you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," she answered, "and I've torn them all up." +</P> + +<P> +"Why?" +</P> + +<P> +"Because I didn't want them," she flashed on him: "I've destroyed them +without reading them." +</P> + +<P> +He flushed angrily. Apart from the personal affront, the fact that the +literary products of a poet, precious and, in this case, sincere, +should have been destroyed, unread, was an anti-social outrage. +</P> + +<P> +"If it didn't please a woman to believe in God," he said, "and God came +in Person and stood in front of her, she would run out of the room and +call upon somebody to come and shoot Him for a burglar, just to prove +she was right." +</P> + +<P> +Phyllis was shocked. Her feminine mind pounced on the gross literalness +of his rhetorical figure. +</P> + +<P> +"I've never heard anything more blasphemous and horrible," she +exclaimed, moving to her end of the bench. "Putting yourself in the +position of the Almighty! Oh!" she flung out her hand. "Don't speak to +me." +</P> + +<P> +In spite of the atheistical Gedge, Phyllis believed in God and Jesus +Christ and the Ten Commandments. She also believed in a host of other +simple things, such as Goodness and Truth, Virtue and Patriotism. The +arguments and theories and glosses that her father and Randall wove +about them appeared to her candid mind as meaningless arabesques. She +could not see how all the complications concerning the elementary +canons of faith and conduct could arise. She appreciated Randall's +intellectual gifts; his power of weaving magical words into rhyme +fascinated her; she was childlike in her wonder at his command of the +printed page; when he revealed to her the beauty of things, as the +rogue had a pretty knack of doing, her nature thrilled responsive. He +gave her a thousand glimpses into a new world, and she loved him for +it. But when he talked lightly of sacred matters, such as God and Duty, +he ran daggers into her heart. She almost hated him. +</P> + +<P> +He had to expend much eloquence and persuasion to induce her to listen +to him. He had no wish to break any of the Commandments, especially the +Third. He professed penitence. But didn't she see that her treatment of +him was driving him into a desperate unbelief in God and man? When a +woman accepted a man's love she accepted many responsibilities. +</P> + +<P> +Phyllis stonily denied acceptance. +</P> + +<P> +"I've refused it. You've asked me to marry you and I told you I +wouldn't. And I won't." +</P> + +<P> +"You're mixing up two things," he said, with a smile. "Love and +marriage. Many people love and don't marry, just as many marry and +don't love. Now once you did tell me that you loved me, and so you +accepted my love. There's no getting out of it. I've given you +everything I've got, and you can't throw it away. The question is—what +are you going to do with it? What are you going to do with me?" +</P> + +<P> +His sophistries frightened her; but she cut through them. +</P> + +<P> +"Isn't it rather a question of what you're going to do with yourself?" +</P> + +<P> +"If you give me up I don't care a hang what becomes of me." He came +very near and his voice was dangerously soft. "Phyllis dear, I do love +you with all my heart. Why won't you marry me?" +</P> + +<P> +But a hateful scene rushed to her memory. She drew herself up. +</P> + +<P> +"Why are my father and you persecuting me to marry you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Your father?" he interrupted, in astonishment. "When?" +</P> + +<P> +She named the day, Wednesday of last week. In desperation she told him +what had happened. The poor child was fighting for her soul against +great odds. +</P> + +<P> +"It's a conspiracy to get me round to your way of thinking. You want me +to be a pro-German like yourselves, and I won't be a pro-German, and I +think it wicked even to talk to pro-Germans!" +</P> + +<P> +She rose, all sobs, fluster, and heroism, and walked away. He strode a +step or two and stood in front of her with his hands on her shoulders. +</P> + +<P> +"I've never spoken to your father in that way about you. Never. Not a +word has passed my lips about my caring for you. On my word of honour. +On Tuesday night I left your father's house never to go there again. I +told him so." +</P> + +<P> +She writhed out of his grasp and spread the palms of her hands against +him. "Please don't," she said, and seeing that she stood her ground, he +made no further attempt to touch her. The austerity of her grey nurse's +uniform gave a touch of pathos to her childish, blue-eyed comeliness +and her pretty attitude of defiance. +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose," she said, "he was too pro-German even for you." +</P> + +<P> +He looked at her for a long time disconcertingly: so disconcertingly +and with so much pain and mysterious hesitation in his eyes as to set +even Phyllis's simple mind a-wondering and to make her emphasize it, in +her report of the matter to Betty, as extraordinary and frightening. It +seemed, so she explained, in her innocent way, that he had discovered +something horrible about her father which he shrank from telling her. +But if they had quarrelled so bitterly, why had her father the very +next day urged her to marry him? The answer came in a ghastly flash. +She recoiled as though in the presence of defilement. If she married +Randall, his lips would be closed against her father. That is what her +father had meant. The vague, disquieting suspicions of years that he +might not have the same standards of uprightness as other men, attained +an awful certainty. She remembered the incident of the private letter +and the look in her father's eyes.... Finally she revolted. Her soul +grew sick. She took no heed of Randall's protest. She only saw that she +was to be the cloak to cover up something unclean between them. At a +moment like this no woman pretends to have a sense of justice. Randall +had equal share with her father in an unknown baseness. She hated him +as he stood there so strong and handsome. And she hated herself for +having loved him. +</P> + +<P> +At last he said with a smile: +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, That's just it." +</P> + +<P> +"What?" +</P> + +<P> +She had forgotten the purport of her last remark. +</P> + +<P> +"He was a bit too—well, not too pro-German—but too anti-English for +me. You have got hold of the wrong end of the stick all the time, +Phyllis dear. I'm no more pro-German than you are. Perhaps I see things +more clearly than you do. I've been trained to an intellectual view of +human phenomena." +</P> + +<P> +Her little pink and white face hardened until it looked almost ugly. +The unpercipient young man continued: +</P> + +<P> +"And so I take my stand on a position that you must accept on trust. I +am English to the backbone. You can't possibly dream that I'm not. +Come, dear, let me try to explain." +</P> + +<P> +His arm curved as if to encircle her waist. She sprang away. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't touch me. I couldn't bear it. There's something about you I +can't understand." +</P> + +<P> +In her attitude, too, he found a touch of the incomprehensible. He +said, however, with a sneer: +</P> + +<P> +"If I were swaggering about in a cheap uniform, you'd find me +simplicity itself." +</P> + +<P> +She caught at his opening, desperately. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. At any rate I'd find a man. A man who wasn't afraid to fight for +his country." +</P> + +<P> +"Afraid!" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," she cried, and her blue eyes blazed. "Afraid. That's why I can't +marry you. I'd rather die than marry you. I've never told you. I +thought you'd guess. I'm an English girl and I can't marry a coward—a +coward—a coward—a coward." +</P> + +<P> +Her voice ended on a foolish high note, for Randall, very white, had +seized her by the wrist. +</P> + +<P> +"You little fool," he cried. "You'll live to repent what you've said." +</P> + +<P> +He released her, mounted his motor bicycle, and rode away. Phyllis +watched him disappear up the avenue; then she walked rather blindly +back to the bench and sat down among the ruins of a black and +abominable world. After a while the friendly robin, seeing her so +still, perched first on the back of the bench and then hopped on the +seat by her side, and cocking his head, looked at her enquiringly out +of his little hard eye, as though he would say: +</P> + +<P> +"My dear child, what are you making all this fuss about? Isn't it early +June? Isn't the sun shining? Aren't the chestnuts in flower? Don't you +see that bank of dark blue cloud over there which means a nice +softening rain in the night and a jolly good breakfast of worms in the +morning? What's wrong with this exquisitely perfect universe?" +</P> + +<P> +And Phyllis—on her own confession—with an angry gesture sent him +scattering up among the cool broad leaves and cried: +</P> + +<P> +"Get away, you hateful little beast!" +</P> + +<P> +And having no use for robins and trees and spring and sunshine and such +like intolerable ironies, a white little wisp of a nurse left them all +to their complacent riot and went back to the hospital. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap12"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XII +</H3> + +<P> +A few days after this, Mrs. Holmes sent me under cover a telegram which +she had received from her son. It was dispatched from Aberdeen and ran: +"Perfectly well. Don't worry about me. Love. Randall." And that was all +I heard of him for some considerable time. What he was doing in +Aberdeen, a city remote from his sphere of intellectual, political, and +social activities, Heaven and himself alone knew. I must confess that I +cared very little. He was alive, he was well, and his mother had no +cause for anxiety. Phyllis had definitely sent him packing. There was +no reason for me to allow speculation concerning him to keep me awake +of nights. +</P> + +<P> +I had plenty to think about besides Randall. They made me Honorary +Treasurer of the local Volunteer Training Corps which had just been +formed. The members not in uniform wore a red brassard with "G.R." in +black. The facetious all over the country called them "Gorgeous +Wrecks." I must confess that on their first few parades they did not +look very military. Their composite paunchiness, beardedness, +scragginess, spectacledness, impressed me unfavourably when, from my +Hosea-carriage, I first beheld them. Marigold, who was one of the first +to join and to leap into the grey uniform, tried to swagger about as an +instructor. But as the little infantry drill he had ever learned had +all been changed since the Boer War, I gathered an unholy joy from +seeing him hang like a little child on the lips of the official +Sergeant Instructor of the corps. In the evenings he and I mugged up +the text-books together; and with the aid of the books I put him +through all the new physical exercises. I was a privileged person. I +could take my own malicious pleasure out of Marigold's enforced +humility, but I would be hanged if anybody else should. Sergeant +Marigold should instruct those volunteers as he once instructed the +recruits of his own battery. So I worked with him like a nigger until +there was nothing in the various drills of a modern platoon that he +didn't know, and nothing that he could not do with the mathematical +precision of his splendid old training. +</P> + +<P> +One night during the thick of it Betty came in. I waved her into a +corner of the library out of the way, and she smoked cigarettes and +looked on at the performance. Now I come to think of it, we must have +afforded an interesting spectacle. There was the gaunt, one-eyed, +preposterously wigged image clad in undervest and shrunken yellow +flannel trousers which must have dated from his gym-instructor days in +the nineties, violently darting down on his heels, springing up, +kicking out his legs, shooting out his arms, like an inspired +marionette, all at the words of command shouted in fervent earnest by a +shrivelled up little cripple in a wheel-chair. +</P> + +<P> +When it was over—the weather was warm—he passed a curved forefinger +over his dripping forehead, cut himself short in an instinctive action +and politely dried his hand on the seat of his trousers. Then his one +eye gleamed homage at Betty and he drew himself up to attention. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you mind, sir, if I send in Ellen with the drinks?" +</P> + +<P> +I nodded. "You'll do very well with a drink yourself, Marigold." +</P> + +<P> +"It's thirsty work and weather, sir." +</P> + +<P> +He made a queer movement of his hand—it would have been idiotic of him +to salute—but he had just been dismissed from military drill, so his +hand went up to the level of his breast and—right about turn—he +marched out of the room. Betty rose from her corner and threw herself +in her usual impetuous way on the ground by my chair. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you know," she cried, "you two dear old things were too funny for +words." +</P> + +<P> +But as I saw that her eyes were foolishly moist, I was not as offended +as I might have been by her perception of the ludicrous. +</P> + +<P> +When I said that I had plenty to think about besides Randall, I meant +to string off a list. My prolixity over the Volunteer Training Corps +came upon me unawares. I wanted to show you that my time was fairly +well occupied. I was Chairman of our town Belgian Relief Committee. I +was a member of our County Territorial Association and took over a good +deal of special work connected with one of our battalions that was +covering itself with glory and little mounds topped with white crosses +at the front. If you think I lived a Tom-tabby, tea-party sort of life, +you are quite mistaken, If the War Office could have its way, it would +have lashed me in red tape, gagged me with Regulations, and +sealing-waxed me up in my bed-room. And there are thousands of us who +have shaken our fists under the nose of the War Office and shouted, +"All your blighting, Man-with-the-Mudrake officialdom shan't prevent us +from serving our country." And it hasn't! The very Government itself, +in spite of its monumental efforts, has not been able to shackle us +into inertia or drug us into apathy. Such non-combatant francs-tireurs +in England have done a power of good work. +</P> + +<P> +And then, of course, there was the hospital which, in one way or +another, took up a good deal of my time. +</P> + +<P> +I was reposing in the front garden one late afternoon in mid-June, +after a well-filled day, when a car pulled up at the gate, in which +were Betty (at the wheel) and a wounded soldier, in khaki, his cap +perched on top of a bandaged head. I don't know whether it is usual for +young women in nurse's uniform to career about the country driving +wounded men in motor cars, but Betty did it. She cared very little for +the usual. She came in, leaving the man in the car, and crossed the +lawn, flushed and bright-eyed, a refreshing picture for a tired man. +</P> + +<P> +"We're in a fix up at the hospital," she announced as soon as she was +in reasonable speaking distance, "and I want you to get us out of it." +</P> + +<P> +Sitting on the grass, she told me the difficulty. A wounded soldier, +discharged from some distant hospital, and home now on sick furlough +before rejoining his depot, had been brought into the hospital with a +broken head. The modern improvements on vinegar and brown paper having +been applied, the man was now ready to leave. I interrupted with the +obvious question. Why couldn't he go to his own home? It appeared that +the prospect terrified him. On his arrival, at midday, after eight +months' absence in France, he found that his wife had sold or pawned +practically everything in the place, and that the lady herself was in +the violent phase of intoxication. His natural remonstrances not being +received with due meekness, a quarrel arose from which the lady emerged +victorious. She laid her poor husband out with a poker. They could not +keep him in hospital. He shied at an immediate renewal of conjugal +life. He had no relations or intimate friends in Wellingsford. Where +was the poor devil to go? +</P> + +<P> +"I thought I might bring him along here and let the Marigolds look +after him for a week or two." +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed," said I. "I admire your airy ways." +</P> + +<P> +"I know you do," she replied, "and that's why I've brought him." +</P> + +<P> +"Is that the fellow?" +</P> + +<P> +She laughed. "You're right first time. How did you guess?" She +scrambled to her feet. "I'll fetch him in." +</P> + +<P> +She fetched him in, a haggard, broad-shouldered man with a back like a +sloping plank of wood. He wore corporal's stripes. He saluted and stood +at rigid attention. +</P> + +<P> +"This is Tufton," said Betty. +</P> + +<P> +I despatched her in search of Marigold. To Tufton I said, regarding him +with what, without vanity, I may term an expert eye: +</P> + +<P> +"You're an old soldier." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, sir." +</P> + +<P> +"Guards?" +</P> + +<P> +His eyes brightened. "Yes, sir. Seven years in the Grenadiers. Then two +years out. Rejoined on outbreak of war, sir." +</P> + +<P> +I rubbed my hands together in satisfaction. "I'm an old soldier too," +said I. +</P> + +<P> +"So Sister told me, sir." +</P> + +<P> +A delicate shade in the man's tone and manner caught at my heart. +Perhaps it was the remotest fraction of a glance at my rug-covered +legs, the pleased recognition of my recognition, ... perhaps some queer +freemasonry of the old Army. +</P> + +<P> +"You seem to be in trouble, boy," said I. "Tell me all about it and +I'll do what I can to help you." +</P> + +<P> +So he told his story. After his discharge from the Army he had looked +about for a job and found one at the mills in Wellingsford, where he +had met the woman, a mill-hand, older than himself, whom he had +married. She had been a bit extravagant and fond of her glass, but when +he left her to rejoin the regiment, he had had no anxieties. She did +not write often, not being very well educated and finding difficult the +composition of letters. A machine gun bullet had gone through his +chest, just missing his lung. He had been two months in hospital. He +had written to her announcing his arrival. She had not met him at the +station. He had tramped home with his kit-bag on his back—and the +cracked head was his reception. He supposed she had had a lot of easy +money and had given way to temptation—and—— +</P> + +<P> +"And what's a man to do, sir?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'm sure I don't know, Corporal," said I. "It's damned hard lines on +you. But, at any rate, you can look upon this as your home for as long +as you like to stay." +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you kindly, sir," said he. +</P> + +<P> +I turned and beckoned to Betty and Marigold, who had been hovering out +of earshot by the house door. They approached. +</P> + +<P> +"I want to have a word with Marigold," I said. +</P> + +<P> +Tufton saluted and went off with Betty. Sergeant Marigold stood stiff +as a ramrod on the spot which Tufton had occupied. +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose Mrs. Connor," said I, "has told you all about this poor +chap?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, sir," said Marigold. +</P> + +<P> +"We must put him up comfortably. That's quite simple. The only thing +that worries me is this—supposing his wife comes around here raising +Cain—?" +</P> + +<P> +Marigold held me with his one glittering eye—an eye glittering with +the pride of the gunner and the pride (more chastened) of the husband. +</P> + +<P> +"You can leave all that, sir, to Mrs. Marigold. If she isn't more than +a match for any Grenadier Guardsman's wife, then I haven't been married +to her for the last twenty years." +</P> + +<P> +Nothing more was to be said. Marigold marched the man off, leaving me +alone with Betty. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm going to get in before Mrs. Marigold," she remarked, with a smile. +"I'm off now to interview Madam Tufton and bring back her husband's +kit." +</P> + +<P> +In some ways it is a pity Betty isn't a man. She would make a splendid +soldier. I don't think such a thing as fear, physical, moral, or +spiritual, lurks in any recess of Betty's nature. Not every young woman +would brave, without trepidation, a virago who had cracked a +hard-bitten warrior's head with a poker. +</P> + +<P> +"Marigold and I will come with you," I said. +</P> + +<P> +She protested. It was nonsense. Suppose Mrs. Tufton went for Marigold +and spoiled his beauty? No. It was too dangerous. No place for men. We +argued. At last I blew the police-whistle which I wear on the end of my +watch-chain. Marigold came hurrying out of the house. +</P> + +<P> +"Mrs. Connor is going to take us for a run," said I. +</P> + +<P> +"Very good, sir." +</P> + +<P> +"Your blood be on your own heads," said Betty. +</P> + +<P> +We talked a while of what had happened. Vague stories of the +demoralization of wives left alone with a far greater weekly income +than they had ever handled before had reached our ears. We had read +them in the newspapers. But till now we had never come across an +example. The woman in question belonged to a bad type. Various dregs +from large cities drift into the mills around little country towns and +are the despair of Mayors, curates, and other local authorities. We +genteel folk regarded them as a plague-spot in the midst of us. +</P> + +<P> +I remember the scandal when the troops first came in August, 1914, to +Wellingsford—a scandal put a summary end to, after a fortnight's +grinning amazement at our country morals, by the troops themselves. +Tufton had married into an undesirable community. +</P> + +<P> +"We're wasting time," said Betty. +</P> + +<P> +So Marigold put me into the back of the car and mounted into the front +seat by Betty, and we started. +</P> + +<P> +Flowery End was the poetic name of the mean little row of red-brick +houses inhabited exclusively by Mrs. Tufton and her colleagues at the +mills. To get to it you turn off the High Street by the Post Office, +turn to the right down Avonmore Avenue, and then to the left. There you +find Flowery End, and, fifty yards further on, the main road to Godbury +crosses it at right angles. Betty, who lived on the Godbury Road, was +quite familiar with Flowery End. Mid-June did its best to justify the +name. Here and there, in the tiny patches of front garden, a tenant +tried to help mid-June by cultivating wall-flowers and geraniums and +snapdragon and a rose or two; but the majority cared as much for the +beauty of mid-June as for the cleanliness of their children,—an +unsightly brood, with any slovenly rags about their bodies, and the +circular crust of last week's treacle on their cheeks. In his +abominable speeches before the war Gedge used to point out these +children to unsympathetic Wellingsfordians as the Infant Martyrs of an +Accursed Capitalism. +</P> + +<P> +Betty pulled up the car at Number Seven. Marigold sprang out, helped +her down, and would have walked up the narrow flagged path to knock at +the door. But she declined his aid, and he stood sentry by the gap +where the wicket gate of the garden should have been. I saw the door +open on Betty's summons, and a brawny, tousled, red-faced woman +appear—a most horrible and forbidding female, although bearing traces +of a once blowsy beauty. As in most cottages hereabouts, you entered +straight from garden-plot into the principal livingroom. On each side +of the two figures I obtained a glimpse of stark emptiness. +</P> + +<P> +Betty said: "Are you Mrs. Tufton? I've come to talk to you about your +husband. Let me come in." +</P> + +<P> +The attack was so debonair, so unquestioning, that the woman withdrew a +pace or two and Betty, following up her advantage, entered and shut the +door behind her. I could not have done what Betty did if I had had as +many legs as a centipede. Marigold turned to me anxiously. +</P> + +<P> +"You do think she's safe, sir?" +</P> + +<P> +I nodded. "Anyway, stand by." +</P> + +<P> +The neighbours came out of adjoining houses; slatternly women with +babies, more unwashed children, an elderly, vacant male or two—the +young men and maidens had not yet been released from the mills. As far +as I could gather, there was amused discussion among the gossips +concerning the salient features of Sergeant Marigold's physical +appearance. I heard one lady bid another to look at his wicked old eye, +and receive the humorous rejoinder: "Which one?" I should have liked to +burn them as witches; but Marigold stood his ground, imperturbable. +</P> + +<P> +Presently the door opened, and Betty came sailing down the path with a +red spot on each cheek, followed by Mrs. Tufton, vociferous. +</P> + +<P> +"Sergeant Marigold," cried Betty. "Will you kindly go into that house +and fetch out Corporal Tufton's kit-bag?" +</P> + +<P> +"Very good, madam," said Marigold. +</P> + +<P> +"Sergeant or no sergeant," cried Mrs. Tufton, squaring her elbows and +barring his way, "nobody's coming into my house to touch any of my +husband's property...." Really what she said I cannot record. The +British Tommy I know upside-down, inside-out. I could talk to you about +him for the week together. The ordinary soldier's wife, good, straight, +heroic soul, I know as well and and profoundly admire as I do the +ordinary wife of a brother-officer, and I could tell you what she +thinks and feels in her own language. But the class whence Mrs. Tufton +proceeded is out of my social ken. She was stale-drunk; she had, +doubtless, a vile headache; probably she felt twinges of remorse and +apprehension of possible police interference. As a counter-irritant to +this, she had worked herself into an astounding temper. She would give +up none of her husband's belongings. She would have the law on them if +they tried. Bad enough it was for her husband to come home after a +year's desertion, leaving her penniless, and the moment he set eyes on +her begin to knock her about; but for sergeants suffering under a +blight and characterless females masquerading as hospital nurses to +come and ride rough-shod over an honest working woman was past +endurance. Thus I paraphrase my memory of the lady's torrential speech. +"Lay your hand on me," she cried, "and I'll summons you for assault." +</P> + +<P> +As Marigold could not pass her without laying hands on her, and as the +laying of hands on her, no matter how lightly, would indubitably have +constituted an assault in the eyes of the law, Marigold stiffly +confronted her and tried to argue. +</P> + +<P> +The neighbours listened in sardonic amusement. Betty stood by, with the +spots burning on her cheek, clenching her slender capable fingers, +furious at defeat. I was condemned to sit in the car a few yards off, +an anxious spectator. In a moment's lull of the argument, Betty +interposed: +</P> + +<P> +"Every woman here knows what you have done. You ought to be ashamed of +yourself." +</P> + +<P> +"And you ought to be ashamed of yourself," Mrs. Tufton +retorted—"taking an honest woman's husband away from her." +</P> + +<P> +It was time to interfere. I called out: +</P> + +<P> +"Betty, let us get back. I'll fix the man up with everything he wants." +</P> + +<P> +At the moment of her turning to me a telegraph boy hopped from his +bicycle on the off-side of the ear and touched his cap. +</P> + +<P> +"I've a telegram for Mrs. Connor, sir. I recognised the car and I think +that's the lady. So instead of going on to the house—" +</P> + +<P> +I cut him short. Yes. That was Mrs. Connor of Telford Lodge. He dodged +round the car and, entering the garden path, handed the orange-coloured +envelope to Betty. She took it from him absent-mindedly, her heart and +soul engaged in the battle with Mrs. Tufton. The boy stood patient for +a second or two. +</P> + +<P> +"Any answer, ma'am?" +</P> + +<P> +She turned so that I could see her face in profile, and impatiently +opened the envelope and glanced at the message. Then she stiffened, +seeming in a curious way to become many inches taller, and grew deadly +white. The paper dropped from her hand. Marigold picked it up. +</P> + +<P> +The diversion of the telegraph boy had checked Mrs. Tufton's eloquence +and compelled the idle interest of the neighbours. I cried out from the +car: +</P> + +<P> +"What's the matter?" +</P> + +<P> +But I don't think Betty heard me. She recovered herself, took the +telegram from Marigold, and showed it to the woman. +</P> + +<P> +"Read it," said Betty, in a strange, hard voice. "This is to tell me +that my husband was killed yesterday in France. Go on your knees and +thank God that you have a brave husband still alive and pray that you +may be worthy of him." +</P> + +<P> +She went into the house and in a moment reappeared like a ghost of +steel, carrying the disputed canvas kit-bag over her shoulder. The +woman stared open-mouthed and said nothing. Marigold came forward to +relieve Betty of her burden, but she waved him imperiously away, passed +him and, opening the car-door, threw the bag at my feet. Not one of the +rough crowd moved a foot or uttered a sound, save a baby in arms two +doors off, who cut the silence with a sickly wail and was immediately +hushed by its mother. Betty turned to the attendant Marigold. +</P> + +<P> +"You can drive me home." +</P> + +<P> +She sat by my side. Marigold took the wheel in front and drove on. She +sought for my hand, held it in an iron grip, and said not a word. It +was but a five minutes' run at the pace to which Marigold, time-worn +master of crises of life and death, put the car. Betty held herself +rigid, staring straight in front of her, and striving in vain to stifle +horrible little sounds that would break through her tightly closed lips. +</P> + +<P> +When we pulled up at her door she said queerly: "Forgive me. I'm a +damned little coward." +</P> + +<P> +And she bolted from the car into the house. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap13"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIII +</H3> + +<P> +Thus over the sequestered vale of Wellingsford, far away from the sound +of shells, even off the track of marauding Zeppelins, rode the fiery +planet, Mars. There is not a homestead in Great Britain that in one +form or another has not caught a reflection of its blood-red ray. No +matter how we may seek distraction in work or amusement, the angry glow +is ever before our eyes, colouring our vision, colouring our thoughts, +colouring our emotions for good or for ill. We cannot escape it. Our +personal destinies are inextricably interwoven with the fate directing +the death grapple of the thousand miles or so of battle line, and +arbitrating on the doom of colossal battleships. +</P> + +<P> +Our local newspaper prints week by week its ever-lengthening Roll of +Honour. The shells that burst and slew these brave fellows spread their +devastation into our little sheltered town; in a thundering crash +tearing off from the very trunk of life here a friend, there a son, +there a father, there a husband. And I repeat, at the risk of wearisome +insistence, that our sheltered homeland shares the calm, awful fatalism +of the battlefield; we have to share it because every rood of our +country is, spiritually, as much a battlefield as the narrow, +blood-sodden wastes of Flanders and France. +</P> + +<P> +Willie Connor, fine brave gentleman, was dead. My beloved Betty was a +widow. No Victoria Cross for Betty. Even if there had been one, no +children to be bred from birth on its glorious legend. The German shell +left Betty stripped and maimed. With her passionate generosity she had +given her all; even as his all had been nobly given by her husband. And +then all of both had been swept ruthlessly away down the gory draught +of sacrifice. +</P> + +<P> +Poor Betty! "I'm a damned little coward," she said, as she bolted into +the house. The brave, foolish words rang in my ears all that night. In +the early morning I wondered what I should do. A commonplace message, +written or telephoned, would be inept. I shrank from touching her, +although I knew she would feel my touch to be gentle. You have seen, I +hope, that Betty was dearer to me than anyone else in the world, and I +knew that, apart from the stirring emotions in her own young life, +Betty held me in the closest affection. When she needed me, she would +fly the signal. Of that I felt assured. Still... +</P> + +<P> +While I was in this state of perplexity, Marigold came in to rouse me +and get me ready for the day. +</P> + +<P> +"I've taken the liberty, sir," said he, "to telephone to Telford Lodge +to enquire after Mrs. Connor. The maid said she had Mrs. Connor's +instructions to reply that she was quite well." +</P> + +<P> +The good, admirable fellow! I thanked him. While I was shaving, he said +in his usual wooden way: +</P> + +<P> +"Begging your pardon, sir, I thought you might like to send Mrs. Connor +a few flowers, so I took upon myself to cut some roses, first thing +this morning, with the dew on them." +</P> + +<P> +Of course I cut myself and the blood flowed profusely. +</P> + +<P> +"Why the dickens do you spring things like that on people while they're +shaving?" I cried. +</P> + +<P> +"Very sorry, sir," said he, solicitous with sponge and towel. +</P> + +<P> +"All the same, Marigold," said I, "you've solved a puzzle that has kept +me awake since early dawn. We'll go out as soon as I'm dressed and +we'll send her every rose in the garden." +</P> + +<P> +I have an acre or so of garden behind the house of which I have not yet +spoken, save incidentally—for it was there that just a year ago poor +Althea Fenimore ate her giant strawberries on the last afternoon of her +young life; and a cross-grained old misanthropist, called Timbs, +attends to it and lavishes on the flowers the love which, owing, I +suspect, to blighted early affection, he denies to mankind. I am very +fond of my garden and am especially interested in my roses. Do you know +an exquisitely pink rose—the only true pink—named Mrs. George +Norwood? ... I bring myself up with a jerk. I am not writing a book on +roses. When the war is over perhaps I shall devote my old age to +telling you what I feel and know and think about them.... +</P> + +<P> +I had a battle with Timbs. Timbs was about sixty. He had shaggy, bushy +eyebrows over hard little eyes, a shaggy grey beard, and a long, +clean-shaven, obstinate upper lip. Stick him in an ill-fitting frock +coat and an antiquated silk hat, and he would be the stage model of a +Scottish Elder. As a matter of fact he was Hampshire born and a devout +Roman Catholic. But he was as crabbed an old wretch as you can please. +He flatly refused to execute my order. I dismissed him on the spot. He +countered with the statement that he was an old man who had served me +faithfully for many years. I bade him go on serving me faithfully and +not be a damned fool. The roses were to be cut. If he didn't cut them, +Marigold would. +</P> + +<P> +"He's been a-cutting them already," he growled. "Before I came." +</P> + +<P> +Timbs loathed Marigold—why, I could never discover—and Marigold had +the lowest opinion of Timbs. It was an offence for Marigold to +desecrate the garden by his mere footsteps; to touch a plant or a +flower constituted a damnable outrage. On the other side, Timbs could +not approach my person for the purpose of rendering me any necessary +physical assistance, without incurring Marigold's violent resentment. +</P> + +<P> +"He'll go on cutting them," said I, "unless you start in at once." +</P> + +<P> +He began. I sent off Marigold in search of a wheelbarrow. Then, having +Timbs to myself, I summoned him to my side. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you hold with a man sacrificing his life for his country?" +</P> + +<P> +He looked at me for a moment or two, in his dour, crabbed way. +</P> + +<P> +"I've got a couple of sons in France, trying their best to do it," he +replied. +</P> + +<P> +That was the first I had ever heard of it. I had always regarded him as +a gnarled old bachelor without human ties. Where he had kept the sons +and the necessary mother I had not the remotest notion. +</P> + +<P> +"You're proud of them?" +</P> + +<P> +"I am." +</P> + +<P> +"And if one was killed, would you grudge his grave a few roses? For the +sake of him wouldn't you sacrifice a world of roses?" +</P> + +<P> +His manner changed. "I don't understand, sir. Is anybody killed?" +</P> + +<P> +"Didn't I say that all these roses were for Mrs. Connor?" +</P> + +<P> +He dropped his secateur. "Good God, sir! Is it Captain Connor?" +</P> + +<P> +The block-headed idiot of a Marigold had not told him! Marigold is a +very fine fellow, but occasionally he manifests human frailties that +are truly abominable. +</P> + +<P> +"We are going to sacrifice all our roses, Timbs," said I, "for the sake +of a very gallant Englishman. It's about all we can do." +</P> + +<P> +Of course I ought to have entered upon all this explanation when I +first came on the scene; but I took it for granted that Timbs knew of +the tragedy. +</P> + +<P> +"Need we cut those blooms of the Rayon d'Or?" asked Timbs, alluding to +certain roses under conical paper shades which he had been breathlessly +tending for our local flower show. "We'll cut them first," said I. +</P> + +<P> +Looking back through the correcting prism of time, I fancy this +slaughter of the innocents may have been foolishly sentimental. But I +had a great desire to lay all that I could by way of tribute of +consolation at Betty's feet, and this little sacrifice of all my roses +seemed as symbolical an expression of my feelings as anything that my +unimaginative brain could devise. +</P> + +<P> +During the forenoon I superintended the packing of the baskets of roses +in Pawling the florist's cart, which I was successful in engaging for +the occasion,—neither wheelbarrow nor donkey carriage nor two-seater, +the only vehicles at my disposal, being adequate; and when I saw it +start for its destination, I wheeled myself, by way of discipline, +through my bereaved garden. It looked mighty desolate. But though all +the blooms had gone, there were a myriad buds which next week would +burst into happy flower. And the sacrifice seemed trivial, almost +ironical; for in Betty's heart there were no buds left. +</P> + +<P> +After lunch I went to the hospital for the weekly committee meeting. To +my amazement the first person I met in the corridor was Betty—Betty, +white as wax, with black rings round unnaturally shining eyes. She +waited for me to wheel myself up to her. I said severely: +</P> + +<P> +"What on earth are you doing here? Go home to bed at once." +</P> + +<P> +She put her hand on the back of my chair and bent down. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm better here. And so are the dear roses. Come and see them." +</P> + +<P> +I followed her into one of the military wards on the ground floor, and +the place was a feast of roses. I had no idea so many could have come +from my little garden. And the ward upstairs, she told me, was +similarly beflowered. By the side of each man's bed stood bowl or vase, +and the tables and the window sills were bright with blooms. It was the +ward for serious cases—men with faces livid from gas-poisoning, men +with the accursed trench nephritis, men with faces swathed in bandages +hiding God knows what distortions, men with cradles over them +betokening mangled limbs, men recovering from operations, chiefly the +picking of bits of shrapnel and splinters of bone from shattered arms +and legs; men with pale faces, patient eyes, and with cheery smiles +round their lips when we passed by. A gramophone at the end of the room +was grinding out a sentimental tune to which all were listening with +rapt enjoyment. I asked one man, among others, how he was faring. He +was getting on fine. With the death-rattle in his throat the wounded +British soldier invariably tells you that he is getting on fine. +</P> + +<P> +"And ain't these roses lovely? Makes the place look like a garden. And +that music—seems appropriate, don't it, sir?" +</P> + +<P> +I asked what the gramophone was playing. He looked respectfully shocked. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, it's 'The Rosary,' sir." +</P> + +<P> +After we had left him, Betty said: +</P> + +<P> +"That's the third time they've asked for it to-day. They've got mixed +up with the name, you see. They're beautiful children, aren't they?" +</P> + +<P> +I should have called them sentimental idiots, but Betty saw much +clearer than I did. She accompanied me back to the corridor and to the +Committee Room door. I was a quarter of an hour late. +</P> + +<P> +"I've kept the precious Rayon d'Ors for myself," she said. "How could +you have the heart to cut them?" +</P> + +<P> +"I would have cut out my heart itself, for the matter of that," said I, +"if it would have done any good." +</P> + +<P> +She smiled in a forlorn kind of way. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't do that, for I shall want it inside you more than ever now. Tell +me, how is Tufton?" +</P> + +<P> +"Tufton—?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes—Tufton." +</P> + +<P> +I must confess that my mind being so full of Betty, I had clean +forgotten Tufton. But Betty remembered. +</P> + +<P> +I smiled. "He's getting on fine," said I. I reached out my hand and +held her cold, slim fingers. "Promise me one thing, my dear." +</P> + +<P> +"All right," she said. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't overdo things. There's a limit to the power of bearing strain. +As soon as you feel you're likely to go FUT, throw it all up and come +and see me and let us lay our heads together." +</P> + +<P> +"I despise people who go FUT," said Betty. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't," said I. +</P> + +<P> +We nodded a mutual farewell. She opened the Committee Room door for me +and walked down the corridor with a swinging step, as though she would +show me how fully she had made herself mistress of circumstance. +</P> + +<P> +Some evenings later she came in, as usual, unheralded, and established +herself by my chair. +</P> + +<P> +The scents of midsummer came in through the open windows, and there was +a great full moon staring in at us from a cloudless sky. Letters from +the War Office, from brother-officers, from the Colonel, from the +Brigadier General himself, had broken her down. She gave me the letters +to read. Everyone loved him, admired him, trusted him. "As brave as a +lion," wrote one. "Perhaps the most brilliant company officer in my +brigade," wrote the General. And his death—the tragic common story. A +trench; a high-explosive shell; the fate of young Etherington; and no +possible little wooden cross to mark his grave. +</P> + +<P> +And Betty, on the floor by my side, gave way. +</P> + +<P> +The proud will bent. She surrendered herself to a paroxysm of sorrow. +</P> + +<P> +She was not in a fit state to return to the hospital, where, I learned, +she shared a bedroom with Phyllis Gedge. I shrank from sending her home +to the tactless comforting of her aunts. They were excellent, +God-fearing ladies, but they had never understood Betty. All her life +they had worried her with genteel admonitions. They had regarded her +marriage with disfavour, as an act of foolhardiness—I even think they +looked on her attitude as unmaidenly; and now in her frozen widowhood +they fretted her past endurance. On the night when the news came they +sent for the vicar of their parish—not my good friend who christened +Hosea—a very worthy, very serious, very evangelistically religious +fellow, to administer spiritual consolation. If Betty had sat devoutly +under him on Sundays, there might have been some reason in the summons. +But Betty, holding her own religious views, had only once been inside +the church—on the occasion of her wedding—and had but the most formal +acquaintance with the good man.... No, I could not send Betty home, +unexpectedly, to have her wounds mauled about by unskilful fingers. +Nothing remained but to telephone to the hospital and put her in Mrs. +Marigold's charge for the night. So broken was my dear Betty, that she +allowed herself to be carried off without a word.... Once before, years +ago, she had behaved with the same piteous docility; and that was when, +a short-frocked maiden, she had fallen from an apple tree and badly +hurt herself, and Marigold had carried her into the house and Mrs. +Marigold had put her to bed.... +</P> + +<P> +In the morning I found her calm and sedate at the breakfast table. +</P> + +<P> +"You've been and gone and done for both of us, Majy dear," she +remarked, pouring out tea. +</P> + +<P> +"What do you mean?" +</P> + +<P> +"Our reputations. What a scandal in Wellingsford!" +</P> + +<P> +She looked me clearly in the eyes and smiled, and her hand did not +shake as she held my cup. And by these signs I knew that she had taken +herself again in grip and forbade reference to the agony through which +she had passed. +</P> + +<P> +Quickly she turned the conversation to the Tuftons. What had happened? +I told her meagrely. She insisted on fuller details. So, flogged by +her, I related what I had gleaned from Marigold's wooden reports. He +always conveyed personal information as though he were giving evidence +against a defaulter. I had to start all over again. Apparently this had +happened: Mrs. Tufton had arrayed herself, not in sackcloth and ashes, +for that was apparently her normal attire, but in an equivalent, as far +as a symbol of humility was concerned; namely, in decent raiment, and +had sought her husband's forgiveness. There had been a touching scene +in the scullery which Mrs. Marigold had given up to them for the sake +of privacy, in which the lady had made tearful promises of reform and +the corporal had magnanimously passed the sponge over the terrible +reckoning on her slate. Would he then go home to his penitent wife? But +the gallant fellow, with the sturdy common-sense for which the British +soldier is renowned, contrasted the clover in which he was living here +with the aridness of Flowery End, and declined to budge. High sentiment +was one thing, snug lying was another. Next time he came back, if she +had re-established the home in its former comfort, he didn't say as how +he wouldn't— +</P> + +<P> +"But," she cried—and this bit I didn't tell Betty—"the next time you +may come home dead!" +</P> + +<P> +"Then," replied Tufton, "let me see what a nice respectable coffin, +with brass handles and lots of slap-up brass nails and a brass plate, +you can get ready for me." +</P> + +<P> +Since the first interview, I informed Betty, there had been others +daily—most decorous. They were excellent friends. Neither seemed to +perceive anything absurd in the situation. Even Marigold looked on it +as a matter of course. +</P> + +<P> +"I have an idea," said Betty. "You know we want some help in the +servant staff of the hospital?" +</P> + +<P> +I did. The matron had informed the Committee, who had empowered her to +act. +</P> + +<P> +"Why not let me tackle Mrs. Tufton while she is in this beautifully +chastened and devotional mood? In this way we can get her out of the +mills, out of Flowery End, fill her up with noble and patriotic +emotions instead of whisky, and when Tufton returns, present her to him +as a model wife, sanctified by suffering and ennobled by the +consciousness of duty done. It would be splendid!" +</P> + +<P> +For the first time since the black day there came a gleam of fun into +Betty's eyes and a touch of colour into her cheeks. +</P> + +<P> +"It would indeed," said I. "The only question is whether Tufton would +really like this Red Cross Saint you'll have provided for him." +</P> + +<P> +"In case he does not," said Betty, "you can provide him with a refuge +as you are doing now." +</P> + +<P> +She rose from the table, announcing her intention of going straight to +the hospital. I realised with a pang that breakfast was over; that I +had enjoyed a delectable meal; that, by some sort of dainty miracle, +she had bemused me into eating and drinking twice my ordinary ration; +that she had inveigled me into talking—a thing I have never done +during breakfast for years—it is as much as Marigold's ugly head is +worth to address a remark to me during the unsympathetic duty—why, if +my poached egg regards me with too aggressive a pinkiness, I want to +slap it—and into talking about those confounded Tuftons with a gusto +only provoked by a glass or two of impeccable port after a good dinner. +One would have thought, considering the anguished scene of the night +before, that it would have been one of the most miserably impossible +tete-a-tete breakfasts in the whole range of such notoriously ghastly +meals. But here was Betty, serene and smiling, as though she had been +accustomed to breakfast with me every morning of her life, off to the +hospital, with a hard little idea in her humorous head concerning Mrs. +Tufton's conversion. +</P> + +<P> +The only sign she gave of last night's storm was when, by way of +good-bye, she bent down and kissed my cheek. +</P> + +<P> +"You know," she said, "I love you too much to thank you." +</P> + +<P> +And she went off with her brave little head in the air. +</P> + +<P> +In the afternoon I went to Wellings Park. Sir Anthony was away, but +Lady Fenimore was in. She showed me a letter she had received from +Betty in reply to her letter of condolence: +</P> + +<P> +"My dears, +</P> + +<P> +"It is good to realise one has such rocks to lean on. You long to help +and comfort me. Well, I'll tell you how to do it. You just forget. +Leave it to me to do all the remembering. +</P> + +<P> +"Yours, Betty." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap14"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIV +</H3> + +<P> +On the first of July there was forwarded to me from the club a letter +in an unknown handwriting. I had to turn to the signature to discover +the identity of my correspondent. It was Reggie Dacre, Colonel Dacre, +whom I had met in London a couple of months before. As it tells its own +little story, I transcribe it. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"Dear Major Meredyth: +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"I should like to confirm by the following anecdote, which is going the +round of the Brigade, what I recently told you about our friend Boyce. +I shouldn't worry you, but I feel that if one has cast an unjustifiable +slur on a brother-officer's honour—and I can't tell you how the thing +has lain on my conscience—one shouldn't leave a stone unturned to +rehabilitate him, even in the eyes of one person. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"There has been a good deal of scrapping around Ypres lately—that +given away by the communiques; but for reasons which both the Censor +and yourself will appreciate, I can't be more explicit as to locality. +Enough to say that somewhere in this region—or sector, as we call it +nowadays—there was a certain bit of ground that had been taken and +retaken over and over again. B.'s Regiment was in this fighting, and at +one particular time we were holding a German front trench section. A +short distance further on the enemy held a little farm building, +forming a sort of redoubt. They sniped all day long. They also had a +machine gun. I can't give you accurate details, for I can only tell you +what I've heard; but the essentials are true. Well, we got that +farmhouse. We got it single-handed. Boyce put up the most amazing bluff +that has ever happened in this war. He crawls out by himself, without +anybody knowing—it was a pitch-black night—gets through the barbed +wire, heaven knows how, up to the house; lays a sentry out with his +life-preserver; gives a few commands to an imaginary company; and +summons the occupants—two officers and fifteen men—to surrender. +Thinking they are surrounded, they obey like lambs, come out unarmed, +with their hands up, officers and all, and are comfortably marched off +in the dark, as prisoners into our trenches. They say that when the +German officers discovered how they had been done, they foamed so hard +that we had to use empty sandbags as strait waistcoats. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"Now, it's picturesque, of course, and being picturesque, it has flown +from mouth to mouth. But it's true. Verb. sap. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"Hoping some time or other to see you again, +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> + "Yours sincerely,<BR> + "R. DACRE,<BR> + "Lt. Col."<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +I quote this letter here for the sake of chronological sequence. It +gave me a curious bit of news. No man could have performed such a feat +without a cold brain, soundly beating heart, and nerves of steel. It +was not an act of red-hot heroism. It was done in cold blood, a +deliberate gamble with death on a thousand to one chance. It was +staggeringly brave. +</P> + +<P> +I told the story to Mrs. Boyce. Her comment was characteristic: +</P> + +<P> +"But surely they would have to surrender if called upon by a British +Officer." +</P> + +<P> +To the Day of Judgment I don't think she will understand what Leonard +did. Leonard himself, coming home slightly wounded two or three weeks +afterwards, pooh-poohed the story as one of no account and only further +confused the dear lady's ill-conceived notions. +</P> + +<P> +In the meanwhile life at Wellingsford flowed uneventfully. Now and +again a regiment or a brigade, having finished its training, +disappeared in a night, and the next day fresh troops arrived to fill +its place. And this great, silent movement of men went on all over the +country. Sometimes our hearts sank. A reserve Howitzer Territorial +Brigade turned up in Wellings Park with dummy wooden guns. The officers +told us that they had been expecting proper guns daily for the past two +months. Marigold shook a sad head. But all things, even six-inch +howitzers, come to him who waits. +</P> + +<P> +Little more was heard of Randall Holmes. He corresponded with his +mother through a firm of London solicitors, and his address and his +doings remained a mystery. He was alive, he professed robust health, +and in reply to Mrs. Holmes's frantically expressed hope that he was +adopting no course that might discredit his father's name, he twitted +her with intellectual volte-face to the views of Philistia, but at the +same time assured her that he was doing nothing which the most +self-righteous bourgeois would consider discreditable. +</P> + +<P> +"But it IS discreditable for him to go away like this and not let his +own mother know where he is," cried the poor woman. +</P> + +<P> +And of course I agreed with her. I find it best always to agree with +mothers; also with wives. +</P> + +<P> +After her own lapse from what Mrs. Boyce would have called +"Spartianism," Betty kept up her brave face. When Willie Connor's kit +came home she told me tearlessly about the heartrending consignment. +Now and then she spoke of him—with a proud look in her eyes. She was +one of the women of England who had the privilege of being the wife of +a hero. In this world one must pay for everything worth having. Her +widowhood was the price. All the tears of a lifetime could not bring +him back. All the storms of fate could not destroy the glory of those +few wonderful months. He was laughing, so she heard, when he met his +death. So would she, in honour of him, go on laughing till she met hers. +</P> + +<P> +"And that silly little fool, Phyllis, is still crying her eyes out over +Randall," she said. "Don't I think she was wrong in sending him away? +If she had married him she might have influenced him, made him get a +commission in the army. I've threatened to beat her if she talks such +nonsense. Why can't people take a line and stick to it?" +</P> + +<P> +"This isn't a world of Bettys, my dear," said I. +</P> + +<P> +"Rubbish! The outrageous Mrs. Tufton's doing it." +</P> + +<P> +Apparently she was. She followed Betty about as the lamb followed Mary. +Tufton, after a week or two at Wellington Barracks, had been given +sergeant's stripes and sent off with a draft to the front. Betty's +dramatic announcement of her widowhood seemed to have put the fear of +death into the woman's soul. As soon as her husband landed in France +she went scrupulously through the closely printed casualty lists of +non-commissioned officers and men in The Daily Mail, in awful dread +lest she should see her husband's name. Betty vainly assured her that, +in the first place, she would hear from the War Office weeks before +anything could appear in the papers, and that, in the second, his name +would occur under the heading "Grenadier Guards," and not under "Royal +Field Artillery," "Royal Engineers," "Duke of Cornwall's Light +Infantry," "R.A.M.C.," or Australian and Canadian contingents. Mrs. +Tufton went through the lot from start to finish. Once, indeed, she +came across the name, in big print, and made a bee-line through the +wards for Betty—an offence for which the Matron nearly threw her, +there and then, into the street. It was that of the gallant Colonel of +a New Zealand Regiment at Gallipoli. Betty had to point to the brief +biographical note to prove to the distracted woman that the late +Colonel Tufton of New Zealand could not be identical with Sergeant +Tufton of the Grenadiers. She regarded Mrs. Tufton as a brand she had +plucked from the burning and took a great deal of trouble with her. On +the other hand, I imagine Mrs. Tufton looked upon herself as a very +important person, a sergeant's wife, and the confidential intimate of a +leading sister at the Wellingsford Hospital. In fact, Marigold +mentioned her notorious vanity. +</P> + +<P> +"What does it matter," cried Betty, when I put this view before her, +"how swelled her head may be, so long as it isn't swollen with drink?" +</P> + +<P> +And I could find no adequate reply. +</P> + +<P> +Towards the end of the month comes Boyce to Wellingsford, this time not +secretly; for the day after his arrival he drove his mother through the +town and incidentally called on me. A neglected bullet graze on the +neck had turned septic. An ugly temperature had sent him to hospital. +The authorities, as soon as the fever had abated and left him on the +high road to recovery, had sent him home. A khaki bandage around his +bull-throat alone betokened anything amiss. He would be back, he said, +as soon as the Medical Board at the War Office would let him. +</P> + +<P> +On this occasion, for the first time since South African days, I met +him without any mistrust. What had passed between Betty and himself, I +did not know. Relations between man and woman are so subtle and +complicated, that unless you have the full pleadings on both sides in +front of you, you cannot arbitrate; and, as often as not, if you +deliver the most soul-satisfying of judgments, you are hopelessly +wrong, because there are all important, elusive factors of personality, +temperament, sex, and what not which all the legal acumen in the world +could not set down in black and white. So half unconsciously I ruled +out Betty from my contemplation of the man. I had been obsessed by the +Vilboek Farm story, and by that alone. Reggie Dacre—to say nothing of +personages in high command—had proved it to be a horrible lie. He had +Marshal Ney's deserved reputation—le brave des braves—and there is no +more coldly critical conferrer of such repute than the British Army in +the field. To win it a man not only has to do something heroic once or +twice—that is what he is there for—but he has to be doing it all the +time. Boyce had piled up for himself an amazing record, one that +overwhelmed the possibility of truth in old slanders. When I gripped +him by the hand, I felt immeasurable relief at being able to do so +without the old haunting suspicion and reservation. +</P> + +<P> +He spoke, like thousands of others of his type—the type of the fine +professional English soldier—with diffident modesty of such personal +experiences as he deigned to recount. The anecdotes mostly had a +humorous side, and were evoked by allusion. Like all of us +stay-at-homes, I cursed the censorship for leaving us so much in the +dark. He laughed and cursed the censorship for the opposite reason. +</P> + +<P> +"The damned fools—I beg your pardon, Mother, but when a fool is too +big a fool even for this world, he must be damned—the damned fools +allow all sorts of things to be given away. They were nearly the death +of me and were the death of half a dozen of my men." +</P> + +<P> +And he told the story. In a deserted brewery behind the lines the vats +were fitted up as baths for men from the trenches, and the furnaces +heated ovens in which horrible clothing was baked. This brewery had +been immune from attack until an officially sanctioned newspaper +article specified its exact position. A few days after the article +appeared, in fact, as soon as a copy of the paper reached Germany, a +thunderstorm of shells broke on the brewery. Out of it poured a +helter-skelter stream of stark-naked men, who ran wherever they could +for cover. From one point of view it was vastly comic. In the meanwhile +the building containing all their clothes, and all the spare clothing +for a brigade, was being scientifically destroyed. That was more comic +still. The bather cut off from his garments is a world-wide joke. The +German battery, having got the exact range, were having a systematic, +Teutonic afternoon's enjoyment. But from another point of view the +situation was desperate. There were these poor fellows, hordes of them, +in nature's inadequate protection against the weather, shivering in the +cold, with the nearest spare rag of clothing some miles away. Boyce got +them together, paraded them instantly under the shell fire, and led +them at a rush into the blazing building to salve stores. Six never +came out alive. Many were burned and wounded. But it had to be done, or +the whole crowd would have perished from exposure. Tommy is fairly +tough; but he cannot live mother-naked through a March night of driving +sleet. +</P> + +<P> +"No," said Boyce, "if you suffered daily from the low cunning of +Brother Bosch, you wouldn't cry for things to be published in the +newspapers." +</P> + +<P> +At the end of their visit I accompanied my guests to the hall. Marigold +escorted Mrs. Boyce to the car. Leonard picked up his cap and cane and +turned to shake hands. I noticed that the knob of the cane was neatly +cased in wash-leather. Idly I enquired the reason. He smiled grimly as +he slipped off the cover and exposed the polished deep vermilion butt +of the life-preserver which Reggie Dacre had described. +</P> + +<P> +"It's a sort of fetish I feel I must carry around with me," he +explained. "When I've got it in my hand, I don't seem to care a damn +what I do. When I haven't, I miss it. Remember the story of Sir Walter +Scott's boy with the butter? Something like that, you know. But in its +bare state it's not a pretty sight for the mother." +</P> + +<P> +"It ought to have a name," said I. "The poilu calls his bayonet +Rosalie." +</P> + +<P> +He looked at it darkly for a moment, before refitting the wash-leather. +</P> + +<P> +"I might call it The Reminder," said he. "Good-bye." And he turned +quickly and strode out of the door. +</P> + +<P> +The Reminder of what? He puzzled me. Why, in spite of all my +open-heartedness, did he still contrive to leave me with a sense of the +enigmatic? +</P> + +<P> +Although he showed himself openly about the town, he held himself aloof +from social intercourse with the inhabitants. He called, I know, on +Mrs. Holmes, and on one or two others who have no place in this +chronicle. But he refused all proposals of entertainment, notably an +invitation to dinner from the Fenimores. Sir Anthony met him in the +street, upbraided him in his genial manner for neglect of his old +friends, and pressingly asked him to dine at Wellings Park. Just a few +old friends. The duties of a distinguished soldier, said he, did not +begin and end on the field. He must uplift the hearts of those who had +to stay at home. Sir Anthony had a nervous trick of rattling off many +sentences before his interlocutor could get in a word. When he had +finished, Boyce politely declined the invitation. +</P> + +<P> +"And with a damned chilly, stand-offish politeness," cried Sir Anthony +furiously, when telling me about it. "Just as if I had been Perkins, +the fish-monger, asking him to meet the Prettiloves at high tea. It's +swelled head, my dear chap; that's what it is. Just swelled head. None +of us are good enough for him and his laurels. He's going to remain the +modest mossy violet of a hero blushing unseen. Oh, damn the fellow!" +</P> + +<P> +I did my best to soothe my touchy and choleric friend. No soldier, said +I, likes to be made a show of. Why had he suggested a dinner party? A +few friends. Anyone in Boyce's position knew what that meant. It meant +about thirty gawking, gaping people for whom he didn't care a hang. Why +hadn't Anthony asked the Boyces to dine quietly with Edith and +himself—with me thrown in, for instance, if they wanted exotic +assistance? Let me try, I said, to fix matters up. +</P> + +<P> +So the next day I called on Boyce and told him, with such tact as I +have at command, of Sir Anthony's wounded feelings. +</P> + +<P> +"My dear Meredyth," said he. "I can only say to you what I tried to +explain to the irascible little man. If I accepted one invitation, I +should have to accept all invitations or give terrible offence all over +the place. I'm here a sick man and my mother's an invalid. And I merely +want to be saved from my friends and have a quiet time with the old +lady. Of course if Sir Anthony is offended, I'm only too sorry, and I +beg you to assure him that I never intended the slightest discourtesy. +The mere idea of it distresses me." +</P> + +<P> +The explanation was reasonable, the apology frank. Sir Anthony received +them both grumpily. He had his foibles. He set his invitations to +dinner in a separate category from those of the rag-tag and bobtail of +Wellingsford society. So for the sake of principle he continued to damn +the fellow. +</P> + +<P> +On the other hand, for the sake of principle, reparation for injustice, +I continued to like the fellow and found pleasure in his company. For +one thing, I hankered after the smoke and smell and din of the front, +and Boyce succeeded more than anyone else in satisfying my appetite. +While he talked, as he did freely with me alone, I got near to the grim +essence of things. Also, with the aid of rough military maps, he made +actions and strategical movements of which newspaper accounts had given +me but a confused notion, as clear as if I had been a chief of staff. +Often he went to considerable trouble in obtaining special information. +He appeared to set himself out to win my esteem. Now a cripple is very +sensitive to kindness. I could not reject his overtures. What +interested motive could he have in seeking out a useless hulk like me? +On the first opportunity I told Betty of the new friendship, having a +twinge or two of conscience lest it might appear to her disloyal. +</P> + +<P> +"But why in the world shouldn't you see him, dear?" she said, +open-eyed. "He brings the breath of battle to you and gives you fresh +life. You're looking ever so much better the last few days. The only +thing is," she added, turning her head away, "that I don't want to run +the risk of meeting him again." +</P> + +<P> +Naturally I took precautions against such an occurrence. The +circumstances of their last meeting at my house lingered unpleasantly +in my mind. Perhaps, for Betty's sake, I ought to have turned a cold +shoulder on Boyce. But when you have done a man a foul injustice for +years, you must make him some kind of secret reparation. So, by making +him welcome, I did what I could. +</P> + +<P> +Now I don't know whether I ought to set down a trivial incident +mentioned in my diary under the date of the 15th August, the day before +Boyce left Wellingsford to join his regiment in France. In writing an +account of other people's lives it is difficult to know what to put in +and what to leave out. If you bring in your own predilections or +prejudices or speculations concerning them, you must convey a distorted +impression. You lie about them unconsciously. A fact is a fact, and, if +it is important, ought to be recorded. But when you are not sure +whether it is a fact or not, what are you to do? +</P> + +<P> +Perhaps I had better narrate what happened and tell you afterwards why +I hesitate. +</P> + +<P> +Marigold had driven me over to Godbury, where I had business connected +with a County Territorial Association, and we were returning home. It +was a moist, horrible, depressing August day. A slimy, sticky day. +Clouds hung low over the reeking earth. The honest rain had ceased, but +wet drops dribbled from the leaves of the trees and the branches and +trunks exuded moisture. The thatched roofs of cottages were dank. In +front gardens roses and hollyhocks drooped sodden. The very droves of +steers coming from market sweated in the muggy air. The good slush of +the once dusty road, broken to bits by military traffic, had stiffened +into black grease. Round a bend of the road we skidded alarmingly. +Marigold has a theory that in summer time a shirt next the skin is the +only wear for humans and square-tread tyres the only wear for +motor-cars. With some acerbity I pointed out the futility of his +proposition. With the blandness of superior wisdom he assured me that +we were perfectly safe. You can't knock into the head of an +artilleryman who has been trained to hang on to a limber by the +friction of his trousers, that there can be any danger in the luxurious +seat of a motor-car. +</P> + +<P> +There is a good straight half mile of the Godbury Road which is known +in the locality as "The Gut." It is sunken and very narrow, being +flanked on one side by the railway embankment, and on the other by the +grounds of Godbury Chase. A most desolate bit of road, half overhung by +trees and oozing with all the moisture of the country-side. On this day +it was the wettest, slimiest bit of road in England. We had almost +reached the end of it, when it entered the head of a stray puppy dog to +pause in the act of crossing and sit down in the middle and hunt for +fleas. To spare the abominable mongrel, Marigold made a sudden swerve. +Of course the car skidded. It skidded all over the place, as if it were +drunk, and, aided by Marigold, described a series of ghastly +half-circles. At last he performed various convulsive feats of +jugglery, with the result that the car, which was nosing steadily for +the ditch, came to a stand-still. Then Marigold informed me in +unemotional tones that the steering gear had gone. +</P> + +<P> +"It's all the fault of that there dog," said he, twisting his head so +as to glare at the little beast, who, after a yelp and a bound, had +calmly recaptured his position and resumed his interrupted occupation. +</P> + +<P> +"It's all the fault of that there Marigold," I retorted, "who can't see +the sense of using studded tyres on a greasy surface. What's to be done +now?" +</P> + +<P> +Marigold thrust his hand beneath his wig and scratched his head. He +didn't exactly know. He got out and stared intently at the car. If mind +could have triumphed over matter, the steering gear would have become +disfractured. But the good Marigold's mind was not powerful enough. He +gave up the contest and looked at me and the situation. There we were, +broadside on to the narrow road, and only manhandling could bring us +round to a position of safety by the side. He was for trying it there +and then; but I objected, having no desire to be slithered into the +ditch. +</P> + +<P> +"I would just as soon," said I, "ride a giraffe shod with roller +skates." +</P> + +<P> +He didn't even smile. He turned his one reproachful eye on me. What was +to be done? I told him. We must wait for assistance. When I had been +transferred into the vehicle of a passing Samaritan, it was time enough +for the manhandling. +</P> + +<P> +Fate brought the Samaritan very quickly. A car coming from Godbury +tooted violently, then slowed down, stopped, and from it jumped Leonard +Boyce. As he was to rescue me from a position of peculiar helplessness, +I regarded his great khaki-clad figure as that of a ministering angel. +I beamed on him. +</P> + +<P> +"Hallo! What's the matter?" he asked cheerily. +</P> + +<P> +I explained. Being merciful, I spared Marigold and threw the blame on +the dog and on the County Council for allowing the roads to get into +such a filthy condition. +</P> + +<P> +"That's all right," said Boyce. "We'll soon fix you up. First we'll get +you into my car. Then Marigold and I will slue this one round, and then +we'll send him a tow." +</P> + +<P> +Marigold nodded and approached to lift me out. +</P> + +<P> +Then, what happened next, happened in the flash of a few breathless +seconds. There was the dull thud of hoofs. A scared bay thoroughbred, +coming from Godbury, galloping hell for leather, with a dishevelled boy +in khaki on his back. The boy had lost his stirrups; he had lost his +reins; he had lost his head. He hung half over the saddle and had a +death grip on the horse's mane. And the uncontrolled brute was +thundering down on us. There was my infernal car barring the narrow +road. I remember bracing myself to meet the shock. An end, thought I, +of Duncan Meredyth. I saw Boyce leap aside like a flash and appear to +stand stock-still. The next second I saw Marigold semaphore a few yards +in front of the car and then swing sickeningly at the horse's bit; and +then the whole lot of them, Marigold, horse and rider, come down in a +convulsive heap on the greasy road. To my intense relief I saw Marigold +pick himself up and go to the head of the plunging, prostrate horse. In +a moment or two he had got the beast on his feet, where he stood +quivering. It was a fine, smart piece of work on the part of the old +artilleryman. I was so intent on his danger that I forgot all about +Boyce: but as soon as the three crashed down, I saw him run to assist +the young subaltern who had rolled himself clear. +</P> + +<P> +"By Jove, that was a narrow shave!" he cried cordially, giving him a +hand. +</P> + +<P> +"It was indeed, sir," said the young man, scraping the mud off his +face. "That's the second time the brute has done it. He shies and bucks +and kicks like a regular devil. This time he shied at a steam lorry and +bucked my feet out of the stirrups. Everybody in the squadron has +turned him down, and I'm the junior, I've had to take him." He eyed the +animal resentfully. "I'd just like to get him on some grass and knock +hell out of him!" +</P> + +<P> +"I'm glad to see you're not hurt," said Boyce with a smile. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, not a bit, sir," said the boy. He turned to Marigold. "I don't +know how to thank you. It was a jolly plucky thing to do. You've saved +my life and that of the gentleman in the car. If we had busted into it, +there would have been pie." He came to the side of the car. "I think +you're Major Meredyth, sir. I must have given you an awful fright. I'm +so sorry. My name is Brown. I'm in the South Scottish Horse." +</P> + +<P> +He had a courteous charm of manner in spite of his boyish desire to +appear unshaken by the accident. A little bravado is an excellent +thing. I laughed and held out my hand. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm glad to meet you—although our meeting might have been contrived +less precipitously. This is Sergeant Marigold, late R.F.A., who does me +the honour of looking after me. And this is Major Boyce." +</P> + +<P> +Observe the little devil of malice that made me put Marigold first. +</P> + +<P> +"Of the Rifles?" +</P> + +<P> +A quick gleam of admiration showed in the boy's eyes as he saluted. No +soldier could be stationed at Wellingsford without hearing of the hero +of the neighbourhood. A great hay waggon came lumbering down the road +and pulled up, there being no room for it to pass. This put an end to +social amenities. Brown mounted his detested charger and trotted off. +Marigold transferred me to Boyce's car. Several pairs of brawny arms +righted the two-seater and Boyce and I drove off, leaving Marigold +waiting with his usual stony patience for the promised tow. On the way +Boyce talked gaily of Marigold's gallantry, of the boy's spirit, of the +idiotic way in which impossible horses were being foisted on newly +formed cavalry units. When we drew up at my front door, it occurred to +me that there was no Marigold in attendance. +</P> + +<P> +"How the deuce," said I, "am I going to get out?" +</P> + +<P> +Boyce laughed. "I don't think I'll drop you." +</P> + +<P> +His great arms picked me up with ease. But while he was carrying me I +experienced a singular physical revolt. I loathed his grip. I loathed +the enforced personal contact. Even after he had deposited me—very +skilfully and gently—in my wheel-chair in the hall, I hated the +lingering sense of his touch. He owed his whisky and soda to the most +elementary instinct of hospitality. Besides, he was off the next day, +back to the trenches and the hell of battle, and I had to bid him +good-bye and God-speed. But when he went, I felt glad, very glad, as +though relieved of some dreadful presence. My old distrust and dislike +returned increased a thousandfold. +</P> + +<P> +It was only when he got my frail body in his arms, which I realized +were twice as strong as my good Marigold's, that I felt the ghastly and +irrational revulsion. The only thing to which I can liken it, although +it seems ludicrous, is what I imagine to be the instinctive recoil of a +woman who feels on her body the touch of antipathetic hands. I know +that my malady has made me a bit supersensitive. But my vanity has +prided itself on keeping up a rugged spirit in a fool of a body, so I +hated myself for giving way to morbid sensations. All the same, I felt +that if I were alone in a burning house, and there were no one but +Leonard Boyce to save me, I should prefer incineration to rescue. +</P> + +<P> +And now I will tell you why I have hesitated to give a place in this +chronicle to the incident of the broken-down car and the runaway horse. +</P> + +<P> +It all happened so quickly, my mind was so taken up with the sudden +peril, that for the life of me I cannot swear to the part played by +Leonard Boyce. I saw him leap aside, and had the fragment of an +impression of him standing motionless between the radiator of his car +and the tail of mine which was at right angles. The next time he thrust +himself on my consciousness was when he was lugging young Brown out of +reach of the convulsive hoofs. In the meanwhile Marigold, +single-handed, had rushed into the jaws of death and stopped the horse. +But as it was a matter of seconds, I had no reason for believing that, +but for adventitious relative positions on the road, Boyce would not +have done the same.... And yet out of the corner of my eye I got an +instantaneous photograph of him standing bolt upright between the two +cars, while the abominable bay brute, with distended red nostrils and +wild eyes, was thundering down on us. +</P> + +<P> +On the other hand, the swift pleasure in the boy's eyes when he +realised that he was in the presence of the popular hero, proved him +free of doubts such as mine. And when Marigold, having put the car in +hospital, came to make his report, and lingered in order to discuss the +whole affair, he said, in wooden deprecation of my eulogy: +</P> + +<P> +"If Major Boyce hadn't jumped in, sir, young Mr. Brown's head would +have been kicked into pumpkin-squash." +</P> + +<P> +Well, I have known from long experience that there are no more +untrustworthy witnesses than a man's own eyes; especially in the +lightning dramas of life. +</P> + +<P> +I was kept awake all night, and towards the dawn I came into thorough +agreement with Sir Anthony and I heartily damned the fellow. +</P> + +<P> +What had I to do with him that he should rob me of my sleep? +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap15"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XV +</H3> + +<P> +The next morning he strode in while I was at breakfast, handsome, +erect, deep-chested, the incarnation of physical strength, with a glad +light in his eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Congratulate me, old man," he cried, gripping my frail shoulder. "I've +three days' extra leave. And more than that, I go out in command of the +regiment. No temporary business but permanent rank. Gazetted in due +course. Bannatyne—that's our colonel—damned good soldier!—has got a +staff appointment. I take his place. I promise you the Fourth King's +Rifles are going to make history. Either history or manure. History for +choice. As I say, Bannatyne's a damned good soldier, and personally as +brave as a lion, but when it comes to the regiment, he's too much on +the cautious side. The regiment's only longing to make things hum, and +I'm going to let 'em do it." +</P> + +<P> +I congratulated him in politely appropriate terms and went on with my +bacon and eggs. He sat on the window-seat and tapped his gaiters with +his cane life-preserver. He wore his cap. +</P> + +<P> +"I thought you'd like to know," said he. "You've been so good to the +old mother while I've been away and been so charitable, listening to my +yarns, while I've been here, that I couldn't resist coming round and +telling you." +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose your mother's delighted," said I. +</P> + +<P> +He threw back his head and laughed, as though he had never a black +thought or memory in the world. +</P> + +<P> +"Dear old mater! She has the impression that I'm going out to take +charge of the blessed campaign. So if she talks about 'my dear son's +army,' don't let her down, like a good chap—for she'll think either me +a fraud or you a liar." +</P> + +<P> +He rose suddenly, with a change of expression. +</P> + +<P> +"You're the only man in the world I could talk to like this about my +mother. You know the sterling goodness and loyalty that lies beneath +her funny little ways." +</P> + +<P> +He strode to the window which looks out on to the garden, his back +turned on me. And there he stood silent for a considerable time. I +helped myself to marmalade and poured out a second cup of tea. There +was no call for me to speak. I had long realized that, whatever may +have been the man's sins and weaknesses, he had a very deep and tender +love for the Dresden china old lady that was his mother. There was +London of the clubs and the theatres and the restaurants and the +night-clubs, a war London full and alive, not dead as in Augusts of +far-off tradition, all ready to give him talk and gaiety and the things +that matter to the man who escapes for a brief season from the +never-ending hell of the battlefield; ready, too, to pour flattery into +his ear, to touch his scars with the softest of its fingers. Yet he +chose to stay, a recluse, in our dull little town, avoiding even the +kindly folk round about, in order to devote himself to one dear but +entirely uninteresting old woman. It is not that he despised London, +preferring the life of the country gentleman. On the contrary, before +the war Leonard Boyce was very much the man about town. He loved the +glitter and the chatter of it. From chance words during this spell of +leave, I had divined hankering after its various fleshpots. For the +sake of one old woman he made reckless and gallant sacrifice. When he +was bored to misery he came round to me. I learned later that in +visiting Wellingsford he faced more than boredom. All of this you must +put to the credit side of his ledger. +</P> + +<P> +There he stood, his great broad shoulders and bull-neck silhouetted +against the window. That broad expanse, a bit fleshy, below the base of +the skull indicates brutality. Never before, to my eyes, had the sign +asserted itself with so much aggression. I had often wondered why, +apart from the Vilboek Farm legend, I had always disliked and +distrusted him. Now I seemed to know. It was the neck not of a man, but +of a brute. The curious repulsion of the previous evening, when he had +carried me into the house, came over me again. From junction of arm and +body protruded six inches of the steel-covered life-preserver, the +washleather that hid its ghastly knob staring at me blankly. I hated +the thing. The gallant English officer—and in my time I have known and +loved a many of the most gallant—does not go about in private life +fondling a trophy reeking with the blood of his enemies. It is the +trait of a savage. That truculent knob and that truculent bull-neck +correlated themselves most horribly in my mind. And again, with a +shiver, I had the haunting flash of a vision of him, out of the tail of +my eye, standing rigid and gaping between the two cars, while my rugged +old Marigold, in a businesslike, old-soldier sort of way, without +thought of danger or death, was swaying at the head of the runaway +horse. +</P> + +<P> +Presently he turned, and his brows were set above unfathomable hard +eyes. The short-cropped moustache could not hide the curious twitch of +the lips which I had seen once before. It was obvious that these few +minutes of silence had been spent in deep thought and had resulted in a +decision. A different being from the gay, successful soldier who had +come in to announce his honours confronted me. He threw down cap and +stick and passed his hand over his crisp brown hair. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know whether you're a friend of mine or not," he said, hands +on hips and gaitered legs slightly apart. "I've never been able to make +out. All through our intercourse, in spite of your courtesy and +hospitality, there has been some sort of reservation on your part." +</P> + +<P> +"If that is so," said I, diplomatically, "it is because of the defects +of my national quality." +</P> + +<P> +"That's possibly what I've felt," said he. "But it doesn't matter a +damn with regard to what I want to say. It's a question not of your +feelings towards me, but my feelings towards you. I don't want to make +polite speeches—but you're a man whom I have every reason to honour +and trust. And unlike all my other brother-officers, you have no reason +to be jealous—" +</P> + +<P> +"My dear fellow," I interrupted, "what's all this about? Why jealousy?" +</P> + +<P> +"You know what a pot-hunter is in athletics? A chap that is simply out +for prizes? Well, that's what a lot of them think of me. That I'm just +out to get orders and medals and distinctions and so forth." +</P> + +<P> +"That's nonsense," said I. "I happen to know. Your reputation in the +brigade is unassailable." +</P> + +<P> +"In the way of my having done what I'm credited with, it is," he +answered. "But all the same, they're right." +</P> + +<P> +"What do you mean?" I asked. +</P> + +<P> +"What I say. They're right. I'm out for everything I can get. Now I'm +out for a V.C. I see you think it abominable. That's because you don't +understand. No one but I myself could understand. I feel I owe it to +myself." He looked at me for a second or two and then broke into a +sardonic sort of laugh. "I suppose you think me a conceited ass," he +continued. "Why should Leonard Boyce be such a vastly important person? +It isn't that, I assure you." +</P> + +<P> +I lit a cigarette, having waved an invitation to join me, which with a +nod he refused. +</P> + +<P> +"What is it, then?" +</P> + +<P> +"Has it ever struck you that often a man's most merciless creditor is +himself?" +</P> + +<P> +Here was a casuistical proposition thrown at my head by the last person +I should have suspected of doing so. It was immensely interesting, in +view of my long puzzledom. I spoke warily. +</P> + +<P> +"That depends on the man—on the nice balance of his dual nature. On +the one side is the power to demand mercilessly; on the other, the +instinct to respond. Of course, the criminal—" +</P> + +<P> +"What are you dragging in criminals for?" he said sharply. "I'm talking +about honourable men with consciences. Criminals haven't consciences. +The devil who has just been hung for murdering three women in their +baths hadn't any dual nature, as you call it. Those murders didn't +represent to him a mountain of debt to God which his soul was summoned +to discharge. He went to his death thinking himself a most unlucky and +hardly used fellow." +</P> + +<P> +His fingers went instinctively into the cigarette-box. I passed him the +matches. +</P> + +<P> +"Precisely," said I. "That was the point I was about to make." +</P> + +<P> +He puffed at his cigarette and looked rather foolish, as though +regretting his outburst. +</P> + +<P> +"We've got away," he said, after a pause, "from what I was meaning to +tell you. And I want to tell you because I mayn't have another chance." +He turned to the window-seat and picked up his life-preserver. "I'm out +for two things. One is to kill Germans—" He patted the covered +knob—and there flashed across my mind a boyhood's memory of +Martin—wasn't it Martin?—in "Hereward the Wake," who had a +deliciously blood-curdling habit of patting his revengeful axe.—"I've +done in eighty-five with this and my revolver. That, I consider, is my +duty to my country. The other is to get the V.C. That's for payment to +my creditor self." +</P> + +<P> +"In full, or on account?" said I. +</P> + +<P> +"There's only one payment in full," he answered grimly, "and that I've +been offering for the past twelve months. And it's a thousand chances +to one it will be accepted before the end of this year. And that, after +all this palaver, is what I've just made up my mind to talk to you +about." +</P> + +<P> +"You mean your death?" +</P> + +<P> +"Just that," said he. "A man pot-hunting for Victoria Crosses takes a +thousand to one chance." He paused abruptly and shot an eager and +curiously wavering glance at me. "Am I boring you with all this?" +</P> + +<P> +"Good Heavens, no." And then as the insistence of his great figure +towering over me had begun to fret my nerves—"Sit down, man," said I, +with an impatient gesture, "and put that sickening toy away and come to +the point." +</P> + +<P> +He tossed the cane on the window-seat and sat near me on a +straight-backed chair. +</P> + +<P> +"All right," he said. "I'll come to the point. I shan't see you again. +I'm going out in command. Thank God we're in the thick of it. Round +about Loos. It's a thousand to one I'll be killed. Life doesn't matter +much to me, in spite of what you may think. There are only two people +on God's earth I care for. One, of course, is my old mother. The other +is Betty Fairfax—I mean Betty Connor. I spoke to you once about +her—after I had met her here—and I gave you to understand that I had +broken off our engagement from conscientious motives. It was an awkward +position and I had to say something. As a matter of fact I acted +abominably. But I couldn't help it." The corners of his lips suddenly +worked in the odd little twitch. "Sometimes circumstances, especially +if a man's own damn foolishness has contrived them, tie him hand and +foot. Sometimes physical instincts that he can't control." He narrowed +his eyes and bent forward, looking at me intently, and he repeated the +phrase slowly—"Physical instincts that he can't control-" +</P> + +<P> +Was he referring to the incident of yesterday? I thought so. I also +believed it was the motive power of this strangely intimate +conversation. +</P> + +<P> +He rose again as though restless, and once more went to the window and +seemed to seek inspiration or decision from the sight of my roses. +After a short while he turned and dragged up from his neck a slim chain +at the end of which hung a round object in a talc case. This he +unfastened and threw on the table in front of me. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you know what that is?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said I. "Your identification disc." +</P> + +<P> +"Look on the other side." +</P> + +<P> +I took it up and found that the reverse contained the head cut out from +some photograph of Betty. After I had handed back the locket, he +slipped it on the chain and dropped it beneath his collar. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not a damned fool," said he. +</P> + +<P> +I nodded understandingly. No one would have accused him of mawkish +sentiment. The woman whose portrait he wore night and day next his skin +was the woman he loved. He had no other way of proving his sincerity +than by exhibiting the token. +</P> + +<P> +"I see," said I. "What do you propose to do?" +</P> + +<P> +"I've told you. The V.C. or—" He snapped his fingers. +</P> + +<P> +"But if it's the V.C. and a Brigade, and perhaps a Division—if it's +everything else imaginable except—" I snapped my fingers in +imitation—"What then?" +</P> + +<P> +Again the hateful twitch of the lips, which he quickly dissimulated in +a smile. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll begin to try to be a brave man." He lit another cigarette. "But +all that, my dear Meredyth," he continued, "is away from the point. If +I live, I'll ask you to forget this rotten palaver. But I have a +feeling that I shan't come back. Something tells me that my particular +form of extermination will be a head knocked into slush. I'm absolutely +certain that I shall never see you again. Oh, I'm not morbid," he said, +as I raised a protesting hand. "You're an old soldier and know what +these premonitions are. When I came in—before I had finally made up my +mind to pan out to you like this—I felt like a boy who has been made +captain of the school. But all the same, I know I shan't see you again. +So I want you to promise me two things—quite honourable and easy." +</P> + +<P> +"Of course, my dear fellow," said I rather tartly, for I did not like +the wind-up of his sentence. It was unthinkable that an officer and a +gentleman should inveigle a brother-officer into a solemn promise to do +anything dishonourable. "Of course. Anything you like." +</P> + +<P> +"One is to look after the old mother—" +</P> + +<P> +"That goes without promising," said I. +</P> + +<P> +"The other is to—what shall I say?—to rehabilitate my memory in the +eyes of Betty Connor. She may hear all kinds of things about me—some +true, others false—I have my enemies. She has heard things already. I +didn't know it till our last meeting here. There's no one else on God's +earth can do what I want but you. Do you think I'm putting you into an +impossible position?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't think so," said I. "Go on." +</P> + +<P> +"Well—there's not much more to be said. Try to make her realise that, +whatever may be my faults—my crimes, if it comes to that—I've done my +damndest out there to make reparation. By God! I have," he cried, in a +sudden flash of passion. "See that she realises it. And—" he thumped +the hidden identification disc, "tell her that she is the only woman +that has ever really mattered in the whole of my blasted life." +</P> + +<P> +He threw his half-smoked cigarette into the fire-place and walked over +to the sideboard, where stood decanters and syphon. +</P> + +<P> +"May I help myself to a drink?" +</P> + +<P> +"Certainly," said I. +</P> + +<P> +He gulped down half a whisky and soda and turned on me. +</P> + +<P> +"You promise?" +</P> + +<P> +"Of course," said I. +</P> + +<P> +"She may have reasons to think the worst of me. But whatever I am there +is some good in me. I'm not altogether a worthless hound. If you +promise to make her think the best of me, I'll go away happy. I don't +care a damn whether I die or live. That's the truth. As long as I'm +alive I can take care of myself. I'm not dreaming of asking you to say +a word to win her favour. That would be outrageous impudence. You +clearly understand. I don't want you ever to mention my name unless I'm +dead. If I feel that I've an advocate in you—advocatus diaboli, if you +like—I'll go away happy. You've got your brief. You know my life at +home. You know my record." +</P> + +<P> +"My dear fellow," said I, "I promise to do everything in my power to +carry out your wishes. But as to your record—are you quite certain +that I know it?" +</P> + +<P> +You must realise that there was a curious tension in the situation, at +any rate as far as it affected myself. Here was a man with whom, for +reasons you know, I had studiously cultivated the most formal social +relations, claiming my active participation in the secret motives of +his heart. Since his first return from the front a bluff friendliness +had been the keynote of our intercourse. Nothing more. Now he came and +without warning enmeshed me in this intimate net of love and death. I +promised to do his bidding—I could not do otherwise. I was in the +position of an executor according to the terms of a last will and +testament. Our comradeship in arms—those of our old Army who survive +will understand—forbade refusal. Besides, his intensity of purpose won +my sympathy and admiration. But I loved him none the more. To my +cripple's detested sensitiveness, as he stood over me, he loomed more +than ever the hulking brute. His semi-confessions and innuendoes +exacerbated my feelings of distrust and repulsion. And yet, at the same +tune, I could not—nor did I try to—repress an immense pity for the +man; perhaps less for the man than for the soul in pain. At the back of +his words some torment burned at red heat, remorselessly. He sought +relief. Perhaps he sought it from me because I was as apart as a woman +from his physical splendour, a kind of bodiless creature with just a +brain and a human heart, the ghost of an old soldier, far away from the +sphere of poor passions and little jealousies. +</P> + +<P> +I felt the tentacles of the man's nature blindly and convulsively +groping after something within me that eluded them. That is the best +way in which I can describe the psychology of these strange moments. +The morning sun streamed into my little oak-panelled dining-room and +caught the silver and fruit on the breakfast table and made my frieze +of old Delft glow blue like the responsive western sky. With his back +to the vivid window, Leonard Boyce stood cut out black like a +silhouette. That he, too, felt the tension, I know; for a wasp crawled +over his face, from cheek-bone, across his temples, to his hair, and he +did not notice it. +</P> + +<P> +Instinctively I said the words: "Your record. Are you quite certain +that I know it?" +</P> + +<P> +With what intensity, with what significance in my eyes, I may have said +them, I know not. I repeat that I had a subconsciousness, almost +uncanny, that we were souls rather than men, talking to each other. He +sat down once more, drawing the chair to the table and resting his +elbow on it. +</P> + +<P> +"My record," said he. "What about it?" +</P> + +<P> +Again please understand that I felt I had the man's soul naked before +me. An imponderable hand plucked away my garments of convention. +</P> + +<P> +"Some time ago," said I, "you spoke of my attitude towards you being +marked by a certain reserve. That is quite true. It dates back many +years. It dates back from the South African War. From an affair at +Vilboek's Farm." +</P> + +<P> +Again his lips twitched; but otherwise he did not move. +</P> + +<P> +"I remember," he answered. "My men saw me run away. I came out of it +quite clean." +</P> + +<P> +I said: "I saw the man afterwards in hospital at Cape Town. His name +was Somers. He told me quite a different story." +</P> + +<P> +His face grew grey. He glanced at me for a fraction of a second. "What +did he tell you?" he asked quietly. +</P> + +<P> +In the fewest possible words I repeated what I have set down already in +this book. When I had ended, he said in the same toneless way: +</P> + +<P> +"You have believed that all these years?" +</P> + +<P> +"I have done my best not to believe it. The last twelve months have +disproved it." +</P> + +<P> +He shook his head. "They haven't. Nothing I can do in this world can +disprove it. What that man said was true." +</P> + +<P> +"True?" +</P> + +<P> +I drew a deep breath and stared at him hard. His eyes met mine. They +were very sad and behind them lay great pain. Although I expressed +astonishment, it proceeded rather from some reflex action than from any +realised shock to my consciousness. I say the whole thing was uncanny. +I knew, as soon as he sat down by the table, that he would confess to +the Vilboek story. And yet, at last, when he did confess and there were +no doubts lingering in my mind, I gasped and stared at him. +</P> + +<P> +"I was a bloody coward," he said. "That's frank enough. When they rode +away and left me, I tried to shoot myself—and I couldn't. If the man +Somers hadn't returned, I think I should have waited until they sent to +arrest me. But he did come back and the instinct of self-preservation +was too strong. I know my story about the men's desertion and my +forcing him to back me up was vile and despicable. But I clung to life +and it was my only chance. Afterwards, with the horror of the thing +hanging over me, I didn't care so much about life. In the little +fighting that was left for me I deliberately tried to throw it away. I +ask you to believe that." +</P> + +<P> +"I do," I said. "You were mentioned in dispatches for gallantry in +action." +</P> + +<P> +He passed his hand over his eyes. Looking up, he said: +</P> + +<P> +"It is strange that you of all men, my neighbour here, should have +heard of this. Not a whisper of its being known has ever reached me. +How many people do you think have any idea of it?" +</P> + +<P> +I told him all that I knew and concluded by showing him Reggie Dacre's +letter, which I had kept in the letter-case in my pocket. He returned +it to me without a word. Presently he broke a spell of silence. All +this time he had sat fixed in the one attitude—only shifted once, when +Marigold entered to clear away the breakfast things and was dismissed +by me with a glance and a gesture. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you remember," he said, "a talk we had about fear, in April, the +first time I was over? I described what I knew. The paralysis of fear. +Since we are talking as I never thought to talk with a human being, I +may as well make my confession. I'm a man of strong animal passions. +When I see red, I daresay I'm just a brute beast. But I'm a physical +coward. Owing to this paralysis of fear, this ghastly inhibition of +muscular or nervous action, I have gone through things even worse than +that South-African business. I go about like a man under a curse. Even +out there, when I don't care a damn whether I live or die, the blasted +thing gets hold of me." He swung himself away from the table and shook +his great clenched firsts. "By the grace of God, no one yet has seemed +to notice it. I suppose I have a swift brain and as soon as the thing +is over I can cover it up. It's my awful terror that one day I shall be +found out and everything I've gained shall be stripped away from me." +</P> + +<P> +"But what about a thing like this?" said I, tapping Colonel Dacre's +letter. +</P> + +<P> +"That's all right," he answered grimly. "That's when I know what I'm +facing. That's deliberate pot-hunting. It's saving face as the Chinese +say. It's doing any damned thing that will put me right with myself." +</P> + +<P> +He got up and swung about the room. I envied him, I would have given a +thousand pounds to do the same just for a few moments. But I was stuck +in my confounded chair, deprived of physical outlet. Suddenly he came +to a halt and stood once more over me. +</P> + +<P> +"Now you know what kind of a fellow I am, what do you think of me?" +</P> + +<P> +It was a brutal question to fling at my head. It gave me no time to +co-ordinate my ideas. What was one to make of a man avowedly subject to +fits of the most despicable cowardice from the consequences of which he +used any unscrupulous craftiness to extricate himself, and yet was +notorious in his achievement of deeds of the most reckless courage? It +is a problem to which I have devoted all the months occupied in writing +this book. How the dickens could I solve it at a minute's notice? The +situation was too blatant, too raw, too near bedrock, too naked and +unashamed, for me to take refuge in platitudinous generalities of +excuse. The bravest of men know Fear. They know him pretty intimately. +But they manage to kick him to Hades by the very reason of their being +brave men. I had to take Leonard Boyce as I found him. And I must admit +that I found him a tragically miserable man. That is how I answered his +question—in so many words. +</P> + +<P> +"You're not far wrong," said he. +</P> + +<P> +He picked up cap and stick. +</P> + +<P> +"When I get up to town I shall make my will. I've never worried about +it before. Can I appoint you my executor?" +</P> + +<P> +"Certainly," said I. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm very grateful. I'll assure you a fireworks sort of finish, so that +you shan't be ashamed. And—I don't ask impossibilities—I can't hold +you to your previous promise—but what about Betty Connor?" +</P> + +<P> +"You may count," said I, "on my acting like an officer and a gentleman, +and, if I may say so, like a Christian." +</P> + +<P> +He said: "Thank you, Meredyth. Good-bye." Then he stuck on his cap, +brought his fingers to the peak in salute and marched to the door. +</P> + +<P> +"Boyce!" I cried sharply. +</P> + +<P> +He turned. "Yes?" +</P> + +<P> +"Aren't you going to shake hands with me?" +</P> + +<P> +He retraced the few steps to my chair. +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't know whether it would be—" he paused, seeking for a +word—"whether it would be agreeable." +</P> + +<P> +Then I broke down. The strain had been too great for my sick man's +nerves. I forgot all about the brutality of his bull-neck, for he faced +me in all his gallant manhood and there was a damnable expression in +his eyes like that of a rated dog. I stretched out my hand. +</P> + +<P> +"My dear good fellow," I cried, "what the hell are you talking about?" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap16"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVI +</H3> + +<P> +Boyce left Wellingsford that afternoon, and for many months I heard +little about him. His astonishing avowal had once more turned +topsy-turvy my conception of his real nature. I had to reconstruct the +man, a very complicated task. I had to reconcile in him all kinds of +opposites—the lusty brute and the sentimental lover; the physical +coward and the baresark hero; the man with hell in his soul and the +debonair gentleman. After a vast deal of pondering, I arrived not very +much nearer a solution of the problem. The fact remained, however, that +I found myself in far closer sympathy with him than ever before. After +all that he had said, I should have had a heart of stone if it had not +been stirred to profound pity. I had seen an instance both of his +spell-bound cowardice and of his almost degrading craft in extrication. +That in itself repelled me. But it lost its value in the light that he +had cast on the never-ceasing torment that consumed him. At any rate he +was at death-grips with himself, strangling the devils of fear and +dishonour with a hand relentlessly certain. He appeared to me a tragic +figure warring against a doom. +</P> + +<P> +At first I expected every day to receive an agonised message from Mrs. +Boyce announcing his death. Then, as is the way of humans, the keenness +of my apprehension grew blunted, until, at last, I took his continued +existence as a matter of course. I wrote him a few friendly letters, to +which he replied in the same strain. And so the months went on. +</P> + +<P> +Looking over my diary I find that these months were singularly +uneventful as far as the lives of those dealt with in this chronicle +were concerned. In the depths of our souls we felt the long-drawn-out +agony of the war, with its bitter humiliations, its heartrending +disappointments. In our daily meetings one with another we cried aloud +for a great voice to awaken the little folk in Great Britain from their +selfish lethargy—the little folk in high office, in smug burgessdom, +in seditious factory and shipyard. They were months of sordid +bargaining between all sections of our national life, in the murk of +which the glow of patriotism seemed to be eclipsed. And in the +meantime, the heroic millions from all corners of our far-flung Empire +were giving their lives on land and sea, gaily and gallantly, too often +in tragic futility, for the ideals to which the damnable little folk at +home were blind. The little traitorous folk who gambled for their own +hands in politics, the little traitorous folk who put the outworn +shibboleths of a party before the war-cry of an Empire, the little +traitorous folk who strove with all their power to starve our navy of +ships, our ships of coal, our men in the trenches of munitions, our +armies of men, our country of honour—all these will one day be +mercilessly arraigned at the bar of history. The plains of France, the +steeps of Gallipoli, the swamps of Mesopotamia, the Seven Seas will +give up their dead as witnesses. +</P> + +<P> +We spoke bitterly of all these things and thought of them with raging +impotence; but the even tenor of our life went on. We continued to do +our obscure and undistinguished work for the country. It became a +habit, part of the day's routine. We almost forgot why we were doing +it. The war seemed to make little real difference in our social life. +The small town was pitch black at night. Prices rose. Small economies +were practised. Labour was scarce. Fewer young men out of uniform were +seen in the streets and neighbouring roads and lanes. Groups of wounded +from the hospital in their uniform of deep blue jean with red ties and +khaki caps gave a note of actuality to the streets. Otherwise, there +were few signs of war. Even the troops who hitherto swarmed about the +town had gradually been removed from billets to a vast camp of huts +some miles away, and appeared only sporadically about the place. I +missed them and the stimulus of their presence. They brought me into +closer touch with things. Marigold, too, pined for more occupation for +his one critical eye than was afforded by the local volunteers. He grew +morose, sick of a surfeit of newspapers. If he could have gone to +France and got through to the firing-line, I am sure he would have dug +a little trench all to himself and defied the Germans on his own +account. +</P> + +<P> +In November Colonel Dacre was brought home gravely wounded, to a +hospital for officers in London. A nurse gave me the news in a letter +in which she said that he had asked to see me before an impending +hazardous operation. I went up to town and found him wrecked almost +beyond recognition. As we were the merest of acquaintances with nothing +between us save our common link with Boyce, I feared lest he should +desire to tell me of some shameful discovery. But his gay greeting and +the brave smile, pathetically grotesque through the bandages in which +his head was wrapped, reassured me. Only his eyes and mouth were +visible. +</P> + +<P> +"It's worth while being done in," said he. "It makes one feel like a +Sultan. You have just to clap your hands and say 'I want this,' and +you've got it. I've a good mind to say to this dear lady, 'Fetch their +gracious Majesties from Buckingham Palace,' and I'm sure they'd be here +in a tick. It's awfully good of you to come, Meredyth." +</P> + +<P> +I signed to Marigold, who had carried me into the ward and set me down +on a chair, and to the Sister, the "dear lady" of Dacre's reference, to +withdraw, and after a few sympathetic words I asked him why he had sent +for me. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm broken to bits all over," he replied. "The doctors here say they +never saw such a blooming mess-up of flesh pretending to be alive. And +as for talking, they'd just as soon expect speech from a jellyfish +squashed by a steam-roller. If I do get through, I'll be a helpless +crock all my days. I funked it till I thought of you. I thought the +sight of another fellow who has gone through it and stuck it out might +give me courage. I've had my wife here. We're rather fond of one +another, you know ... My God! what brave things women are! If she had +broken down all over me I could have risen to the occasion. But she +didn't, and I felt a cowardly worm." +</P> + +<P> +"I had a brave wife, too," said I, and for a few moments we talked +shyly about the women who had played sacred parts in our lives. Whether +he was comforted by what I said I don't know. Probably he only listened +politely. But I think he found comfort in a sympathetic ear. +</P> + +<P> +Presently he turned on to Boyce, the real motive of his summons. He +repented much that he had told and written to me. His long defamation +of the character of a brother-officer had lain on his conscience. And +lately he had, at last, met Boyce personally, and his generous heart +had gone out to the man's soldierly charm. +</P> + +<P> +"I never felt such a slanderous brute in my life as when I shook him by +the hand. You know the feeling—how one wants to get behind a hedge and +kick oneself. Kick oneself," he repeated faintly. Then he closed his +eyes and his lips contracted in pain. +</P> + +<P> +The Sister, who had been watching him from a distance, came up. He had +talked enough. It was time to go. But at the announcement he opened his +eyes again and with an effort recovered his gaiety. +</P> + +<P> +"The whole gist of the matter lies in the postscript. Like a woman's +letter. I must have my postscript." +</P> + +<P> +"Very well. Two more minutes." +</P> + +<P> +"Merciless dragon," said he. +</P> + +<P> +She smiled and left us. +</P> + +<P> +"The dearest angel, bar one, in the world." said he. "What were we +talking about?" +</P> + +<P> +"Colonel Boyce." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, yes. Forgive me. My head goes FUT now and then. It's idiotic not +to be able to control one's brain.... The point is this. I may peg out. +I know this operation they're going to perform is just touch and go. I +want to face things with a clear conscience. I've convinced you, +haven't I, that there wasn't a word of truth in that South-African +story? If ever it crops up you'll scotch it like a venomous snake?" +</P> + +<P> +The ethics of my answer I leave to the casuist. I am an old-fashioned +Church of England person. As I am so mentally constituted that I am +unable to believe cheerfully in nothing. I believe in God and Jesus +Christ, and accept the details of doctrine as laid down in the +Thirty-nine Articles. For liars I have the Apocryphal condemnation. Yet +I lied without the faintest rippling qualm of conscience. +</P> + +<P> +"My dear fellow," said I, stoutly, "there's not the remotest speck of +truth in it. You haven't a second's occasion to worry." +</P> + +<P> +"That's all right," he said. +</P> + +<P> +The Sister approached again. Instinctively I stretched out my hand. He +laughed. +</P> + +<P> +"No good. You must take it as gripped. Goodbye, old chap." +</P> + +<P> +I bade him good-bye and Marigold wheeled me away. +</P> + +<P> +A few days afterwards they told me that this gay, gallant, honourable, +sensitive gentleman was dead. Although I had known him so little, it +seemed that I knew him very intimately, and I deeply mourned his loss. +</P> + +<P> +I think this episode was the most striking of what I may term personal +events during those autumn months. +</P> + +<P> +Of Randall Holmes we continued to hear in the same mysterious manner. +His mother visited the firm of solicitors in London through whom his +correspondence passed. They pleaded ignorance of his doings and +professional secrecy as to the disclosure of his whereabouts. In +December he ceased writing altogether, and twice a week Mrs. Holmes +received a formal communication from the lawyers to the effect that +they had been instructed by her son to inform her that he was in +perfect health and sent her his affectionate greetings. Such news of +this kind as I received I gave to Betty, who passed it on to Phyllis +Gedge. +</P> + +<P> +Of course my intimacy with my dear Betty continued unbroken. If the +unmarried Betty had a fault, it was a certain sweet truculence, a +pretty self-assertiveness which sometimes betrayed intolerance of human +foibles. Her widowhood had, in a subtle way, softened these little +angularities of her spiritual contour. And bodily, the curves of her +slim figure had become more rounded. She was no longer the young Diana +of a year ago. The change into the gracious woman who had passed +through the joy and the sorrow of life was obvious even to me, to whom +it had been all but imperceptibly gradual. After a while she rarely +spoke of her husband. The name of Leonard Boyce was never mentioned +between us. With her as with me, the weeks ate up the uneventful days +and the months the uneventful weeks. In her humdrum life the falling +away of Mrs. Tufton loomed catastrophic. +</P> + +<P> +For four months Mrs. Tufton shone splendid as the wife of the British +warrior. The Wellingsford Hospital rang with her praises and glistened +with her scrubbing brush. She was the Admirable Crichton of the +institution. What with men going off to the war and women going off to +make munitions, there were never-ending temporary gaps in the staff. +And there was never a gap that Mrs. Tufton did not triumphantly fill. +The pride of Betty, who had wrought this reformation, was simply +monstrous. If she had created a real live angel, wings and all, out of +the dust-bin, she could not have boasted more arrogantly. Being a +member of the Hospital Committee, I must confess to a bemused share in +the popular enthusiasm. And was I not one of the original discoverers +of Mrs. Tufton? When Marigold, inspired doubtless by his wife, from +time to time suggested disparagement of the incomparable woman, I +rebuked him for an arrant scandal-monger. There had been a case or two +of drunkenness at the hospital. Wounded soldiers had returned the worse +for liquor, an almost unforgivable offence.... Not that the poor +fellows desired to get drunk. A couple of pints of ale or a couple of +glasses of whisky will set swimming the head of any man who has not +tasted alcohol for months. But to a man with a septic wound or trench +nephritis or smashed up skull, alcohol is poison and poison is death, +and so it is sternly forbidden to our wounded soldiers. They cannot be +served in public houses. Where, then, did the hospital defaulters get +their drink? +</P> + +<P> +"If I was you, sir," said Marigold, "I'd keep an eye on that there Mrs. +Tufton." +</P> + +<P> +I instantly annihilated him—or should have done so had his +expressionless face not been made of non-inflammable timber. He said: +"Very good, sir." But there was a damnably ironical and insubordinate +look in his one eye. +</P> + +<P> +Gradually the lady lapsed from grace. She got up late and complained of +spasms. She left dustpan and brush on a patient's bed. She wrongfully +interfered with the cook, insisting, until she was forcibly ejected +from the kitchen, on throwing lettuces into the Irish stew. Finally, +one Sunday afternoon, a policeman wandering through some waste ground, +a deserted brickfield behind Flowery End, came upon an unedifying +spectacle. There were madam and an elderly Irish soldier sprawling +blissfully comatose with an empty flask of gin and an empty bottle of +whisky lying between them. They were taken to the hospital and put to +bed. The next morning, the lady, being sober, was summarily dismissed +by the matron. Late at night she rang and battered at the door, +clamouring for admittance, which was refused. Then she went away, +apparently composed herself to slumber in the roadway of the +pitch-black High Street, and was killed by a motor-car. And that, bar +the funeral, was the end of Mrs. Tufton. +</P> + +<P> +From her bereaved husband, with whom I at once communicated, I received +the following reply: +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"Dear Sir, +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"Yours to hand announcing the accidental death of my wife, which I need +not say I deeply regret. You will be interested to hear that I have +been offered a commission in the Royal Fusiliers, which I am now able +to accept. In view of the same, any expense to which you may be put to +give my late wife honourable burial, I shall be most ready to defray. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"With many thanks for your kindness in informing me of this unfortunate +circumstance, +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"I am, +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"Yours faithfully, + "JOHN P. TUFTON."<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +"I think he's a horrid, callous, cold-blooded fellow!" cried Betty when +I showed her this epistle. +</P> + +<P> +"After all," said I, "she wasn't a model wife. If the fatal motor-car +hadn't come along, the probability is that she would have received poor +Tufton on his next leave with something even more deadly than a poker. +Now and again the Fates have brilliant inspirations. This was one of +them. Now, you see the virago-clogged Tufton is a free man, able to +accept a commission and start a new life as an officer and a gentleman." +</P> + +<P> +"I think you're perfectly odious. Odious and cynical," she exclaimed +wrathfully. +</P> + +<P> +"I think," said I, "that a living warrior is better than a dead— +Disappointment." +</P> + +<P> +"You don't understand," she stormed. "If I didn't love you, I could +rend you to pieces." +</P> + +<P> +"It is because I do understand, my dear," said I, enjoying the flashing +beauty of her return to Artemisian attitudes, "that I particularly +characterised the dear lady as a disappointment." +</P> + +<P> +"I think," she said, in dejected generalisation, "the working out of +the whole scheme of the universe is a disappointment." +</P> + +<P> +"The High Originators of the scheme seem to bear it pretty +philosophically," I rejoined; "so why shouldn't we?" +</P> + +<P> +"They're gods and we're human," said Betty. +</P> + +<P> +"Precisely," said I. "And oughtn't it to be our ideal to approximate to +the divine attitude?" +</P> + +<P> +Again Betty declared that I was odious. From her point of view—No. +That is an abuse of language. There are mental states in which a woman +has no point of view at all. She wanders over an ill-defined circular +area of vision. That is why, in such conditions, you can never pin a +woman down with a shaft of logic and compel her surrender, as you can +compel that of a mere man. We went on arguing, and after a time I +really did not know what I was arguing about. I advanced and tried to +support the theory that on the whole the progress of humanity as +represented by the British Empire in general and the about-to-be +Lieutenant Tufton in particular, was advanced by the opportune demise +of an unfortunately balanced lady. From her point—or rather her +circular area of vision—perhaps my dear Betty was right in declaring +me odious. She hated to be reminded of the intolerable goosiness of her +swan. She longed for comforting, corroborative evidence of essential +swaniness for her own justification. In a word, the poor dear girl was +sore all over with mortification, and wherever one touched her, no +matter with how gentle a finger, one hurt. +</P> + +<P> +"I would have trusted that woman," she cried tragically, "with a +gold-mine or a distillery." +</P> + +<P> +"We trusted her with something more valuable, my dear," said I. "Our +guileless faith in human nature. Anyhow we'll keep the faith undamaged." +</P> + +<P> +She smiled. "That's considerably less odious." +</P> + +<P> +Nothing more could be said. We let the unfortunate subject rest in +peace for ever after. +</P> + +<P> +These two episodes, the death of poor Reggie Dacre and the Tufton +catastrophe, are the only incidents in my diary that are worth +recording here. Christmas came and went and we entered on the new year +of 1916. It was only at a date in the middle of February, a year since +I had driven to Wellings Park to hear the tragic news of Oswald +Fenimore's death, that I find an important entry in my diary. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap17"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVII +</H3> + +<P> +Mrs. Boyce was shown into my study, her comely Dresden china face very +white and her hands shaking. She held a telegram. I had seen faces like +that before. Every day in England there are hundreds thus stricken. I +feared the worst. It was a relief to read the telegram and find that +Boyce was only wounded. The message said seriously wounded, but gave +consolation by adding that his life was not in immediate danger. Mrs. +Boyce was for setting out for France forthwith. I dissuaded her from a +project so embarrassing to the hospital authorities and so fatiguing to +herself. In spite of the chivalry and humanity of our medical staff, +old ladies of seventy are not welcome at a busy base hospital. As soon +as he was fit to be moved, I assured her, he would be sent home, before +she could even obtain her permits and passes and passport and make +other general arrangements for her journey. There was nothing for it +but her Englishwoman's courage. She held up her hand at that, and went +away to live, like many another, patiently through the long hours of +suspense. +</P> + +<P> +For two or three days no news came. I spent as much time as I could +with my old friend, seeking to comfort her. +</P> + +<P> +On the third morning it was announced in the papers that the King had +been graciously pleased to confer the Victoria Cross on Lt. Colonel +Leonard Boyce for conspicuous gallantry in action. It did not occur in +a list of honours. It had a special paragraph all to itself. Such +isolated announcements generally indicate immediate recognition of some +splendid feat. I was thrilled by the news. It was a grand achievement +to win through death to the greatest of all military rewards +deliberately coveted. Here, as I had strange reason for knowing, was no +sudden act of sublime valour. The final achievement was the result of +months of heroic, almost suicidal daring. And it was repayment of a +terrible debt, the whole extent of which I knew not, owed by the man to +his tormented soul. +</P> + +<P> +I rang up Mrs. Boyce, who replied tremulously to my congratulations. +Would I come over and lunch? +</P> + +<P> +I found a very proud and tearful old lady. She may not have known the +difference between a platoon and a howitzer, and have conceived the +woolliest notions of the nature of her son's command, but the Victoria +Cross was a matter on which her ideas were both definite and correct. +She had spent the morning at the telephone receiving calls of +congratulation. A great sheaf of telegrams had arrived. Two or three of +them were from the High and Mighty of the Military Hierarchy. She was +in such a twitter of joy that she almost forgot her anxiety as to his +wounds. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you think he knows? I telegraphed to him at once." +</P> + +<P> +"So did I." +</P> + +<P> +She glanced at the ormolu clock on the mantelpiece. +</P> + +<P> +"How long would it take for a telegram to reach him?" +</P> + +<P> +"You may be sure he has it by now," said I, "and it has given him a +prodigious appetite for lunch." +</P> + +<P> +Her face clouded over. "That horrid tinned stuff. It's so dangerous. I +remember once Mary's aunt—or was it Cook's aunt—one of them any +way—nearly died of eating tinned lobster—ptomaine poisoning. I've +always told Leonard not to touch it. +</P> + +<P> +"They don't give Colonels and V.C.s tinned lobster at Boulogne," I +answered cheerfully. "He's living now on the fat of the land." +</P> + +<P> +"Let us hope so," she sighed dubiously. "It's no use my sending out +things for him, as they always go wrong. Some time ago I sent him three +brace of grouse and three brace of partridges. He didn't acknowledge +them for weeks, and then he said they were most handy things to kill +Germans with, but were an expensive form of ammunition. I don't quite +know what he meant—but at any rate they were not eatable when they +arrived. Poor fellow!" She sighed again. "If only I knew what was the +matter with him." +</P> + +<P> +"It can't be much," I reassured her, "or you would have heard again. +And this news will act like a sovereign remedy." +</P> + +<P> +She patted the back of my hand with her plump palm. "You're always so +sympathetic and comforting." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm an old soldier, like Leonard," said I, "and never meet trouble +halfway." +</P> + +<P> +At lunch, the old lady insisted on opening a bottle of champagne, a +Veuve Clicquot which Leonard loved, in honour of the glorious occasion. +We could not drink to the hero's health in any meaner vintage, although +she swore that a teaspoonful meant death to her, and I protested that a +confession of champagne to my medical adviser meant a dog's rating. We +each, conscience-bound, put up the tips of our fingers to the glasses +as soon as Mary had filled them with froth, and solemnly drank the +toast in the eighth of an inch residuum. But by some freakish chance or +the other, there was nothing left in that quart bottle by the time Mary +cleared the table for dessert. And to tell the honest truth, I don't +think the health of either my hostess or myself was a penny the worse. +Let no man despise generous wine. Treated with due reverence it is a +great loosener of human sympathy. +</P> + +<P> +Generous ale similarly treated produces the same effect. Marigold, +driving me home, cocked a luminous eye on me and said: +</P> + +<P> +"Begging your pardon, sir, would you mind very much if I broke the neck +of that there Gedge?" +</P> + +<P> +"You would be aiding the good cause," said I, "but I should deplore the +hanging of an old friend. What has Gedge been doing?" +</P> + +<P> +Marigold sounded his horn and slowed down round a bend, and, as soon as +he got into a straight road, he replied. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not going to say, sir, if I may take the liberty, that I was ever +sweet on Colonel Boyce. People affect you in different ways. You either +like 'em or you don't like 'em. You can't tell why. And a Sergeant, +being, as you may say, a human being, has as much right to his private +feelings regarding a Colonel as any officer." +</P> + +<P> +"Undoubtedly," said I. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, sir, I never thought Colonel Boyce was true metal. But I take it +all back—every bit of it." +</P> + +<P> +"For God's sake," I cried, stretching out a foolish but instinctive +hand to the wheel, "for God's sake, control your emotions, or you'll be +landing us in the ditch." +</P> + +<P> +"That's all right, sir," he replied, steering a straight course. "She's +a bit skittish at times. I was saying as how I did the Colonel an +injustice. I'm very sorry. No man who wasn't steel all through ever got +the V.C. They don't chuck it around on blighters." +</P> + +<P> +"That's all very interesting and commendable," said I, "but what has it +to do with Gedge?" +</P> + +<P> +"He has been slandering the Colonel something dreadful the last few +months, sneering at him, saying nothing definite, but insinuatingly +taking away his character." +</P> + +<P> +"In what way?" I asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, he tells one man that the Colonel's a drunkard, another that +it's women, another that he gambles and doesn't pay, another that he +pays the newspapers to put in all these things about him, while all the +time in France he's in a blue funk hiding in his dugout." +</P> + +<P> +"That's moonshine," said I. And as regards the drinking, drabbing, and +gaming of course it was. But the suggestion of cowardice gave me a +sharp stab of surprise and dismay. +</P> + +<P> +"I know it is," said Marigold. "But the people hereabouts are so +ignorant, you can make them believe anything." Marigold was a man of +Kent and had a poor opinion of those born and bred in other counties. +"I met Gedge this morning," he continued, and thereupon gave me the +substance of the conversation. I hardly think the adjectives of the +report were those that were really used. +</P> + +<P> +"So your precious Colonel has got the V.C.," sneered Gedge. +</P> + +<P> +"He has," said Marigold. "And it's too great an honour for your +inconsiderable town." +</P> + +<P> +"If this inconsiderable town knew as much about him as I do, it would +give him the order of the precious boot." +</P> + +<P> +"And what do you know?" asked Marigold. +</P> + +<P> +"That's what all you downtrodden slaves of militarism would like to +find out," replied Gedge. "The time will come when I, and such as I, +will tear the veils away and expose them, and say 'These be thy gods, O +Israel.'" +</P> + +<P> +"The time will come," retorted Marigold, "when if you don't hold your +precious jaw, I and such as I will smash it into a thousand pieces. For +twopence I'd knock your ugly head off this present minute." +</P> + +<P> +Whereupon Gedge apparently wilted before the indignant eye of Sergeant +Marigold and faded away down the High Street. +</P> + +<P> +All this in itself seemed very trivial, but for the past year the +attitude of Gedge had been mysterious. Could it be possible that Gedge +thought himself the sole repository of the secret which Boyce had so +desperately confided to me? But when had the life of Gedge and the +military life of Leonard Boyce crossed? It was puzzling. +</P> + +<P> +Well, to tell the truth, I thought no more about the matter. The glow +of Mrs. Boyce's happiness remained with me all the evening. Rarely had +I seen her so animated, so forgetful of her own ailments. She had taken +the rosiest view of Leonard's physical condition and sunned herself in +the honour conferred on him by the King. I had never spent a pleasanter +afternoon at her house. We had comfortably criticised our neighbours, +and, laudatores temporis acti, had extolled the days of our youth. I +went to bed as well pleased with life as a man can be in this +convulsion of the world. +</P> + +<P> +The next morning she sent me a letter to read. It was written at +Boyce's dictation. It ran: +</P> + +<P> +"Dear Mother: +</P> + +<P> +"I'm sorry to say I am knocked out pro tem. I was fooling about where a +C.O. didn't ought to, and a Bosch bullet got me so that I can't write. +But don't worry at all about me. I'm too tough for anything the Bosches +can do. To show how little serious it is, they tell me that I'll be +conveyed to England in a day or two. So get hot-water bottles and bath +salts ready. +</P> + +<P> +"Your ever loving Leonard." +</P> + +<P> +This was good news. Over the telephone wire we agreed that the letter +was a justification of our yesterday's little merrymaking. Obviously, I +told her, he would live to fight another day. She was of opinion that +he had done enough fighting already. If he went on much longer, the +poor boy would get quite tired out, to say nothing of the danger of +being wounded again. The King ought to let him rest on his laurels and +make others who hadn't worked a quarter as hard do the remainder of the +war. +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps," I said light-heartedly, "Leonard will drop the hint when he +writes to thank the King for the nice cross." +</P> + +<P> +She said that I was laughing at her, and rang off in the best of +spirits. +</P> + +<P> +In the evening came Betty, inviting herself to dinner. She had been on +night duty at the hospital, and I had not seen her for some days. The +sight of her, bright-eyed and brave, fresh and young, always filled me +with happiness. I felt her presence like wine and the sea wind and the +sunshine. So greatly did her vitality enrich me, that sometimes I +called myself a horrid old vampire. +</P> + +<P> +As soon as she had greeted me, she said in her downright way: +</P> + +<P> +"So Leonard Boyce has got his V.C." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said I. "What do you think of it?" +</P> + +<P> +A spot of colour rose to her cheek. "I'm very glad. It's no use, Majy, +pretending that I ignore his existence. I don't and I can't. Because I +loved and married someone else doesn't alter the fact that I once cared +for him, does it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Many people," said I, judicially, "find out that they have been +mistaken as to the extent and nature of their own sentiments." +</P> + +<P> +"I wasn't mistaken," she replied, sitting down on the piano stool, her +hands on the leathern seat, her neatly shod feet stretched out in front +of her, just as she had sat on her wedding eve talking nonsense to +Willie Connor. "I wasn't mistaken. I was never addicted to silly +school-girl fancies. I know my own mind. I cared a lot for Leonard +Boyce." +</P> + +<P> +"Eh bien?" said I. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, don't you see what I'm driving at?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't a bit." +</P> + +<P> +She sighed. "Oh, dear! How dull some people are! Don't you see that, +when an affair like that is over, a woman likes to get some evidence of +the man's fine qualities, in order to justify her for having once cared +for him?" +</P> + +<P> +"Quite so. Yet—" I felt argumentative. The breach, as you know, +between Betty and Boyce was wrapped in exasperating obscurity. "Yet, on +the other hand," said I, "she might welcome evidence of his +worthlessness, so as to justify her for having thrown him over." +</P> + +<P> +"If a woman isn't a dam-fool already," said Betty, "and I don't think +I'm one, she doesn't like to feel that she ever made a dam-fool of +herself. She is proud of her instincts and her judgments and the +sensitive, emotional intelligence that is hers. When all these seem to +have gone wrong, it's pleasing to realise that originally they went +right. It soothes one's self-respect, one's pride. I know now that all +these blind perceptions in me went straight to certain magnificent +essentials—those that make the great, strong, fearless fighting man. +That's attractive to a woman, you know. At any rate, to an independent +barbarian like myself—" +</P> + +<P> +"My dear Betty," I interrupted with a laugh. "You a barbarian? You whom +I regard as the last word, the last charming and delightful word, in +modern womanhood?" +</P> + +<P> +"Of course I'm the child of my century," she cried, flushing. "I want +votes, freedom, opportunity for expansion, power—everything that can +develop Betty Connor into a human product worthy of the God who made +her. But how she could fulfil herself without the collaboration of a +man, has baffled her ever since she was a girl of sixteen, when she +began to awake to the modern movement. On one side I saw women +perfectly happy in the mere savage state of wifehood and motherhood, +and not caring a hang for anything else, and on the other side women +who threw babies back into limbo and preached of nothing but +intellectual and political and economic independence. Oh, I worried +terribly about it, Majy, when I was a girl. Each side seemed to have +such a lot to say for itself. Then it dawned upon me that the only way +out of the dilemma was to combine both ideals—that of the savage woman +in skins and the lady professor in spectacles. That is what, allowing +for the difference of sex, a man does. Why shouldn't a woman? The +woman, of course, has to droop a bit more to the savage, because she +has to produce the babies and suckle them, and so forth, and a man +hasn't. That was my philosophy of life when I entered the world as a +young woman. Love came into it, of course. It was a sanctification of +the savagery. I've gone on like this," she laughed, "because I don't +want you to protest in your dear old-fashioned way against my calling +myself an independent barbarian. I am, and I glory in it. That's why, +as I was saying, I'm deeply glad that Leonard Boyce has made good. His +honour means a good deal to me—to my self-esteem. I hope," she added, +rising and coming to me with a caressing touch. "I hope you've got the +hang of the thing now." +</P> + +<P> +Within myself I sincerely hoped I had. If her sentiments were just as +she analysed them, all was well. If, on the other hand, the little +demon of love for Boyce still lurked in her heart, in spite of the +marriage and widowhood, there might be trouble ahead. I remembered how +once she had called him a devil. I remembered, too, uncomfortably, the +scrap of conversation I had overheard between Boyce and herself in the +hall. She had lashed him with her scorn, and he had taken his whipping +without much show of fight. Still, a woman's love, especially that of a +lady barbarian, was a curiously complex affair, and had been known to +impel her to trample on a man one minute and the next to fall at his +feet. Now the worm she had trampled on had turned; stood erect as a +properly authenticated hero. I felt dubious as to the ensuing situation. +</P> + +<P> +"I wrote to old Mrs. Boyce," she added after a while. "I thought it +only decent. I wrote yesterday, but only posted the letter to-day, so +as to be sure I wasn't acting on impulse." +</P> + +<P> +The latter part of the remark was by way of apology. The breach of the +engagement had occasioned a cessation of social relations between Betty +and Mrs. Boyce. Betty's aunts had ceased calling on Mrs. Boyce and Mrs. +Boyce had ceased calling on Betty's aunts. Whenever the estranged +parties met, which now and then was inevitable in a little town, they +bowed with distant politeness, but exchanged no words. Everything was +conducted with complete propriety. The old lady, knowing how beloved an +intimate of mine was Betty, alluded but once to the broken engagement. +That was when Betty got married. +</P> + +<P> +"It has been a great unhappiness to me, Major," she said. "In spite of +her daring ways, which an old woman like myself can't quite understand, +I was very fond of her. She was just the girl for Leonard. They made +such a handsome couple. I have never known why it was broken off. +Leonard won't tell me. It's out of the question that it could be his +fault, and I can't believe it is all Betty Fairfax's. She's a girl of +too much character to be a mere jilt." +</P> + +<P> +I remember that I couldn't help smiling at the application of the +old-fashioned word to my Betty. +</P> + +<P> +"You may be quite certain she isn't that," said I. +</P> + +<P> +"Then what was the reason? Do you know?" +</P> + +<P> +I didn't. I was as mystified as herself. I told her so. I didn't +mention that a few days before she had implied that Leonard was a devil +and she wished that he was dead, thereby proving to me, who knew +Betty's uprightness, that Boyce and Boyce only was to blame in the +matter. It would have been a breach of confidence, and it would not +have made my old friend any the happier. It would have fired her with +flaming indignation against Betty. +</P> + +<P> +"Young people," said I, "must arrange their own lives." And we left it +at that. Now and then, afterwards, she enquired politely after Betty's +health, and when Willie Connor was killed, she spoke to me very +feelingly and begged me to convey to Betty the expression of her deep +sympathy. In the unhappy circumstances, she explained, she was +naturally precluded from writing. +</P> + +<P> +So Betty's letter was the first direct communication that had passed +between them for nearly two years. That is why to my meddlesome-minded +self it appeared to have some significance. +</P> + +<P> +"You did, did you?" said I. Then I looked at her quickly, with an idea +in my head. "What did Mrs. Boyce say in reply?" +</P> + +<P> +"She has had no time to answer. Didn't I tell you I only posted the +letter to-day?" +</P> + +<P> +"Then you've heard nothing more about Leonard Boyce except that he has +got the V.C.?" +</P> + +<P> +"No. What more is there to hear?" +</P> + +<P> +Even Bettys are sly folk. It behooved me to counter with equal slyness. +I wondered whether she had known all along of Boyce's mishap, or had +been informed of it by his mother. Knowledge might explain her unwonted +outburst. I looked at her fixedly. +</P> + +<P> +"What's the matter?" she asked, bending slightly down to me. +</P> + +<P> +"You haven't heard that he is wounded?" +</P> + +<P> +She straightened herself. "No. When?" +</P> + +<P> +"Five days ago." +</P> + +<P> +"Why didn't you tell me?" +</P> + +<P> +"I haven't seen you." +</P> + +<P> +"I mean—this evening." +</P> + +<P> +I reached for her hand. "Will you forgive me, my dear Betty, for +remarking that for the last twenty minutes you have done all the +talking?" +</P> + +<P> +"Is he badly hurt?" +</P> + +<P> +She ignored my playful rejoinder. I noted the fact. Usually she was +quick to play Beatrice to my Benedick. Had I caught her off her guard? +</P> + +<P> +I told her all that I knew. She seated herself again on the piano-stool. +</P> + +<P> +"I hope Mrs. Boyce did not think me unfeeling for not referring to it," +she said calmly. "You will explain, won't you?" +</P> + +<P> +Marigold entered, announcing dinner. We went into the dining-room. All +through the meal Bella, my parlour-maid, flitted about with dishes and +plates, and Marigold, when he was not solemnly pouring claret, stood +grim behind my chair, roasting, as usual, his posterior before a +blazing fire, with soldierly devotion to duty. Conversation fell a +little flat. The arrival of the evening newspapers, half an hour +belated, created a diversion. The war is sometimes subversive of nice +table decorum. I read out the cream of the news. Discussion thereon +lasted us until coffee and cigarettes were brought in and the servants +left us to ourselves. +</P> + +<P> +One of the curious little phenomena of human intercourse is the fact +that now and again the outer personality of one with whom you are daily +familiar suddenly strikes you afresh, thus printing, as it were, a new +portrait on your mind. At varying intervals I had received such +portrait impressions of Betty, and I had stored them in my memory. +Another I received at this moment, and it is among the most delectable. +She was sitting with both elbows on the table, her palms clasped and +her cheek resting on the back of the left hand. Her face was turned +towards me. She wore a low-cut black chiffon evening dress—the thing +had mere straps over the shoulders—an all but discarded vanity of +pre-war days. I had never before noticed what beautiful arms she had. +Perhaps in her girlhood, when I had often seen her in such exiguous +finery, they had not been so shapely. I have told you already of the +softening touch of her womanhood. An exquisite curve from arm to neck +faded into the shadow of her hair. She had a single string of pearls +round her neck. The fatigue of last week's night duty had cast an added +spirituality over her frank, sensitive face. +</P> + +<P> +We had not spoken for a while. She smiled at me. +</P> + +<P> +"What are you thinking of?" +</P> + +<P> +"I wasn't thinking at all," said I. "I was only gratefully admiring +you." +</P> + +<P> +"Why gratefully?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oughtn't one to be grateful to God for the beautiful things He gives +us?" +</P> + +<P> +She flushed and averted her eyes. "You are very good to me, Majy." +</P> + +<P> +"What made you attire yourself in all this splendour?" I asked, +laughing. The wise man does not carry sentiment too far. He keeps it +like a little precious nugget of pure gold; the less wise beats it out +into a flabby film. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know," she said, shifting her position and casting a critical +glance at her bodice. "All kinds of funny little feminine vanities. +Perhaps I wanted to see whether I hadn't gone off. Perhaps I wanted to +try to feel good-looking even if I wasn't. Perhaps I thought my dear +old Majy was sick to death of the hospital uniform perfumed with +disinfectant. Perhaps it was just a catlike longing for comfort. +Anyhow, I'm glad you like me." +</P> + +<P> +"My dear Betty," said I, "I adore you." +</P> + +<P> +"And I you," she laughed. "So there's a pair of us." +</P> + +<P> +She lit a cigarette and sipped her coffee. Then, breaking a short +silence: +</P> + +<P> +"I hope you quite understand, dear, what I said about Leonard Boyce. I +shouldn't like to leave you with the smallest little bit of a wrong +impression." +</P> + +<P> +"What wrong impression could I possibly have?" I asked disingenuously. +</P> + +<P> +"You might think that I was still in love with him." +</P> + +<P> +"That would be absurd," said I. +</P> + +<P> +"Utterly absurd. I should feel it to be almost an insult if you thought +anything of the kind. Long before my marriage things that had happened +had killed all such feelings outright." She paused for a few seconds +and her brow darkened, just as it had done when she had spoken of him +in the days immediately preceding her marriage with Willie Connor. +Presently it cleared. "The whole beginning and end of my present +feelings," she continued, "is that I'm glad the man I once cared for +has won such high distinction, and I'm sorry that such a brave soldier +should be wounded." +</P> + +<P> +I could do nothing else than assure her of my perfect understanding. I +upbraided myself as a monster of indelicacy for my touch of doubt +before dinner; also for a devilish and malicious suspicion that flitted +through my brain while she was cataloguing her possible reasons for +putting on the old evening dress. The thought of Betty's beautiful arm +and the man's bull-neck was a shivering offence. I craved purification. +</P> + +<P> +"If you've finished your coffee," I said, "let us go into the +drawing-room and have some music." +</P> + +<P> +She rose with the impulsiveness of a child told that it can be excused, +and responded startlingly to my thought. +</P> + +<P> +"I think we need it," she said. +</P> + +<P> +In the drawing-room I swung my chair so that I could watch her hands on +the keys. She was a good musician and had the well-taught executant's +certainty and grace of movement. It may be the fancy of an outer +Philistine, but I love to forget the existence of the instrument and to +feel the music coming from the human finger-tips. She found a volume of +Chopin's Nocturnes on the rest. In fact she had left it there a +fortnight before, the last time she had played for me. I am very fond +of Chopin. I am an uneducated fellow and the lyrical mostly appeals to +me both in poetry and in music. Besides, I have understood him better +since I have been a crock. And I loved Betty's sympathetic +interpretation. So I sat there, listening and watching, and I knew that +she was playing for the ease of both our souls. Once more I thanked God +for the great gift of Betty to my crippled life. Peace gathered round +my heart as Betty played. +</P> + +<P> +The raucous buzz of the telephone in the corner of the room knocked the +music to shatters. I cried out impatiently. It was the fault of that +giant of ineptitude Marigold and his incompetent satellites, whose duty +it was to keep all upstairs extensions turned off and receive calls +below. Only two months before I had been the victim of their culpable +neglect, when I was forced to have an altercation with a man at +Harrod's Stores, who seemed pained because I declined to take an +interest in some idiotic remark he was making about fish. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll strangle Marigold with my own hands," I cried. +</P> + +<P> +Betty, unmoved by my ferocity, laughed and rose from the piano. +</P> + +<P> +"Shall I take the call?" +</P> + +<P> +To Betty I was all urbanity. "If you'll be so kind, dear," said I. +</P> + +<P> +She crossed the room and stopped the abominable buzzing. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. Hold on for a minute. It's the post-office"—she turned to +me—"telephoning a telegram that has just come in. Shall I take it down +for you?" +</P> + +<P> +More urbanity on my part. She found pencil and paper on an escritoire +near by, and went back to the instrument. For a while she listened and +wrote. At last she said: +</P> + +<P> +"Are you sure there's no signature?" +</P> + +<P> +She got the reply, waited until the message had been read over, and +hung up the receiver. When she came round to me—my back had been half +turned to her all the time—I was astonished to see her looking rather +shaken. She handed me the paper without a word. +</P> + +<P> +The message ran: +</P> + +<P> +"Thanks yesterday's telegram. Just got home. Queen Victoria Hospital, +Belton Square. Must have talk with you before I communicate with my +mother. Rely absolutely on your discretion. Come to-morrow. Forgive +inconvenience caused, but most urgent." +</P> + +<P> +"It's from Boyce," I said, looking up at her. +</P> + +<P> +"Naturally." +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose he omitted the signature to avoid any possible leakage +through the post-office here." +</P> + +<P> +She nodded. "What do you think is the matter?" +</P> + +<P> +"God knows," said I. "Evidently something very serious." +</P> + +<P> +She went back to the piano seat. "It's odd that I should have taken +down that message," she said, after a while. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll sack Marigold for putting you in that abominable position," I +exclaimed wrathfully. +</P> + +<P> +"No, you won't, dear. What does it signify? I'm not a silly child. I +suppose you're going to-morrow?" +</P> + +<P> +"Of course—for Mrs. Boyce's sake alone I should have no alternative." +</P> + +<P> +She turned round and began to take up the thread of the Nocturne from +the point where she had left off; but she only played half a page and +quitted the piano abruptly. +</P> + +<P> +"The pretty little spell is broken, Majy. No matter how we try to +escape from the war, it is always shrieking in upon us. We're up +against naked facts all the time. If we can't face them we go under +either physically or spiritually. Anyhow—" she smiled with just a +little touch of weariness,—"we may as well face them in comfort." +</P> + +<P> +She pushed my chair gently nearer to the fire and sat down by my side. +And there we remained in intimate silence until Marigold announced the +arrival of her car. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap18"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVIII +</H3> + +<P> +I shrink morbidly from visiting strange houses. I shrink from the +unknown discomforts and trivial humiliations they may hold for me. I +hate, for instance, not to know what kind of a chair may be provided +for me to sit on. I hate to be carried up many stairs even by my +steel-crane of a Marigold. Just try doing without your legs for a +couple of days, and you will see what I mean. Of course I despise +myself for such nervous apprehensions, and do not allow them to +influence my actions—just as one, under heavy fire, does not satisfy +one's simple yearning to run away. I would have given a year's income +to be able to refuse Boyce's request with a clear conscience; but I +could not. I shrank all the more because my visit in the autumn to +Reggie Dacre had shaken me more than I cared to confess. It had been +the only occasion for years when I had entered a London building other +than my club. To the club, where I was as much at home as in my own +house, all those in town with whom I now and then had to transact +business were good enough to come. This penetration of strange +hospitals was an agitating adventure. Apart, however, from the mere +physical nervousness against which, as I say, I fought, there was +another element in my feelings with regard to Boyce's summons. If I +talk about the Iron Hand of Fate you may think I am using a cliche of +melodrama. Perhaps I am. But it expresses what I mean. Something +unregenerate in me, some lingering atavistic savage instinct towards +freedom, rebelled against this same Iron Hand of Fate that, first +clapping me on the shoulder long ago in Cape Town, was now dragging me, +against my will, into ever thickening entanglement with the dark and +crooked destiny of Leonard Boyce. +</P> + +<P> +I tell you all this because I don't want to pose as a kind of apodal +angel of mercy. +</P> + +<P> +I was also deadly anxious as to the nature of the communication Boyce +would make to me, before his mother should be informed of his arrival +in London. In spite of his frank confession, there was still such a +cloud of mystery over the man's soul as to render any revelation +possible. Had his hurt declared itself to be a mortal one? Had he +summoned me to unburden his conscience while yet there was time? Was it +going to be a repetition, with a difference, of my last interview with +Reggie Dacre? I worried myself with unnecessary conjecture. +</P> + +<P> +After a miserable drive through February rain and slush, I reached my +destination in Belton Square, a large mansion, presumably equipped by +its owner as a hospital for officers, and given over to the nation. A +telephone message had prepared the authorities for my arrival. +Marigold, preceded by the Sister in charge, carried me across a +tesselated hall and began to ascend the broad staircase. +</P> + +<P> +I uttered a little gasp and looked around me, for in a flash I realised +where I was. Twenty years ago I had danced in this house. I had danced +here with my wife before we were married. On the half landing we had +sat out together. It was the town house of the late Lord Madelow, with +whose wife I shared the acquaintance of a couple of hundred young +dancing men inscribed on her party list. Both were dead long since. To +whom the house belonged now I did not know. But I recognised pictures +and statuary and a conservatory with palms. And the place shimmered +with brilliant ghosts and was haunted by hot perfumes and by the echo +of human voices and by elfin music. And the cripple forgot that he was +being carried up the stairs in the grip of the old soldier. He was +mounting them with heart beating high and the presence of a beloved +hand on his arm.... You see, it was all so sudden. It took my breath +away and sent my mind whirling back over twenty years. +</P> + +<P> +It was like awaking from a dream to find a door flung open in front of +me and to hear the Sister announce my name. I was on the threshold not +of a ward, but of a well-appointed private room fairly high up and +facing the square, for the first thing I saw was the tops of the +leafless trees through the windows. Then I was conscious of a cheery +fire. The last thing I took in was the bed running at right angles to +door and window, and Leonard Boyce lying in it with bandages about his +face. For the dazed second or two he seemed to be Reggie Dacre over +again. But he had thrown back the bedclothes and his broad chest and +great arms were free. His pleasant voice rang out at once. +</P> + +<P> +"Hallo! Hallo! You are a good Samaritan. Is that you, Marigold? There's +a comfortable chair by the bedside for Major Meredyth." +</P> + +<P> +He seemed remarkably strong and hearty; far from any danger of death. +Stubs of cigarettes were lying in an ash-tray on the bed. In a moment +or two they settled me down and left me alone with him. +</P> + +<P> +As soon as he heard the click of the door he said: +</P> + +<P> +"I've done more than I set out to do. You remember our conversation. I +said I should either get the V.C. or never see you again. I've managed +both." +</P> + +<P> +"What do you mean?" I asked. +</P> + +<P> +"I shall never see you or anybody else again, or a dog or a cat, or a +tree or a flower." +</P> + +<P> +Then, for the first time the dreadful truth broke upon me. +</P> + +<P> +"Good Heavens!" I cried. "Your eyes—?" +</P> + +<P> +"Done in. Blind. It's a bit ironical, isn't it?" He laughed bitterly. +</P> + +<P> +What I said by way of sympathy and consolation is neither here nor +there. I spoke sincerely from my heart, for I felt overwhelmed by the +tragedy of it all. He stretched out his hand and grasped mine. +</P> + +<P> +"I knew you wouldn't fail me. Your sort never does. You understand now +why I wanted you to come?—To prepare the old mother for the shock. +You've seen for yourself that I'm sound of wind and limb—as fit as a +fiddle. You can make it quite clear to her that I'm not going to die +yet awhile. And you can let her down easy on the real matter. Tell her +I'm as merry as possible and looking forward to going about +Wellingsford with a dog and string." +</P> + +<P> +"You're a brave chap, Boyce," I said. +</P> + +<P> +He laughed again. "You're anticipating. Do you remember what I said +when you asked me what I should do if I won all the pots I set my heart +on and came through alive? I said I should begin to try to be a brave +man. God! It's a tough proposition. But it's something to live for, +anyway." +</P> + +<P> +I asked him how it happened. +</P> + +<P> +"I got sick," he replied, "of bearing a charmed life and nothing +happening. The Bosch shell or bullet that could hit me wasn't made. I +could stroll about freely where it was death for anyone else to show +the top of his head. I didn't care. Then suddenly one day things went +wrong. You know what I mean. I nearly let my regiment down. It was +touch and go. And it was touch and go with my career. I just pulled +through, however. I'll tell you all about it one of these days—if +you'll put up with me." +</P> + +<P> +Again the familiar twitch of the lips which looked ghastly below the +bandaged eyes. "No one ever dreamed of the hell I went through. Then I +found I was losing the nerve I had built up all these months. I nearly +went off my head. At last I thought I would put an end to it. It was a +small attack of ours that had failed. The men poured back over the +parapet into the trench, leaving heaven knows how many dead and wounded +outside. I'm not superstitious and I don't believe in premonitions and +warnings, and so forth; but in cases of waiting like mine a man +suddenly gets to know that his hour has come.... I got in six wounded. +Two men were shot while I was carrying them. How I lived God knows. It +was cold hell. My clothes were torn to rags. As I was going for the +seventh, the knob of my life-preserver was shot away and my wrist +nearly broken. I wore it with a strap, you know. The infernal thing had +been a kind of mascot. When I realised it was gone I just stood still +and shivered in a sudden, helpless funk. The seventh man was crawling +up to me. He had a bloody face and one dragging leg. That's my last +picture of God's earth. Before I could do anything—I must have been +standing sideways on—a bullet got me across the bridge of the nose and +night came down like a black curtain. Then I ran like a hare. Sometimes +I tripped over a man, dead or wounded, and fell on my head. I don't +remember much about this part of it. They told me afterwards. At last I +stumbled on to the parapet and some plucky fellow got me into the +trench. It was the regulation V.C. business," he added, "and so they +gave it to me." +</P> + +<P> +"Specially," said I. +</P> + +<P> +"Consolation prize, I suppose, for losing my sight. They had just time +to get me away behind when the Germans counter attacked. If I hadn't +brought the six men in, they wouldn't have had a dog's chance. I did +save their lives. That's something to the credit side of the infernal +balance." +</P> + +<P> +"There can be no balance now, my dear chap," said I. "God knows you've +paid in full." +</P> + +<P> +He lifted his hand and dropped it with a despairing gesture. +</P> + +<P> +"There's only one payment in full. That was denied me. God, or whoever +was responsible, had my eyes knocked out, and made it impossible for +ever. He or somebody must be enjoying the farce." +</P> + +<P> +"That's all very well," said I. "A man can do no more than his +utmost—as you've done. He must be content to leave the rest in the +hands of the Almighty." +</P> + +<P> +"The Almighty has got a down on me," he replied. "And I don't blame +Him. Of course, from your point of view, you're right. You're a normal, +honourable soldier and gentleman. Anything you've got to reproach +yourself with is of very little importance. But I'm an accursed freak. +I told you all about it when you held me up over the South African +affair. There were other affairs after that. Others again in this war. +Haven't I just told you I let my regiment down?" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't, my dear man, don't!" I cried, in great pain, for it was +horrible to hear a man talk like this. "Can't you see you've wiped out +everything?" +</P> + +<P> +"There's one thing at any rate I can't ever wipe out," he said in a low +voice. Then he laughed. "I've got to stick it. It may be amusing to see +how it all pans out. I suppose the very last passion left us is +curiosity." +</P> + +<P> +"There's also the unconquerable soul," said I. +</P> + +<P> +"You're very comforting," said he. "If I were in your place, I'd leave +a chap like me to the worms." He drew a long breath. "I suppose I'll +pull through all right." +</P> + +<P> +"Of course you will," said I. +</P> + +<P> +"I feel tons better, thanks to you, already." +</P> + +<P> +"That's right," said I. +</P> + +<P> +He fumbled for the box of cigarettes on the bed. Instinctively I tried +to help him, but I was tied to my fixed chair. It was a trivial +occasion; but I have never been so terrified by the sense of +helplessness. Just think of it. Two men of clear brain and, to all +intents and purposes, of sound bodily health, unable to reach an object +a few feet away. Boyce uttered an impatient exclamation. +</P> + +<P> +"Get hold of that box for me, like a good chap," he said, his fingers +groping wide of the mark. +</P> + +<P> +"I can't move," said I. +</P> + +<P> +"Good Lord! I forgot." +</P> + +<P> +He began to laugh. I laughed, too. We laughed like fools and the tears +ran down my cheeks. I suppose we were on the verge of hysterics. +</P> + +<P> +I pulled myself together and gave him a cigarette from my case. And +then, stretch as I would, I could not reach far enough to apply the +match to the end of the cigarette between his lips. He was unable to +lift his head. I lit another match and, like an idiot, put it between +his fingers. He nearly burned his moustache and his bandage, and would +have burned his fingers had not the match—a wooden one—providentially +gone out. Then I lit a cigarette myself and handed it to him. +</P> + +<P> +The incident, as I say, was trivial, but it had deep symbolic +significance. All symbols in their literal objectivity are trivial. +What more trivial than the eating of a bit of bread and the sipping +from a cup of wine? This trumpery business with the cigarette +revolutionised my whole feelings towards Boyce. It initiated us into a +sacred brotherhood. Hitherto, it had been his nature which had reached +out towards me tentacles of despair. My inner self, as I have tried to +show you, had never responded. It was restrained by all kinds of +doubts, suspicions, and repulsions. Now, suddenly, it broke through all +those barriers and rushed forth to meet him. My death in life against +which I had fought, I hope like a brave man (it takes a bit of +fighting) for many years, would henceforth be his death in life, at +whose terrors he too would have to snap a disdainful finger. I had felt +deep pity for him; but if pity is indeed akin to love, it is a very +poor relation. Now I had cast pity and such like superior sentiment +aside and accepted him as a sworn brother. The sins, whatever they +were, that lay on the man's conscience mattered nothing. He had paid in +splendid penance and in terrible penalty. +</P> + +<P> +I should have liked to express to him something of this surge of +emotion. But I could find no words. As a race, our emotions are not +facile, and therefore we lack the necessary practice in expressing +them. When they do come, they come all of a heap and scare us out of +our wits and leave us speechless. So the immediate outcome of all this +psychological upheaval was that we went on smoking and said nothing +more about it. As far as I remember we started talking about the +recruiting muddle, as to which our views most vigorously coincided. +</P> + +<P> +We parted cheerily. It was only when I got outside the room that the +ghastly irony of the situation again made my heart as lead. We passed +by the conservatory and the statuary and down the great staircase, but +the ghosts had gone. Yet I cast a wistful glance at the spot—it was +just under that Cuyp with the flashing white horse—where we had sat +twenty years ago. But the new tragedy had rendered the memory less +poignant. +</P> + +<P> +"It's a dreadful thing about the Colonel, sir," said Marigold as we +drove off. +</P> + +<P> +"More dreadful than anyone can imagine," said I. +</P> + +<P> +"What he's going to do with himself is what I'm wondering," said +Marigold. +</P> + +<P> +What indeed? The question went infinitely deeper than the practical +dreams of Marigold's philosophy. My honest fellow saw but the +outside—the full-blooded man of action cabined in his lifelong +darkness. I, to whom chance had revealed more, trembled at the +contemplation of his future. The man, goaded by the Furies, had rushed +into the jaws of death. Those jaws, by some divine ordinance, had +ruthlessly closed against him. The Furies meanwhile attended him +unrelenting. Whither now would they goad him? Into madness? I doubted +it. In spite of his contradictory nature, he did not seem to be the +sort of man who would go mad. He could exercise over himself too +reasoned a control. Yet here were passions and despairs seething +without an outlet. What would be the end? It is true that he had +achieved glory. To the end of his life, wherever he went, he would +command the honour and admiration of men. Greater achievement is +granted to few mortals. In our little town he would be the Great Hero. +But would all that human sympathy and veneration could contrive keep +the Furies at bay and soothe the tormented spirit? +</P> + +<P> +I tried to eat a meal at the club, but the food choked me. I got into +the car as soon as possible and reached Wellingsford with head and +heart racked with pain. But before I could go home I had to execute +Boyce's mission. +</P> + +<P> +If I accomplished it successfully, my heart and not my wearied mind +deserves the credit. At first Mrs. Boyce broke down under the shock of +the news, for all the preparation in the world can do little to soften +a deadly blow; but breed and pride soon asserted themselves, and she +faced things bravely. With charming dignity she received Marigold's few +respectful words of condolence. And she thanked me for what I had done, +beyond my deserts. To show how brave she was, she insisted on +accompanying us downstairs and on standing in the bleak evening air +while Marigold put me in the car. +</P> + +<P> +"After all, I have my son alive and in good strong health. I must +realise how merciful God has been to me." She put her hand into mine. +"I shan't see you again till I bring him home with me. I shall go up to +London early to-morrow morning and stay with my old friend Lady +Fanshawe—I think you have met her here—the widow of the late Admiral +Fanshawe. She has a house in Eccleston Street, which is, I think, in +the neighbourhood of Belton Square. If I haven't thanked you enough, +dear Major Meredyth, it is that, when one's heart is full, one can't do +everything all at once." +</P> + +<P> +She waved to me very graciously as the car drove off—a true "Spartian" +mother, dear lady, of our modern England. +</P> + +<P> +Oh! the humiliation of possessing a frail body and a lot of +disorganized nerves! When I got home Marigold, seeing that I was +overtired, was all for putting me to bed then and there. I spurned the +insulting proposal in language plain enough even to his wooden +understanding. Sometimes his imperturbability exasperated me. I might +just as well try to taunt a poker or sting a fire-shovel into +resentment of personal abuse. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll see you hanged, drawn, and quartered before I'll go to bed," I +declared. +</P> + +<P> +"Very good, sir." The gaunt wretch was carrying me. "But I think you +might lie down for half an hour before dinner." +</P> + +<P> +He deposited me ignominiously on the bed and left the room. In about +ten minutes Dr. Cliffe, my inveterate adversary who has kept life in me +for many a year, came in with his confounded pink smiling face. +</P> + +<P> +"What's this I hear? Been overdoing it?" +</P> + +<P> +"What the deuce are you doing here?" I cried. "Go away. How dare you +come when you're not wanted?" +</P> + +<P> +He grinned. "I'm wanted right enough, old man. The good Marigold's +never at fault. He rang me up and I slipped round at once." +</P> + +<P> +"One of these days," said I, "I'll murder that fellow." +</P> + +<P> +He replied by gagging me with his beastly thermometer. Then he felt my +pulse and listened to my heart and stuck his fingers into the corners +of my eyes, so as to look at the whites; and when he was quite +satisfied with himself—there is only one animal more self-complacent +than your medical man in such circumstances, and that is a dog who has +gorged himself with surreptitious meat—he ordained that I should +forthwith go properly to bed and stay there and be perfectly quiet +until he came again, and in the meanwhile swallow some filthy medicine +which he would send round. +</P> + +<P> +"One of these days," said he, rebukingly, "instead of murdering your +devoted Sergeant, you'll be murdering yourself, if you go on such +lunatic excursions. Of course I'm shocked at hearing about Colonel +Boyce, and I'm sorry for the poor lady, but why you should have been +made to half kill yourself over the matter is more than I can +understand." +</P> + +<P> +"I happen," said I, "to be his only intimate friend in the place." +</P> + +<P> +"You happen," he retorted, "to be a chronic invalid and the most +infernal worry of my life." +</P> + +<P> +"You're nothing but an overbearing bully," said I. +</P> + +<P> +He grinned again. That is what I have to put up with. If I curse +Marigold, he takes no notice. If I curse Cliffe, he grins. Yet what I +should do without them, Heaven only knows. +</P> + +<P> +"God bless 'em both," said I, when my aching body was between the cool +sheets. +</P> + +<P> +Although it was none of his duties, Marigold brought me in a light +supper, fish and a glass of champagne. Never a parlour-maid would he +allow to approach me when I was unwell. I often wondered what would +happen if I were really ill and required the attendance of a nurse. I +swear no nurse's touch could be so gentle as when he raised me on the +pillows. He bent over the tray on the table by the bed and began to +dissect out the back-bone of the sole. +</P> + +<P> +"I can do that," said I, fretfully. +</P> + +<P> +He cocked a solitary reproachful eye on me. I burst out laughing. He +looked so dear and ridiculous with his preposterous curly wig and his +battered face. He went on with his task. +</P> + +<P> +"I wonder, Marigold," said I, "how you put up with me." +</P> + +<P> +He did not reply until he had placed the neatly arranged tray across my +body. +</P> + +<P> +"I've never heard, sir," said he, "as how a man couldn't put up with +his blessings." +</P> + +<P> +A bit of sole was on my fork and I was about to convey it to my mouth, +but there came a sudden lump in my throat and I put the fork down. +</P> + +<P> +"But what about the curses?" +</P> + +<P> +A horrible contortion of the face and a guttural rumble indicated +amusement on the part of Marigold. I stared, very serious, having been +profoundly touched. +</P> + +<P> +"What are you laughing at?" I asked. +</P> + +<P> +The idiot's merriment increased in vehemence. He said: "You're too +funny, sir," and just bolted, in a manner unbecoming not only to a +sergeant, but even to a butler. +</P> + +<P> +As I mused on this unprecedented occurrence, I made a discovery,—that +of Sergeant Marigold's sense of humour. To that sense of humour my +upbraidings, often, I must confess, couched in picturesque and +figurative terms so as not too greatly to hurt his feelings, had made +constant appeal for the past fifteen years. Hitherto he had hidden all +signs of humorous titillation behind his impassive mask. To-night, a +spark of sentiment had been the match to explode the mine of his mirth. +It was a serious position. Here had I been wasting on him half a +lifetime's choicest objurgations. What was I to do in the future to +consolidate my authority? +</P> + +<P> +I never enjoyed a fried sole and a glass of champagne more in my life. +</P> + +<P> +He came in later to remove the tray, as wooden as ever. +</P> + +<P> +"Mrs. Connor called a little while ago, sir." +</P> + +<P> +"Why didn't you ask her to come in to see me?" +</P> + +<P> +"Doctor's orders, sir." +</P> + +<P> +After the sole and champagne, I felt much better. I should have +welcomed my dear Betty with delight. That, at any rate, was my first +impulsive thought. +</P> + +<P> +"Confound the doctor!" I cried. And I was going to confound Marigold, +too, but I caught his steady luminous eye. What was the use of any +anathema when he would only take it away, as a dog does a bone, and +enjoy it in a solitary corner? I recovered myself. +</P> + +<P> +"Well?" said I, with dignity. "Did Mrs. Connor leave any message?" +</P> + +<P> +"I was to give you her compliments, sir, and say she was sorry you were +so unwell and she was shocked to hear of Colonel Boyce's sad +affliction." +</P> + +<P> +This was sheer orderly room. Such an expression as "sad affliction" +never passed Betty's lips. I, however, had nothing to say. Marigold +settled me for the night and left me. +</P> + +<P> +When I was alone and able to consider the point, I felt a cowardly +gratitude towards the doctor who had put me to bed like a sick man and +forbidden access to my room. I had been spared breaking the news to +Betty. How she received it, I did not know. It had been impossible to +question Marigold. After all, it was a matter of no essential moment. I +consoled myself with the reflection and tried to go to sleep. But I +passed a wretched night, my head whirling with the day's happenings. +</P> + +<P> +The morning papers showed me that Boyce, wishing to spare his mother, +had been wise to summon me at once. They all published an official +paragraph describing the act for which he had received his distinction, +and announcing the fact of his blindness. They also gave a brief and +flattering sketch of his career. One paper devoted to him a short +leading article. The illustrated papers published his photograph. Boyce +was on the road to becoming a popular hero. +</P> + +<P> +Cliffe kept me in bed all that day, to my great irritation. I had no +converse with the outside world, save vicariously with Betty, who rang +up to enquire after my health. On the following morning, when I drove +abroad with Hosea, I found the whole town ringing with Boyce. It was a +Friday, the day of publication of the local newspaper. It had run to +extravagant bills all over the place: +</P> + +<P> +"Wellingsford Hero honoured by the King. Tragic End to Glorious Deeds." +</P> + +<P> +The word—Marigold's, I suppose—had gone round that I had visited the +hero in London. I was stopped half a dozen times on my way up the High +Street by folks eager for personal details. Outside Prettilove the +hairdresser's I held quite a little reception, and instead of moving me +on for blocking the traffic, as any of his London colleagues would have +done, the local police sergeant sank his authority and by the side of a +butcher's boy formed part of the assembly. +</P> + +<P> +When I got to the Market Square, I saw Sir Anthony Fenimore's car +standing outside the Town Hall. The chauffeur stopped me. +</P> + +<P> +"Sir Anthony was going to call on you, sir, as soon as he had finished +his business inside." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll wait for him," said I. It was one of the few mild days of a +wretched month and I enjoyed the air. Springfield, the house agent, +passed and engaged me in conversation on the absorbing topic, and then +the manager of the gasworks joined us. Everyone listened so reverently +to my utterances that I began to feel as if I had won the Victoria +Cross myself. +</P> + +<P> +Presently Sir Anthony bustled out of the Town Hall, pink, brisk, full +of business. At the august appearance of the Mayor my less civically +distinguished friends departed. His eyes brightened as they fell on me +and he shook hands vigorously. +</P> + +<P> +"My dear Duncan, I was just on my way to you. Only heard this morning +that you've been seedy. Knocked up, I suppose, by your journey to town. +Just heard of that, too. Must have thought me a brute not to enquire. +But Edith and I didn't know. I was away all yesterday. These infernal +tribunals. With the example of men like Leonard Boyce before their +eyes, it makes one sick to look at able-bodied young Englishmen trying +to wriggle out of their duty to the country. Well, dear old chap, how +are you?" +</P> + +<P> +I assured him that I had recovered from Cliffe and was in my usual +state of health. He rubbed his hands. +</P> + +<P> +"That's good. Now give me all the news. What is Boyce's condition? When +will he be able to be moved? When do you think he'll come back to +Wellingsford?" +</P> + +<P> +At this series of questions I pricked a curious ear. +</P> + +<P> +"Am I speaking to the man or the Mayor?" +</P> + +<P> +"The Mayor," said he. "I wish to goodness I could get you inside, so +that you and I and Winterbotham could talk things over." +</P> + +<P> +Winterbotham was the Town Clerk. Sir Anthony cast an instinctive glance +at his chauffeur, a little withered elderly man. I laughed and made a +sign of dissent. When you have to be carried about, you shy at the +prospect of little withered, elderly men as carriers. Besides— +</P> + +<P> +"Unless it would lower Winterbotham's dignity or give him a cold in the +head," said I, "why shouldn't he come out here?" +</P> + +<P> +Sir Anthony crossed the pavement briskly, gave a message to the +doorkeeper of the Town Hall, and returned to Hosea and myself. +</P> + +<P> +"It's a dreadful thing. Dreadful. I never realised till yesterday, when +I read his record, what a distinguished soldier he was. A modern +Bayard. For the last year or so he seemed to put my back up. Behaved in +rather a curious way, never came near the house where once he was +always welcome, and when I asked him to dinner he turned me down flat. +But that's all over. Sometimes one has these pettifogging personal +vanities. The best thing is to be heartily ashamed of 'em like an +honest man, and throw 'em out in the dung-heap where they belong. +That's what I told Edith last night, and she agreed with me. Don't you?" +</P> + +<P> +I smiled. Here was another typical English gentleman ridding his +conscience of an injustice done to Leonard Boyce. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course I do," said I. "Boyce is a queer fellow. A man with his +exceptional qualities has to be judged in an exceptional way." +</P> + +<P> +"And then," said Sir Anthony, "it's that poor dear old lady that I've +been thinking of. Edith went to see her yesterday afternoon, but found +she had gone up to London. In her frail health it's enough to kill her." +</P> + +<P> +"It won't," said I. "A woman doesn't give birth to a lion without +having something of the lion in her nature." +</P> + +<P> +"I've never thought of that," said Sir Anthony. +</P> + +<P> +"Haven't you?" +</P> + +<P> +His face turned grave and he looked far away over the red-brick +post-office on the opposite side of the square. Then he sighed, looked +at me with a smile, and nodded. +</P> + +<P> +"You're right, Duncan." +</P> + +<P> +"I know I am," said I. "I broke the news to Mrs. Boyce. That's why he +asked me to go up and see him." +</P> + +<P> +Winterbotham appeared—a tall, cadaverous man in a fur coat and a soft +felt hat. He shook hands with me in a melancholy way. In a humbler walk +of life, I am sure he would have been an undertaker. +</P> + +<P> +"Now," said Sir Anthony, "tell us all about your interview with Boyce." +</P> + +<P> +"Before I commit myself," said I, "with the Civic Authorities, will you +kindly inform me what this conference coram publico is all about?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why, my dear chap, haven't I told you?" cried Sir Anthony. "We're +going to give Colonel Boyce a Civic Reception." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap19"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIX +</H3> + +<P> +Thenceforward nothing was talked of but the home-coming of Colonel +Boyce. He touched the public imagination. All kinds of stories, some +apocryphal, some having a basis of truth, some authentic, went the +round of the little place. It simmered with martial fervour. Elderly +laggards enrolled themselves in the Volunteer Training Corps. Young +married men who had not attested under the Derby Scheme rushed out to +enlist. The Tribunal languished in idleness for lack of claimants for +exemption. Exempted men, with the enthusiastic backing of employers, +lost the sense of their indispensability and joined the colours. An +energetic lady who had met the Serbian Minister in London conceived the +happy idea of organising a Serbian Flag Day in Wellingsford, and reaped +a prodigious harvest. We were all tremendously patriotic, living under +Boyce's reflected glory. +</P> + +<P> +At first I had deprecated the proposal, fearing lest Boyce might not +find it acceptable. The reputation he had sought at the cannon's mouth +was a bubble of a different kind from that which the good townsfolk +were eager to celebrate. Vanity had no part in it. For what the outer +world thought of his exploits he did not care a penny. He was past +caring. His soul alone, for its own sore needs, had driven him to the +search. Before his own soul and not before his fellow countrymen, had +he craved to parade as a recipient of the Victoria Cross. His own soul, +as I knew, not being satisfied, he would shrink from obtaining popular +applause under false pretences. No unhappy man ever took sterner +measure of himself. Of all this no one but myself had the faintest +idea. In explaining my opinion I had to leave out all essentials. I +could only hint that a sensitive man like Colonel Boyce might be averse +from exhibiting in public his physical disabilities; that he had always +shown himself a modest soldier with a dislike of self-advertisement; +that he would prefer to seek immediate refuge in the quietude of his +home. But they would not listen to me. Colonel Boyce, they said, would +be too patriotic to refuse the town's recognition. It was part of the +game which he, as a brave soldier, no matter how modest, could not fail +to play. He would recognise that such public honourings of valour had +widespread effect among the population. In face of such arguments I had +to withdraw my opposition; otherwise it might have appeared that I was +actuated by petty personal motives. God knows I only desired to save +Boyce from undergoing a difficult ordeal. For the same reasons I could +not refuse to serve on the Reception Committee which was immediately +formed under the chairmanship of the Mayor. +</P> + +<P> +Preliminaries having been discussed, the Mayor and the Town Clerk +waited on Boyce in Belton Square, and returned with the triumphant +tidings that they had succeeded in their mission. +</P> + +<P> +"I can't make out what you were running your head against, Duncan," +said Sir Anthony. "Of course, as you say, he's a modest chap and +dislikes publicity. So do we all. But I quickly talked him out of that +objection. I talked him out of all sorts of objections before he could +raise them. At last what do you think he said?" +</P> + +<P> +"I should have told you to go to blazes and not worry me." +</P> + +<P> +"He didn't. He said—now I like the chap for it, it was so simple and +honest—he said: 'If I were alone in the world I wouldn't have it, for +I don't like it. But I'll accept on one condition. My poor old mother +has had rather a thin time and she's going to have a thinner. She never +gets a look in. Make it as far as possible her show, and I'll do what +you like.' What do you think of that?" +</P> + +<P> +"I think it's very characteristic," said I. +</P> + +<P> +And it was. In my mental survey of the situation from Boyce's point of +view I had not taken into account the best and finest in the man. His +reason rang true against my exceptional knowledge of him. I had worked +myself into so sympathetic a comprehension that I KNEW he would be +facing something unknown and terrible in the proposed ceremony; I KNEW +that for his own sake he would have unequivocably declined. But, ad +majorem matris gloriam, he assented. +</P> + +<P> +The main question, at any rate, was settled. The hero would accept the +honour. It was for the Committee to make the necessary arrangements. We +corresponded far and wide in order to obtain municipal precedents. We +had interviews with the military and railway authorities. We were in +constant communication with the local Volunteer Training Corps; with +the Godbury Volunteers and the Godbury School O.T.C., who both desired +to take a part in the great event. In compliance with the conditions +imposed, we gave as much publicity as we could to Mrs. Boyce. +Lieutenant Colonel Boyce, V.C., and Mrs. Boyce were officially +associated in the programme of the reception. How to disentangle them +afterwards, when the presentation of the address, engrossed on velluni +and enclosed in a casket, should be made to the Colonel, was the +subject of heated and confused discussion. Then the feminine elements +in town and county desired to rally to the side of Mrs. Boyce. The Red +Cross and Volunteer Aid Detachment Nurses claimed representation. So +did the munitions workers of Godbury. The Countess of Laleham, the wife +of the Lord Lieutenant of the County, a most imposing and masterful +woman, signified (in genteel though incisive language) her intention to +take a leading part in the proceedings and to bring along her husband, +apparently as an unofficial ornament. This, of course, upset our plans, +which had all to be reconsidered from the beginning. +</P> + +<P> +"Who is giving the reception?" cried Lady Fenimore, who could stand +upon her dignity as well as anybody. "The County or Wellingsford? I +presume it's Wellingsford, and, so long as I am Mayoress, that dreadful +Laleham woman will have to take a back seat." +</P> + +<P> +So, you see, we had our hands full. +</P> + +<P> +All this time I found Betty curiously elusive. Now and then I met her +for a few fugitive moments at the hospital. Twice she ran in for +dinner, in uniform, desperately busy, arriving on the stroke of the +dinner hour and rushing away five minutes after her coffee and +cigarette, alleging as excuse the epidemic of influenza, consequent on +the vile weather, which had woefully reduced the hospital staff. She +seemed to be feverish and ill at ease, and tried to cover the symptoms +by a reversion to her old offhand manner. As I was so seldom alone with +her I could find scant opportunity for intimate conversation. I thought +that she might have regretted the frank exposition of her feelings +regarding Leonard Boyce. But she showed no sign of it. She spoke in the +most detached way of his blindness and the coming ceremony. Never once, +even on the first occasion when I met her—in the hospital +corridor—after my return from London, did her attitude vary from that +of any kind-hearted Englishwoman who deplores the mutilation of a +gallant social acquaintance. Sometimes I wanted to shake her, though I +could scarcely tell why. I certainly would not have had her weep on my +shoulder over Boyce's misfortune; nor would I have cared for her to +exhibit a vindictive callousness. She behaved with perfect propriety. +Perhaps that is what disturbed me. I was not accustomed to associate +perfect propriety with my dear Betty. +</P> + +<P> +The days went on. The reception arrangements were perfected. We only +waited for the date of Boyce's arrival to be fixed. That depended on +the date of the particular Investiture by the King which Boyce's +convalescence should allow him to attend. At last the date was fixed. +</P> + +<P> +A few days before the Investiture I went to London and called at Lady +Fanshawe's in Eccleston Street, whither he had been removed after +leaving the hospital. I was received in the dining-room on the ground +floor by Boyce and his mother. He wore black glasses to hide terrible +disfigurement—he lifted them to show me. One eye had been extracted. +The other was seared and sightless. He greeted me as heartily as ever, +made little jests over his infirmity, treating it lightly for his +mother's sake. She, on her side, deemed it her duty to exhibit equal +cheerfulness. She boasted of his progress in self-reliance and in the +accomplishment of various little blind man's tricks. At her bidding he +lit a cigarette for my benefit, by means of a patent fuse. He said, +when he had succeeded: +</P> + +<P> +"Better than the last time you saw me, eh, Meredyth?" +</P> + +<P> +"What was that?" asked Mrs. Boyce. +</P> + +<P> +"He nearly burned his fingers," said I, shortly. I had no desire to +relate the incident. +</P> + +<P> +We talked of the coming ceremony and I gave them the details of the +programme. Boyce had been right in accepting on the score of his +mother. Only once had she been the central figure in any public +ceremony—on her wedding day, in the years long ago. Here was a new +kind of wedding day in her old age. The prospect filled her with a +tremulous joy which was to both of them a compensation. She bubbled +over with pride and excitement at her inclusion in the homage that was +to be paid to the valour of her only son. +</P> + +<P> +"After all," she said, "I did bring him into the world. So I can claim +some credit. I only hope I shan't cry and make a fool of myself. They +won't expect me to keep on bowing, will they? I once saw Queen Victoria +driving through the streets, and I thought how dreadfully her poor old +neck must have ached." +</P> + +<P> +On the latter point I reassured her. On the drive from the station +Boyce would take the salute of the troops on the line of route. If she +smiled charmingly on them, their hearts would be satisfied, and if she +just nodded at them occasionally in a motherly sort of way, they would +be enchanted. She informed me that she was having a new dress made for +the occasion. She had also bought a new hat, which I must see. A +servant was summoned and dispatched for it. She tried it on girlishly +before the mirror over the mantelpiece, and received my compliments. +</P> + +<P> +"Tell me what it looks like," said Boyce. +</P> + +<P> +You might as well ask a savage in Central Africa to describe the +interior of a submarine as the ordinary man to describe a woman's hat. +My artless endeavours caused considerable merriment. To hear Boyce's +gay laughter one would have thought he had never a care in the world ... +</P> + +<P> +When I took my leave, Mrs. Boyce accompanied Marigold and myself to the +front door. +</P> + +<P> +"Did you ever hear of anything so dreadful?" she whispered, and I saw +her lips quivering and the tears rolling down her cheeks. "If he +weren't so brave and wonderful, I should break my heart." +</P> + +<P> +"What do you suppose you are yourself, my dear old friend," said I over +Marigold's shoulder. +</P> + +<P> +I went away greatly comforted. Both of them were as brave as could be. +For the first time I took a more cheerful view of Boyce's future. +</P> + +<P> +On the evening before the Reception Betty was shown into the library. +It was late, getting on towards my bedtime, and I was nodding in front +of the fire. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm just in and out, Majy dear," she said. "I had to come. I didn't +want to give you too many shocks." At my expression of alarm, she +laughed. "I've only run in to tell you that I've made up my mind to +come to the Town Hall tomorrow." +</P> + +<P> +I looked at her, and I suppose my hands moved in a slight gesture. +</P> + +<P> +"By that," she said, "I suppose you mean you can never tell what I'm +going to do next." +</P> + +<P> +"You've guessed it, my dear," said I. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you disapprove?" +</P> + +<P> +"I couldn't be so presumptuous." +</P> + +<P> +She bent over me and caught the lapels of my jacket. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, don't be so dreadfully dignified. I want you to understand. +Everybody is going to pay honour to-morrow to a man who has given +everything he could to his country. Don't you think it would be petty +of me if I stood out? What have the dead things that have passed +between us to do with my tribute as an Englishwoman?" +</P> + +<P> +What indeed? I asked her whether she was attending in her private +capacity or as one of the representatives of the V.A.D. nurses. I +learned for the thousandth time that Betty Connor did not deal in half +measures. If she went at all, it was as Betty Connor that she would go. +Her aunts would accompany her. It was part of the municipal ordering of +things that the Town Clerk should have sent them the special cards of +invitation. +</P> + +<P> +"I think it my duty to go," said Betty. +</P> + +<P> +"If you think so, my dear," said I, "then it is your duty. So there's +nothing more to be said about it." +</P> + +<P> +Betty kissed the top of my head and went off. +</P> + +<P> +We come now to the morning of the great day. Everything had been +finally settled. The Mayor and Aldermen, Lady Fenimore and the +Aldermen's wives, the Lord Lieutenant (in unofficial mufti) and Lady +Laleham (great though officially obscure lady), the General of the +Division quartered in the neighbourhood and officers of his staff, and +a few other magnates to meet the three o'clock train by which the +Boyces were due to arrive. The station hung with flags and +inscriptions. A guard of honour and a band in the station-yard, with a +fleet of motor cars in waiting. Troops lining the route from station to +Town Hall. More troops in the decorated Market Square, including the +Godbury School O.T.C. and the Wellingsford and Godbury Volunteers. I +heard that the latter were very anxious to fire off a feu de joie, but +were restrained owing to lack of precedent. The local fire-brigade in +freshly burnished helmets were to follow the procession of motor cars, +and behind them motor omnibuses with the nurses. +</P> + +<P> +Marigold, although his attendance on me precluded him from taking part +in the parade of Volunteers, appeared in full grey uniform with all his +medals and the black patch of ceremony over his eyeless socket. I must +confess to regarding him with some jealousy. I too should have liked to +wear my decorations. If a man swears to you that he is free from such +little vanities, he is more often than not a mere liar. But a +broken-down old soldier, although still drawing pay from the +Government, is not allowed to wear uniform (which I think is +outrageous), and he can't go and plaster himself with medals when he is +wearing on his head a hard felt hat. My envy of the martial looking +Marigold is a proof that my mind was not busied with sterner +preoccupations. I ate my breakfast with the serene conscience not only +of a man who knows he has done his duty, but of an organiser confident +in the success of his schemes. The abominable weather of snows and +tempests from which we had suffered for weeks had undergone a change. +It was a mild morning brightened by a pale convalescent sort of sun, +and there was just a little hope of spring in the air. I felt content +with everything and everybody. +</P> + +<P> +About eleven o'clock the buzz of the library telephone disturbed my +comfortable perusal of the newspaper. I wheeled towards the instrument. +Sir Anthony was speaking. +</P> + +<P> +"Can you come round at once? Very urgent. The car is on its way to you." +</P> + +<P> +"What's the matter?" I asked. +</P> + +<P> +He could not tell me over the wires. I was to take it that my presence +was urgently needed. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll come along at once," said I. +</P> + +<P> +Some hitch doubtless had occurred. Perhaps the War Office (whose ways +were ever weird and unaccountable) had forbidden the General to take +part in such a village-pump demonstration. Perhaps Lady Laleham had +insisted on her husband coming down like a uniformed Lord Lieutenant on +the fold. Perhaps the hero himself was laid up with measles. +</P> + +<P> +With the lightest heart I drove to Wellings Park. Marigold, straight as +a ramrod, sitting in front by the chauffeur. As soon as Pardoe, the +butler, had brought out my chair and Marigold had settled me in it, Sir +Anthony, very red and flustered, appeared and, shaking me nervously by +the hand, said without preliminary greeting: +</P> + +<P> +"Come into the library." +</P> + +<P> +He, I think, had come from the morning room on the right of the hall. +The library was on the left. He flung open the door. I steered myself +into the room; and there, standing on the white bearskin hearthrug, his +back to the fire, his hands in his pockets, his six inches of stiff +white beard stuck aggressively outward, I saw Daniel Gedge. +</P> + +<P> +While I gaped in astonishment, Sir Anthony shut the door behind him, +drew a straight-backed chair from the wall, planted it roughly some +distance away from the fire, and, pointing to it, bade Gedge sit down. +Gedge obeyed. Sir Anthony took the hearthrug position, his hands behind +his back, his legs apart. +</P> + +<P> +"This man," said he, "has come to me with a ridiculous, beastly story. +At first I was undecided whether I should listen to him or kick him +out. I thought it wiser to listen to him in the presence of a reputable +witness. That's why I've sent for you, Duncan. Now you just begin all +over again, my man," said he, turning to Gedge, "and remember that +anything you say here will be used against you at your trial." +</P> + +<P> +Gedge laughed—I must admit, with some justification. +</P> + +<P> +"You forget, Sir Anthony, I'm not a criminal and you're not a +policeman." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm the Mayor to this town, sir," cried Sir Anthony. "I'm also a +Justice of the Peace." +</P> + +<P> +"And I'm a law-abiding citizen," retorted Gedge. +</P> + +<P> +"You're an infernal socialistic pro-German," exclaimed Sir Anthony. +</P> + +<P> +"Prove it. I only ask you to prove it. No matter what my private +opinions may be, you just try to bring me up under the Defence of the +Realm Act, and you'll find you can't touch me." +</P> + +<P> +I held out a hand. "Forgive me for interrupting," said I, "but what is +all this discussion about?" +</P> + +<P> +Gedge crossed one leg over the other and drew his beard through his +fingers. Sir Anthony was about to burst into speech, but I checked him +with a gesture and turned to Gedge. +</P> + +<P> +"It has nothing to do with political opinions," said he. "It has to do +with the death, nearly two years ago, of Miss Althea Fenimore, Sir +Anthony's only daughter." +</P> + +<P> +Sir Anthony, his face congested, glared at him malevolently. I started, +with a gasp of surprise, and stared at the man who, caressing his +beard, looked from one to the other of us with an air of satisfaction. +</P> + +<P> +"Get on," said Sir Anthony. +</P> + +<P> +"You are going to give a civic reception to-day to Colonel Boyce, V.C., +aren't you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, I am," snapped Sir Anthony. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you think you ought to do it when I tell you that Colonel Boyce, +V.C., murdered Miss Althea Fenimore on the night of the 25th June, two +years ago?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said Sir Anthony. "And do you know why? Because I know you to be +a liar and a scoundrel." +</P> + +<P> +I can never describe the awful horror that numbed me to the heart. For +a few moments my body seemed as lifeless as my legs. The charge, +astounding almost to grotesqueness in the eyes of Sir Anthony, and +rousing him to mere wrath, deprived me of the power of speech. For I +knew, in that dreadful instant, that the man's words contained some +elements of truth. +</P> + +<P> +All the pieces of the puzzle that had worried me at odd times for +months fitted themselves together in a vivid flash. Boyce and Althea! I +had never dreamed of associating their names. That association was the +key of the puzzle. Out of the darkness disturbing things shone clear. +Boyce's abrupt retirement from Wellingsford before the war; his +cancellation by default of his engagement; his morbid desire, a year +ago, to keep secret his presence in his own house; Gedge's veiled +threat to me in the street to use a way "that'll knock all you great +people of Wellingsford off your high horses;" his extraordinary +interview with Boyce; his generally expressed hatred of Boyce. Was this +too the secret which he let out in his cups to Randall Holmes and which +drove the young man from his society? And Betty? Boyce was a devil. She +wished he were dead. And her words: "You have behaved worse to others. +I don't wonder at your shrinking from showing your face here." How much +did Betty know? There was the lost week—in Carlisle?—in poor Althea's +life. And then there were Boyce's half confessions, the glimpses he had +afforded me into the tormented soul. To me he had condemned himself out +of his own mouth. +</P> + +<P> +I repeat that, sitting there paralysed by the sudden shock of it, I +knew—not that the man was speaking the literal truth—God forbid!—but +that Boyce was, in some degree, responsible for Althea's death. +</P> + +<P> +"Calling me names won't alter the facts, Sir Anthony," said Gedge, with +a touch of insolence. "I was there at the time. I saw it." +</P> + +<P> +"If that's true," Sir Anthony retorted, "you're an accessory after the +fact, and in greater danger of being hanged than ever." He turned to me +in his abrupt way. "Now that we've heard this blackguard, shall we hand +him over to the police?" +</P> + +<P> +Being directly addressed, I recovered my nerve. +</P> + +<P> +"Before doing that," said I, "perhaps it would be best for us to hear +what kind of a story he has to tell us. We should also like to know his +motives in not denouncing the supposed murderer at once, and in keeping +his knowledge hidden all this time." +</P> + +<P> +"With regard to the last part of your remarks, I dare say you would," +said Gedge. "Only I don't know whether I'll go so far as to oblige you. +Anyhow you may have discovered that I don't particularly care about +your class. I've been preaching against your idleness and vanity and +vices, and the strangling grip you have on the throats of the people, +ever since I was a young man. If one of your lot chose to do in another +of your lot—a common story of seduction and crime—" +</P> + +<P> +At this slur in his daughter's honour Sir Anthony broke out fiercely, +and, for a moment, I feared lest he would throw himself on Gedge and +wring his neck. I managed to check his outburst and bring him to +reason. He resumed his attitude on the hearthrug. +</P> + +<P> +"As I was saying," Gedge continued, rather frightened, "from my +sociological point of view I considered the affair no business of mine. +I speak of it now, because ever since war broke out your class and the +parasitical bourgeoisie have done your best to reduce me to starvation. +I thought it would be pleasant to get a bit of my own back. Just a +little bit," he added, rubbing his hands. +</P> + +<P> +"If you think you've done it, you'll find yourself mistaken." +</P> + +<P> +Gedge shrugged his shoulders and pulled his beard. I hated the light in +his little crafty eyes. I feel sure he had been looking forward for +months to this moment of pure happiness. +</P> + +<P> +"Having given us an insight into your motives, which seem consistent +with what we know of your character," said I, judicially, "will you now +make your statement of facts?" +</P> + +<P> +"What's the good of listening further to his lies?" interrupted Sir +Anthony. "I'm a magistrate. I can give the police at once a warrant for +his arrest." +</P> + +<P> +Again I pacified him. "Let us hear what the man has to say." +</P> + +<P> +Gedge began. He spoke by the book, like one who repeats a statement +carefully prepared. +</P> + +<P> +"It was past ten o'clock on the night of the 25th June, 1914. I had +just finished supper when I was rung up by the landlord of The Three +Feathers on the Farfield road—it's the inn about a quarter of a mile +from the lock gates. He said that the District Secretary of the Red +Democratic Federation was staying there—his brother-in-law, if you +want to know—and he hadn't received my report. I must explain that I +am the local secretary, and as there was to be an important conference +of the Federation at Derby the next day, the District Secretary ought +to have been in possession of my report on local affairs. I had drawn +up the report. My daughter Phyllis had typed it, and she ought to have +posted it. On questioning her, I found she had neglected to do so. I +explained this over the wires and said I would bring the report at once +to The Three Feathers. I only tell you all this, in which you can't be +interested, so that you can't say: 'What were you doing on a lonely +road at that time of night?' My daughter and the landlord of The Three +Feathers can corroborate this part of my story. I set out on my +bicycle. It was bright moonlight. You know that for about two hundred +yards before the lock gate, and for about twenty after, the towing-path +is raised above the level of the main road which runs parallel with it +a few yards away. There are strips of market garden between. When I got +to this open bit I saw two persons up on the towing-path. One was a +girl with a loose kind of cloak and a hat. The other was a man wearing +a soft felt hat and a light overcoat. The overcoat was open and I saw +that he was wearing it over evening dress. That caught my attention. +What was this swell in evening dress doing there with a girl? I slowed +down and dismounted. They didn't see me. I got into the shadow of a +whitethorn. They turned their faces so that the moon beat full on them. +I saw them as plain as I see you. They were Colonel Boyce, V.C.,—Major +then—and your daughter, Mr. Mayor, Miss Althea Fenimore." +</P> + +<P> +He paused as though to point the dramatic effect, and twisted round, +sticking out his horrible beard at Sir Anthony. Sir Anthony, his hands +thrust deep in his trouser-pockets and his bullet head bent forward, +glared at him balefully out of his old blue eyes. But he said never a +word. Gedge continued. +</P> + +<P> +"They didn't speak very loud, so I could only hear a scrap or two of +their conversation. They seemed to be quarrelling—she wanted him to do +something which he wouldn't do. I heard the words 'marriage' and +'disgrace.' They stood still for a moment. Then they turned back. I had +overtaken them, you know. I remounted my bicycle and rode to The Three +Feathers. I was there about a quarter of an hour or twenty minutes. +Then I rode back for home. When I came in sight of the lock, there I +saw a man standing alone, sharp in the moonlight. As I came nearer I +recognised the same man, Major Boyce. There were no lights in the +lock-keeper's cottage. He and his wife had gone to bed long before. I +was so interested that I forgot what I was doing and ran into the hedge +so that I nearly came down. There was the noise of the scrape and drag +of the machine which must have sounded very loud in the stillness. It +startled him, for he looked all round, but he didn't see me, for I was +under the hedge. Then suddenly he started running. He ran as if the +devil was after him. I saw him squash down his Trilby hat so that it +was shapeless. Then he disappeared along the path. I thought this a +queer proceeding. Why should he have taken to his heels? I thought I +should like to see him again. If he kept to the towing-path, his +shortest way home, he was bound to go along the Chestnut Avenue, where, +as you know, the road and the path again come together. On a bicycle it +was easy to get there before him. I sat down on a bench and waited. +Presently he comes, walking fast, his hat still squashed in all over +his ears. I walked my bicycle slap in front of him. +</P> + +<P> +"'Good-night, Major,' I said. +</P> + +<P> +"He stared at me as if he didn't know me. Then he seemed to pull +himself together and said: 'Good-night, Gedge. What are you doing out +at this time of night?' +</P> + +<P> +"'If it comes to that, sir,' said I, 'what are you?' +</P> + +<P> +"Then he says, very haughty, as if I was the dirt under his feet—I +suppose, Sir Anthony Fenimore and Major Meredyth, you think that me and +my class are by divine prescription the dirt beneath your feet, but +you're damn well mistaken—then he says: 'What the devil do you mean?' +and catches hold of the front wheel of the bicycle and swings it and me +out of his way so that I had a nasty fall, with the machine on top of +me, and he marches off. I picked myself up furious with anger. I am an +elderly man and not accustomed to that sort of treatment. I yelled out: +'What have you been doing with the Squire's daughter on the +towing-path?' It pulled him up short. He made a step or two towards me, +and again he asked me what I meant. And this time I told him. He called +me a liar, swore he had never been on any tow-path or had seen any +squire's daughter, and threatened to murder me. As soon as I could +mount my bicycle I left him and made for home. The next afternoon, if +you remember, the unfortunate young lady's body was found at the bottom +of three fathoms of water by the lock gates." +</P> + +<P> +He had spoken so clearly, so unfalteringly, that Sir Anthony had been +surprised into listening without interruption. The bull-dog expression +on his face never changed. When Gedge had come to the end, he said: +</P> + +<P> +"Will you again tell me your object in coming to me with this +disgusting story?" +</P> + +<P> +Gedge lifted his bushy eyebrows. "Don't you believe it even now?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not a word of it," replied Sir Anthony. +</P> + +<P> +"I ought to remind you of another point." said Gedge. "Was Major Boyce +ever seen in Wellingsford after that night? No. He went off by the +first train the next morning. Went abroad and stayed there till the +outbreak of war." +</P> + +<P> +"I happen to know he had made arrangements to start for Norway that +morning," said Sir Anthony. "He had called here a day or two before to +say good-bye." +</P> + +<P> +"Did he write you any letter of condolence?" Gedge asked sneeringly. +</P> + +<P> +I saw a sudden spasm pass over Sir Anthony's features. But he said in +the same tone as before: +</P> + +<P> +"I am not going to answer insolent questions." +</P> + +<P> +Gedge turned to me with the air of a man giving up argument with a +child. +</P> + +<P> +"What do you think of it, Major Meredyth?" +</P> + +<P> +What could I say? I had kept a grim iron face all through the +proceedings. I could only reply: +</P> + +<P> +"I agree entirely with Sir Anthony." +</P> + +<P> +Gedge rose and thrust his hand into his jacket pocket. "You gentlemen +are hard to convince. If you want proof positive, just read that." And +he held a letter out to Sir Anthony. +</P> + +<P> +Sir Anthony glared at him and abruptly plucked the letter out of his +hand; for the fraction of a second he stood irresolute; then he threw +it behind him into the blazing fire. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you think I'm going to soil my mind with your dirty forgeries?" +</P> + +<P> +Gedge laughed. "You think you've queered my pitch, I suppose. You +haven't. I've heaps more incriminating letters. That was only a sample." +</P> + +<P> +"Publish one of them at your peril," said I. +</P> + +<P> +"Pray, Mister Major Meredyth," said he, "what is to prevent me?" +</P> + +<P> +"Penal servitude for malicious slander." +</P> + +<P> +"I should win my case." +</P> + +<P> +"In that event they would get you, on your own showing, for being an +accessory after the fact of murder, and for blackmail." +</P> + +<P> +"Suppose I risk it?" +</P> + +<P> +"You won't," said I. +</P> + +<P> +Sir Anthony turned to the bell-push by the side of the mantelpiece. +</P> + +<P> +"What's the good of talking to this double-dyed scoundrel?" He pointed +to the door. "You infamous liar, get out. And if I ever catch you +prowling round this house, I'll set the dogs on you." +</P> + +<P> +Gedge marched to the door and turned on the threshold and shook his +fist. +</P> + +<P> +"You'll repent your folly till your dying day!" +</P> + +<P> +"To Hell with you," cried Sir Anthony. +</P> + +<P> +The door slammed. We were left alone. An avalanche of silence +overwhelmed us. Heaven knows how long we remained speechless and +motionless—I in my wheel-chair, he standing on the hearthrug staring +awfully in front of him. At last he drew a deep breath and threw up his +arms and flung himself down on a leather-covered couch, where he sat, +elbows on knees and his head in his hands. After a while he lifted a +drawn face. +</P> + +<P> +"It's true, Duncan," said he, "and you know it." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know it," I replied stoutly, "any more than you do." +</P> + +<P> +He rose in his nervous way and came swiftly to me and clapped both his +hands on my frail shoulders and bent over me—he was a little man, as I +have told you—and put his face so close to mine that I could feel his +breath on my cheek. +</P> + +<P> +"Upon your soul as a Christian you know that man wasn't lying." +</P> + +<P> +I looked into his eyes—about six inches from mine. +</P> + +<P> +"Boyce never murdered Althea," I said. +</P> + +<P> +"But he is the man—the man I've been looking for." +</P> + +<P> +I pushed him away with both hands, using all my strength. It was too +horrible. +</P> + +<P> +"Suppose he is. What then?" +</P> + +<P> +He fell back a pace or two. "Once I remember saying: 'If ever I get +hold of that man—God help him!'" +</P> + +<P> +He clenched his fists and started to pace up and down the library, +passing and repassing my chair. At last my nerves could stand it no +longer and I called on him to halt. +</P> + +<P> +"Gedge's story is curiously incomplete," said I. "We ought to have +crossexamined him more closely. Is it likely that Boyce should have +gone off leaving behind him a witness of his crime whom he had +threatened to murder, and who he must have known would have given +information as soon as the death was discovered? And don't you think +Gedge's reason for holding his tongue very unconvincing? His fool +hatred of our class, instead of keeping him cynically indifferent, +would have made him lodge information at once and gloat over our +discomfiture." +</P> + +<P> +I could not choose but come to the defence of the unhappy man whom I +had learned to call my friend, although, for all my trying, I could +conjure up no doubt as to his intimate relation with the tragedy. As +Sir Anthony did not speak, I went on. +</P> + +<P> +"You can't judge a man with Leonard Boyce's record on the EX PARTE +statement of a malevolent beast like Gedge. Look back. If there had +been any affair between Althea and Boyce, the merest foolish +flirtation, even, do you think it would have passed unnoticed? You, +Edith, Betty—I myself—would have cast an uneasy eye. When we were +looking about, some months ago, at the time of your sister-in-law's +visit, for a possible man, the thought of Leonard Boyce never entered +our heads. The only man you could rush at was young Randall Holmes, and +I laughed you out of the idea. Just throw your mind back, Anthony, and +try to recall any suspicious incident. You can't." +</P> + +<P> +I paused rhetorically, expecting a reply. None came. He just sat +looking at me in a dead way. I continued my special pleading; and the +more I said, the more was I baffled by his dead stare and the more +unconvincing platitudes did I find myself uttering. Some people may be +able to speak vividly to a deaf and dumb creature. On this occasion I +tried hard to do so, and failed. After a while my words dribbled out +with difficulty and eventually ceased. At last he spoke, in the dull, +toneless way of a dead man—presuming that the dead could speak: +</P> + +<P> +"You may talk till you're black in the face, but you know as well as I +do that the man told the truth—or practically the truth. What he said +he saw, he saw. What motives have been at the back of his miserable +mind, I don't know. You say I can't recall suspicious incidents. I can. +I'll tell you one. I came across them once—about a month before the +thing happened—among the greenhouses. I think we were having one of +our tennis parties. I heard her using angry words, and when I appeared +her face was flushed and there were tears in her eyes. She was taken +aback for a second and then she rushed up to me. 'I think he's +perfectly horrid. He says that Jingo—' pointing to the dog; you +remember Jingo the Sealingham—she was devoted to him—he died last +year—'He says that Jingo is a mongrel—a throw back.' Boyce said he +was only teasing her and made pretty apologies. I left it at that. Hit +a dog or a horse belonging to Althea, and you hit Althea. That was her +way. The incident went out of my mind till this morning. Other +incidents, too. One thinks pretty quick at times. Again, this scoundrel +hit me on the raw. Boyce never wrote to us. Sent us through his mother +a conventional word of condolence. Edith and I were hurt. That was one +of the things that made me speak so angrily of him when he wouldn't +come and dine with us." +</P> + +<P> +Once more I pleaded. "Your Sealingham incident doesn't impress me. Why +not take it at its face value? As for the letter of condolence, that +may have twenty explanations." +</P> + +<P> +He passed his hand over his cropped iron-grey head. "What are you +driving at, Duncan? You know as well as I do—you know more than I do. +I saw it in your face ever since that man opened his mouth." +</P> + +<P> +"If you're so sure of everything," said I foolishly, relaxing grip on +my self-control, "why did you hound him out of the place for a liar?" +</P> + +<P> +He leaped to his feet and spread himself into a fighting attitude, for +all the world like a half-dead bantam cock springing into a new lease +of combative life. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you think I'd let a dunghill beast like that crow over me? Do you +think I'd let him imagine for a minute that anything he said could +influence me in my public duty? By God, sir, what kind of a worm do you +think I am?" +</P> + +<P> +His sudden fury disconcerted me. All this time I had been wondering +what kind of catastrophe was going to happen during the next few hours. +I am afraid I haven't made clear to you the ghastly racket in my brain. +There was the town all beflagged, everyone making holiday, all the pomp +and circumstance at our disposal awaiting the signal to be displayed. +There was the blind conquering hero almost on his way to local +apotheosis. And here were Sir Anthony and I with the revelation of the +man Gedge. It was a fantastic, baffling situation. I had been haunted +by the dread of discussing it. So in reply to his outburst I simply +said: +</P> + +<P> +"What are you going to do?" +</P> + +<P> +He drew himself up, with his obstinate chin in the air, and looked at +me straight. +</P> + +<P> +"If God gives me strength, I am going to do what lies before me." +</P> + +<P> +At this moment Lady Fenimore came in. +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Winterbotham would like to speak to you a minute, Anthony. It's +something about the school children." +</P> + +<P> +"All right, my dear. I'll go to him at once," said Sir Anthony. "You'll +stay and lunch with us, Duncan?" +</P> + +<P> +I declined on the plea that I should have to nurse myself for a +strenuous day. Sir Anthony might play the Roman father, but it was +beyond my power to play the Roman father's guest. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap20"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XX +</H3> + +<P> +How he passed through the ordeal I don't know. If ever a man stood +captain of his soul, it was Anthony Fenimore that day. And his soul was +steel-armoured. Perhaps, if proof had come to him from an untainted +source, it might have modified his attitude. I cannot tell. Without +doubt the knavery of Gedge set aflame his indignation—or rather the +fierce pride of the great old Tory gentleman. He would have walked +through hell-fire sooner than yielded an inch to Gedge. So much would +scornful defiance have done. But behind all this—and I am as certain +of it as I am certain that one day I shall die—burned even fiercer, +steadier, and clearer the unquenchable fire of patriotic duty. He was +dealing not with a man who had sinned terribly towards him, but with a +man who had offered his life over and over again to his country, a man +who had given to his country the sight of his eyes, a man on whose +breast the King himself had pinned the supreme badge of honour in his +gift. He was dealing, not with a private individual, but with a +national hero. In his small official capacity as Mayor of Wellingsford, +he was but the mouthpiece of a national sentiment. And more than that. +This ceremony was an appeal to the unimaginative, the sluggish, the +faint-hearted. In its little way—and please remember that all +tremendous enthusiasms are fit by these little fires—it was a +proclamation of the undying glory of England. It was impersonal, it was +national, it was Imperial. In its little way it was of vast, +far-reaching importance. +</P> + +<P> +I want you to remember these things in order that you should understand +the mental processes, or soul processes, or whatever you like, of Sir +Anthony Fenimore. Picture him. The most unheroic little man you can +imagine. Clean-shaven, bullet-headed, close-cropped, his face ruddy and +wrinkled like a withered apple, his eyes a misty blue, his big nose +marked like a network of veins, his hands glazed and reddened, like his +face, by wind and weather; standing, even under his mayoral robes, like +a jockey. Of course he had the undefinable air of breeding; no one +could have mistaken his class. But he was an undistinguished, very +ordinary looking little man; and indeed he had done nothing for the +past half century to distinguish himself above his fellows. There are +thousands of his type, masters of English country houses. And of all +the thousands, every one brought up against the stern issues of life +would have acted like Anthony Fenimore. I say "would have acted," but +anyone who has lived in England during the war knows that they have so +acted. These incarnations of the commonplace, the object of the +disdain, before the war, of the self-styled "intellectuals"—if the war +sweeps the insufferable term into oblivion it will have done some +good—these honest unassuming gentlemen have responded heroically to +the great appeal; and when the intellectuals have thought of their +intellects or their skins, they have thought only of their duty. And it +was only the heroical sense of duty that sustained Sir Anthony Fenimore +that day. +</P> + +<P> +I did not see the reception at the Railway Station or join the +triumphal procession; but went early to the Town Hall and took my seat +on the platform. I glibly say "took my seat." A wheel-chair, sent there +previously, was hoisted, with me inside, on to the platform by Marigold +and a porter. After all these years, I still hate to be publicly +paraded, like a grizzled baby, in Marigold's arms. For convenience' +sake I was posted at the front left-hand corner. The hall soon filled. +The first three rows of seats were reserved for the recipients of the +municipality's special invitation; the remainder were occupied by the +successful applicants for tickets. From my almost solitary perch I +watched the fluttering and excited crowd. The town band in the organ +gallery at the further end discoursed martial music. From the main door +beneath them ran the central gangway to the platform. I recognised many +friends. In the front row with her two aunts sat Betty, very demure in +her widow's hat relieved by its little white band of frilly stuff +beneath the brim. She looked unusually pale. I could not help watching +her intently and trying to divine how much she knew of the story of +Boyce and Althea. She caught my eye, nodded, and smiled wanly. +</P> + +<P> +My situation was uncanny. In this crowded assemblage in front of me, +whispering, talking, laughing beneath the blare of the band, not one, +save Betty, had a suspicion of the tragedy. At times they seemed to +melt into a shadow-mass of dreamland .... Time crawled on very slowly. +Anxious forebodings oppressed me. Had Sir Anthony's valiancy stood the +test? Had he been able to shake hands with his daughter's betrayer? Had +he broken down during the drive side by side with him, amid the +hooraying of the townsfolk? And Gedge? Had he found some madman's means +of proclaiming the scandal aloud? Every nerve in my body was strained. +Marigold, in his uniform and medals and patch and grey service cap +plugged over his black wig, stood sentry by the side of the platform +next my chair. All of a sudden he pulled out of his side pocket a phial +of red liqueur in a medicine glass. He poured out the dose and handed +it to me. I turned on him wrathfully. +</P> + +<P> +"What the dickens is that?" +</P> + +<P> +"Dr. Cliffe's orders, sir." +</P> + +<P> +"When did he order it?" +</P> + +<P> +"When I told him what you looked like after interviewing Mister Daniel +Gedge. And he said, if you was to look like that again I was to give +you this. So I'm giving it to you, sir." +</P> + +<P> +There was no arguing with Marigold in front of a thousand people. I +swallowed the stuff quickly. He put the phial and glass back in his +pocket and resumed his wooden sentry attitude by my chair. I must own +to feeling better for the draught. But, thought I, if the strain of the +situation is so great for me, what must it be for Sir Anthony? +</P> + +<P> +Presently the muffled sounds of outside cheering penetrated the hall. +The band stopped abruptly, to begin again with "See the Conquering Hero +Comes" when the civic procession appeared through the great doors. +There was little Sir Anthony in his robes, grave and imposing, and +beside him Mrs. Boyce, flushed, bright-eyed, and tearful. Then came +Lady Fenimore with Boyce, black-spectacled, soldierly, bull-necked, his +little bronze cross conspicuous among the medals on his breast, his +elbow gripped by a weatherbeaten young soldier, one of his captains, as +I learned afterwards, home on leave, who had claimed the privilege of +guiding his blind footsteps. And behind came the Aldermen and the +Councillors, and the General and his staff, and the Lord Lieutenant and +Lady Laleham and the other members of the Reception Committee. The +cheering drowned the strains of the "Conquering Hero." Places were +taken on the platform. To the right of the Mayor sat Boyce, to the left +his mother. On the table in front were set scrolls and caskets. You +see, we had arranged that Mrs. Boyce should have an address and a +casket all to herself. The gallery soon was picturesquely filled with +the nurses, and the fire-brigade, bright-helmeted, was massed in the +doorway. +</P> + +<P> +God gave the steel-hearted little man strength to go through the +ordeal. He delivered his carefully prepared oration in a voice that +never faltered. The passages referring to Boyce's blindness he spoke +with an accent of amazing sincerity. When he had ended the responsive +audience applauded tumultuously. From my seat by the edge of the +platform I watched Betty. Two red spots burned in her cheeks. The +addresses were read, the caskets presented. Boyce remained standing, +about to respond. He still held the casket in both hands. His FIDUS +ACHATES, guessing his difficulty, sprang up, took it from him, and laid +it on the table. Boyce turned to him with his charming smile and said: +"Thanks, old man." Again the tumult broke out. Men cheered and women +wept and waved wet handkerchiefs. And he stood smiling at his unseen +audience. When he spoke, his deep, beautifully modulated voice held +everyone under its spell, and he spoke modestly and gaily like a brave +gentleman. I bent forward, as far as I was able, and scanned his face. +Never once, during the whole ceremony, did the tell-tale twitch appear +at the corners of his lips. He stood there the incarnation of the +modern knights sans fear and sans reproach. +</P> + +<P> +I cannot tell which of the two, he or Sir Anthony, the more moved my +wondering admiration. Each exhibited a glorious defiance. +</P> + +<P> +You may say that Boyce, receiving in his debonair fashion the encomiums +of the man whom he had wronged, was merely exhibiting the familiar +callousness of the criminal. If you do, I throw up my brief. I shall +have failed utterly to accomplish my object in writing this book. I +want no tears of sensibility shed over Boyce. I want you to judge him +by the evidence that I am trying to put before you. If you judge him as +a criminal, it is my poor presentation of the evidence that is at +fault. I claim for Boyce a certain splendour of character, for all his +grievous sins, a splendour which no criminal in the world's history has +ever achieved. I beg you therefore to suspend your judgment, until I +have finished, as far as my poor powers allow, my unravelling of his +tangled skein. And pray remember too that I have sought all through to +present you with the facts PARI PASSU with my knowledge of them. I have +tried to tell the story through myself. I could think of no other way +of creating an essential verisimilitude. Yet, even now, writing in the +light of full knowledge, I cannot admit that, when Boyce in that Town +Hall faced the world—for, in the deep tragic sense Wellingsford was +his world—anyone knowing as much as I did would have been justified in +calling his demeanour criminal callousness. +</P> + +<P> +I say that he exhibited a glorious defiance. He defied the concrete +Gedge. He defied the more abstract, but none the less real, tormenting +Furies. He defied remorse. In accepting Sir Anthony's praise he defied +the craven in his own soul. +</P> + +<P> +After a speech or two more, to which I did not listen, the proceedings +in the Town Hall ended. I drew a breath of relief. No breakdown by Sir +Anthony, no scandalous interruption by Gedge, had marred the impressive +ceremony. The band in the gallery played "God Save the King." The crowd +in the body of the hall, who had stood for the anthem, sat down again, +evidently waiting for Boyce and the notables to pass out. The +assemblage on the platform broke up. Several members, among them the +General, who paused to shake hands with Boyce and his mother, left the +hall by the private side door. The Lord Lieutenant and Lady Laleham +followed him soon afterwards. Then the less magnificent crowded round +Boyce, each eager for a personal exchange of words with the hero. Sir +Anthony remained at his post, keeping on the outskirts of the throng, +bidding formal adieux to those who went away. Presently I saw that +Boyce was asking for me, for someone pointed me out to his officer +attendant, who led him down the steps of the platform and round the +edge to my seat. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, it has gone off all right," said he. "Let me introduce Captain +Winslow, more than ever my right-hand man—Major Meredyth." +</P> + +<P> +We exchanged bows. +</P> + +<P> +"The old mother's as pleased as Punch. She didn't know she was going to +get a little box of her own. I should like to have seen her face. I did +hear her give one of her little squeals. Did you?" +</P> + +<P> +"No," said I, "but I saw her face. It was that of a saint in an +unexpected beatitude." +</P> + +<P> +He laughed. "Dear old mother," said he. "She has deserved a show." He +turned away unconsciously, and, thinking to address me, addressed the +first row of spectators. "I suppose there's a lot of folks here that I +know." +</P> + +<P> +By chance he seemed to be looking through his black glasses straight at +Betty a few feet away. She rose impulsively and, before all +Wellingsford, went up to him with hand outstretched. +</P> + +<P> +"There's one at any rate, Colonel Boyce. I'm Betty Connor—" +</P> + +<P> +"No need to tell me that," said he, bowing. +</P> + +<P> +Winslow, at his elbow, most scrupulous of prompters, whispered: +</P> + +<P> +"She wants to shake hands with you." +</P> + +<P> +So their hands met. He kept hers an appreciable second or two in his +grasp. +</P> + +<P> +"I hope you will accept my congratulations," said Betty. +</P> + +<P> +"I have already accepted them, very gratefully. My mother conveyed them +to me. She was deeply touched by your letter. And may I, too, say how +deeply touched I am by your coming here?" +</P> + +<P> +Betty looked swiftly round and her cheeks flushed, for there were many +of us within earshot. She laughed off her embarrassment. +</P> + +<P> +"You have developed from a man into a Wellingsford Institution, and I +had to come and see you inaugurated. My aunts, too, are here." She +beckoned to them. "They are shyer than I am." +</P> + +<P> +The elderly ladies came forward and spoke their pleasant words of +congratulation. Mrs. Holmes and others, encouraged, followed their +example. Mrs. Boyce suddenly swooped from the platform into the middle +of the group and kissed Betty, who emerged from the excited lady's +embrace blushing furiously. She shook hands with Betty's aunts and +thanked them for their presence; and in the old lady's mind the +reconciliation of the two houses was complete. Then, with cheeks of a +more delicate natural pink than any living valetudinarian of her age +could boast of, and with glistening eyes, she made her way to me, and +reaching up and drawing me down, kissed me, too. +</P> + +<P> +While all this was going on, the body of the hall began to empty. The +programme had arranged for nothing more by way of ceremonial to take +place. But a public gathering always hopes for something unexpected, +and, when it does not happen, takes its disappointment philosophically. +I think Betty's action must have shown them that the rest of the +proceedings were to be purely private and informal. +</P> + +<P> +The platform also gradually thinned, until at last, looking round, I +saw that only Sir Anthony and Lady Fenimore and Winterbotham, the Town +Clerk, remained. Then Lady Fenimore joined us. We were about a score, +myself perched on the edge and corner of the platform, the rest +standing on the floor of the hall in a sector round me, Marigold, of +course, in the middle of them by my side, like an ill-graven image. As +soon as she could Lady Fenimore came up to me. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you think it splendid of Betty Connor to bury the hatchet so +publicly?" she whispered. +</P> + +<P> +"The war," said I, "is a solvent of many human complications." +</P> + +<P> +"It is indeed." Then she added: "I am going to have a little dinner +party some time soon for the Boyces. I sounded him to-day and he +practically promised. I'll ask the Lalehams. Of course you'll come. Now +that things have shown themselves so topsy-turvy I've been wondering +whether I should ask Betty." +</P> + +<P> +"Does Anthony know of this dinner party?" I enquired. +</P> + +<P> +"What does it matter whether he does or not?" she laughed. "Dinner +parties come within my province and I'm mistress of it." +</P> + +<P> +Of course Boyce had half promised. What else could he do without +discourtesy? But the banquet which, in her unsuspecting innocence she +proposed, seemed to me a horrible meal. Doubtless it would seem so to +Sir Anthony. At the moment I did not know whether he intended to tell +Gedge's story to his wife. At any rate, hitherto, he had not done so. +</P> + +<P> +"All the same, my dear Edith," I replied, "Anthony may have a word to +say. I happen to know he has no particular personal friendship for +Boyce, who, if you'll forgive my saying so, has treated you rather +cavalierly for the past two years. Anthony's welcome to-day was purely +public and official. It had nothing to do with his private feelings." +</P> + +<P> +"But they have changed. He was referring to the matter only this +morning at breakfast and suggesting things we could do to lighten the +poor man's affliction." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't think a dinner party would lighten it," I said. "And if I were +you, I wouldn't suggest it to Anthony." +</P> + +<P> +"That's rather mysterious." She looked at me shrewdly. "And there's +another mysterious thing. Anthony's like a yapping sphinx over it. What +were you two talking to Gedge about this morning?" +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing particular." +</P> + +<P> +"That's nonsense, Duncan. Gedge was making himself unpleasant. He never +does anything else." +</P> + +<P> +"If you want to know," said I, with a convulsive effort of invention, +"we heard that he was preparing some sort of demonstration, going to +bring down some of his precious anti-war-league people." +</P> + +<P> +"He wouldn't have the pluck," she exclaimed. +</P> + +<P> +"Anyhow," said I, "we thought we had better have him in and read him +the Riot—or rather the Defence of the Realm—Act. That's all." +</P> + +<P> +"Then why on earth couldn't Anthony tell me?" +</P> + +<P> +"You ought to know the mixture of sugar and pepper in your husband's +nature better than I do, my dear Edith," I replied. +</P> + +<P> +Her laugh reassured me. I had turned a difficult corner. No doubt she +would go to Sir Anthony with my explanation and either receive his +acquiescence or learn the real truth. +</P> + +<P> +She was bidding me farewell when Sir Anthony came along the platform to +the chair. I glanced up, but I saw that he did not wish to speak to me. +He was looking grim and tired. He called down to his wife: +</P> + +<P> +"It's time to move, dear. The troops are still standing outside." +</P> + +<P> +She bustled about giving the signal for departure, first running to +Boyce and taking him by the sleeve. I had not noticed that he had +withdrawn with Betty a few feet away from the little group. They were +interrupted in an animated conversation. At the sight I felt a keen +pang of repulsion. Those two ought not to talk together as old friends. +It outraged decencies. It was all very well for Betty to play the +magnanimous and patriotic Englishwoman. By her first word of welcome +she had fulfilled the part. But this flushed, eager talk lay far beyond +the scope of patriotic duty. How could they thus converse over the body +of the dead Althea? With both of them was I indignant. +</P> + +<P> +In my inmost heart I felt horribly and vulgarly jealous. I may as well +confess it. Deeply as I had sworn blood-brotherhood with Boyce, +regardless of the crimes he might or might not have committed, I could +not admit him into that inner brotherhood of which Betty and I alone +were members. And this is just a roundabout, shame-faced way of saying +that, at that moment, I discovered that I was hopelessly, insanely in +love with Betty. The knowledge came to me in a great wave of dismay. +</P> + +<P> +"You'll let me see you again, won't you?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"If you like." +</P> + +<P> +I don't think I heard the words, but I traced them on their lips. They +parted. Sir Anthony descended from the platform and gave his arm to +Mrs. Boyce. Lady Fenimore still clung to Boyce. Winterbotham came next, +bearing the two caskets, which had been lying neglected on the table. +The sparse company followed down the empty hall. Marigold signalled to +the porter and they hoisted down my chair. Betty, who had lingered +during the operation, walked by my side. Being able now to propel +myself, I dismissed Marigold to a discreet position in the rear. Betty, +her face still slightly flushed, said: +</P> + +<P> +"I'm waiting for congratulations which seem to be about as overwhelming +as snow in August. Don't you think I've been extraordinarily good?" +</P> + +<P> +"Do you feel good?" +</P> + +<P> +"More than good," she laughed. "Christianlike. Aren't we told in the +New Testament to forgive our enemies?" +</P> + +<P> +"'And love those that despitefully use us?'" I misquoted maliciously. A +sudden gust of anger often causes us to do worse things than trifle +with the text of the Sermon on the Mount. +</P> + +<P> +She turned on me quickly, as though stung. "Why not? Isn't the sight of +him maimed like that enough to melt the heart of a stone?" +</P> + +<P> +I replied soberly enough. "It is indeed." +</P> + +<P> +I had already betrayed my foolish jealousy. Further altercation could +only result in my betraying Boyce. I did not feel very happy. Conscious +of having spoken to me with unwonted sharpness, she sought to make +amends by laying her hand on my shoulder. +</P> + +<P> +"I think, dear," she said, "we're all on rather an emotional edge +to-day." +</P> + +<P> +We reached the front door of the hall. At the top of the shallow flight +of broad stairs the little group that had preceded us stood behind +Boyce, who was receiving the cheers of the troops—soldiers and +volunteers and the Godbury School Officers' Training Corps—drawn up in +the Market Square. When the cheers died away the crowd raised cries for +a speech. +</P> + +<P> +Again Boyce spoke. +</P> + +<P> +"The reception you have given my mother and myself," he said, "we +refuse to take personally. It is a reception given to the soldiers, and +the mothers and wives of soldiers, of the Empire, of whom we just +happen to be the lucky representatives. Whole regiments, to say nothing +of whole armies, can't all, every jack man, receive Victoria Crosses. +But every regiment very jealously counts up its honours. You'll hear +men say: 'Our regiment has two V.C.s, five D.S.O.s, and twenty +Distinguished Conduct Medals.' and the feeling is that all the honours +are lumped together and shared by everybody, from the Colonel to the +drummer-boys. And each individual is proud of his share because he +knows that he deserves it. And so it happens that those whom chance has +set aside for distinction, like the lucky winners in a sweepstake, are +the most embarrassed people you can imagine, because everybody is doing +everything that they did every day in the week. For instance, if I +began to tell you a thousandth part of the dare-devil deeds of my +friend here, Captain Winslow of my regiment, he would bolt like a +rabbit into the Town Hall and fall on his knees and pray for an +earthquake. And whether the earthquake came off or not, I'm sure he +would never speak to me again. And they're all like that. But in +honouring me you are honouring him, and you're honouring our regiment, +and you're honouring the army. And in honouring Mrs. Boyce, you are +honouring that wonderful womanhood of the Empire that is standing +heroically behind their men in the hell upon God's good earth which is +known as the front." +</P> + +<P> +It was a soldierlike little speech, delivered with the man's gallant +charm. Young Winslow gripped his arm affectionately and I heard him +say—"You are a brute, sir, dragging me into it." The little party +descended the steps of the Town Hall. The words of command rang out. +The Parade stood at the salute, which Boyce acknowledged. Guided by +Winslow and his mother he reached his car, to which he was attended by +the Mayor and Mayoress. After formal leave-taking the Boyces and +Winslow drove off amid the plaudits of the crowd. Then Sir Anthony and +Lady Fenimore. Then Betty and her aunts. Last of all, while the troops +were preparing to march away and the crowd was dispersing and all the +excitement was over, Marigold picked me out of my chair and carried me +down to my little grey two-seater. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap21"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXI +</H3> + +<P> +Of course, after this (in the words of my young friends) I crocked up. +The confounded shell that had played the fool with my legs had also +done something silly to my heart. Hence these collapses after physical +and emotional strain. I had to stay in bed for some days. Cliffe told +me that as soon as I was fit to travel I must go to Bournemouth, where +it would be warm. I told Cliffe to go to a place where it would be +warmer. As neither of us would obey the other, we remained where we +were. +</P> + +<P> +Cliffe informed me that Lady Fenimore had called him in to see Sir +Anthony, whom she described as being on the obstinate edge of a nervous +breakdown. I was sorry to hear it. +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose you've tried to send him, too, to Bournemouth?" +</P> + +<P> +"I haven't," Cliffe replied gravely. "He has got something on his mind. +I'm sure of it. So is his wife. What's the good of sending him away?" +</P> + +<P> +"What do you think is on his mind?" I asked. +</P> + +<P> +"How do I know? His wife thinks it must be something to do with Boyce's +reception. He went home dead-beat, is very irritable, off his food, +can't sleep, and swears cantankerously that there's nothing the matter +with him,—the usual symptoms. Can you throw any light on it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Certainly not," I replied rather sharply. +</P> + +<P> +Cliffe said "Umph!" in his exasperating professional way and proceeded +to feel my pulse. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't quite see how Friday's mild exertion could account for YOUR +breakdown, my friend," he remarked. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm so glad you confess, at last, not to seeing everything," said I. +</P> + +<P> +I was fearing this physical reaction in Sir Anthony. It was only the +self-assertion of Nature. He had gone splendidly through his ordeal, +having braced himself up for it. He had not braced himself up, however, +sufficiently to go through the other and far longer ordeal of hiding +his secret from his wife. So of course he went to pieces. +</P> + +<P> +After Cliffe had left me, with his desire for information unsatisfied, +I rang up Wellings Park. It was the Sunday morning after the reception. +To my surprise, Sir Anthony answered me; for he was an old-fashioned +country churchgoer and plague, pestilence, famine, battle, murder and +sudden death had never been known to keep him out of his accustomed pew +on Sunday morning. Edith, he informed me, had gone to church; he +himself, being as nervous as a cat, had funked it; he was afraid lest +he might get up in the middle of the sermon and curse the Vicar. +</P> + +<P> +"If that's so," said I, "come round here and talk sense. I've something +important to say to you." +</P> + +<P> +He agreed and shortly afterwards he arrived. I was shocked to see him. +His ruddy face had yellowed and the firm flesh had loosened and sagged. +I had never noticed that his stubbly hair was so grey. He could +scarcely sit still on the chair by my bedside. +</P> + +<P> +I told him of Cliffe's suspicions. We were a pair of conspirators with +unavowable things on our minds which were driving us to nervous +catastrophe. Edith, said I, was more suspicious even than Cliffe. I +also told him of our talk about the projected dinner party. +</P> + +<P> +"That," he declared, "would drive me stark, staring mad." +</P> + +<P> +"So will continuing to hide the truth from Edith," said I. "How do you +suppose you can carry on like this?" +</P> + +<P> +He grew angry. How could he tell Edith? How could he make her +understand his reason for welcoming Boyce? How could he prevent her +from blazing the truth abroad and crying aloud for vengeance? What kind +of a fool's counsel was I giving him? +</P> + +<P> +I let him talk, until, tired with reiteration, he had nothing more to +say. Then I made him listen to me while I expounded that which was +familiar to his obstinate mind—namely, the heroic qualities of his own +wife. +</P> + +<P> +"It comes to this," said I, by way of peroration, "that you're afraid +of Edith letting you down, and you ought to be ashamed of yourself." +</P> + +<P> +At that he flared out again. How dared I, he asked, eating his words, +suggest that he did not trust the most splendid woman God had ever +made? Didn't I see that he was only trying to shield her from knowledge +that might kill her? I retorted by pointing out that worry over his +insane behaviour—please remember that above our deep unchangeable +mutual affection, a violent surface quarrel was raging—would more +surely and swiftly kill her than unhappy knowledge. Her quick +brain—had already connected Gedge, Boyce, and his present condition as +the main factors of some strange problem. "Her quick brain!" I cried. +"A half idiot child would have put things together." +</P> + +<P> +Presently he collapsed, sitting hopelessly, nervelessly in his chair. +At last he lifted a piteously humble face. +</P> + +<P> +"What would you suggest my doing, Duncan?" +</P> + +<P> +There seemed to me to be only one thing he could do in order to +preserve, if not his reason, at any rate his moral equilibrium in the +position which he had contrived for himself. To tell him this had been +my object in seeking the interview, and the blessed opportunity only +came after an hour's hard wrangle—in current metaphor after an hour's +artillery preparation for attack. He looked so battered, poor old +Anthony, that I felt almost ashamed of the success of my bombardment. +</P> + +<P> +"It's not a question of suggesting," said I. "It's a question of things +that have to be done. You need a holiday. You've been working here at +high pressure for nearly a couple of years. Go away. Put yourself in +the hands of Cliffe, and go to Bournemouth, or Biarritz, or Bahia, or +any beastly place you can fix up with him to go to. Go frankly, for +three or four months. Go to-morrow. As soon as you're well out of the +place, tell Edith the whole story. Then you can take counsel and +comfort together." +</P> + +<P> +He was in the state of mind to be impressed by my argument. I followed +up my advantage. I undertook to send a ruthless flaming angel of a +Cliffe to pronounce the inexorable decree of exile. After a few +faint-hearted objections he acquiesced in the scheme. I fancy he +revolted against even this apparent surrender to Gedge, although he was +too proud to confess it. No man likes running away. Sir Anthony also +regarded as pusillanimous the proposal to leave his wife in ignorance +until he had led her into the trap of holiday. Why not put her into his +confidence before they started? +</P> + +<P> +"That," said I, "is a delicate question which only you yourself can +decide. By following my plan you get away at once, which is the most +important thing. Once comfortably away, you can choose the opportune +moment." +</P> + +<P> +"There's something in that," he replied; and, after thanking me for my +advice, he left me. +</P> + +<P> +I do not defend my plan. I admit it was Machiavellian. My one desire +was to remove these two dear people from Wellingsford for a season. +Just think of the horrible impossibility of their maintaining social +relations with the Boyces .... +</P> + +<P> +By publicly honouring Boyce, Sir Anthony had tied his own hands. It was +a pledge to Boyce, although the latter did not know it, of condonation. +Whatever stories Gedge might spread abroad, whatever proofs he might +display, Sir Anthony could take no action. But to carry on a semblance +of friendship with the man responsible for his daughter's death—for +the two of them, mind you, since Lady Fenimore would sooner or later +learn everything—was, as I say, horribly impossible. +</P> + +<P> +Let them go, then, on their nominal holiday, during which the air might +clear. Boyce might take his mother away from Wellingsford. She would do +far more than uproot herself from her home in order to gratify a wish +of her adored and blinded son. He would employ his time of darkness in +learning to be brave, he had told me. It took some courage to face the +associations of dreadful memories unflinchingly, for his mother's sake. +Should he learn, however, that the Fenimores had an inkling of the +truth, he would recognise his presence in the place to be an outrage. +And such inkling—who would give it him? Perhaps I, myself. The Boyces +would go—the Fenimores could return. Anything, anything rather than +that the Fenimores and the Boyces should continue to dwell in the same +little town. +</P> + +<P> +And there was Betty—with all the inexplicable feminine whirring inside +her—socially reconciled with Boyce. Where the deuce was this +reconciliation going to lead? I have told you how my lunatic love for +Betty had stood revealed to me. Had she chosen to love and marry any +ordinary gallant gentleman, God knows I should not have had a word to +say. The love that such as I can give a woman can find its only true +expression in desiring and contriving her happiness. But that she +should sway back to Leonard Boyce—no, no. I could not bear it. All the +shuddering pictures of him rose up before me, the last, that of him +standing by the lock gates and suddenly running like a frightened +rabbit, with his jaunty soft felt hat squashed shapelessly over his +ears. +</P> + +<P> +Gedge could not have invented that abominable touch of the squashed hat. +</P> + +<P> +I have said that possibly I myself might give Boyce an inkling of the +truth. Thinking over the matter in my restless bed, I shrank from doing +so. Should I not be disingenuously serving my own ends? Betty stepped +in, whom I wanted for myself. Neither could I go to Boyce and challenge +him for a villain and summon him to quit the town and leave those dear +to me at peace. I could not condemn him. I had unshaken faith in the +man's noble qualities. That he drowned Althea Fenimore I did not, could +not, believe. After all that had passed between us, I felt my loyalty +to him irrevocably pledged. More than ever was I enmeshed in the net of +the man's destiny. +</P> + +<P> +As yet, however, I could not bear to see him. I could not bear to see +Betty, who called now and then. For the first time in my life I took +refuge in my invalidity, whereby I earned the commendation of Cliffe. +Betty sent me flowers. Mrs. Boyce sent me grapes and an infallible +prescription for heart attacks which, owing to the hopeless mess she +had made in trying to copy the wriggles indicating the quantities of +the various drugs, was of no practical use. Phyllis Gedge sent me a few +bunches of violets with a shy little note. Lady Fenimore wrote me an +affectionate letter bidding me farewell. They were going to Bude in +Cornwall, Anthony having put himself under Dr. Cliffe's orders like a +wonderful lamb. When she came back, she hoped that her two sick men +would be restored to health and able to look more favourably upon her +projected dinner party. Marigold also brought into my bedroom a +precious old Waterford claret jug which I had loved and secretly +coveted for twenty years, with a card attached bearing the inscription +"With love from Anthony." That was his dumb, British way of informing +me that he was taking my advice. +</P> + +<P> +When my self-respect would allow me no longer to remain in bed, I got +up; but I still shrank from publishing the news of my recovery, in +which reluctance I met with the hearty encouragement both of Cliffe and +Marigold. The doctor then informed me that my attack of illness had +been very much more serious than I realised, and that unless I made up +my mind to lead the most unruffled of cabbage-like existences, he would +not answer for what might befall me. If he could have his way, he would +carry me off and put me into solitary confinement for a couple of +months on a sunny island, where I should hold no communication with the +outside world. Marigold heard this announcement with smug satisfaction. +Nothing would please him more than to play gaoler over me. +</P> + +<P> +At last, one morning, I said to him: "I'm not going to submit to +tyranny any longer. I resume my normal life. I'm at home to anybody who +calls. I'm at home to the devil himself." +</P> + +<P> +"Very good, sir," said Marigold. +</P> + +<P> +An hour or two afterwards the door was thrown open and there stood on +the threshold the most amazing apparition that ever sought admittance +into a gentleman's library; an apparition, however, very familiar +during these days to English eyes. From the shapeless Tam-o'-Shanter to +the huge boots it was caked in mud. Over a filthy sheepskin were slung +all kinds of paraphernalia, covered with dirty canvas which made it +look a thing of mighty bulges among which a rifle was poked away. It +wore a kilt covered by a khaki apron. It also had a dirty and unshaven +face. A muddy warrior fresh from the trenches, of course. But what was +he doing here? +</P> + +<P> +"I see, sir, you don't recognise me," he said with a smile. +</P> + +<P> +"Good Lord!" I cried, with a start, "it's Randall." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, sir. May I come in?" +</P> + +<P> +"Come in? What infernal nonsense are you talking?" I held out my hand, +and, after greeting him, made him sit down. +</P> + +<P> +"Now," said I, "what the deuce are you doing in that kit?" +</P> + +<P> +"That's what I've been asking myself for the last ten months. Anyhow I +shan't wear it much longer." +</P> + +<P> +"How's that?" +</P> + +<P> +"Commission, sir," he answered. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh!" said I. +</P> + +<P> +His entrance had been so abrupt and unexpected that I hardly knew as +yet what to make of him. Speculation as to his doings had led me to +imagine him engaged in some elegant fancy occupation on the fringe of +the army, if indeed he were serving his country so creditably. I found +it hard to reconcile my conception of Master Randall Holmes with this +businesslike Tommy who called me "Sir" every minute. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll tell you about it, sir, if you're interested. But first—how is +my mother?" +</P> + +<P> +"Your mother? You haven't seen her yet?" +</P> + +<P> +Here, at least, was a bit of the old casual Randall. He shook his head. +</P> + +<P> +"I've only just this minute arrived. Left the trenches yesterday. +Walked from the station. Not a soul recognised me. I thought I had +better come here first and report, just as I was, and not wait until I +had washed and shaved and put on Christian clothes again. He looked at +me and grinned. "Seeing is believing." +</P> + +<P> +"Your mother is quite well," said I. "Haven't you given her any warning +of your arrival?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, no!" he answered. "I didn't want any brass bands. Besides, as I +say, I wanted to see you first. Then to look in at the hospital. I +suppose Phyllis Gedge is still at the hospital?" +</P> + +<P> +"She is. But I think, my dear chap, your mother has the first call on +you." +</P> + +<P> +"She wouldn't enjoy my present abominable appearance as much as +Phyllis," he replied, coolly. "You see, Phyllis is responsible for it. +I told you she refused to marry me, didn't I, sir? After that, she +called me a coward. I had to show her that I wasn't one. It was an +awful nuisance, I admit, for I had intended to do something quite +different. Oh! not Gedging or anything of that sort—but—" he dived +beneath his sheepskin and brought out a tattered letter case and from a +mass of greasy documents (shades of superior Oxford!) selected a dirty, +ragged bit of newspaper—"but," said he, handing me the fragment, "I +think I've succeeded. I don't suppose this caught your eye, but if you +look closely into it, you'll see that 11003 Private R. Holmes, 1st +Gordon Highlanders, a couple of months ago was awarded the +Distinguished Conduct Medal. I may be any kind of a fool or knave she +likes to call me, but she can't call me a coward." +</P> + +<P> +I congratulated him with all my heart, which, after the first shock, +was warming towards him rapidly. +</P> + +<P> +"But why," I asked, still somewhat bewildered, "didn't you apply for a +commission? A year ago you could have got one easily. Why enlist? And +the 1st Gordons—that's the regular army." +</P> + +<P> +He laughed and asked permission to help himself to a cigarette. "By +George, that's good," he exclaimed after a few puffs. "That's good +after months of Woodbines. I found I could stand everything except +Tommy's cigarettes. Everything about me has got as hard as nails, +except my palate for tobacco .... Why didn't I apply for a commission? +Any fool could get a commission. It's different now. Men are picked and +must have seen active service, and then they're sent off to cadet +training corps. But last year I could have got one easily. And I might +have been kicking my heels about England now." +</P> + +<P> +"Yet, at the sight of a Sam Browne belt, Phyllis would have surely +recanted," said I. +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't want the girl I intended to marry and pass my life with to +have her head turned by such trappings as a Sam Browne belt. She has +had to be taught that she is going to marry a man. I'm not such a fool +as you may have thought me, Major," he said, forgetful of his humble +rank. "Suppose I had got a commission and married her. Suppose I had +been kept at home and never gone out and never seen a shot fired, like +heaps of other fellows, or suppose I had taken the line I had marked +out—do you think we should have been assured a happy life? Not a bit +of it. We might have been happy for twenty years. And then—women are +women and can't help themselves—the old word—by George, sir, she spat +it at me from a festering sore in her very soul—the old word would +have rankled all the time, and some stupid quarrel having arisen, she +would have spat it at me again. I wasn't taking any chances of that +kind." +</P> + +<P> +"My dear boy," said I, subridently, "you seem to be very wise." And he +did. So far as I knew anything about humans, male and female, his +proposition was incontrovertible. "But where did you gather your +wisdom?" +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose," he replied seriously, "that my mind is not entirely +unaffected by a very expensive education." +</P> + +<P> +I looked at the extraordinary figure in sheepskin, bundles and mud, and +laughed out loud. The hands of Esau and the voice of Jacob. The garb of +Thomas Atkins and the voice of Balliol. Still, as I say, the fellow was +perfectly right. His highly trained intelligence had led him to an +exact conclusion. The festering sore demanded drastic treatment,—the +surgeon's knife. As we talked I saw how coldly his brain had worked. +And side by side with that working I saw, to my amusement, the +insistent claims of his vanity. The quickest way to the front, where +alone he could re-establish his impugned honour was by enlistment in +the regular army. For the first time in his life he took a grip on +essentials. He knew that by going straight into the heart of the old +army his brains, provided they remained in his head, would enable him +to accomplish his purpose. As for his choice of regiment, there his +vanity guided. You may remember that after his disappearance we first +heard of him at Aberdeen. Now Aberdeen is the depot of the Gordon +Highlanders. +</P> + +<P> +"What on earth made you go there?" I asked. +</P> + +<P> +"I wanted to get among a crowd where I wasn't known, and wasn't ever +likely to be known," he replied. "And my instinct was right. I was +among farmers from Skye and butchers from Inverness and drunken +scallywags from the slums of Aberdeen, and a leaven of old soldiers +from all over Scotland. I had no idea that such people existed. At +first I thought I shouldn't be able to stick it. They gave me a bad +time for being an Englishman. But soon, I think, they rather liked me. +I set my brains to work and made 'em like me. I knew there was +everything to learn about these fellows and I went scientifically to +work to learn it. And, by Heaven, sir, when once they accepted me, I +found I had never been in such splendid company in my life." +</P> + +<P> +"My dear boy," I cried in a burst of enthusiasm, "have you had +breakfast?" +</P> + +<P> +"Of course I have. At the Union Jack Club—the Tommies' place the other +side of the river—bacon and eggs and sausages. I thought I'd never +stop eating." +</P> + +<P> +"Have some more?" +</P> + +<P> +He laughed. "Couldn't think of it." +</P> + +<P> +"Then," said I, "get yourself a cigar." I pointed to a stack of boxes. +"You'll find the Corona—Coronas the best." +</P> + +<P> +As I am not a millionaire I don't offer these Coronas to everybody. I +myself can only afford to smoke one or two a week. +</P> + +<P> +When he had lit it he said: "I was led away from what I wanted to tell +you,—my going to Aberdeen and plunging into the obscurity of a +Scottish regiment. I was absolutely determined that none of my friends, +none of you good people, should know what an ass I had made of myself. +That's why I kept it from my mother. She would have blabbed it all over +the place." +</P> + +<P> +"But, my good fellow," said I, "why the dickens shouldn't we have +known?" +</P> + +<P> +"That I was making an ass of myself?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, you young idiot!" I cried. "That you were making a man of +yourself." +</P> + +<P> +"I preferred to wait," said he, coolly, "until I had a reasonable +certainty that I had achieved that consummation—or, rather, something +that might stand for it in the prejudiced eyes of my dear friends. I +knew that you all, ultimately, you and mother and Phyllis, would judge +by results. Well, here they are. I've lived the life of a Tommy for ten +months. I've been five in the thick of it over there. I've refused +stripes over and over again. I've got my D.C.M. I've got my commission +through the ranks, practically on the field. And of the draft of two +hundred who went out with me only one other and myself remain." +</P> + +<P> +"It's a splendid record, my boy," said I. +</P> + +<P> +He rose. "Don't misunderstand me, Major. I'm not bragging. God forbid. +I'm only wanting to explain why I kept dark all the time, and why I'm +springing smugly and complacently on you now." +</P> + +<P> +"I quite understand," said I. +</P> + +<P> +"In that case," he laughed, "I can proceed on my rounds." But he did +not proceed. He lingered. "There's another matter I should like to +mention," he said. "In her last letter my mother told me that the Mayor +and Town Council were on the point of giving a civic reception to +Colonel Boyce. Has it taken place yet?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said I. +</P> + +<P> +"And did it go off all right?" +</P> + +<P> +In spite of wisdom learned at Balliol and shell craters, he was still +an ingenuous youth. +</P> + +<P> +"Gedge was perfectly quiet," I answered. +</P> + +<P> +He started, as he had for months learned not to start, and into his +eyes sprang an alarm that was usually foreign to them. +</P> + +<P> +"Gedge? How do you know anything about Gedge and Colonel Boyce? Good +Lord! He hasn't been spreading that poisonous stuff over the town?" +</P> + +<P> +"That's what you were afraid of when you asked about the reception?" +</P> + +<P> +"Of course," said he. +</P> + +<P> +"And you wanted to have your mind clear on the point before +interviewing Phyllis." +</P> + +<P> +"You're quite right, sir," he replied, a bit shamefacedly. "But if he +hasn't been spreading it, how do you know? And," he looked at me +sharply, "what do you know?" +</P> + +<P> +"You gave your word of honour not to repeat what Gedge told you. I +think you may be absolved of your promise. Gedge came to Sir Anthony +and myself with a lying story about the death of Althea Fenimore." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said he. "That was it." +</P> + +<P> +"Sit down for another minute or two," said I, "and let us compare +notes." +</P> + +<P> +He obeyed. We compared notes. I found that in most essentials the two +stories were identical, although Gedge had been maudlin drunk when he +admitted Randall into his confidence. +</P> + +<P> +"But in pitching you his yarn," cried Randall, "he left out the +blackmail. He bragged in his beastly way that Colonel Boyce was worth a +thousand a year to him. All he had to live upon now that the +blood-suckers had ruined his business. Then he began to weep and +slobber—he was a disgusting sight—and he said he would give it all up +and beg with his daughter in the streets as soon as he had an +opportunity of unmasking 'that shocking wicked fellow.'" +</P> + +<P> +"What did you say then?" I asked. +</P> + +<P> +"I told him if ever I heard of him spreading such infernal lies abroad, +I'd wring his neck." +</P> + +<P> +"Very good, my boy," said I. "That's practically what Sir Anthony told +him." +</P> + +<P> +"Sir Anthony doesn't believe there's any truth in it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Sir Anthony," said I, boldly, "knows there's not a particle of truth +in it. The man's malignancy has taken the form of a fixed idea. He's +crack-brained. Between us we put the fear of God into him, and I don't +think he'll give any more trouble." +</P> + +<P> +Randall got to his feet again. "I'm very much relieved to hear you say +so. I must confess I've been horribly uneasy about the whole thing." He +drew a deep breath. "Thank goodness I can go to Phyllis, as you say, +with a clear mind. The last time I saw her I was half crazy." +</P> + +<P> +He held out his hand, a dirty, knubbly, ragged-nailed hand—the hand +that was once so irritatingly manicured. +</P> + +<P> +"Good-bye, Major. You won't shut the door on me now, will you?" +</P> + +<P> +I wrung his hand hard and bade him not be silly, and, looking up at +him, said: +</P> + +<P> +"What was the other thing quite different you were intending to do +before you, let us say, quarreled with Phyllis?" +</P> + +<P> +He hesitated, his forehead knit in a little web of perplexity. +</P> + +<P> +"Whatever it was," I continued, "let us have it. I'm your oldest +friend, a sort of father. Be frank with me and you won't regret it. The +splendid work you've done has wiped out everything." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm afraid it has," said he ruefully. "Wiped it out clean." With a +hitch of the shoulders he settled his pack more comfortably. "Well, +I'll tell you, Major. I thought I had brains. I still think I have. I +was on the point of getting a job in the Secret Service—Intelligence +Department. I had the whole thing cut and dried—to get at the +ramifications of German espionage in socialistic and so-called +intellectual circles in neutral and other countries. It would have been +ticklish work, for I should have been carrying my life in my hands. I +could have done it well. I started out by being a sort of +'intellectual' myself. All along I wanted to put my brains at the +service of my country. I took some time to hit upon the real way. I hit +upon it. I learned lots of things from Gedge. If he weren't an arrant +coward, he might be dangerous. He would be taking German money long +ago, but that he's frightened to death of it." He laughed. "It never +occurred to you, I suppose, a year ago," he continued, "that I spent +most of my days in London working like a horse." +</P> + +<P> +"But," I cried—I felt myself flushing purple—and, when I flush +purple, the unregenerate old soldier in me uses language of a +corresponding hue—"But," I cried—and in this language I asked him why +he had told me nothing about it. +</P> + +<P> +"The essence of the Secret Service, sir," replied this maddening young +man, "is—well—secrecy." +</P> + +<P> +"You had a billet offered to you, of the kind you describe?" +</P> + +<P> +"The offer reached me, very much belated, one day when I was half dead, +after having performed some humiliating fatigue duty. I think I had +persisted in trying to scratch an itching back on parade. Military +discipline, I need not tell you, Major, doesn't take into account the +sensitiveness of a recruit's back. It flatly denies such a phenomenon. +Now I think I can defy anything in God's quaint universe to make me +itch. But that's by the way. I tore the letter up and never answered +it. You do these things, sir, when the whole universe seems to be a +stumbling-block and an offence. Phyllis was the stumbling-block and the +rest of the cosmos was the other thing. That's why I have reason on my +side when I say that, all through Phyllis Gedge, I made an ass of +myself." +</P> + +<P> +He clutched his rude coat with both hands. "An ass in sheep's clothing." +</P> + +<P> +He drew himself up, saluted, and marched out. +</P> + +<P> +He marched out, the young scoundrel, with all the honours of war. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap22"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXII +</H3> + +<P> +So, in drawing a bow at a venture, I had hit the mark. You may remember +that I had rapped out the word "blackmail" at Gedge; now Randall +justified the charge. Boyce was worth a thousand a year to him. The +more I speculated on the danger that might arise from Gedge, the easier +I grew in my mind. Your blackmailer is a notorious saver of his skin. +Gedge had no desire to bring Boyce to justice and thereby incriminate +himself. His visit to Sir Anthony was actuated by sheer malignity. +Without doubt, he counted on his story being believed. But he knew +enough of the hated and envied aristocracy to feel assured that Sir +Anthony would not subject his beloved dead to such ghastly disinterment +as a public denunciation of Boyce would necessitate. He desired to +throw an asphyxiating bomb into the midst of our private circle. He +reckoned on the Mayor taking some action that would stop the reception +and thereby put a public affront on Boyce. Sir Anthony's violent +indignation and perhaps my appearance of cold incredulity upset his +calculations. He went out of the room a defeated man, with the secret +load (as I knew now) of blackmail on his shoulders. +</P> + +<P> +I snapped my fingers at Gedge. Randall seemed to do the same, +undesirable father-in-law IN PROSPECTU as he was. But that was entirely +Randall's affair. The stomach that he had for fighting with Germans +would stand him in good stead against Gedge, especially as he had +formed so contemptuous an estimate of the latter's valour. +</P> + +<P> +I emerged again into my little world. I saw most of my friends. Phyllis +lay in wait for me at the hospital, radiant and blushing, ostensibly to +congratulate me on recovery from my illness, really (little baggage!) +to hear from my lips a word or two in praise of Randall. Apparently he +had come, in his warrior garb, seen, and conquered on the spot. I saw +Mrs. Holmes, who, gladdened by the Distinguished Conduct Medallist's +return, had wiped from her memory his abominably unfilial behaviour. I +saw Betty and I saw Boyce. +</P> + +<P> +Now here I come to a point in this chronicle where I am faced by an +appalling difficulty. Hitherto I have striven to tell you no more about +myself and my motives and feelings than was demanded by my purpose of +unfolding to you the lives of others. Primarily I wanted to explain +Leonard Boyce. I could only do it by showing you how he reacted on +myself—myself being an unimportant and uninteresting person. It was +all very well when I could stand aside and dispassionately analyse such +reactions. The same with regard to my dear Betty. But now if I adopted +the same method of telling you the story of Betty and the story of +Boyce—the method of reaction, so to speak—I should be merely whining +into your ears the dolorous tale of Duncan Meredyth, paralytic and +idiot. +</P> + +<P> +The deuce of it is that, for a long time, nothing particular or +definite happened. So how can I describe to you a very important period +in the lives of Betty and Boyce and me? +</P> + +<P> +I had to resume my intimacy with Boyce. The blind and lonely man craved +it and claimed it. It would be an unmeaning pretence of modesty to +under-estimate the value to him of my friendship. He was a man of +intense feelings. Torture had closed his heart to the troops of friends +that so distinguished a soldier might have had. He granted admittance +but to three, his mother, Betty and—for some unaccountable +reason—myself. On us he concentrated all the strength of his +affection. Mind you, it was not a case of a maimed creature clinging +for support to those who cared for him. In his intercourse with me, he +never for a moment suggested that he was seeking help or solace in his +affliction. On the contrary, he ruled it out of the conditions of +social life. He was as brave as you please. In his laughing scorn of +blindness he was the bravest man I have ever known. He learned the +confidence of the blind with marvellous facility. His path through +darkness was a triumphant march. +</P> + +<P> +Sometimes, when he re-fought old battles and planned new ones, forecast +the strategy of the Great Advance, word-painted scenes and places, drew +character sketches of great leaders and quaint men, I forgot the +tragedy of Althea Fenimore. And when the memory came swiftly back, I +wondered whether, after all, Gedge's story from first to last had not +been a malevolent invention. The man seemed so happy. Of course you +will say it was my duty to give a hint of Gedge's revelation. It was. +To my shame, I shirked it. I could not find it in my heart suddenly to +dash into his happiness. I awaited an opportunity, a change of mood in +him, an allusion to confidences of which I alone of human beings had +been the recipient. +</P> + +<P> +Betty visited me as usual. We talked war and hospital and local gossip +for a while and then she seemed to take refuge at the piano. We had one +red-letter day, when a sailor cousin of hers, fresh from the North Sea, +came to luncheon and told us wonders of the Navy which we had barely +imagined and did not dare to hope for. His tidings gave subject for +many a talk. +</P> + +<P> +I knew that she was seeing Boyce constantly. The former acquaintance of +the elders of the two houses flamed into sudden friendship. From a +remark artlessly let fall by Mrs. Boyce, I gathered that the old ladies +were deliberately contriving such meetings. Boyce and Betty referred to +each other rarely and casually, but enough to show me that the old feud +was at an end. And of what save one thing could the end of a feud +between lovers be the beginning? What did she know? Knowing all, how +could she be drawn back under the man's fascination? The question +maddened me. I suffered terribly. +</P> + +<P> +At last, one evening, I could bear it no longer. She was playing +Chopin. The music grated on me. I called out to her: +</P> + +<P> +"Betty!" +</P> + +<P> +She broke off and turned round, with a smile of surprise. Again she was +wearing the old black evening dress, in which I have told you she +looked so beautiful. +</P> + +<P> +"No more music, dear. Come and talk to me." +</P> + +<P> +She crossed the room with her free step and sat near my chair. +</P> + +<P> +"What shall I talk about?" she laughed. +</P> + +<P> +"Leonard Boyce." +</P> + +<P> +The laughter left her face and she gave me a swift glance. +</P> + +<P> +"Majy dear, I'd rather not," she said with a little air of finality. +</P> + +<P> +"I know that," said I. "I also know that in your eyes I am committing +an unwarrantable impertinence." +</P> + +<P> +"Not at all," she replied politely. "You have the right to talk to me +for my good. It's impertinence in me not to wish to hear it." +</P> + +<P> +"Betty dear," said I, "will you tell me what was the cause of your +estrangement?" +</P> + +<P> +She stiffened. "No one has the right to ask me that." +</P> + +<P> +"A man who loves you very, very dearly," said I, "will claim it. Was +the cause Althea Fenimore?" +</P> + +<P> +She looked at me almost in frightened amazement. +</P> + +<P> +"Is that mere guesswork?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, dear," said I quietly. +</P> + +<P> +"I thought no one knew—except one person. I was not even sure that +Leonard Boyce was aware that I knew." +</P> + +<P> +Another bow at a venture. "That one person is Gedge." +</P> + +<P> +"You're right. I suppose he has been talking," she said, greatly +agitated. "He has been putting it about all over the place. I've been +dreading it." Then she sprang to her feet and drew herself up and +snapped her fingers in an heroical way. "And if he has said that Althea +Fenimore drowned herself for love of Leonard Boyce, what is there in +it? After all, what has Leonard Boyce done that he can't be forgiven? +Men are men and women are women. We've tried for tens of thousands of +years to lay down hard and fast lines for the sexes to walk upon, and +we've failed miserably. Suppose Leonard Boyce did make love to Althea +Fenimore—trifle with her affections, in the old-fashioned phrase. What +then? I'm greatly to blame. It has only lately been brought home to me. +Instead of staying here while we were engaged, I would have my last +fling as an emancipated young woman in London. He consoled himself with +Althea. When she found he meant nothing, she threw herself into the +canal. It was dreadful. It was tragic. He went away and broke with me. +I didn't discover the reason till months afterwards. She drowned +herself for love of him, it's true. But what was his share in it that +he can't be forgiven for? Millions of men have been forgiven by women +for passing loves. Why not he? Why not a tremendous man like him? A man +who has paid every penalty for wrong, if wrong there was? Blind!" +</P> + +<P> +She walked about and threw up her hands and halted in front of my +chair. "I'll own that until lately I accused him of unforgivable +sin—deceiving me and making love to another girl and driving her to +suicide. I tore him out of my heart and married Willie. We won't speak +of that .... But since he has come back, things seem different. His +mother has told me that one day when he was asleep she found he was +still wearing his identification disc ... there was an old faded +photograph of me on the other side ... it had been there all through +the war .... You see," she added, after a pause during which her +heaving bosom and quivering lip made her maddeningly lovely, "I don't +care a brass button for anything that Gedge may say." +</P> + +<P> +And that was all my clean-souled Betty knew about it! She had no idea +of deeper faithlessness; no suspicion of Boyce's presence with Althea +on the bank of the canal. She stood pathetic in her half knowledge. My +heart ached. +</P> + +<P> +From her pure woman's point of view she had been justified in her +denunciation of Boyce. He had left her without a word. A wall of +silence came between them. Then she learned the reason. He had trifled +with a young girl's affections and out of despair she had drowned +herself .... But how had she learned? I had to question her. And it was +then that she told me the story of Phyllis and her father to which I +have made previous allusion: how Phyllis, as her father's secretary, +had opened a letter which had frightened her; how her father's crafty +face had frightened her still more; how she had run to Betty for the +easing of her heart. And this letter was from Leonard Boyce. "I cannot +afford one penny more," so the letter ran, according to Betty's +recollection of Phyllis's recollection, "but if you remain loyal to our +agreement, you will not regret it. If ever I hear of your coupling my +name with that of Miss Fenimore, I'll kill you. I am a man of my word." +I think Betty crystallised Phyllis's looser statement. But the exact +wording was immaterial. Here was Boyce branding himself with complicity +in the tragedy of Althea, and paying Gedge to keep it dark. Like Sir +Anthony, Betty remembered trivial things that assumed grave +significance. There was no room for doubt. Catastrophe following on his +villainy had kept Boyce away from Wellingsford, had terrified him out +of his engagement. And so her heart had grown bitter against him. You +may ask why her knowledge of the world had not led her to suspect +blacker wrong; for a man does not pay blackmail because he has led a +romantic girl into a wrong notion of the extent of his affection. My +only answer is that Betty was Betty, clean-hearted and clean-souled +like the young Artemis she resembled. +</P> + +<P> +And now she proclaimed that he had expiated his offence. She proclaimed +her renewed and passionate interest in the man. I saw that deep down in +her heart she had always loved him. +</P> + +<P> +After telling me about Phyllis, she returned to the point where she had +broken off. She supposed that Gedge had been talking all over the place. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't think so, dear," said I. "So far as I know he has only spoken, +first to Randall Holmes—that was what made him break away from Gedge, +whose society he had been cultivating for other reasons than those I +imagined (you remember telling me Phyllis's sorrowful little tale last +year?)." She nodded. "And secondly to Sir Anthony and myself, a few +hours before the Reception." +</P> + +<P> +She clenched her fists and broke out again. "The devil! The incarnate +devil! And Sir Anthony?" +</P> + +<P> +"Pretended to treat Gedge's story as a lie, threw into the fire without +reading it an incriminating letter—possibly the letter that Phyllis +saw, ordered Gedge out of the house and, like a great gentleman, went +through the ceremony." +</P> + +<P> +"Does Leonard know?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not that I'm aware of," said I. +</P> + +<P> +"He must be told. It's terrible to have an enemy waiting to stab you in +the dark—and you blind to boot. Why haven't you told him?" +</P> + +<P> +Why? Why? Why? +</P> + +<P> +It was so hard to keep to the lower key of her conception of things. I +made a little gesture signifying I know not what: that it was not my +business, that I was not on sufficient terms of intimacy with Boyce, +that it didn't seem important enough .... My helpless shrug suggested, +I suppose, all of these excuses. Why hadn't I warned him? Cowardice, I +suppose. +</P> + +<P> +"Either you or I must do it," she went on. "You're his friend. He +thinks more of you than of any other man in the world. And he's right, +dear—" she flashed me a proud glance, sweet and stabbing—"Don't I +know it?" +</P> + +<P> +Then suddenly a new idea seemed to pass through her brain. She bent +forward and touched the light shawl covering my knees. +</P> + +<P> +"For the last month or two you've known what he has done. It hasn't +made any difference in your friendship. You must think with me that the +past is past, that he has purged his sins, or whatever you like to call +them; that he is a man greatly to be forgiven." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, dear," said I, with a show of bravery, though I dreaded lest my +voice should break, "I think he is a man to be forgiven." +</P> + +<P> +Her logic was remorseless. +</P> + +<P> +With her frank grace she threw herself, in her old attitude, by the +side of my chair. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm so glad we have had this talk, Majy darling. It has made +everything between us so clear and beautiful. It is always such a grief +to me to think you may not understand. I shall always be the little +girl that looked upon you as a wonderful hero and divine dispenser of +chocolates. Only now the chocolates stand for love and forbearance and +sympathy, and all kinds of spiritual goodies." +</P> + +<P> +I passed my hand over her hair. "Silly child!" +</P> + +<P> +"I got it into my head," she continued, "that you were blaming me +for—for my reconciliation with Leonard. But, my dear, my dear, what +woman's heart wouldn't be turned to water at the sight of him? It makes +me so happy that you understand. I can't tell you how happy." +</P> + +<P> +"Are you going to marry him?" I think my voice was steady and kind +enough. +</P> + +<P> +"Possibly. Some day. If he asks me." +</P> + +<P> +I still stroked her hair. "I wouldn't let it be too soon," said I. +</P> + +<P> +Her eyes were downcast. "On account of Willie?" she murmured. +</P> + +<P> +"No, dear. I don't dare touch on that side of things." +</P> + +<P> +Again a whisper. "Why, then?" +</P> + +<P> +How could I tell her why without betrayal of Boyce? I had to turn the +question playfully. I said, "What should I do without my Betty?" +</P> + +<P> +"Do you really care about me so much?" +</P> + +<P> +I laughed. There are times when one has to laugh—or overwhelm oneself +in dishonour. +</P> + +<P> +"Now you see my nature in all its vile egotism," said I, and the +statement led to a pretty quarrel. +</P> + +<P> +But after it was over to our joint satisfaction, she had to return to +the distressful main theme of our talk. She harked back to Sir Anthony, +touched on his splendid behaviour, recalled, with a little dismay, the +hitherto unnoted fact that, after the ceremony he had held himself +aloof from those that thronged round Boyce. Then, without hint from me, +she perceived the significance of the Fenimores' retirement from +Wellingsford. +</P> + +<P> +"Leonard's ignorance," she said, "leaves him in a frightful position. +More than ever he ought to know." +</P> + +<P> +"He ought, indeed, my dear," said I. "And I will tell him. I ought to +have done so before." +</P> + +<P> +I gave my undertaking. I went to bed upbraiding myself for cowardice +and resolved to go to Boyce the next day. Not only Fate, but honour and +decency forced me to the detested task. +</P> + +<P> +Alas! Next morning I was nailed to my bed by my abominable malady. The +attacks had become more frequent of late. Cliffe administered +restoratives and for the first time he lost his smile and looked +worried. You see until quite lately I had had a very tranquil life, +deeply interested in other folks' joys and sorrows, but moved by very +few of my own. And now there had swooped down on me this ravening pack +of emotions which were tearing me to pieces. I lay for a couple of days +tortured by physical pain, humiliation and mental anguish. +</P> + +<P> +On the evening of the second day, Marigold came into the bedroom with a +puzzled look on his face. +</P> + +<P> +"Colonel Boyce is here, sir. I told him you were in bed and seeing +nobody, but he says he wants to see you on something important. I asked +him whether it couldn't wait till to-morrow, and he said that if I +would give you a password, Vilboek's Farm, you'd be sure to see him." +</P> + +<P> +"Quite right, Marigold," said I. "Show him in." +</P> + +<P> +Vilboek's Farm! Fate had driven him to me, instead of me to him. I +would see him though it killed me, and get the horrible business over +for ever. +</P> + +<P> +Marigold led him in and drew up a chair for him by the bedside. After +pulling on the lights and drawing the curtains, for the warm May +evening was drawing to a close. +</P> + +<P> +"Anything more, sir, for the present?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Could I have materials for a whisky and soda to hand?" said Boyce. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course," said I. +</P> + +<P> +Marigold departed. Boyce said: +</P> + +<P> +"If you're too ill to stand me, send me away. But if you can stand me, +for God's sake let me talk to you." +</P> + +<P> +"Talk as much as you like," said I. "This is only one of my stupid +attacks which a man without legs has to put up with." +</P> + +<P> +"But Marigold—" +</P> + +<P> +"Marigold's an old hen," said I. +</P> + +<P> +"Are you sure you're well enough? That's the curse of not being able to +see. Tell me frankly." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm quite sure," said I. +</P> + +<P> +I have never been able to get over the curious embarrassment of talking +to a man whose eyes I cannot see. The black spectacles seemed to be +like a wall behind which the man hid his thoughts. I watched his lips. +Once or twice the odd little twitch had appeared at the corners. +</P> + +<P> +Even with his baffling black spectacles he looked a gallant figure of a +man. He was precisely dressed in perfectly fitting dinner jacket and +neat black tie; well-groomed from the points of his patent leather +shoes to his trim crisp brown hair. And beneath this scrupulousness of +attire lay the suggestion of great strength. +</P> + +<P> +Marigold brought in the tray with decanter, siphon and glasses, and put +them on a table, together with cigars and cigarettes, by his side. +After a few deft touches, so as to identify the objects, Boyce smiled +and nodded at Marigold. +</P> + +<P> +"Thanks very much, Sergeant," he said. +</P> + +<P> +If there is one thing Marigold loves, it is to be addressed as +"Sergeant." "Marigold" might indicate a butler, but "Sergeant" means a +sergeant. +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps I might fetch the Colonel a more comfortable chair, sir," said +he. +</P> + +<P> +But Boyce laughed, "No, no!" and Marigold left us. +</P> + +<P> +Boyce's ear listened for the click of the door. Then he turned to me. +</P> + +<P> +"I was rather mean in sending you in that password. But I felt as if I +should go mad if I didn't see you. You're the only man living who +really knows about me. You're the only human being who can give me a +helping hand. It's strange, old man—the halt leading the blind. But so +it is. And Vilboek's Farm is the damned essence of the matter. I've +come to you to ask you, for the love of God, to tell me what I am to +do." +</P> + +<P> +I guessed what had happened. "Betty Connor has told you something that +I was to tell you." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said he. "This afternoon. And in her splendid way she offered to +marry me." +</P> + +<P> +"What did you say?" +</P> + +<P> +"I said that I would give her my answer to-morrow." +</P> + +<P> +"And what will that answer be?" +</P> + +<P> +"It is for you to tell me," said Boyce. +</P> + +<P> +"In order to undertake such a terrible responsibility," said I, "I must +know the whole truth concerning Althea Fenimore." +</P> + +<P> +"I've come here to tell it to you," said he. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap23"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXIII +</H3> + +<P> +It was to a priest rather than to a man that he made full confession of +his grievous sin. He did not attempt to mitigate it or to throw upon +another a share of the blame. From that attitude he did not vary a +hair's breadth. Mea culpa; mea maxima culpa. That was the burthen of +his avowal. +</P> + +<P> +I, knowing the strange mingling in his nature of brutality and +sensitiveness, of animal and spiritual, and knowing something of the +unstable character of Althea Fenimore, may more justly, I think, than +he, sketch out the miserable prologue of the drama. That she was madly, +recklessly in love with him there can be no doubt. Nor can there be +doubt that unconsciously she fired the passion in him. The deliberate, +cold-blooded seducer of his friend's daughter, such as Boyce, in his +confession, made himself out to be, is a rare phenomenon. Almost +invariably it is the woman who tempts—tempts innocently and +unknowingly, without intent to allure, still less with thought of +wrong—but tempts all the same by the attraction which she cannot +conceal, by the soft promise which she cannot keep out of her eyes. +</P> + +<P> +That was the beginning of it. Betty, whom he loved, and to whom he was +engaged, was away from Wellingsford. In those days she was very much +the young Diana, walking in search of chaste adventures, quite +contented with the love that lay serenely warm in her heart and +thinking little of a passionate man's needs—perhaps starting away from +too violent an expression of them—perhaps prohibiting them altogether. +The psychology of the pre-war young girl absorbed, even though +intellectually and for curiosity's sake, in the feminist movement, is +yet to be studied. Betty, then, was away. Althea, beata possidens, made +her artless, innocent appeal for victory. Unconsciously she tempted. +The man yielded. A touch of the lips in a moment of folly, the man +blazed, the woman helpless was consumed. This happened in January, just +before Althea's supposed visit to Scotland. Boyce was due at a Country +House party near Carlisle. In the first flush of their madness they +agreed upon the wretched plan. She took rooms in the town and he +visited her there. Whether he or she conceived it, I do not know. If I +could judge coldly I should say that it was of feminine inspiration. A +man, particularly one of Boyce's temperament, who was eager for the +possession of a passionately loved woman, would have carried her off to +a little Eden of their own. A calm consideration of the facts leads to +the suggestion of a half-hearted acquiescence on the part of an +entangled man in the romantic scheme of an inexperienced girl to whom +he had suddenly become all in all. +</P> + +<P> +Such is my plea in extenuation of Boyce's conduct (if plea there can +be), seeing that he raised not a shadow of one of his own. You may say +that my plea is no excuse for his betrayal; that no man, even if he is +tempted, can be pardoned for non-control of his passions. But I am +asking for no pardon; I am trying to obtain your understanding. +Remember what I have told you about Boyce, his great bull-neck, his +blood-sodden life-preserver, the physical repulsion I felt when he +carried me in his arms. In such men the animal instinct is stronger at +times than the trained will. Whether you give him a measure of your +sympathy or not, at any rate do not believe that his short-lived +liaison with Althea was a matter of deliberate and dastardly seduction. +Nor must you think that I am setting down anything in disparagement of +a child whom I once loved. Long ago I touched lightly on the anomaly of +Althea's character—her mid-Victorian sentimentality and softness, +combined with her modern spirit of independence. A fatal anomaly; a +perilous balance of qualities. Once the soft sentimentality was warmed +into romantic passion, the modern spirit led it recklessly to a modern +conclusion. +</P> + +<P> +The liaison was short-lived. The man was remorseful. He loved another +woman. Very quickly did the poor girl awaken from her dream. +</P> + +<P> +"I was cruel," said Boyce, fixing me with those awful black spectacles, +"I know it. I ought to have married her. But if I had married her, I +should have been more cruel. I should have hated her. It would have +been an impossible life for both of us. One day I had to tell her so. +Not brutally. In a normal state I think I am as kind-hearted and gentle +as most men. And I couldn't be brutal, feeling an unutterable cur and +craving her forgiveness. But I wanted Betty and I swore that only one +thing should keep me from her." +</P> + +<P> +"One thing?" I asked. +</P> + +<P> +"The thing that didn't happen," said he. +</P> + +<P> +And so it seemed that Althea accepted the inevitable. The placid, +fatalistic side of her nature asserted itself. Pride, too, helped her +instinctive feminine secretiveness. She lived for months in her +father's house without giving those that were dear to her any occasion +for suspicion. In order to preserve the secrecy Boyce was bound to +continue his visits to Wellings Park. Now and then, when they met +alone, she upbraided him bitterly. On the whole, however, he concluded +that they had agreed to bury an ugly chapter in their lives. +</P> + +<P> +Yes, it was an ugly chapter. From such you cannot get away, bury it, as +you will, never so deep. +</P> + +<P> +"And all the time remember," he said, "that I was mad for Betty. The +more shy she was, the madder I grew. I could not rest in Wellingsford +without her. When she came here, I came. When she went to town, I went +to town. She was as elusive as a dream. Finally I pinned her down to a +date for our marriage in August. It was the last time I saw her. She +went away to stay with friends. That was the beginning of June. She was +to be away two months. I knew, if I had clamoured, she would have made +it three. It was the shyness of the exquisite bird in her that +fascinated me. I could never touch Betty in those days without dreading +lest I might soil her feathers. You may laugh at a hulking brute like +me saying such things, but that's the way I saw Betty, that's the way I +felt towards her. I could no more have taken her into my bear's hug and +kissed her roughly than I could have smashed a child down with my fist. +And yet—My God, man! how I ached for her!" +</P> + +<P> +Long as I had loved Betty in a fatherly way, deeply as I loved her now, +the man's unexpected picture of her was a revelation. You see it was +only after her marriage, when she had softened and grown a woman and +come so near me that I felt the great comfort of her presence when she +was by, the need of it when she was away. How could I have known +anything of the elusiveness in her maidenhood before which he knelt so +reverently? +</P> + +<P> +That he so knelt is the keynote of the man's soul untainted by the +flesh. +</P> + +<P> +It made clear to me the tenderness that lay beneath that which was +brutal; the reason of that personal charm which had captivated me +against my will; his defencelessness against the Furies. +</P> + +<P> +So far the narrative has reached the latter part of June. He had spent +the month with his mother. As Betty had ordained that July should be +blank, a month during which the moon should know no changes but only +the crescent of Diana should shine supreme in the heavens, he had made +his mundane arrangements for his fishing excursion to Norway. On the +afternoon of the 23rd he paid a farewell call at Wellings Park. Althea, +in the final settlement of their relations, had laid it down as a +definite condition that he should maintain his usual social intercourse +with the family. A few young people were playing tennis. Tea was served +on the lawn near by the court. Althea gave no sign of agitation. She +played her game, laughed with her young men, and took casual leave of +Boyce, wishing him good sport. He drew her a pace aside and murmured: +"God bless you for forgiving me." +</P> + +<P> +She laughed a reply out loud: "Oh, that's all right." +</P> + +<P> +When he told me that, I recalled vividly the picture of her, in my +garden, on the last afternoon of her life, eating the strawberries +which she had brought me for tea. I remembered the little slangy tone +in her voice when she had asked me whether I didn't think life was +rather rotten. That was the tone in which she had said to him, "Oh, +that's all right." +</P> + +<P> +During the early afternoon on the 25th, she rang him up on the +telephone. Chance willed that he should receive the call at first hand. +She must see him before he left Wellingsford. She had something of the +utmost importance to tell him. A matter of life and death. With one +awful thought in his mind, he placed his time at her disposal. For what +romantic, desperate or tragic reason she appointed the night meeting at +the end of the chestnut avenue where the towing-path turns into regions +of desolate quietude, he could not tell. He agreed without argument, +dreading the possible lack of privacy in their talk over the wires. +</P> + +<P> +On that afternoon she came to me, as I have told you, with her +strawberries and her declaration of the rottenness of life. +</P> + +<P> +They met and walked along the towing-path. It was bright moonlight, but +she could not have chosen a lonelier spot, more free from curious eyes +or ears. And then took place a scene which it is beyond my power to +describe. I can only picture it to myself from Boyce's broken, +self-accusing talk. He was going away. She would never see him again +until he returned to marry another woman. She was making her last +frantic bid for happiness. She wept and sobbed and cajoled and +upbraided—You know what women at the end of their tether can do. He +strove to pacify her by the old arguments which hitherto she had +accepted. Suddenly she cried: "If you don't marry me I am disgraced for +ever." And this brought them to a dead halt. +</P> + +<P> +When he came to this point I remembered the diabolical accuracy of +Gedge's story. +</P> + +<P> +Boyce said: "There is one usual reason why a man should marry a woman +to save her from disgrace. Is that the reason?" +</P> + +<P> +She said "Yes." +</P> + +<P> +The light went out of the man's life. +</P> + +<P> +"In that case," said he, "there can be no question about it. I will +marry you. But why didn't you tell me before?" +</P> + +<P> +She said she did not know. She made the faltering excuses of the driven +girl. They walked on together and sat on the great bar of the lock +gates. +</P> + +<P> +"Till then," said he, "I had never known what it was to have death in +my heart. But I swear to God, Meredyth, I played my part like a man. I +had done a dastardly thing. There was nothing left for me but to make +reparation. In a few moments I tore my life asunder. The girl I had +wronged was to be the mother of my child. I accepted the situation. I +was as kind to her as I could be. She laid her head on my shoulder and +cried, and I put my arm around her. I felt my heart going out to her in +remorse and pity and tenderness. A man must be a devil who could feel +otherwise.... Our lives were bound up together.... I kissed her and she +clung to me. Then we talked for a while—ways and means.... It was time +to go back. We rose. And then—Meredyth—this is what she said: +</P> + +<P> +"'You swear to marry me?' +</P> + +<P> +"'I swear it,' said I. +</P> + +<P> +"'In spite of anything?' +</P> + +<P> +"I gave my promise. She put her arms round my neck. +</P> + +<P> +"'What I've told you is not wholly true. But the moral disgrace is +there all the time.' +</P> + +<P> +"I took her wrists and disengaged myself and held her and looked at her. +</P> + +<P> +"'What do you mean—not wholly true?' I asked. +</P> + +<P> +"My God! I shall never forget it." He stuck both his elbows on the bed +and clutched his hair and turned his black glasses wide of me. "The +child crumpled up. She seemed to shrivel like a leaf in the fire. She +said: +</P> + +<P> +"'I've tried to lie to you, but I can't. I can't. Pity me and forgive +me.' +</P> + +<P> +"I started back from her in a sudden fury. I could not forgive her. +Think of the awful revulsion of feeling. Foolishly tricked! I was mad +with anger. I walked away and left her. I must have walked ten or +fifteen yards. Then I heard a splash in the water. I turned. She was no +longer on the bank. I ran up. I heard a cry. I just saw her sinking. +AND I COULDN'T MOVE. As God hears me, it is true. I knew I must dive in +and rescue her—I had run up with every impulse to do so; BUT I COULD +NOT MOVE. I stood shivering with the paralysis of fear. Fear of the +deep black water, the steep brick sides of the canal that seemed to +stretch away for ever—fear of death, I suppose that was it. I don't +know. Fear irresistible, unconquerable, gripped me as it had gripped me +before, as it has gripped me since. And she drowned before my eyes +while I stood like a stone." +</P> + +<P> +There was an awful pause. He had told me the end of the tragedy so +swiftly and in a voice so keyed to the terror of the scene, that I lay +horror-stricken, unable to speak. He buried his face in his hands, and +between the fleshy part of the palms I saw the muscles of his lips +twitch horribly. I remembered, with a shiver, how I had first seen them +twitch, in his mother's house, when he had made his strange, almost +passionate apology for fear. And he had all but described this very +incident: the reckless, hare-brained devil standing on the bank of a +river and letting a wounded comrade drown. I remember how he had +defined it: "the sudden thing that hits a man's heart and makes him +stand stock-still like a living corpse—unable to move a muscle—all +his will-power out of gear—just as a motor is out of gear.... It is as +much of a fit as epilepsy." +</P> + +<P> +The span of stillness was unbearable. The watch on the little table by +my bedside ticked maddeningly. Marigold put his head in at the door, +apparently to warn me that it was getting late. I waved him imperiously +away. Boyce did not notice his entrance. Presently he raised his head. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know how long I stood there. But I know that when I moved she +was long since past help. Suddenly there was a sharp crashing noise on +the road below. I looked round and saw no one. But it gave me a +shock—and I ran. I ran like a madman. And I thought as I ran that, if +I were discovered, I should be hanged for murder. For who would believe +my story? Who would believe it now?" +</P> + +<P> +"I believe it, Boyce," I said. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. You. You know something of the hell my life has been. But who +else? He had every motive for the crime, the lawyers would say. They +could prove it. But, my God! what motive had I for sending all my +gallant fellows to their deaths at Vilboek's Farm? ... The two things +are on all fours—and many other things with them.... My one sane +thought through the horror of it all was to get home and into the house +unobserved. Then I came upon the man Gedge, who had spied on me." +</P> + +<P> +"I know about that," said I, wishing to spare him from saying more than +was necessary. "He told Fenimore and me about it." +</P> + +<P> +"What was his version?" he asked in a low tone. "I had better hear it." +</P> + +<P> +When I had told him, he shook his head. "He lied. He was saving his +skin. I was not such a fool, mad as I was, as to leave him like that. +He had seen us together. He had seen me alone. To-morrow there would be +discovery. I offered him a thousand pounds to say nothing. He haggled. +Oh! the ghastly business! Eventually I suggested that he should come up +to London with me by the first train in the morning and discuss the +money. I was dreading lest someone should come along the avenue and see +me. He agreed. I think I drank a bottle of whisky that night. It kept +me alive. We met in my chambers in London. I had sent my man up the day +before to do some odds and ends for me. I made a clear breast of it to +Gedge. He believed the worst. I don't blame him. I bought his silence +for a thousand a year. I made arrangements for payment through my +bankers. I went to Norway. But I went alone. I didn't fish. I put off +the two men I was to join. I spent over a month all by myself. I don't +think I could tell you a thing about the place. I walked and walked all +day until I was exhausted, and got sleep that way. I'm sure I was going +mad. I should have gone mad if it hadn't been for the war. I suppose +I'm the only Englishman living or dead who whooped and danced with +exultation when he heard of it. I think my brain must have been a bit +touched, for I laughed and cried and jumped about in a pine-wood with a +week old newspaper in my hands. I came home. You know the rest." +</P> + +<P> +Yes, I knew the rest. The woman he had left to drown had been ever +before his eyes; the avenging Furies in pursuit. This was the torture +in his soul that had led him to many a mad challenge of Death, who +always scorned his defiance. Yes, I knew all that he could tell me. +</P> + +<P> +But we went on talking. There were a few points I wanted cleared up. +Why should he have kept up a correspondence with Gedge? +</P> + +<P> +"I only wrote one foolish angry letter," he replied. +</P> + +<P> +And I told him how Sir Anthony had thrown it unread into the fire. +Gedge's nocturnal waylaying of him in my front garden was another +unsuccessful attempt to tighten the screw. Like Randall and myself, he +had no fear of Gedge. +</P> + +<P> +Of Sir Anthony he could not speak. He seemed to be crushed by the +heroic achievement. It was the only phase of our interview during +which, by voice and manner and attitude, he appeared to me like a +beaten man. His own bravery at the reception had gone for naught. He +was overwhelmed by the hideous insolence of it. +</P> + +<P> +"I shall never get that man's voice out of my ears as long as I live," +he said hoarsely. +</P> + +<P> +After a while he added: "I wonder whether there is any rest or +purification for me this side of the grave." +</P> + +<P> +I said tentatively, for we had never discussed matters of religion: "If +you believe in Christ, you must believe in the promise regarding the +sins that be as scarlet." +</P> + +<P> +But he turned it aside. "In the olden days, men like me turned monk and +found salvation in fasting and penance. The times in which we live have +changed and we with them, my friend. Nos mulamur in illis, as the tag +goes." +</P> + +<P> +We went on talking—or rather he talked and I listened. Now and again +he would help himself to a drink or a cigarette, and I marvelled at the +clear assurance with which he performed the various little operations. +I, lying in bed, lost all sense of pain, almost of personality. My +little ailments, my little selfish love of Betty, my little humdrum +life itself dwindled insignificant before the tragic intensity of this +strange, curse-ridden being. +</P> + +<P> +And all the time we had not spoken of Betty—except the Betty of long +ago. It was I, finally, who gave him the lead. +</P> + +<P> +"And Betty?" said I. +</P> + +<P> +He held out his hand in a gesture that was almost piteous. +</P> + +<P> +"I could tear her from my life. I had no alternative. In the tearing I +hurt her cruelly. To know it was not the least of the burning hell I +lit for myself. But I couldn't tear her from my heart. When a brute +beast like me does love a woman purely and ideally, it's a desperate +business. It means God's Heaven to him, while it means only an earthly +paradise to the ordinary man. It clutches hold of the one bit of +immortal soul he has left, and nothing in this world can make it let +go. That's why I say it's a desperate business." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, I can understand," said I. +</P> + +<P> +"I schooled myself to the loss of her. It was part of my punishment. +But now she has come back into my life. Fate has willed it so. Does it +mean that I am forgiven?" +</P> + +<P> +"By whom?" I asked. "By God?" +</P> + +<P> +"By whom else?" +</P> + +<P> +"How dare man," said I, "speak for the Almighty?" +</P> + +<P> +"How is man to know?" +</P> + +<P> +"That's a hard question," said I. "I can only think of answering it by +saying that a man knows of God's forgiveness by the measure of the +Peace of God in his soul." +</P> + +<P> +"There's none of it in mine, my dear chap, and never will be," said +Boyce. +</P> + +<P> +I strove to help him. For what other purpose had he come to me? +</P> + +<P> +"You think then that the sending of Betty is a sign and a promise? Yes. +Perhaps it is. What then?" +</P> + +<P> +"I must accept it as such," said he. "If there is a God, He would not +give me back the woman I love, only to take her away again. What shall +I do?" +</P> + +<P> +"In what way?" I asked. +</P> + +<P> +"She offered to marry me. I am to give her my answer to-morrow. If I +were the callous, murdering brute that everyone would have the right to +believe I am, I shouldn't have hesitated. If I hadn't been a tortured, +damned soul," he cried, bringing his great fist down on the bed, "I +shouldn't have come here to ask you what my answer can be. My whole +being is infected with horror." He rose and stood over the bed and, +with clenched hands, gesticulated to the wall in front of him. "I'm +incapable of judging. I only know that I crave her with everything in +me. I've got it in my brain that she's my soul's salvation. Is my brain +right? I don't know. I come to you—a clean, sweet man who knows +everything—I don't think there's a crime on my conscience or a +foulness in my nature which I haven't confessed to you. You can judge +straight as I can't. What answer shall I give to-morrow?" +</P> + +<P> +Did ever man, in a case of conscience, have a greater responsibility? +God forgive me if I solved it wrongly. At any rate, He knows that I was +uninfluenced by mean personal considerations. All my life I have tried +to have an honourable gentleman and a Christian man. According to my +lights I saw only one clear course. +</P> + +<P> +"Sit down, old man," said I. "You're a bit too big for me like that." +He felt for his chair, sat down and leaned back. "You've done almost +everything," I continued, "that a man can do in expiation of offences. +But there is one thing more that you must do in order to find peace. +You couldn't find peace if you married Betty and left her in ignorance. +You must tell Betty everything—everything that you have told me. +Otherwise you would still be hag-ridden. If she learned the horror of +the thing afterwards, what would be your position? Acquit your +conscience now before God and a splendid woman, and I stake my faith in +each that neither will fail you." +</P> + +<P> +After a few minutes, during which the man's face was like a mask, he +said: +</P> + +<P> +"That's what I wanted to know. That's what I wanted to be sure of. Do +you mind ringing your bell for Marigold to take me away? I've kept you +up abominably." He rose and held out his hand and I had to direct him +how it could reach mine. When it did, he gripped it firmly. +</P> + +<P> +"It's impossible," said he, "for you to realise what you've done for me +to-night. You've made my way absolutely clear to me—for the first time +for two years. You're the truest comrade I've ever had, Meredyth. God +bless you." +</P> + +<P> +Marigold appeared, answering my summons, and led Boyce away. Presently +he returned. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you know what time it is, sir?" he asked serenely. +</P> + +<P> +"No," said I. +</P> + +<P> +"It's half-past one." +</P> + +<P> +He busied himself with my arrangements for the night, and administered +what I learned afterwards was a double dose of a sleeping draught which +Cliffe had prescribed for special occasions. I just remember surprise +at feeling so drowsy after the intense excitement of the evening, and +then I fell asleep. +</P> + +<P> +When I awoke in the morning I gathered my wits together and recalled +what had taken place. Marigold entered on tiptoe and found me already +aroused. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm sorry to tell you, sir," said he, "that an accident happened to +Colonel Boyce after he left last night." +</P> + +<P> +"An accident?" +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose so, sir," said Marigold. "That's what his chauffeur says. He +got out of the car in order to sit by the side of the canal—by the +lock gates. He fell in, sir. He's drowned." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap24"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXIV +</H3> + +<P> +It is Christmas morning, 1916, the third Christmas of the war. The +tragedy of Boyce's death happened six months ago. Since then I have +been very ill. The shock, too great for my silly heart, nearly killed +me. By all the rules of the game I ought to have died. But I suppose, +like a brother officer long since defunct, also a Major, one Joe +Bagstock, I am devilish tough. Cliffe told me this morning that, apart +from a direct hit by a 42-centimetre shell, he saw no reason, after +what I had gone through, why I should not live for another hundred +years. "I wash my hands of you," said he. Which indeed is pleasant +hearing. +</P> + +<P> +I don't mind dying a bit, if it is my Maker's pleasure; if it would +serve any useful purpose; if it would help my country a myriadth part +of a millimetre on towards victory. But if it would not matter to the +world any more than the demise of a daddy-long-legs, I prefer to live. +In fact, I want to live. I have never wanted to live more in all my +life. I want to see this fight out. I want to see the Light that is +coming after the Darkness. For, by God! it will come. +</P> + +<P> +And I want to live, too, for personal and private reasons. If I could +regard myself merely as a helpless incumbrance, a useless jellyfish, +absorbing for my maintenance human effort that should be beneficially +exerted elsewhere, I think I should be the first to bid them take me +out and bury me. But it is my wonderful privilege to look around and +see great and beautiful human souls coming to me for guidance and +consolation. Why this should be I do not rightly know. Perhaps my very +infirmity has taught me many lessons.... +</P> + +<P> +You see, in the years past, my life was not without its lonelinesses. +It was so natural for the lusty and joyous to disregard, through mere +thoughtlessness, the little weather-beaten cripple in his wheelchair. +But when one of these sacrificed an hour's glad life in order to sit by +the dull chair in a corner, the cripple did not forget it. He learned +in its terrible intensity the meaning of human kindness. And, in his +course through the years, or as the years coursed by him, he realised +that a pair of gollywog legs was not the worst disability which a human +being might suffer. There were gollywog hearts, brains, nerves, +temperaments, destinies. +</P> + +<P> +Perhaps, in this way, he came to the knowledge that in every human +being lies the spark of immortal beauty, to be fanned into flame by one +little rightly directed breath. At any rate, he learned to love his +kind. +</P> + +<P> +It is Christmas day. I am as happy as a man has a right to be in these +fierce times in England. Love is all around me. I must tell you little +by little. Various things have happened during the last six months. +</P> + +<P> +At the inquest on the body of Leonard Boyce, the jury gave a verdict of +death by misadventure. The story of the chauffeur, an old soldier +servant devoted to Boyce, received implicit belief. He had faithfully +carried out his master's orders: to conduct him from the road, across +the field, and seat him on the boom of the lock gates, where he wanted +to remain alone in order to enjoy the quiet of the night and listen to +the lap of the water; to return and fetch him in a quarter of an hour. +This he did, dreaming of no danger. When he came back he realised what +had happened. His master had got up and fallen into the canal. What had +really happened only a few of us knew. +</P> + +<P> +Well, I have told you the man's story. I am not his judge. Whether his +act was the supreme amende, the supreme act of courage or the supreme +act of cowardice, it is not for me to say. I heard nothing of the +matter for many weeks, for they took me off to a nursing home and kept +me in the deathly stillness of a sepulchre. When I resumed my life in +Wellingsford I found smiling faces to welcome me. My first public +action was to give away Phyllis Gedge in marriage to Randall +Holmes—Randall Holmes in the decent kit of an officer and a gentleman. +He made this proposition to me on the first evening of my return. "The +bride's father," said I, somewhat ironically, "is surely the proper +person." +</P> + +<P> +"The bride's father," said he, "is miles away, and, like a wise and +hoary villain, is likely to remain there." +</P> + +<P> +This was news. "Gedge has left Wellingsford?" I cried. "How did that +come about?" +</P> + +<P> +He stuck his hands on his hips and looked down on me pityingly. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm afraid, sir," said he, "you'll never do adequate justice to my +intelligence and my capacity for affairs." +</P> + +<P> +Then he laughed and I guessed what had occurred. My young friend must +have paid a stiff price; but Phyllis and peace were worth it; and I +have said that Randall is a young man of fortune. +</P> + +<P> +"My dear boy," said I, "if you have exorcised this devil of a +father-in-law of yours out of Wellingsford, I'll do any mortal thing +you ask." +</P> + +<P> +I was almost ecstatic. For think what it meant to those whom I held +dear. The man's evil menace was removed from the midst of us. The man's +evil voice was silenced. The tragic secrets of the canal would be kept. +I looked up at my young friend. There was a grim humour around the +corners of his mouth and in his eyes the quiet masterfulness of those +who have looked scornfully at death. I realised that he had reached a +splendid manhood. I realised that Gedge had realised it too; woe be to +him if he played Randall false. I stuck out my hand. +</P> + +<P> +"Any mortal thing," I repeated. +</P> + +<P> +He regarded me steadily. "Anything? Do you really mean it?" +</P> + +<P> +"You dashed young idiot," I cried, "do you think I'm in the habit of +talking through my hat?" +</P> + +<P> +"Well," said he, "will you look after Phyllis when I'm gone?" +</P> + +<P> +"Gone? Gone where? Eternity?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, no! I've only a fortnight's leave. Then I'm off. Wherever they +send me. Secret Service. You know. It's no use planking Phyllis in a +dug-out of her own"—shades of Oxford and the Albemarle Review!—"she'd +die of loneliness. And she'd die of culture in the mater's highbrow +establishment. Whereas, if you would take her in—give her a shake-down +here—she wouldn't give much trouble—" +</P> + +<P> +He stammered as even the most audacious young warrior must do when +making so astounding a proposal. But I bade him not be an ass, but send +her along when he had to finish with her; with the result that for some +months my pretty little Phyllis has been an inmate of my house. +Marigold keeps a sort of non-commissioned parent's eye on her. To him +she seems to be still the child whom he fed solicitously but +unemotionally with Mrs. Marigold's cakes at tea parties years ago. She +gives me a daughter's dainty affection. Thank God for it! +</P> + +<P> +There have been other little changes in Wellingsford. Mrs. Boyce left +the town soon after Leonard's death, and lives with her sister in +London. I had a letter from her this morning—a brave woman's letter. +She has no suspicion of the truth. God still tempereth the wind.... Out +of the innocent generosity of her heart she sent me also, as a +keepsake, "a little heavy cane, of which Leonard was extraordinarily +fond." She will never know that I put it into the fire, and with what +strange and solemn thoughts I watched it burn. +</P> + +<P> +It is Christmas Day. Dr. Cliffe, although he has washed his hands of +me, tyrannically keeps me indoors of winter nights, so that I cannot, +as usual, dine at Wellings Park. To counter the fellow's machinations, +however, I have prepared a modest feast to which I have bidden Sir +Anthony and Lady Fenimore and my dearest Betty. +</P> + +<P> +As to Betty— +</P> + +<P> +Phyllis comes in radiant, her pretty face pink above an absurd panoply +of furs. She has had a long letter from Randall from the Lord knows +where. He will be home on leave in the middle of January. In her +excitement she drops prayer-books and hymn-books all over me. Then, +picking them up, reminds me it is time to go to church. I am an +old-fashioned fogey and I go to church on Christmas Day. I hope our +admirable and conscientious Vicar won't feel it his duty to tell us to +love Germans. I simply can't do it. +</P> + +<P> +New Year's Day, 1917. +</P> + +<P> +I must finish off this jumble of a chronicle. +</P> + +<P> +Before us lies the most eventful year in all the old world's history. +Thank God my beloved England is strong, and Great Britain and our great +Empire and immortal France. There is exhilaration in the air; a +consciousness of high ideals; an unwavering resolution to attain them; +a thrilling faith in their ultimate attainment. No one has died or lost +sight or limbs in vain. I look around my own little circle. Oswald +Fenimore, Willie Connor, Reggie Dacre, Leonard Boyce—how many more +could I not add to the list? All those little burial grounds in +France—which France, with her exquisite sense of beauty, has assigned +as British soil for all time—all those burial grounds, each bearing +its modest leaden inscription—some, indeed, heart-rendingly inscribed +"Sacred to the memory of six unknown British soldiers killed in +action"—are monuments not to be bedewed with tears of lamentation. +From the young lives that have gone there springs imperishable love and +strength and wisdom—and the vast determination to use that love and +strength and wisdom for the great good of mankind. If there is a God of +Battles, guiding, in His inscrutable omniscience, the hosts that fight +for the eternal verities—for all that man in his straining towards the +Godhead has striven for since the world began—the men who have died +will come into their glory, and those who have mourned will share +exultant in the victory. From before the beginning of Time Mithra has +ever been triumphant and his foot on the throat of Ahriman. +</P> + +<P> +It was in February, 1915, that I began to expand my diary into this +narrative,—nearly two years ago. We have passed through the darkness. +The Dawn is breaking. Sursum corda. +</P> + +<P> +I was going to tell you about Betty when Phyllis, with her furs and +happiness and hymn-books, interrupted me. I should like to tell you +now. But who am I to speak of the mysteries in the soul of a great +woman? But I must try. And I can tell you more now than I could on +Christmas Day. +</P> + +<P> +Last night she insisted on seeing the New Year in with me. If I had +told Marigold that I proposed to sit up after midnight, he would have +come in at ten o'clock, picked me up with finger and thumb as any +Brobdingnagian might have picked up Gulliver, and put me straightway to +bed. But Betty made the announcement in her airily imperious way, and +Marigold, craven before Betty and Mrs. Marigold, said "Very good, +madam," as if Dr. Cliffe and his orders had never existed. At half past +ten she packed off the happy and, I must confess, the somewhat sleepy +Phyllis, and sat down, in her old attitude by the side of my chair, in +front of the fire, and opened her dear heart to me. +</P> + +<P> +I had guessed what her proud soul had suffered during the last six +months. One who loved her as I did could see it in her face, in her +eyes, in the little hardening of her voice, in odd little betrayals of +feverishness in her manner. But the outside world saw nothing. The +steel in her nature carried her through. She left no duty +unaccomplished. She gave her confidence to no human being. I, to whom +she might have come, was carried off to the sepulchre above mentioned. +Letters were forbidden. But every day, for all her bleak despair, Betty +sent me a box of fresh flowers. They would not tell me it was Betty who +sent them; but I knew. My wonderful Betty. +</P> + +<P> +When they took off my cerecloths and sent me back to Wellingsford, +Betty was the first to smile her dear welcome. We resumed our old +relations. But Betty, treating me as an invalid, forbore to speak of +Leonard Boyce. Any approach on my part came up against that iron wall +of reserve of which I spoke to you long ago. +</P> + +<P> +But last night she told me all. What she said I cannot repeat. But she +had divined the essential secret of the double tragedy of the canal. It +had become obvious to her that he had made the final reparation for a +wrong far deeper than she had imagined. She was very clear-eyed and +clear-souled. During her long companionship with pain and sorrow and +death, she had learned many things. She had been purged by the fire of +the war of all resentments, jealousies, harsh judgments, and came forth +pure gold.... Leonard had been the great love of her life. If you +cannot see now why she married Willie Connor, gave him all that her +generous heart could give, and after his death was irresistibly drawn +back to Boyce, I have written these pages in vain. +</P> + +<P> +A few minutes before midnight Marigold entered with a tray bearing a +cake or two, a pint of champagne and a couple of glasses. While he was +preparing to uncork the bottle Betty slipped from the room and returned +with another glass. +</P> + +<P> +"For Sergeant Marigold," she said. +</P> + +<P> +She opened the French window behind the drawn curtains and listened. It +was a still clear night. Presently the clock of the Parish Church +struck twelve. She came down to the little table by my side and filled +the glasses, and the three of us drank the New Year in. Then Betty +kissed me and we both shook hands with Marigold, who stood very stiff +and determined and cleared his throat and swallowed something as though +he were expected to make a speech. But Betty anticipated him. She put +both her hands on his gaunt shoulders and looked up into his ugly face. +</P> + +<P> +"You've just wished me a Happy New Year, Sergeant." +</P> + +<P> +"I have," said he, "and I mean it." +</P> + +<P> +"Then will you let me have great happiness in staying here and helping +you to look after the Major?" +</P> + +<P> +He gasped for a moment (as did I) and clutched her arms for an instant +in an iron grip. +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed I will, my dear," said he. +</P> + +<P> +Then he stepped back a pace and stood rigid, his one eye staring, his +weather-beaten face the colour of beetroot. He was blushing. The beads +of perspiration appeared below his awful wig. He stammered out +something about "Ma'am" and "Madam." He had never so far forgotten +himself in his life. +</P> + +<P> +But Betty sprang forward and gripped his hand. +</P> + +<P> +"It is you who are the dear," she said. "You, the greatest and loyalest +friend a man has ever known. And I'll be loyal to you, never fear." +</P> + +<P> +By what process of enchantment she got an emotion-filled Marigold to +the door and shut it behind him, I shall never discover. On its slam +she laughed—a queer high note. In one swift movement she was by my +knees. And she broke into a passion of tears. For me, I was the most +mystified man under heaven. +</P> + +<P> +Soon she began to speak, her head bowed. +</P> + +<P> +"I've come to the end of the tether, Majy dear. They've driven me from +the hospital—I didn't know how to tell you before—I've been doing all +sorts of idiotic things. The doctors say it's a nervous breakdown—I've +had rather a bad time—but I thought it contemptible to let one's own +wretched little miseries interfere with one's work for the country—so +I fought as hard as I could. Indeed I did, Majy dear. But it seems I've +been playing the fool without knowing it,—I haven't slept properly for +months—and they've sent me away. Oh, they've been all that's kind, of +course—I must have at least six months' rest, they say—they talk +about nursing homes—I've thought and thought and thought about it +until I'm certain. There's only one rest for me, Majy dear." She raised +a tear-stained, tense and beautiful face and drew herself up so that +one arm leaned on my chair, and the other on my shoulder. "And that is +to be with the one human being that is left for me to love—oh, really +love—you know what I mean—in the world." +</P> + +<P> +I could only put my hand on her fair young head and say: +</P> + +<P> +"My dear, my dear, you know I love you." +</P> + +<P> +"That is why I'm not afraid to speak. Perfect love casteth out fear—" +</P> + +<P> +I pushed back her hair. "What is it that you want me to do, Betty?" I +asked. "My life, such as it is, is at your command." +</P> + +<P> +She looked me full, unflinchingly in the eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"If you would give me the privilege of bearing your name, I should be a +proud and happy woman." +</P> + +<P> +We remained there, I don't know how long—she with her hand on my +shoulder, I caressing her dear hair. It was a tremendous temptation. To +have my beloved Betty in all her exquisite warm loyalty bound to me for +the rest of my crippled life. But I found the courage to say: +</P> + +<P> +"My dear, you are young still, with the wonderful future that no one +alive can foretell before you, and I am old—" +</P> + +<P> +"You're not fifty." +</P> + +<P> +"Still I am old, I belong to the past—to a sort of affray behind an +ant-hill which they called a war. I'm dead, my dear, you are gloriously +alive. I'm of the past, as I say. You're of the future. You, my +dearest, are the embodiment of the woman of the Great War—" I +smiled—"The Woman of the Great War in capital letters. What your +destiny is, God knows. But it isn't to be tied to a Prehistoric Man +like me." +</P> + +<P> +She rose and stood, with her beautiful bare arms behind her, sweet, +magnificent. +</P> + +<P> +"I am a Woman of the Great War. You are quite right. But in a year or +so I shall be like other women of the war who have suffered and spent +their lives, a woman of the past—not of the future. All sorts of +things have been burned up in it." In a quick gesture she stretched out +her hands to me. "Oh, can't you understand?" +</P> + +<P> +I cannot set down the rest of the tender argument. If she had loved me +less, she could have lived in my house, like Phyllis, without a thought +of the conventions. But loving me dearly, she had got it into her +feminine head that the sacredness of the marriage tie would crown with +dignity and beauty the part she had resolved to play for my happiness. +</P> + +<P> +Well, if I have yielded I pray it may not be set down to me for selfish +exploitation of a woman's exhausted hour. When I said something of the +sort, she laughed and cried: +</P> + +<P> +"Why, I'm bullying you into it!" +</P> + +<P> +The First of January, 1917—the dawn to me, a broken derelict, of the +annus mirabilis. Somehow, foolishly, illogically, I feel that it will +be the annus mirabilis for my beloved country. +</P> + +<P> +And come—after all—I am, in spite of my legs, a Man too of the Great +War. I have lived in it, and worked in it, and suffered in it—and in +it have I won a Great Thing. +</P> + +<P> +So long as one's soul is sound—that is the Great Matter. +</P> + +<P> +Just before we parted last night, I said to Betty: +</P> + +<P> +"The beginning and end of all this business is that you're afraid of +Marigold." +</P> + +<P> +She started back indignantly. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not! I'm not!" +</P> + +<P> +I laughed. "The Lady protests too much," said I. +</P> + +<P> +The clock struck two. Marigold appeared at the door. He approached +Betty. +</P> + +<P> +"I think, Madam, we ought to let the Major go to bed." +</P> + +<P> +"I think, Marigold," said Betty serenely, "we ought to be ashamed of +ourselves for keeping him up so late." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="finis"> +THE END +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR><BR> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Red Planet, by William J. 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Locke + +Release Date: July, 2003 [EBook #4287] +First Posted: December 30, 2001 +Last Updated: September 3, 2018 + + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RED PLANET *** + + + + +Produced by Robert Rowe, Charles Franks and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team. HTML version by Al Haines. + + + + + + + + + + + +THE RED PLANET + + +BY + +WILLIAM J. LOCKE + + + +AUTHOR OF "THE WONDERFUL YEAR," "JAFFERY," "THE BELOVED VAGABOND," ETC. + + + + Not only over death strewn plains, + Fierce mid the cold white stars, + But over sheltered vales of home, + Hides the Red Planet Mars. + + + + + +THE RED PLANET + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +"Lady Fenimore's compliments, sir, and will you be so kind as to step +round to Sir Anthony at once?" + +Heaven knows that never another step shall I take in this world again; +but Sergeant Marigold has always ignored the fact. That is one of the +many things I admire about Marigold. He does not throw my poor +paralysed legs, so to speak, in my face. He accepts them as the normal +equipment of an employer. I don't know what I should do without +Marigold.... You see we were old comrades in the South African War, +where we both got badly knocked to pieces. He was Sergeant in my +battery, and the same Boer shell did for both of us. At times we join +in cursing that shell heartily, but I am not sure that we do not hold +it in sneaking affection. It initiated us into the brotherhood of +death. Shortly afterwards when we had crossed the border-line back into +life, we exchanged, as tokens, bits of the shrapnel which they had +extracted from our respective carcases. I have not enquired what he did +with his bit; but I keep mine in a certain locked drawer.... There were +only the two of us left on the gun when we were knocked out.... I +should like to tell you the whole story, but you wouldn't listen to me. +And no wonder. In comparison with the present world convulsion in which +the slaughtered are reckoned by millions, the Boer War seems a trumpery +affair of bows and arrows. I am a back-number. Still, back-numbers have +their feelings--and their memories. + +I sometimes wonder, as I sit in this wheel-chair, with my abominable +legs dangling down helplessly, what Sergeant Marigold thinks of me. I +know what I think of Marigold. I think him the ugliest devil that God +ever created and further marred after creating him. He is a long, bony +creature like a knobbly ram-rod, and his face is about the colour and +shape of a damp, mildewed walnut. To hide a bald head into which a +silver plate has been fixed, he wears a luxuriant curly brown wig, like +those that used to adorn waxen gentlemen in hair-dressing windows. His +is one of those unhappy moustaches that stick out straight and scanty +like a cat's. He has the slit of a letter-box mouth of the Irishman in +caricature, and only half a dozen teeth spaced like a skeleton company. +Nothing will induce him to procure false ones. It is a matter of +principle. Between the wearing of false hair and the wearing of false +teeth he makes a distinction of unfathomable subtlety. He is an +obstinate beast. If he wasn't he would not, with four fingers of his +right hand shot away, have remained with me on that gun. In the same +way, neither tears nor entreaties nor abuse have induced him to wear a +glass eye. On high days and holidays, whenever he desires to look smart +and dashing, he covers the unpleasing orifice with a black shade. In +ordinary workaday life he cares not how much he offends the aesthetic +sense. But the other eye, the sound left eye, is a wonder--the precious +jewel set in the head of the ugly toad. It is large, of ultra-marine +blue, steady, fearless, humorous, tender--everything heroic and +beautiful and romantic you can imagine about eyes. Let him clap a hand +over that eye and you will hold him the most dreadful ogre that ever +escaped out of a fairy tale. Let him clap a hand over the other eye and +look full at you out of the good one and you will think him the +Knightliest man that ever was--and in my poor opinion, you would not be +far wrong. + +So, out of this nightmare of a face, the one beautiful eye of Sergeant +Marigold was bent on me, as he delivered his message. + +I thrust back my chair from the writing-table. + +"Is Sir Anthony ill?" + +"He rode by the gate an hour ago looking as well as either you or me, +sir." + +"That's not very reassuring," said I. + +Marigold did not take up the argument. "They've sent the car for you, +sir." + +"In that case," said I, "I'll start immediately." + +Marigold wheeled my chair out of the room and down the passage to the +hall, where he fitted me with greatcoat and hat. Then, having trundled +me to the front gate, he picked me up--luckily I have always been a +small spare man--and deposited me in the car. I am always nervous of +anyone but Marigold trying to carry me. They seem to stagger and fumble +and bungle. Marigold's arms close round me like an iron clamp and they +lift me with the mechanical certainty of a crane. + +He jumped up beside the chauffeur and we drove off. + +Perhaps when I get on a little further I may acquire the trick of +telling a story. At present I am baffled by the many things that +clamour for prior record. Before bringing Sir Anthony on the scene, I +feel I ought to say something more about myself, to explain why Lady +Fenimore should have sent for me in so peremptory a fashion. Following +the model of my favourite author Balzac--you need the awful leisure +that has been mine to appreciate him--I ought to describe the house in +which I live, my establishment--well, I have begun with Sergeant +Marigold--and the little country town which is practically the scene of +the drama in which were involved so many bound to me by close ties of +friendship and affection. + +I ought to explain how I come to be writing this at all. + +Well, to fill in my time, I first started by a diary--a sort of War +Diary of Wellingsford, the little country town in question. Then things +happened with which my diary was inadequate to cope. Everyone came and +told me his or her side of the story. All through, I found thrust upon +me the parts of father-confessor, intermediary, judge, advocate, and +conspirator.... For look you, what kind of a life can a man lead +situated as I am? The crowning glory of my days, my wife, is dead. I +have neither chick nor child. No brothers or sisters, dead or alive. +The Bon Dieu and Sergeant Marigold (the latter assisted by his wife and +a maid or two) look after my creature comforts. What have I in the +world to do that is worth doing save concern myself with my country and +my friends? + +With regard to my country, in these days of war, I do what I can. Until +finally flattened out by the War Office, I pestered them for such +employment as a cripple might undertake. As an instance of what a +paralytic was capable I quoted Couthon, member of the National +Convention and the Committee of Public Safety. You can see his chair, +not very unlike mine, in the Musee Carnavalet in Paris. Perhaps that is +where I blundered. The idea of a shrieking revolutionary in Whitehall +must have sent a cold shiver down their spines. In the meanwhile, I +serve on as many War Committees in Wellingsford as is physically +possible for Sergeant Marigold to get me into. I address recruiting +meetings. I have taken earnest young Territorial artillery officers in +courses of gunnery. You know they work with my own beloved old fifteen +pounders, brought up to date with new breeches, recoils, shields, and +limbers. For months there was a brigade in Wellings Park, and I used to +watch their drill. I was like an old actor coming once again before the +footlights.... Of course it was only in the mathematics of the business +that I could be of any help, and doubtless if the War Office had heard +of the goings on in my study, they would have dropped severely on all +of us. Still, I taught them lots of things about parabolas that they +did not know and did not know were to be known--things that, +considering the shells they fired went in parabolas, ought certainly to +be known by artillery officers; so I think, in this way, I have done a +little bit for my country. + +With regard to my friends, God has given me many in this quiet market +town--once a Sleepy Hollow awakened only on Thursdays by bleating sheep +and lowing cattle and red-faced men in gaiters and hard felt hats; its +life flowing on drowsily as the gaudily painted barges that are towed +on the canal towards which, in scattered buildings, it drifts +aimlessly; a Sleepy Hollow with one broad High Street, melting +gradually at each end through shops, villas, cottages, into the King's +Highway, yet boasting in its central heart a hundred yards or so of +splendour, where the truculent new red brick Post Office sneers across +the flagged market square at the new Portland-stone Town Hall, while +the old thatched corn-market sleeps in the middle and the Early English +spire of the Norman church dreams calmly above them. Once, I say, a +Sleepy Hollow, but now alive with the tramp of soldiers and the rumble +of artillery and transport; for Wellingsford is the centre of a +district occupied by a division, which means twenty thousand men of all +arms, and the streets and roads swarm with men in khaki, and troops are +billeted in all the houses. The War has changed many aspects, but not +my old friendships. I had made a home here during my soldiering days, +long before the South African War, my wife being a kinswoman of Sir +Anthony, and so I have grown into the intimacy of many folks around. +And, as they have been more than good to me, surely I must give them of +my best in the way of sympathy and counsel. So it is in no spirit of +curiosity that I have pried into my friends' affairs. They have become +my own, very vitally my own; and this book is a record of things as I +know them to have happened. + +My name is Meredyth, with a "Y," as my poor mother used proudly to say, +though what advantage a "Y" has over an "I," save that of a swaggering +tail, I have always been at a loss to determine; Major Duncan Meredyth, +late R.F.A., aged forty-seven; and I live in a comfortable little house +at the extreme north end of the High Street, standing some way back +from the road; so that in fine weather I can sit in my front garden and +watch everybody going into the town. And whenever any of my friends +pass by, it is their kindly habit to cast an eye towards my gate, and, +if I am visible, to pass the time of day with me for such time as they +can spare. + +Years ago, when first I realised what would be my fate for the rest of +my life, I nearly broke my heart. But afterwards, whether owing to the +power of human adaptability or to the theory of compensation, I grew to +disregard my infirmity. By building a series of two or three rooms on +to the ground floor of the house, so that I could live in it without +the need of being carried up and down stairs, and by acquiring skill in +the manipulation of my tricycle chair, I can get about the place pretty +much as I choose. And Marigold is my second self. So, in spite of the +sorrow and grief incident to humanity of which God has given me my +share, I feel that my lot is cast in pleasant places and I am thankful. + +The High Street, towards its southern extremity, takes a sudden bend, +forming what the French stage directions call a pan coupe. On the inner +angle are the gates of Wellings Park, the residence of Sir Anthony +Fenimore, third baronet, and the most considerable man in our little +community. Through these gates the car took me and down the long avenue +of chestnut trees, the pride of a district braggart of its chestnuts +and its beeches, but now leafless and dreary, spreading out an infinite +tracery of branch and twig against a grey February sky. Thence we +emerged into the open of rolling pasture and meadow on the highest +ground of which the white Georgian house was situated. As we neared the +house I shivered, not only with the cold, but with a premonition of +disaster. For why should Lady Fenimore have sent for me to see Sir +Anthony, when he, strong and hearty, could have sent for me himself, +or, for the matter of that, could have visited me at my own home? The +house looked stark and desolate. And when we drew up at the front door +and Pardoe, the elderly butler, appeared, his face too looked stark and +desolate. + +Marigold lifted me out and carried me up the steps and put me into a +chair like my own which the Fenimores have the goodness to keep in a +hall cupboard for my use. + +"What's the matter, Pardoe?" I asked. + +"Sir Anthony and her ladyship will tell you, sir. They're in the +morning room." + +So I was shewn into the morning room--a noble square room with French +windows, looking on to the wintry garden, and with a log fire roaring +up a great chimney. On one side of the fire sat Sir Anthony, and on the +other, Lady Fenimore. And both were crying. He rose as he saw me--a +short, crop-haired, clean-shaven, ruddy, jockey-faced man of +fifty-five, the corners of his thin lips, usually curled up in a cheery +smile, now piteously drawn down, and his bright little eyes now dim +like those of a dead bird. She, buxom, dark, without a grey hair in her +head, a fine woman defying her years, buried her face in her hands and +sobbed afresh. + +"It's good of you to come, old man," said Sir Anthony, "but you're in +it with us." + +He handed me a telegram. I knew, before reading it, what message it +contained. I had known, all along, but dared not confess it to myself. + +"I deeply regret to inform you that your son, Lieutenant Oswald +Fenimore, was killed in action yesterday while leading his men with the +utmost gallantry." + +I had known him since he was a child. By reason of my wife's kinship, I +was "Uncle Duncan." He was just one and twenty, but a couple of years +out of Sandhurst. Only a week before I had received an exuberant letter +from him extolling his men as "super-devil-angels," and imploring me if +I loved him and desired to establish the supremacy of British arms, to +send him some of Mrs. Marigold's potted shrimp. + +And now, there he was dead; and, if lucky, buried with a little wooden +cross with his name rudely inscribed, marking his grave. + +I reached out my hand. + +"My poor old Anthony!" + +He jerked his head and glance towards his wife and wheeled me to her +side, so that I could put my hand on her shoulder. + +"It's bitter hard, Edith, but--" + +"I know, I know. But all the same--" + +"Well, damn it all!" cried Sir Anthony, in a quavering voice, "he died +like a man and there's nothing more to be said." + +Presently he looked at his watch. + +"By George," said he, "I've only just time to get to my Committee." + +"What Committee?" I asked. + +"The Lord Lieutenant's. I promised to take the chair." + +For the first time Lady Fenimore lifted her stricken face. + +"Are you going, Anthony?" + +"The boy didn't shirk his duty. Why should I?" + +She looked at him squarely and the most poignant simulacrum of a smile +I have ever seen flitted over her lips. + +"Why not, darling? Duncan will keep me company till you come back." + +He kissed his wife, a trifle more demonstratively than he had ever done +in alien presence, and with a nod at me, went out of the room. + +And suddenly she burst into sobbing again. + +"I know it's wrong and wicked and foolish," she said brokenly. "But I +can't help it. Oh, God! I can't help it." + +Then, like an ass, I began to cry, too; for I loved the boy, and that +perhaps helped her on a bit. + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori. The tag has been all but outworn +during these unending days of death; it has become almost a cant phrase +which the judicious shrink from using. Yet to hundreds of thousands of +mourning men and women there has been nothing but its truth to bring +consolation. They are conscious of the supreme sacrifice and thereby +are ennobled. The cause in which they made it becomes more sacred. The +community of grief raises human dignity. In England, at any rate, there +are no widows of Ashur. All are silent in their lamentations. You see +little black worn in the public ways. The Fenimores mourned for their +only son, the idol of their hearts; but the manifestation of their +grief was stoical compared with their unconcealed desolation on the +occasion of a tragedy that occurred the year before. + +Towards the end of the preceding June their only daughter, Althea, had +been drowned in the canal. Here was a tragedy unrelieved, stupid, +useless. Here was no consoling knowledge of glorious sacrifice; no +dying for one's country. There was no dismissing it with a heroic word +that caught in the throat. + +I have not started out to write this little chronicle of Wellingsford +in order to weep over the pain of the world. God knows there is in it +an infinity of beauty, fresh revelations of which are being every day +unfolded before my eyes. + +If I did not believe with all my soul that out of Darkness cometh +Light, I would take my old service revolver from its holster and blow +out my brains this very minute. The eternal laughter of the earth has +ever since its creation pierced through the mist of tears in which at +times it has been shrouded. What has been will be. Nay, more, what has +been shall be. It is the Law of what I believe to be God.... As a +concrete instance, where do you find a fuller expression of the divine +gaiety of the human spirit than in the Houses of Pain, strewn the +length and breadth of the land, filled with maimed and shattered men +who have looked into the jaws of Hell? If it comes to that, I have +looked into them myself, and have heard the heroic jests of men who +looked with me. + +For some years up to the outbreak of the war which has knocked all +so-called modern values silly, my young friends, with a certain +respectful superciliousness, regarded me as an amiable person +hopelessly out of date. Now that we are at grip with elementals, I find +myself, if anything, in advance of the fashion. This, however, by the +way. What I am clumsily trying to explain is that if I am to make this +story intelligible I must start from the darkness where its roots lie +hidden. And that darkness is the black depths of the canal by the lock +gates where Althea Fenimore's body was found. + +It was high June, in leafy England, in a world at peace. Can one +picture it? With such a wrench of memory does one recall scenes of +tender childhood. In the shelter of a stately house lived Althea +Fenimore. She was twenty-one; pretty, buxom, like her mother, modern, +with (to me) a pathetic touch of mid-Victorian softness and +sentimentality; independent in outward action, what we call "open-air"; +yet an anomaly, fond at once of games and babies. I have seen her in +the morning tearing away across country by the side of her father, the +most passionate and reckless rider to hounds in the county, and in the +evening I have come across her, a pretty mass of pink flesh and +muslin--no, it can't be muslin--say chiffon--anyhow, something white +and filmy and girlish--curled up on a sofa and absorbed in a novel of +Mrs. Henry Wood, borrowed, if one could judge by the state of its +greasy brown paper cover, from the servants' hall. I confess that, +though to her as to her brother I was "Uncle Duncan," and loved her as +a dear, sweet English girl, I found her lacking in spirituality, in +intellectual grasp, in emotional distinction. I should have said that +she was sealed by God to be the chaste, healthy, placid mother of men. +She was forever laughing--just the spontaneous laughter of the gladness +of life. + +On the last afternoon of her existence she came to see me, bringing me +a basket of giant strawberries from her own particular bed. We had tea +in the garden, and with her young appetite she consumed half the fruit +she had brought. At the time I did not notice an unusual touch of +depression. I remember her holding by its stalk a great half-eaten +strawberry and asking me whether sometimes I didn't find life rather +rotten. I said idly: + +"You can't expect the world to be a peach without a speck on it. Of +such is the Kingdom of Heaven. The wise person avoids the specks." + +"But suppose you've bitten a specky bit by accident?" + +"Spit it out," said I. + +She laughed. "You think you're like the wise Uncle in the Sunday School +books, don't you?" + +"I know I am," I said. + +Whereupon she laughed again, finished the strawberry, and changed the +conversation. + +There seemed to be no foreshadowing of tragedy in that. I had known her +(like many of her kind) to proclaim the rottenness of the Universe when +she was off her stroke at golf, or when a favourite young man did not +appear at a dance. I attributed no importance to it. But the next day I +remembered. What was she doing after half-past ten o'clock, when she +had bidden her father and mother goodnight, on the steep and lonely +bank of the canal, about a mile and a half away? No one had seen her +leave the house. No one, apparently, had seen her walking through the +town. Nothing was known of her until dawn when they found her body by +the lock gate. She had been dead some hours. It was a mysterious +affair, upon which no light was thrown at the inquest. No one save +myself had observed any sign of depression, and her half-bantering talk +with me was trivial enough. No one could adduce a reason for her +midnight walk on the tow-path. The obvious question arose. Whom had she +gone forth to meet? What man? There was not a man in the neighbourhood +with whom her name could be particularly associated. Generally, it +could be associated with a score or so. The modern young girl of her +position and upbringing has a drove of young male intimates. With one +she rides, with another she golfs, with another she dances a two-step, +with another she Bostons; she will let Tom read poetry to her, +although, as she expresses it, "he bores her stiff," because her sex +responds to the tribute; she plays lady patroness to Dick, and tries to +intrigue him into a soft job; and as for Harry she goes on telling him +month after month that unless he forswears sack and lives cleanly she +will visit him with her high displeasure. Meanwhile, most of these +satellites have affaires de coeur of their own, some respectable, +others not; they regard the young lady with engaging frankness as a +woman and a sister, they have the run of her father's house, and would +feel insulted if anybody questioned the perfect correctness of their +behaviour. Each man has, say, half a dozen houses where he is welcomed +on the same understanding. Of course, when one particular young man and +one particular young woman read lunatic things in each other's eyes, +then the rest of the respective quasi-sisters and quasi-brothers have +to go hang. (In parenthesis, I may state that the sisters are more +ruthlessly sacrificed than the brothers.) At any rate, frankness is the +saving quality of the modern note. + +In the case of Althea, there had been no sign of such specialisation. +She could not have gone forth, poor child, to meet the twenty with whom +she was known to be on terms of careless comradeship. She had gone from +her home, driven by God knows what impulse, to walk in the +starlight--there was no moon--along the banks of the canal. In the +darkness, had she missed her footing and stepped into nothingness and +the black water? The Coroner's Jury decided the question in the +affirmative. They brought in a verdict of death by misadventure. And up +to the date on which I begin this little Chronicle of Wellingsford, +namely that of the summons to Wellings Park, when I heard of the death +of young Oswald Fenimore, that is all I knew of the matter. + +Throughout July my friends were like dead people. There was nothing +that could be said to them by way of consolation. The sun had gone out +of their heaven. There was no light in the world. Having known Death as +a familiar foe, and having fought against its terrors; having only by +the grace of God been able to lift up a man's voice in my hour of awful +bereavement, and cry, "O Death, where is thy sting, O Grave, thy +Victory?" I could suffer with them and fear for their reason. They +lived in a state of coma, unaware of life, performing, like automata, +their daily tasks. + +Then, in the early days of August, came the Trumpet of War, and they +awakened. In my life have I seen nothing so marvellous. No broken spell +of enchantment in an Arabian tale when dead warriors spring into life +was ever more instant and complete. They arose in their full vigour; +the colour came back to their cheeks and the purpose into their eyes. +They laughed once more. Their days were filled with work and +cheerfulness. In November Sir Anthony was elected Mayor. Being a +practical, hard-headed little man, loved and respected by everybody, he +drove a hitherto contentious Town Council into paths of high patriotism +like a flock of sheep. And no less energy did Lady Fenimore exhibit in +the sphere of her own activities. + +A few days after the tidings came of Oswald's death, Sir Anthony was +riding through the town and pulled up before Perkins' the fishmonger's. +Perkins emerged from his shop and crossed the pavement. + +"I hear you've had bad news." + +"Yes, indeed, Sir Anthony." + +"I'm sorry. He was a fine fellow. So was my boy. We're in the same +boat, Perkins." + +Perkins assented. "It sort of knocks one's life to bits, doesn't it?" +said he. "We've nothing left." + +"We have our country." + +"Our country isn't our only son," said the other dully. + +"No. She's our mother," said Sir Anthony. + +"Isn't that a kind of abstraction?" + +"Abstraction!" cried Sir Anthony, indignantly. "You must be imbibing +the notions of that poisonous beast Gedge." + +Gedge was a smug, socialistic, pacifist builder who did not hold with +war--and with this one least of all, which he maintained was being +waged for the exclusive benefit of the capitalist classes. In the eyes +of the stalwarts of Wellingsford, he was a horrible fellow, capable of +any stratagem or treason. + +Perkins flushed. "I've always voted conservative, like my father before +me, Sir Anthony, and like yourself I've given my boy to my country. +I've no dealings with unpatriotic people like Gedge, as you know very +well." + +"Of course I do," cried Sir Anthony. "And that's why I ask you what the +devil you mean by calling England an abstraction. For us, she's the +only thing in the world. We're elderly chaps, you and I, Perkins, and +the only thing we can do to help her is to keep our heads high. If +people like you and me crumple up, the British Empire will crumple up." + +"That's quite true," said Perkins. + +Sir Anthony bent down and held out his hand. + +"It's damned hard lines for us, and for the women. But we must keep our +end up. It's doing our bit." + +Perkins wrung his hand. "I wish to God," said he, "I was young enough--" + +"By God! so do I!" said Sir Anthony. + +This little conversation (which I afterwards verified) was reported to +me by my arch-gossip, Sergeant Marigold. + +"And I tell you what, sir," said he after the conclusion, "I'm of the +same way of thinking and feeling." + +"So am I." + +"Besides, I'm not so old, sir. I'm only forty-two." + +"The prime of life," said I. + +"Then why won't they take me, sir?" + +If there had been no age limit and no medical examination Marigold +would have re-enlisted as John Smith, on the outbreak of war, without a +moment's consideration of the position of his wife and myself. And Mrs. +Marigold, a soldier's wife of twenty years' standing, would have taken +it, just like myself, as a matter of course. But as he could not +re-enlist, he pestered the War Office (just as I did) and I pestered +for him to give him military employment. And all in vain. + +"Why don't they take me, sir? When I see these fellows with three +stripes on their arms, and looking at them and wondering at them as if +they were struck three stripes by lightning, and calling themselves +Sergeants and swanking about and letting their men waddle up to their +gun like cows--and when I see them, as I've done with your eyes--watch +one of their men pass by an officer in the street without saluting, and +don't kick the blighter to--to--to barracks--it fairly makes me sick. +And I ask myself, sir, what I've done that I should be loafing here +instead of serving my country." + +"You've somehow mislaid an eye and a hand and gone and got a tin head. +That's what you've done," said I. "And the War Office has a mark +against you as a damned careless fellow." + +"Tin head or no tin head," he grumbled, "I could teach those mother's +darlings up there the difference between a battery of artillery and a +skittle-ally." + +"I believe you've mentioned the matter to them already," I observed +softly. + +Marigold met my eye for a second and then looked rather sheepish. I had +heard of a certain wordy battle between him and a Territorial Sergeant +whom he had set out to teach. Marigold encountered a cannonade of +blasphemous profanity, new, up-to-date, scientific, against which the +time-worn expletives in use during his service days were ineffectual. +He was routed with heavy loss. + +"This is a war of the young," I continued. "New men, new guns, new +notions. Even a new language," I insinuated. + +"I wish 'em joy of their language," said Marigold. Then seeing that I +was mildly amusing myself at his expense, he asked me stiffly if there +was anything more that he could do for me, and on my saying no, he +replied "Thank you, sir," most correctly and left the room. + +On the 3d of March Betty Fairfax came to tea. + +Of all the young women of Wellingsford she was my particular favourite. +She was so tall and straight, with a certain Rosalind boyishness about +her that made for charm. I am not yet, thank goodness, one of the +fossils who hold up horror-stricken hands at the independent ways of +the modern young woman. If it were not for those same independent ways +the mighty work that English women are doing in this war would be left +undone. Betty Fairfax was breezily independent. She had a little money +of her own and lived, when it suited her, with a well-to-do and +comfortable aunt. She was two and twenty. I shall try to tell you more +about her, as I go on. + +As I have said, and as my diary tells me, she came to tea on the 3d of +March. She was looking particularly attractive that afternoon. Shaded +lamps and the firelight of a cosy room, with all their soft shadows, +give a touch of mysterious charm to a pretty girl. Her jacket had a +high sort of Medici collar edged with fur, which set off her shapely +throat. The hair below her hat was soft and brown. Her brows were wide, +her eyes brown and steady, nose and lips sensitive. She had a way of +throwing back her head and pointing her chin fearlessly, as though in +perpetual declaration that she cared not a hang either for +black-beetles or Germans. And she was straight as a dart, with the +figure of a young Diana--Diana before she began to worry her head about +beauty competitions. A kind of dark hat stuck at a considerable angle +on her head gave her the prettiest little swaggering air in the +world.... Well, there was I, a small, brown, withered, grizzled, +elderly, mustachioed monkey, chained to my wheel-chair; there were the +brave logs blazing up the wide chimney; there was the tea table on my +right with its array of silver and old china; and there, on the other +side of it, attending to my wants, sat as brave and sweet a type of +young English womanhood as you could find throughout the length and +breadth of the land. Had I not been happy, I should have been an +ungrateful dog. + +We talked of the war, of local news, of the wounded at the hospital. + +And here I must say that we are very proud of our Wellingsford +Hospital. It is the largest and the wealthiest in the county. We owe it +to the uneasy conscience of a Wellingsford man, a railway speculator in +the forties, who, having robbed widows and orphans and, after trial at +the Old Bailey, having escaped penal servitude by the skin of his +teeth, died in the odour of sanctity, and the possessor of a colossal +fortune in the year eighteen sixty-three. This worthy gentleman built +the hospital and endowed it so generously that a wing of it has been +turned into a military hospital with forty beds. I have the honour to +serve on the Committee. Betty Fairfax entered as a Probationer early in +September, and has worked there night and day ever since. That is why +we chatted about the wounded. Having a day off, she had indulged in the +luxury of pretty clothes. Of these I had duly expressed my admiration. + +Tea over, she lit a cigarette for me and one for herself and drew her +chair a trifle nearer the fire. After a little knitting of the brow, +she said:-- + +"You haven't asked me why I invited myself to tea." + +"I thought," said I, "it was for my beaux yeux." + +"Not this time. I rather wanted you to be the first to receive a +certain piece of information." + +I glanced at her sharply. "You don't mean to say you're going to be +married at last?" + +In some astonishment she retorted:-- + +"How did you guess?" + +"Holy simplicity!" said I. "You told me so yourself." + +She laughed. Suddenly, on reflection, her face changed. + +"Why did you say 'at last'?" + +"Well--" said I, with a significant gesture. + +She made a defiant announcement:-- + +"I am going to marry Willie Connor." + +It was my turn to be astonished. "Captain Connor?" I echoed. + +"Yes. What have you to say against him?" + +"Nothing, my dear, nothing." + +And I hadn't. He was an exemplary young fellow, a Captain in a +Territorial regiment that had been in hard training in the +neighbourhood since August. He was of decent family and upbringing, a +barrister by profession, and a comely pink-faced boy with a fair +moustache. He brought a letter or two of introduction, was billeted on +Mrs. Fairfax, together with one of his subs, and was made welcome at +various houses. Living under the same roof as Betty, it was natural +that he should fall in love with her. But it was not at all natural +that she should fall in love with him. She was not one of the kind that +suffer fools gladly.... No; I had nothing against Willie Connor. He was +merely a common-place, negative young man; patriotic, keen in his work, +an excellent soldier, and, as far as I knew, of blameless life; but +having met him two or three times in general company, I had found him a +dull dog, a terribly dull dog,--the last man in the world for Betty +Fairfax. + +And then there was Leonard Boyce. I naturally had him in my head, when +I used the words "at last." + +"You don't seem very enthusiastic," said Betty. + +"You've taken me by surprise," said I. "I'm not young enough to be +familiar with these sudden jerks." + +"You thought it was Major Boyce." + +"I did, Betty. True, you've said nothing about it to me for ever so +long, and when I have asked you for news of him your answers have +shewed me that all was not well. But you've never told me, or anyone, +that the engagement was broken off." + +Her young face was set sternly as she looked into the fire. + +"It's not broken off--in the formal sense. Leonard thought fit to let +it dwindle, and it has dwindled until it has perished of inanition." +She flashed round. "I'm not the sort to ask any man for explanations." + +"Boyce went out with the first lot in August," I said. "He has had +seven awful months. Mons and all the rest of it. You must excuse a man +in the circumstances for not being aux petits soins des dames. And he +seems to be doing magnificently--twice mentioned in dispatches." + +"I know all that," she said. "I'm not a fool. But the war has nothing +to do with it. It started a month before the war broke out. Don't let +us talk of it." + +She threw the end of her cigarette into the fire and lit a fresh one. I +accepted the action as symbolical. I dismissed Boyce, and said:-- + +"And so you're engaged to Captain Connor?" + +"More than that," she laughed. "I'm going to marry him. He's going out +next week. It's idiotic to have an engagement. So I'm going to marry +him the day after to-morrow." + +Now here was a piece of news, all flung at my head in a couple of +minutes. The day after to-morrow! I asked for the reason of this +disconcerting suddenness. + +"He's going out next week." + +"My dear," said I, "I have known you for a very long time--and I +suppose it's because I'm such a very old friend that you've come to +tell me all about it. So I can talk to you frankly. Have you considered +the terrible chances of this war? Heaven knows what may happen. He may +be killed." + +"That's why I'm marrying him," she said. + +There was a little pause. For the moment I had nothing to say, as I was +busily searching for her point of view. Then, with pauses between each +sentence, she went on:-- + +"He asked me two months ago, and again a month ago. I told him to put +such ideas out of his head. Yesterday he told me they were off to the +front and said what a wonderful help it would be to him if he could +carry away some hope of my love. So I gave it to him."--She threw back +her head and looked at me, with flushed cheeks. "The love, not the +hope." + +"I don't think it was right of him to press for an immediate marriage," +said I, in a grandfatherly way--though God knows if I had been mad for +a girl I should have done the same myself when I was young. + +"He didn't" said Betty, coolly. "It was all my doing. I fixed it up +there and then. Looked up Whitaker's Almanack for the necessary +information, and sent him off to get a special license." + +I nodded a non-committal head. It all seemed rather mad. Betty rose and +from her graceful height gazed down on me. + +"If you don't look more cheerful, Major, I shall cry. I've never done +so yet, but I'm sure I've got it in me." + +I stretched out my hand. She took it, and, still holding it, seated +herself on a footstool close to my chair. + +"There are such a lot of things that occur to me," I said. "Things that +your poor mother, if she were alive, would be more fitted to touch on +than myself." + +"Such as--" + +She knelt by me and gave me both her hands. It was a pretty way she +had. She had begun it soon after her head overtopped mine in my eternal +wheelbarrow. There was a little mockery in her eyes. + +"Well--" said I. "You know what marriage means. There is the question +of children." + +She broke into frank laughter. + +"My darling Majy--" That is the penalty one pays for admitting +irresponsible modern young people into one's intimacy. They miscall one +abominably. I thought she had outgrown this childish, though +affectionate appellation of disrespect. "My darling Majy!" she said. +"Children! How many do you think I'm going to have?" + +I was taken aback. There was this pure, proud, laughing young face a +foot away from me. I said in desperation:-- + +"You know very well what I mean, young woman. I want to put things +clearly before you--" It is the most difficult thing in the world for a +man--even without legs--to talk straight about the facts of life to a +young girl. He has no idea how much she knows about them and how much +she doesn't. To tear away veils and reveal frightening starkness is an +act from which he shrinks with all the modesty of a (perhaps) deluded +sex. I took courage. "I want," I repeated, "to put things clearly +before you. You are marrying this young man. You will have a week's +married life. He goes away like a gallant fellow to fight for his +country. He may be killed in the course of the next few weeks. Like a +brave girl you've got to face it. In the course of time a child may be +born--without a father to look after him. It's a terrific +responsibility." + +She knelt upright and put both her hands on my shoulders, almost +embracing me, and the laughter died away from her eyes, giving place to +something which awakened memories of what I had seen once or twice in +the eyes of the dearest of all women. She put her face very close to +mine and whispered: + +"Don't you see, dear, it's in some sort of way because of that? Don't +you think it would be awful for a strong, clean, brave English life +like his to go out without leaving behind him someone to--well, you +know what I mean--to carry on the same traditions--to be the same clean +brave Englishman in the future?" + +I smiled and nodded. Quite a different kind of nod from the previous +one. + +"Thousands of girls are doing it, you dear old Early Victorian, and +aren't ashamed to say so to those who really love and can understand +them. And you do love and understand, don't you?" + +She set me off at arm's length, and held me with her bright unflinching +eyes. + +"I do, my dear," said I. "But there's only one thing that troubles me. +Marriage is a lifelong business. Captain Connor may win through to a +green old age. I hope to God the gallant fellow will. Your present +motives are beautiful and heroic. But do you care for him sufficiently +to pass a lifetime with him--after the war--an ordinary, commonplace +lifetime?" + +With the same clear gaze full on me she said:-- + +"Didn't I tell you that I had given him my love?" + +"You did." + +"Then," she retorted with a smile, "my dear Major Didymus, what more do +you want?" + +"Nothing, my dear Betty." + +I kissed her. She threw her arms round my neck and kissed me again. +Sergeant Marigold entered on the sentimental scene and preserved a face +of wood. Betty rose to her feet slowly and serenely and smiled at +Marigold. + +"Miss Fairfax's car," he announced. + +"Marigold," said I, "Miss Fairfax is going to be married the day after +to-morrow to Captain Connor of the--" + +"I know, sir," interrupted my one-eyed ramrod. "I'm very glad, if I may +be permitted to say so, Miss. I've made it my duty to inspect all the +troops that have been quartered hereabouts during the last eight +months. And Captain Connor is one of the few that really know their +business. I shouldn't at all mind to serve under him. I can't say more, +Miss. I wish you happiness." + +She flushed and laughed and looked adorable, and held out her hand, +which he enclosed in his great left fist. + +"And you'll come to my wedding, Sergeant?" + +"I will, Miss," said he. "With considerable pleasure." + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +When I want to shew how independent I am of everybody, I drive abroad +in my donkey carriage. I am rather proud of my donkey, a lithe-limbed +pathetically eager little beast, deep bay with white tips to his ears. +Marigold bought him for me last spring, from some gipsies, when his +predecessor, Dan, who had served me faithfully for some years, struck +work and insisted on an old-age pension. He is called Hosea, a name +bestowed on him, by way of clerical joke, and I am sure with a profane +reminiscence of Jorrocks, by the Vicar, because he "came after Daniel." +At first I thought it rather silly; but when I tried to pull him up I +found that "Whoa-Ho-sea!" came in rather pat; so Hosea he has remained. +He has quite a fast, stylish little trot, and I can square my elbows +and cock my head on one side as I did in the days of my youth when the +brief ownership of a tandem and a couple of thoroughbreds would have +landed me in the bankruptcy court, had it not mercifully first landed +me in the hospital. + +The afternoon after Betty's visit, I took Hosea to Wellings Park. The +Fenimores shewed me a letter they had received from Oswald's Colonel, +full of praise of the gallant boy, and after discussing it, which they +did with brave eyes and voices, Sir Anthony said:-- + +"I want your advice, Duncan, on a matter that has been worrying us +both. Briefly it is this. When Oswald came of age I promised to allow +him a thousand a year till I should be wiped out and he should come in. +Now I'm only fifty-five and as strong as a horse. I can reasonably +expect to live, say, another twenty years. If Oswald were alive I +should owe him, in prospectu, twenty thousand pounds. He has given his +life for his country. His country, therefore, is his heir, comes in for +his assets, his twenty years' allowance--" + +"And the whole of your estate at your death?" I interposed. + +"No. Not at all," said he. "At my death, it would have been his to +dispose of as he pleased. Up to my death, he would have had no more +claim to deal with it than you have. Look at things from my point of +view, and don't be idiotic. I am considering my debt to Oswald, and +therefore, logically, my debt to the country. It is twenty thousand +pounds. I'm going to pay it. The only question is--and the question has +kept Edith and myself awake the last two nights--is what's the best +thing to do with it? Of course I could give it to some fund,--or +several funds,--but it's a lot of money and I should like it to be used +to the best advantage. Now what do you say?" + +"I say," said I, "that you Croesuses make a half-pay Major of +Artillery's head reel. If I were like you, I should go into a shop and +buy a super-dreadnought, and stick a card on it with a drawing pin, and +send it to the Admiralty with my compliments." + +"Duncan," said Lady Fenimore, severely, "don't be flippant." + +Heaven knows I was in no flippant mood; but it was worth a foolish jest +to bring a smile to Sir Anthony's face. Also this grave, conscientious +proposition had its humorous side. It was so British. It reminded me of +the story of Swift, who, when Gay and Pope visited him and refused to +sup, totted up the cost of the meal and insisted on their accepting +half-a-crown apiece. It reminded me too of the rugged old Lancashire +commercial blood that was in him--blood that only shewed itself on the +rarest and greatest of occasions--the blood of his grandfather, the +Manchester cotton-spinner, who founded the fortunes of his house. Sir +Anthony knew less about cotton than he did about ballistics and had +never sat at a desk in a business office for an hour in his life; but +now and again the inherited instinct to put high impulses on a +scrupulously honest commercial basis asserted itself in the quaintest +of fashions. + +"There's some sense in what he says, Edith," remarked Sir Anthony. +"It's only vanity that prompted us to ear-mark this sum for something +special." + +"Vanity!" cried Lady Fenimore. "You weren't by any chance thinking of +advertising our gift or contribution or whatever you like to call it in +the Daily Mail?" + +"Heaven forbid, my dear," Sir Anthony replied warmly; and he stood, his +hands under his coat-tails and his gaitered legs apart, regarding her +with the air of a cock-sparrow accused of murdering his young, or a +sensitive jockey repudiating a suggestion of crooked riding. "Heaven +forbid!" he repeated. "Such an idea never entered my head." + +"Then where does the vanity come in?" asked Lady Fenimore. + +They had their little argument. I lit a cigarette and let them argue. +In such cases, every married couple has its own queer and private and +particular and idiosyncratic way of coming to an agreement. The third +party who tries to foist on it his own suggestion of a way is an +imbecile. The dispute on the point of vanity, charmingly conducted, +ended by Sir Anthony saying triumphantly:-- + +"Well, my dear, don't you see I'm right?" and by his wife replying with +a smile:-- + +"No, darling, I don't see at all. But since you feel like that, there's +nothing more to be said." + +I was mildly enjoying myself. Perhaps I'm a bit of a cynic. I broke in. + +"I don't think it's vanity to see that you get your money's worth. +There's lots of legitimate fun in spending twenty thousand pounds +properly. It's too big to let other people manage or mis-manage. +Suppose you decided on motor-ambulances or hospital trains, for +instance, it would be your duty to see that you got the best and most +up-to-date ambulances or trains, with the least possible profits, to +contractors and middle-men." + +"As far as that goes, I think I know my way about," said Sir Anthony. + +"Of course. And as for publicity--or the reverse, hiding your light +under a bushel--any fool can remain anonymous." + +Sir Anthony nodded at me, rubbed his hands, and turned to his wife. + +"That's just what I was saying, Edith." + +"My dear, that is just what I was trying to make you understand." + +Neither of the two dear things had said, or given the other to +understand, anything of the kind. But you see they had come in their +own quaint married way to an agreement and were now receptive of +commonsense. + +"The motor ambulance is a sound idea," said Sir Anthony, rubbing his +chin between thumb and forefinger. + +"So is the hospital train," said Lady Fenimore. + +What an idiot I was to suggest these alternatives! I looked at my +watch. It was getting late. Hosea, like a silly child, is afraid of the +dark. He just stands still and shivers at the night, and the more he is +belaboured the more he shivers, standing stock-still with ears thrown +back and front legs thrown forward. As I can't get out and pull, I'm at +the mercy of Hosea. And he knows it. Since the mount of Balaam, there +was never such an intelligent idiot of an ass. + +"What do you say?" asked Sir Anthony. "Ambulance or train?" + +"Donkey carriage," said I. "This very moment minute." + +I left them and trotted away homewards. + +Just as I had turned a bend of the chestnut avenue near the Park gates, +I came upon a couple of familiar figures--familiar, that is to say, +individually, but startlingly unfamiliar in conjunction. They were a +young man and girl, Randall Holmes and Phyllis Gedge. Randall had +concluded a distinguished undergraduate career at Oxford last summer. +He was a man of birth, position, and, to a certain extent, of fortune. +Phyllis Gedge was the daughter, the pretty and attractive daughter, of +Daniel Gedge, the socialistic builder who did not hold with war. What +did young Randall mean by walking in the dark with his arm round +Phyllis's waist? Of course as soon as he heard the click-clack of +Hosea's hoofs he whipped his arm away; but I had already caught him. +They tried to look mighty unconcerned as I pulled up. I took off my hat +politely to the lady and held out my hand to the young man. + +"Good evening, Randall," said I. "I haven't seen you for ages." + +He was a tall, clean-limbed, clear-featured boy, with black hair, which +though not long, yet lacked the military trimness befitting the heads +of young men at the present moment. He murmured something about being +busy. + +"It will do you good to take a night off," I said; "drop in after +dinner and smoke a pipe with an old friend." + +I smiled, bowed again politely, whipped up Hosea and trotted off. I +wondered whether he would come. He had said: "Delighted, I'm sure," but +he had not looked delighted. Very possibly he regarded me as a +meddlesome, gossiping old tom-cat. Perhaps for that reason he would +deem it wise to adopt a propitiatory attitude. Perhaps also he retained +a certain affectionate respect for me, seeing that I had known him as a +tiny boy in a sailor suit, and had fed him at Harrow (as I did poor +Oswald Fenimore at Wellington) with Mrs. Marigold's famous potted +shrimp and other comestibles, and had put him up, during here and there +holidays and later a vacation, when his mother and aunts, with whom he +lived, had gone abroad to take inefficacious cures for the tedium of a +futile life. Oxford, however, had set him a bit off my plane. + +As an ordinary soldierman, trained in the elementary virtues of +plain-speaking and direct dealing, love of country and the sacredness +of duty, I have had no use for the metaphysician. I haven't the +remotest notion what his jargon means. From Aristotle to William James, +I have dipped into quite a lot of them--Descartes, Berkeley, Kant, +Schopenhauer (the thrice besotted Teutonic ass who said that women +weren't beautiful), for I hate to be thought an ignorant duffer--and I +have never come across in them anything worth knowing, thinking, or +doing that I was not taught at my mother's knee. And as for her, dear, +simple soul, if you had asked her what was the Categorical Imperative +(having explained beforehand the meaning of the words), she would have +said, "The Sermon on the Mount." + +Of course, please regard this as a criticism not of the metaphysicians +and the philosophers, but of myself. All these great thinkers have +their niches in the Temple of Fame, and I'm quite aware that the +consensus of human judgment does not immortalise even such an ass as +Schopenhauer, without sufficient reason. All I want to convey to you is +that I am only a plain, ordinary God-fearing, law-abiding Englishman, +and that when young Randall Holmes brought down from Oxford all sorts +of highfalutin theories about everything, not only in God's Universe, +but in the super-Universe that wasn't God's, and of every one of which +he was cocksure, I found my homely self very considerably out of it. + +Then--young Randall was a poet. He had won the Newdigate. The subject +was Andrea del Sarto, one of my favourite painters--il pittore senza +errore--and his prize poem--it had, of course, to be academic in +form--was excellent. It said just the things about him which Browning +somehow missed, and which I had always been impotently wanting to say. +And a year or so afterwards--when I praised his poem--he would shrink +in a more than deprecating attitude: I might just as well have extolled +him for seducing the wife of his dearest friend. His later poems, of +which he was immodestly proud--"Sensations Captured on the Wing," he +defined them--left me cold and unsympathetic. So, for these reasons, +the boy and I had drifted apart. Until I had caught him in flagrante +delicto of walking with his arm round the waist of pretty Phyllis +Gedge, I had not seen him to speak to for a couple of months. + +He came, however, after dinner, looking very sleek and handsome and +intellectual, and wearing a velvet dinner jacket which I did not like. +After we had gossiped awhile:-- + +"You said you were very busy?" I remarked. + +He flicked off his cigarette ash and nodded. + +"What at?" + +"War poetry," he replied. "I am trying to supply the real note. It is +badly wanted. There are all kinds of stuff being written, but all +indifferent and valueless. If it has a swing, it's merely vulgar, and +what isn't vulgar is academic, commonplace. There's a crying need for +the high level poetry that shall interpret with dignity and nobility +the meaning of the war." + +"Have you written much?" + +"I have an ode every week in the Albemarle Review. I also write the +political article. Didn't you know? Haven't you seen them?" + +"I don't take in that periodical," said I. "The omniscience of the last +copy I saw dismayed me. I couldn't understand why the Government were +such insensate fools as not to move from Downing Street to their +Editorial offices." + +Randall, with a humouring smile, defended the Albemarle Review. + +"It is run," said he, "by a little set of intellectuals--some men up +with me at Oxford--who must naturally have a clearer vision than men +who have been living for years in the yellow fog of party politics." + +He expounded the godlike wisdom of young Oxford at some length, +replying vividly to here and there a Socratic interpolation on my part. +After a while I began to grow irritated. His talk, like his verse, +seemed to deal with unrealities. It was a negation of everything, save +the intellectual. If he and his friends had been in power, there would +never have been a war; there never would have been a German menace; the +lamb would have lain down in peace, outside the lion. He had an airy +way of dismissing the ruder and more human aspects of the war. Said I:-- + +"Anyone can talk of what might have been. But that's all over and done +with. We're up against the tough proposition of the present. What are +you doing for it?" + +He waved a hand. "That's just the point. The present doesn't +matter--not in the wide conception of things. It is the past and the +future that count. The present is mere fluidity." + +"The poor devils up to their waists in water in the trenches would +agree with you," said I. + +"They would also agree with me," he retorted, "if they had time to go +into the reconstruction of the future that we are contemplating." + +At this juncture Marigold came in with the decanters and syphons. I +noticed his one eye harden on the velvet dinner-jacket. He fidgeted +about the room, threw a log on the fire, drew the curtains closer, +always with an occasional malevolent glance at the jacket. Then +Randall, like a silly young ass, said, from the depths of his easy +chair, a very silly thing. + +"I see you've not managed to get into khaki yet, Sergeant." + +Marigold took a tactical pace or two to the door. + +"Neither have you, sir," he said in a respectful tone, and went out. + +Randall laughed, though I saw his dark cheek flush. "If Marigold had +his way he would have us all in a barrack square." + +"Preferably in those fluid trenches of the present," said I. "And he +wouldn't be far wrong." + +My eyes rested on him somewhat stonily. People have complained +sometimes--defaulters, say, in the old days--that there can be a +beastly, nasty look in them. + +"What do you mean, Major?" he asked. + +"Sergeant Marigold," said I, "is a brave, patriotic Englishman who has +given his country all he can spare from the necessary physical +equipment to carry on existence; and it's making him hang-dog miserable +that he's not allowed to give the rest to-morrow. You must forgive his +plain speaking," I continued, gathering warmth as I went on, "but he +can't understand healthy young fellows like you not wanting to do the +same. And, for the matter of that, my dear Randall, neither do I. Why +aren't you serving your country?" + +He started forward in his chair and threw out his arms, and his dark +eyes flashed and a smile of conscious rectitude overspread his +clear-cut features. + +"My dear Major--serving my country? Why, I'm working night and day for +it. You don't understand." + +"I've already told you I don't." + +The boy was my guest. I had not intended to hold a pistol to his head +in one hand and dangle a suit of khaki before his eyes in the other. I +had been ill at ease concerning him for months, but I had proposed to +regain his confidence in a tactful, fatherly way. Instead of which I +found myself regarding him with my beastly defaulter glare. The blood +sometimes flies to one's head. + +He condescended to explain. + +"There are millions of what the Germans call 'cannon fodder' about. But +there are few intellects--few men, shall I say?--of genius, scarcely a +poet. And men like myself who can express--that's the whole vital +point--who can EXPRESS the higher philosophy of the Empire, and can +point the way to its realisation are surely more valuable than the +yokel or factory hand, who, as the sum-total of his capabilities, can +be trained merely into a sort of shooting machine. Just look at it, my +dear Major, from a commonsense point of view--" He forgot, the amazing +young idiot, that he was talking not to a maiden aunt, but to a +hard-bitten old soldier. "What good would it serve to stick the +comparatively rare man--I say it in all modesty--the comparatively rare +man like myself in the trenches? It would be foolish waste. I assure +you I'm putting all my talents at the disposal of the country." Seeing, +I suppose, in my eyes, the maintained stoniness of non-conviction, he +went on, "But, my dear sir, be reasonable." ... Reasonable! I nearly +choked. If I could have stood once more on my useless legs, I should +have swung my left arm round and clouted him on the side of the head. +Reasonable indeed! This well-fed, able-bodied, young Oxford prig to +tell me, an honourable English officer and gentleman, to be reasonable, +when the British Empire, in peril of its existence, was calling on all +its manhood to defend it in arms! I glared at him. He continued:-- + +"Yes, be reasonable. Everyone has his place in this World conflict. We +can't all be practical fighters. You wouldn't set Kitchener or Grey or +Lord Crewe to bayonet Germans--" + +"By God, sir," I cried, smiting one palm with the fist of the other +hand. "By God, sir, I would, if they were three and twenty." I had +completely lost my temper. "And if I saw them doing nothing, while the +country was asking for MEN, but writing rotten doggerel and messing +about with girls far beneath them in station, I should call them the +damnedest skunks unskinned!" + +He had the decency to rise. "Major Meredyth," said he, "you're under a +terrible misapprehension. You're a military man and must look at +everything from a military point of view. It would be useless to +discuss the philosophy of the situation with you. We're on different +planes." + +Just what I said. + +"You," said I, "seem to be hovering near Tophet and the Abyss." + +"No, no," he answered with an indulgent smile. "You are quoting +Carlyle. You must give him up." + +"Damned pro-German, I should think I do," I cried. I had forgotten +where my phrase came from. + +"I'm glad to hear it. He's a back-number. I'm a modern. I represent +equilibrium--" He made a little rocking gesture with his graceful hand. +"I am out for Eternal Truth, which I think I perceive." + +"In poor little Phyllis Gedge, I suppose?" + +"Why not? Look. I am the son, grandson, great-grandson, of English +Tories. She is the daughter of socialism, syndicalism, pacifism, +internationalism--everything that is most apart from my traditions. But +she brings to me beauty, innocence, the feminine solution of all +intellectual concepts. She, the woman, is the soul of conflicting +England. She is torn both ways. But as she has to breed men, some day, +she is instinctively on our side. She is invaluable to me. She inspires +my poems. You may not believe it, but she is at the back of my +political articles. You must really be a little more broad-minded, +Major, and look at these things from the right point of view. From the +point of view of my work, she is merely a symbol." + +"And you?" said I, wrathfully. "What are you to her? Do you suppose she +takes you for a symbol? I wish to Heaven she did. A round cipher of +naught, the symbol of inanity. She takes you for an honourable +gentleman. I've known the child since she was born. As good a little +girl as you could wish to meet." + +He drew himself up. "That's the opinion of her I am endeavouring to +express." + +"Quite so. You win a good decent girl's affection,--if you hadn't, she +would never have let you walk about with her at nightfall, with your +arm round her waist,--and you have the cynical audacity to say that +she's only a symbol." + +"When you asked me to come in this evening," said he, "I naturally +concluded you would broach this subject. I came prepared to give you a +complete explanation of what I am ready to admit was a compromising +situation." + +"There is only one explanation," said I angrily. "What are your +intentions regarding the girl?" + +He smiled. "Quite honourable." + +"You mean marriage?" + +"Oh, no," said he, emphatically. + +"Then the other thing? That's not honourable." + +"Of course not. Certainly not the other thing. I'm not a blackguard." + +"Then what on earth are you playing at?" + +He sighed. "I'm afraid you will never understand." + +"I'm afraid I won't," said I. "By your own confession you are neither a +lusty blackguard nor an honourable gentleman. You're a sort of +philanderer, somewhere in between. You neither mean to fight like a man +nor love like a man. I'm sorry to say it, but I've no use for you. As I +can't do it myself, will you kindly ring the bell?" + +"Certainly," said he, white with anger, which I was glad to see, and +pressed the electric button beside the mantelpiece. He turned on me, +his head high. There was still some breeding left in him. + +"I'm sorry we're at such cross-purposes, Major. All my life long I've +owed you kindnesses I can't ever repay. But at present we're hopelessly +out of sympathy!" + +"It seems so," said I. "I had hoped your father's son would be a better +man!" + +"My father," said he, "was a successful stockbroker, without any ideas +in his head save the making of money. I don't see what he has got to do +with my well-considered attitude towards life." + +"Your callow attitude towards life, my poor boy," said I, "is a matter +of profound indifference to me. But I shall give orders that you are no +longer admitted to this house except in uniform." + +"That's absurd," said he. + +"Not at all," said I. + +In obedience to the summons of the bell Sergeant Marigold appeared and +stood in his ramrod fashion by the door. + +Randall came forward to my wheel-chair, with hand outstretched. + +"I'm desperately sorry, Major, for this disastrous misunderstanding." + +I thrust my hands beneath the light shawl that covered my legs. + +"Don't be such a self-sufficient fool, Randall," I said, "as to think I +don't understand. In the present position there are no subtleties and +no complications. Good-night." + +Marigold, with a wooden face, opened wide the door, and Randall, with a +shrug of the shoulders, went out. + +I stayed awake the whole of that livelong night. + +When I learned the death of young Oswald Fenimore, whom I loved far +more dearly than Randall Holmes, I went to bed and slept peacefully. A +gallant lad died in battle; there is nothing more to be said, nothing +more to be thought. The finality, heroically sublime, overwhelms the +poor workings of the brain. But in the case of a fellow like Randall +Holmes--well, as I have said, I did not get a wink of sleep the whole +night long. + +Someone, a few months ago, told me of a young university man--Oxford or +Cambridge, I forget--who, when asked why he was not fighting, replied; +"What has the war to do with me? I disapprove of this brawling." + +Was that the attitude of Randall, whom I had known all his life long? I +shivered, like a fool, all night. The only consolation I had was to +bring commonsense to my aid and to meditate on the statistical fact +that the Universities of Oxford and Cambridge were practically empty. + +But my soul was sick for young Randall Holmes. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +On the wedding eve Betty brought the happy young man to dine with me. +He was in that state of unaccustomed and somewhat embarrassed bliss in +which a man would have dined happily with Beelzebub. A fresh-coloured +boy, with fair crisply set hair and a little moustache a shade or two +fairer, he kept on blushing radiantly, as if apologising in a gallant +sort of fashion for his existence in the sphere of Betty's affection. +As I had known him but casually and desired to make his closer +acquaintance, I had asked no one to meet them, save Betty's aunt, whom +a providential cold had prevented from facing the night air. So, in the +comfortable little oak-panelled dining-room, hung round with my beloved +collection of Delft, I had the pair all to myself, one on each side; +and in this way I was able to read exchanges of glances whence I might +form sage conclusions. Bella, spruce parlour-maid, waited deftly. +Sergeant Marigold, when not occupied in the mild labour of filling +glasses, stood like a guardian ramrod behind my chair--a self-assigned +post to which he stuck grimly like a sentinel. As I always sat with my +back to the fire there must have been times when, the blaze roaring +more fiercely than usual up the chimney, he must have suffered +martyrdom in his hinder parts. + +As I talked--for the first time on such intimate footing--with young +Connor, I revised my opinion of him and mentally took back much that I +had said in his disparagement. He was by no means the dull dog that I +had labelled him. By diligent and sympathetic enquiry I learned that he +had been a Natural Science scholar at Trinity College, Cambridge, where +he had taken a first-class degree--specialising in geology; that by +profession (his father's) he was a mining-engineer, and, in pursuit of +his vocation, had travelled in Galicia, Mexico and Japan; furthermore, +that he had been one of the ardent little band who of recent years had +made the Cambridge Officers Training Corps an effective school. +Hitherto, when I had met him he had sat so agreeably smiling and +modestly mumchance that I had accepted him at his face value. + +I was amused to see how Betty, in order to bring confusion on me, led +him to proclaim himself. And I loved the manner in which he did so. To +hear him, one would have thought that he owed everything in the world +to Betty--from his entrance scholarship at the University to the word +of special commendation which his company had received from the General +of his Division at last week's inspection. Yes, he was the modest, +clean-bred, simple English gentleman who, without self-consciousness or +self-seeking, does his daily task as well as it can be done, just +because it is the thing that is set before him to do. And he was over +head and ears in love with Betty. + +I took it upon myself to dismiss her with a nod after she had smoked a +cigarette over her coffee. Mrs. Marigold, as a soldier's wife, I +announced, had a world of invaluable advice to give her. Willie Connor +opened the door. On the threshold she said very prettily: + +"Don't drink too much of Major Meredyth's old port. It has been known +before now to separate husbands and wives for years and years." + +He looked after her for a few seconds before he closed the door. + +Oh, my God! I've looked like that, in my time, after one dear woman.... +Humanity is very simple, after all. Every generation does exactly the +same beautiful, foolish things as its forerunner. As he approached the +table, I said with a smile:-- + +"You're only copying your great-great-grandfather." + +"In what way, sir?" he asked, resuming his place. + +I pushed the decanter of port. "He watched the disappearing skirt of +your great-great-grandmother." + +"She was doubtless a very venerable old lady," said he, flushing and +helping himself to wine. "I never knew her, but she wasn't a patch on +Betty!" + +"But," said I, "when your great-great-grandfather opened the door for +her to pass out, she wasn't venerable at all, but gloriously young." + +"I suppose he was satisfied, poor old chap." He took a sip. "But those +days did not produce Betty Fairfaxes." He laughed. "I'm jolly sorry for +my ancestors." + +Well--that is the way I like to hear a young man talk. It was the +modern expression of the perfect gentle knight. In so far as went his +heart's intention and his soul's strength to assure it, I had no fear +for Betty's happiness. He gave it to her fully into her own hands; +whether she would throw it away or otherwise misuse it was another +matter. + +Though I have ever loved women, en tout bien et tout honneur, their +ways have never ceased from causing me mystification. I think I can +size up a man, especially given such an opportunity as I had in the +case of Willie Connor--I have been more or less trained in the business +all my man's life; but Betty Fairfax, whom I had known intimately for +as many years as she could remember, puzzled me exceedingly. I defy +anyone to have picked a single fault in her demeanour towards her +husband of to-morrow. She lit a cigarette for him in the most charming +way in the world, and when he guided the hand that held the match, she +touched his crisp hair lightly with the fingers of the other. She was +all smiles. When we met in the drawing-room, she retailed with a spice +of mischief much of Mrs. Marigold's advice. She had seated herself on +the music stool. Swinging round, she quoted: + +"'Even the best husband,' she said, 'will go on swelling himself up +with vanity just because he's a man. A sensible woman, Miss, lets him +go on priding of himself, poor creature. It sort of helps his dignity +when the time comes for him to eat out of your hand, and makes him +think he's doing you a favour.'" + +"When are you going to eat out of my hand, Willie?" she asked. + +"Haven't I been doing it for the past week?" + +"Oh, they always do that before they're married--so Mrs. Marigold +informed me. I mean afterwards." + +"Don't you think, my dear," I interposed, "it depends on what your +hands hold out for him to eat?" + +Her eyes wavered a bit under mine. + +"If he's good," she answered, "they'll be always full of nice things." + +She sat, flushed, happy, triumphant, her arms straight down, her +knuckles resting on the leathern seat, her silver-brocaded, slender +feet, clear of the floor, peeping close together beneath her white +frock. + +"And if he isn't good?" + +"They'll be full of nasty medicine." + +She laughed and pivoted round and, after running over the keys of the +piano for a second or two, began to play Gounod's "Death March of a +Marionette." She played it remarkably well. When she had ended, Connor +walked from the hearth, where he had been standing, to her side. I +noticed a little puzzled look in his eyes. + +"Delightful," said he. "But, Betty, what put that thing suddenly into +your head?" + +"We had been talking nonsense," she replied, picking out a chord or +two, without looking at him. "And I thought we ought to give all past +vanities and frivolities and lunacies a decent burial." + +He put both hands very tenderly on her shoulders. + +"Requiescat," said he. + +She spread out her fingers and struck the two resonant chords of an +"Amen," and then glanced up at him, laughing. + +After a while, Marigold announced her car, or, rather, her aunt's car. +They took their leave. I gave them my benediction. Presently, Betty, +fur-coated, came running in alone. She flung herself down, in her +impetuous way, beside my wheel-chair. No visit of Betty's would have +been complete without this performance. + +"I haven't had a word with you all the evening, Majy, dear. I've told +Willie to discuss strategy with Sergeant Marigold in the hall, till I +come. Well--you thought I was a damn little fool the other day, didn't +you? What do you think now?" + +"I think, my dear," said I, with a hand on her forehead, "that you are +marrying a very gallant English gentleman of whose love any woman in +the land might be proud." + +She clutched me round the neck and brought her young face near +mine--and looked at me--I hesitate to say it,--but so it +seemed,--somewhat haggardly. + +"I love to hear you say that, it means so much to me. Don't think I +haven't a sense of proportion. I have. In all this universal slaughter +and massacre, a woman's life counts as much as that of a mosquito." She +freed an arm and snapped her fingers. "But to the woman herself, her +own life can't help being of some value. Such as it is, I want to give +it all, every bit of it, to Willie. He shall have everything, +everything, everything that I can give him." + +I looked into the young, drawn, pleading face long and earnestly. No +longer was I mystified. I remembered her talk with me a couple of days +before, and I read her riddle. + +She had struck gold. She knew it. Gold of a man's love. Gold of a man's +strength. Gold of a man's honour. Gold of a man's stainless past. Gold +of a man's radiant future. And though she wore the mocking face and +talked the mocking words of the woman who expected such a man to "eat +out of her hand," she knew that never out of her hand would he eat save +that which she should give him in honourable and wifely service. She +knew that. She was exquisitely anxious that I should know it too. +Floodgates of relief were expressed when she saw that I knew it. Not +that I, personally, counted a scrap. What she craved was a decent human +soul's justification of her doings. She craved recognition of her +action in casting away base metal forever and taking the pure gold to +her heart. + +"Tell me that I am doing the right thing, dear," she said, "and +to-morrow I'll be the happiest woman in the world." + +And I told her, in the most fervent manner in my power. + +"You quite understand?" she said, standing up, looking very young and +princess-like, her white throat gleaming between her furs and up-turned +chin. + +"You will find, my dear," said I, "that the significance of your Dead +March of a Marionette will increase every day of your married life." + +She stiffened in a sudden stroke of passion, looking, for the instant, +electrically beautiful. + +"I wish," she cried, "someone had written the Dead March of a Devil." + +She bent down, kissed me, and went out in a whirr of furs and draperies. + +Of course, all I could do was to scratch my thin iron-grey hair and +light a cigar and meditate in front of the fire. I knew all about +it--or at any rate I thought I did, which, as far as my meditation in +front of the fire is concerned, comes to the same thing. + +Betty had cast out the base metal of her love for Leonard Boyce in +order to accept the pure gold of the love of Willie Connor. So she +thought, poor girl. She had been in love with Boyce. She had been +engaged to Boyce. Boyce, for some reason or the other, had turned her +down. Spretae injuria formae--she had cast Boyce aside. But for all her +splendid surrender of her womanhood to Willie Connor, for the sake of +her country, she still loved Leonard Boyce. Or, if she wasn't in love +with him, she couldn't get him out of her head or her senses. Something +like that, anyhow. I don't pretend to know exactly what goes on in the +soul or nature, or whatever it is, of a young girl, who has given her +heart to a man. I can only use the crude old phrase: she was still in +love (in some sort of fashion) with Leonard Boyce, and she was going to +marry, for the highest motives, somebody else. + +"Confound the fellow," said I, with an irritable gesture and covered +myself with cigar ash. + +She had called Boyce a devil and implied a wish that he were dead. For +myself I did not know what to make of him, for reasons which I will +state. I never approved of the engagement. As a matter of fact, I +knew--and was one of the very few who knew--of a black mark against +him--the very blackest mark that could be put against a soldier's name. +It was a puzzling business. And when I say I knew of the mark, I must +be candid and confess that its awful justification lies in the +conscience of one man living in the world to-day--if indeed he be still +alive. + +Boyce was a great bronzed, bull-necked man, with an overpowering +personality. People called him the very model of a soldier. He was +always admired and feared by his men. His fierce eye and deep, resonant +voice, and a suggestion of hidden strength, even of brutality, +commanded implicit obedience. But both glance and voice would soften +caressingly and his manner convey a charm which made him popular with +men--brother officers and private soldiers alike--and with women. With +regard to the latter--to put things crudely--they saw in him the +essential, elemental male. Of that I am convinced. It was the open +secret of his many successes. And he had a buoyant, boyish, disarming, +chivalrous way with him. If he desired a woman's lips he would always +begin by kissing the hem of her skirt. + +Had I not known what I did, I, an easy-going sort of Christian +temperamentally inclined to see the best in my fellow-creatures, and, +as I boastingly said a little while ago, a trained judge of men, should +doubtless have fallen, like most other people, under the spell of his +fascination. But whenever I met him, I used to look at him and say to +myself: "What's at the back of you anyway? What about that business at +Vilboek's Farm?" + +Now this is what I knew--with the reservation I have made above--and to +this day he is not aware of my knowledge. + +It was towards the end of the Boer War. Boyce had come out rather late; +for which, of course, he was not responsible. A soldier has to go when +he is told. After a period of humdrum service he was sent off with a +section of mounted infantry to round up a certain farm-house suspected +of harbouring Boer combatants. The excursion was a mere matter of +routine--of humdrum commonplace. As usual it was made at night, but +this was a night of full dazzling moon. The farm lay in a hollow of the +veldt, first seen from the crest of a kopje. There it lay below, +ramshackle and desolate, a rough wall around; flanked by +outbuildings--barn and cowsheds. The section rode down. The stoep led +to a shuttered front. There was no sign of life. The moonlight blazed +full on it. They dismounted, tethered their horses behind the wall, and +entered the yard. The place was deserted, derelict--not even a cat. + +Suddenly a shot rang out from somewhere in the main building, and the +Sergeant, the next man to Boyce, fell dead, shot through the brain. The +men looked at Boyce for command and saw a hulking idiot paralysed by +fear. + +"His mouth hung open and his eyes were like a silly servant girl's +looking at a ghost." So said my informant. + +Two more shots and two men fell. Boyce still stood white and gasping, +unable to move a muscle or utter a sound. His face looked ghastly in +the moonlight. A shot pierced his helmet, and the shock caused him to +stagger and lose his legs. A corporal rushed up, thinking he was hit, +and, finding him whole, rose, in order to leave him there, and, in +rising, got a bullet through the neck. Thus there were four men killed, +and the Commanding Officer, of his own accord, put out of action. It +all happened in a few confused moments. Then the remaining men did what +Boyce should have commanded as soon as the first shot was fired--they +rushed the house. + +It contained one solitary inmate, an old man with a couple of Mauser +rifles, whom they had to shoot in self-defence. + +Meanwhile Boyce, white and haggard-eyed, had picked himself up; +revolver in hand he stood on the stoep. His men came out, cursed him to +his face while giving him their contemptuous report brought the dead +bodies of their comrades into the house and laid them out decently, +together with the body of the white-bearded Boer. After that they +mounted their horses without a word to him and rode off. And he let +them ride; for his authority was gone; and he knew that they justly +laid the deaths of their comrades at the door of his cowardice. + +What he did during the next few awful hours is known only to God and to +Boyce himself. The four dead men, his companions, have told no tales. +But at last, one of his men--Somers was his name--came riding back at +break-neck speed. When he had left the moon rode high in the heavens; +when he returned it was dawn--and he had a bloody tunic and the face of +a man who had escaped from hell. He threw himself from his horse and +found Boyce, sitting on the stoep with his head in his hands. He shook +him by the shoulder. Boyce started to his feet. At first he did not +recognise Somers. Then he did and read black tidings in the man's eyes. + +"What's the matter?" + +"They're all wiped out, sir. The whole blooming lot." + +He told a tale of heroic disaster. The remnant of the section had +ridden off in hot indignation and had missed their way. They had gone +in a direction opposite to safety, and after a couple of hours had +fallen in with a straggling portion of a Boer Commando. Refusing to +surrender, they had all been killed save Somers, who, with a bullet +through his shoulder, had prudently turned bridle and fled hell for +leather. + +Boyce put his hands up to his head and walked about the yard for a few +moments. Then he turned abruptly and stood toweringly over the scared +survivor--a tough, wizened little Cockney of five foot six. + +"Well, what's going to happen now?" he asked, in his soft, dangerous +voice. + +Somers replied, "I must leave that to you, sir." + +Boyce regarded him glitteringly for a long time. A scheme of salvation +was taking vivid shape in his mind.... + +"My report of this occurrence will be that as soon as, say, three men +dropped here, the rest of the troop got into a panic and made a bolt of +it. Say the Sergeant and myself remained. We broke into the house and +did for the old Boer, who, however, unfortunately did for the Sergeant. +Then I alone went out in search of my men and following their track +found they had gone in a wrong direction, and eventually scented +danger, which was confirmed by my meeting you, with your bloody tunic +and your bloody tale." + +"But good God! sir," cried the man, "You'd be having me shot for +running away. I could tell a damned different story, Captain Boyce." + +"Who would believe you?" + +The Cockney intelligence immediately appreciated the situation. It also +was ready for the alternative it guessed at the back of Boyce's mind. + +"I know it's a mess, sir," he replied, with a straight look at Boyce. +"A mess for both of us, and, as I have said, I'll leave it to you, sir." + +"Very well," said Boyce. "It's the simplest thing in the world. There +were four killed at once, including Sergeant Oldham. You remained +faithful when the others bolted. You and I tackled the old Boer and you +got wounded. You and I went on trek for the rest of the troop. We got +within breathing distance of the Commando--how many strong?" + +"About a couple of hundred, sir." + +"And of course we bolted back without knowing anything about the troop, +except that we are sure that, dead or alive, the Boers have accounted +for them. If you'll agree to this report, we can ride back to +Headquarters and I think I can promise you sergeant's stripes in a very +short time!" + +"I agree to the report, sir," said Somers, "because I don't see that I +can do anything else. But to hell with the stripes under false +pretences and don't you try playing that sort of thing off on me." + +"As you like," replied Boyce, unruffled. "Provided we understand each +other on the main point." + +So they left the farm and rode to Headquarters and Boyce made his +report, and as all save one of his troop were dead, there were none, +save that one, to gainsay him. On his story no doubt was cast; but an +officer who loses his whole troop in the military operation of storming +a farm-house garrisoned by one old man does not find peculiar favour in +the eyes of his Colonel. Boyce took a speedy opportunity of +transference, and got into the thick of some fighting. Then he served +with distinction and actually got mentioned in dispatches for pluckily +rescuing a wounded man under fire. + +For a long time Somers kept his mouth shut; but at last he began to +talk. The ugly rumour spread. It even reached my battery which was a +hundred miles away; for Johnny Dacre, one of my subs, had a brother in +Boyce's old regiment. For my own part I scouted the story as soon as I +heard it, and I withered up young Dacre for daring to bring such +abominable slander within my Rhadamanthine sphere. I dismissed the +calumny from my mind. Providentially, (as I heard later), the news came +of Boyce's "mention," and Somers was set down as a liar. The poor devil +was had up before the Colonel and being an imaginative and nervous man +denied the truth of the rumour and by dexterous wriggling managed to +exculpate himself from the charge of being its originator. + +I must, parenthetically, crave indulgence for these apparently +irrelevant details. But as, in this chronicle, I am mainly concerned +with the career of Leonard Boyce, I have no option but to give them. +They are necessary for a conception of the character of a remarkable +man to whom I have every reason and every honourable desire to render +justice. It is necessary, too, that I should state clearly the manner +in which I happened to learn the facts of the affair at Vilboek's Farm, +for I should not like you to think that I have given a credulous ear to +idle slander. + +It was in Cape Town, whither I had been despatched, on a false alarm of +enteric. I was walking with Johnny Dacre up Adderley Street, dun with +kahki, when he met his brother Reginald, who was promptly introduced to +Johnny's second in command. Reggie was off to hospital to see one of +his men who had been badly hurt. + +"It's the chap," he said to his brother, "who was with Boyce through +that shady affair at Vilboek's Farm." + +"I don't know why you call it a shady affair," said I, somewhat acidly. +"I know Captain Boyce--he is a near neighbour of mine at home--and he +has proved himself to be a gallant officer and a brave man." + +The young fellow reddened. "I'm awfully sorry, sir. I withdraw the word +'shady.' But this poor chap has something on his mind, and everyone has +a down on him. He led a dog's life till he was knocked out, and he has +been leading a worse one since. I don't call it fair." He looked at me +squarely out of his young blue eyes--the lucky devil, he is commanding +his regiment now in Flanders, with the D.S.O. ribbon on his tunic. +"Will you come with me and see him, sir?" + +"Certainly," said I, for I had nothing to do, and the boy's earnestness +impressed me. + +On our way he told me of such mixture of rumour and fact as he was +acquainted with. It was then that I heard the man Somers's name for the +first time. We entered the hospital, sat by the side of the man's bed, +and he told us the story of Vilboek's Farm which I have, in bald terms, +just related. Shortly afterwards I returned to the front, where the +famous shell knocked me out of the Army forever. + +What has happened to Somers I don't know. He was, I learned, soon +afterwards discharged from the Army. He either died or disappeared in +the full current of English life. Perhaps he is with our armies now. It +does not matter. What matters is my memory of his nervous, sallow, +Cockney face, its earnestness, its imprint of veracity, and the damning +lucidity of his narrative. + +I exacted from my young friends a promise to keep the unsavoury tale to +themselves. No good would arise from a publicity which would stain the +honour of the army. Besides, Boyce had made good. They have kept their +promise like honest gentlemen. I have never, personally, heard further +reference to the affair, and of course I have never mentioned it to +anyone. + +Now, it is right for me to mention that, for many years, I lived in a +horrible state of dubiety with regard to Boyce. There is no doubt that, +after the Vilboek business, he acted in an exemplary manner; there is +no doubt that he performed the gallant deed for which he got his +mention. But what about Somers's story? I tried to disbelieve it as +incredible. That an English officer--not a nervous wisp of a man like +Somers, but a great, hulking, bull-necked gladiator--should have been +paralysed with fear by one shot coming out of a Boer farm, and thereby +demoralised and incapacitated from taking command of a handful of men; +that, instead of blowing his brains out, he should have imposed his +Mephistophelian compact upon the unhappy Somers and carried off the +knavish business successfully--I could not believe it. On the other +hand, there was the British private. I have known him all my life, God +bless him! Thank God, it is my privilege to know him now, as he lies +knocked to bits, cheerily, in our hospital. It was inconceivable that +out of sheer funk he could abandon a popular officer. And his was not +even a scratch crowd, but a hard-bitten regiment with all sorts of +glorious names embroidered on its colours.... + +I hope you see my difficulty in regard to my Betty's love affairs. I +had nothing against Boyce, save this ghastly story, which might or +might not be true. Officially, he had made an unholy mess of such a +simple military operation as rounding up a Boer farm, and the prize of +one dead old Boer had covered him with ridicule; but officially, also, +he had retrieved his position by distinguished service. After all, it +was not his fault that his men had run away. On the other hand...well, +you cannot but appreciate the vicious circle of my thoughts, when +Betty, in her frank way, came and told me of her engagement to him. +What could I say? It would have been damnable of me to hint at scandal +of years gone by. I received them both and gave them my paralytic +blessing, and Leonard Boyce accepted it with the air of a man who might +have been blessed, without a qualm of conscience, by the Third Person +of the Trinity in Person. + +This was in April, 1914. He had retired from the Army some years before +with the rank of Major, and lived with his mother--he was a man of +means--in Wellingsford. In the June of that year he went off salmon +fishing in Norway. On the outbreak of war he returned to England and +luckily got his job at once. He did not come back to Wellingsford. His +mother went to London and stayed there until he was ordered out to the +front. I had not seen him since that June. And, as far as I am aware, +my dear Betty had not seen him either. + +Marigold entered. + +"Well?" said I. + +"I thought you rang, sir." + +"You didn't," I said. "You thought I ought to have rung, But you were +mistaken." + +I have on my mantelpiece a tiny, corroded, wooden Egyptian bust, of so +little value that Mr. Hatoun of Cairo (and every visitor to Cairo knows +Hatoun) gave it me as Baksheesh; it is, however, a genuine bit from a +poor humble devil's tomb of about five thousand years ago. And it has +only one positive eye and no expression. + +Marigold was the living replica of it--with his absurd wig. + +"In a quarter of an hour," said I, "I shall have rung." + +"Very good, sir," said Marigold. + +But he had disturbed the harmonical progression of my reflections. They +all went anyhow. When he returned, all I could say was: + +"It's Miss Betty's wedding to-morrow. I suppose I've got a morning coat +and a top hat." + +"You have a morning coat, sir," said Marigold. "But your last silk hat +you gave to Miss Althea, sir, to make a work-bag out of the outside." + +"So I did," said I. + +It was an unpleasant reminiscence. A hat is about as symbolical a +garment as you may be pleased to imagine. I wanted to wear at the live +Betty's wedding the ceremonious thing which I had given, for purposes +of vanity, to the dead Althea. I was cross with Marigold. + +"Why did you let me do such a silly thing? You might have known that I +should want it some day or other. Why didn't you foresee such a +contingency?" + +"Why," asked Marigold woodenly, "didn't you or I, sir, or many wiser +than us, foresee the war?" + +"Because we were all damned fools," said I. + +Marigold approached my chair with his great inexorable tentacles of +arms. It was bed time. + +"I'm sorry about the hat, sir," said he. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +In due course Captain Connor's regiment went off to France; not with +drums beating and colours flying--I wish to Heaven it had; if there had +been more pomp and circumstance in England, the popular imagination +would not have remained untouched for so long a time--but in the cold +silent hours of the night, like a gang of marauders. Betty did not go +to bed after he had left, but sat by the fire till morning. Then she +dressed in uniform and resumed her duties at the hospital. Many a +soldier's bride was doing much the same. And her days went on just as +they did before her marriage. She presented a smiling face to the +world; she said: + +"If I'm as happy as can be expected in the circumstances, I think it my +duty to look happier." + +It was a valiant philosophy. + +The falling of a chimney-stack brought me up against Daniel Gedge, who +before the war did all my little repairs. The chimney I put into the +hands of Day & Higgins, another firm of builders. + +A day or two afterwards Hosea shied at something and I discovered it +was Gedge, who had advanced into the roadway expressing a desire to +have a word with me. I quieted the patriotic Hosea and drew up by the +kerb. Gedge was a lean foxy-faced man with a long, reddish nose and a +long blunt chin from which a grizzled beard sprouted aggressively +forwards. He had hard, stupid grey eyes. + +"I hope you 'll excuse the liberty I take in stopping you, sir," he +said, civilly. + +"That's all right," said I. "What's the matter?" + +"I thought I had given you satisfaction these last twenty years." + +I assented. "Quite correct," said I. + +"Then, may I ask, sir, without offence, why you've called in Day & +Higgins?" + +"You may," said I, "and, with or without offence, I'll answer your +question. I've called them in because they're good loyal people. +Higgins has joined the army, and so has Day's eldest boy, while you +have been going on like a confounded pro-German." + +"You've no right to say that, Major Meredyth." + +"Not when you go over to Godbury"--the surging metropolis of the County +some fifteen miles off--"and tell a pack of fools to strike because +this is a capitalists' war? Not when you go round the mills here, and +do your best to stop young fellows from fighting for their country? God +bless my soul, in whose interests are you acting, if not Germany's?" + +He put on his best platform manner. "I'm acting in the best interests +of the people of this country. The war is wrong and incredibly foolish +and can bring no advantage to the working man. Why should he go and be +killed or maimed for life? Will it put an extra penny in his pocket or +his widow's? No. Oh!"--he checked my retort--"I know everything you +would say. I see the arguments every day in all your great newspapers. +But the fact remains that I don't see eye to eye with you, or those you +represent. You think one way, I think another. We agree to differ." + +"We don't," said I. "I don't agree at all." + +"At any rate," he said, "I can't see how a difference of political +opinion can affect my ability now to put a new chimney-stack in your +house, any more than it has done in the past." + +"In the past," said I, "political differences were parochial squabbles +in comparison with things nowadays. You're either for England, or +against her." + +He smiled wryly. "I'm for England. We both are. You think her salvation +lies one way. I think another. This is a free country in which every +man has a right to his own opinion." + +"Exactly so," said I. "Therefore you'll admit that I've a right to the +opinion that you ought to be locked up either in a gaol or a lunatic +asylum as a danger to the state, and that, having that rightful +opinion, I'm justified in not entrusting the safety of my house to one +who, in my aforesaid opinion, is either a criminal or a lunatic." + +Dialectically, I had him there. It afforded me keen enjoyment. Besides +being a John Bull Englishman, I am a cripple and therefore ever so +little malicious. + +"It's all very well for you to talk, Major Meredyth," said he, "but +your opinions cost you nothing--mine are costing me my livelihood. It +isn't fair." + +"You might as well say," I replied, "that I, who have never dared to +steal anything in my life, live in ease and comfort, whereas poor Bill +Sykes, who has devoted all his days to burglary, has seven years' penal +servitude. No, Gedge," said I, gathering up the reins, "it can't be +done. You can't have it both ways." + +He put a detaining hand on Hosea's bridle and an evil flash came into +his hard grey eyes. + +"I'll have it some other way, then," he said. "A way you've no idea of. +A way that'll knock all you great people of Wellingsford off your high +horses. If you drive me to it, you'll see. I'll bide my time and I +don't care whether it breaks me." + +He stamped his foot and tugged at the bridle. Two or three passers-by +halted wonderingly and Prettilove, the hairdresser, moved across the +pavement from his shop door where he had been taking the air. + +"My good fellow," said I, "you have lost your temper and are talking +drivel. Kindly unhand my donkey." + +Prettilove, who has a sycophantic sense of humour, burst into a loud +guffaw. Gedge swung angrily away, and Hosea and I continued our +interrupted progress down the High Street. Although I had called his +dark menaces drivel, I could not help wondering what it meant. Was he +going to guide a German Army to Wellingsford? Was he, a modern Guy +Fawkes, plotting to blow up the Town Hall while Mayor and Corporation +sat in council? He was not the man to utter purely idle threats. What +the dickens was he going to do? Something mean and dirty and underhand. +I knew his ways, He was always getting the better of somebody. The wise +never let him put in a pane of glass without a specification and +estimate, and if he had not been by far the most competent builder in +the town--perhaps the only one who thoroughly knew his business in all +its branches--no one would have employed him. + +When I next saw Betty, it was in one of the corridors of the hospital, +after a committee meeting; she stopped by my chair to pass the time of +day. Through the open doorway of a ward I perceived a well-known figure +in nurse's uniform. + +"Why," said I, "there's Phyllis Gedge." + +Betty nodded. "She has just come in as a probationer." + +"I thought her father wouldn't let her. I've heard--Heaven knows +whether it's true, but it sounds likely--that he said if men were such +fools as to get shot he didn't see why his daughter should help to mend +them." + +"He has consented now," said Betty, "and Phyllis is delighted." + +"No doubt it's a bid for popular favour," said I. And I told her of his +dwindling business and of my encounter with him. When I came to his +threat Betty's brows darkened. + +"I don't like that at all," she said. + +"Why? What do you think he means?" + +"Mischief." She lowered her voice, for, it being visiting day at the +hospital, people were passing up and down the corridor. "Suppose he has +some of the people here in his power?" + +"Blackmail--?" I glanced up at her sharply. "What do you know about it?" + +"Nothing," she replied abruptly. Then she looked down and fingered her +wedding-ring. "I only said 'suppose.'" + +A Sister appeared at the door of the ward and seeing us together paused +hoveringly. + +"I rather think you're wanted," said I. + +I left the hospital somewhat disturbed in mind. Summons to duty had cut +our conversation short; but I knew that no matter how long I had +cross-questioned Betty I should have got nothing further out of her. +She was a remarkably outspoken young woman. What she said she meant, +and what she didn't want to say all the cripples in the British Army +could not have dragged out of her. + +I tried her again a few days later. A slight cold, aided and abetted by +a dear exaggerating idiot of a tyrannical doctor, confined me to the +house and she came flying in, expecting to find me in extremis. When +she saw me clothed and in my right mind and smoking a big cigar, she +called me a fraud. + +"Look here," said I, after a while. "About Gedge--" again her brow +darkened and her lips set stiffly--"do you think he has his knife into +young Randall Holmes?" + +I had worried about the boy. Naturally, if Gedge found the relations +between his daughter and Randall unsatisfactory, no one could blame him +for any outbreak of parental indignation. But he ought to break out +openly, while there was yet time--before any harm was done--not nurse +some diabolical scheme of subterraneous vengeance. Betty's brow +cleared, and she laughed. I saw at once that I was on a wrong track. + +"Why should he have his knife into Randall? I suppose you've got +Phyllis in your mind." + +"I have. How did you guess?" + +She laughed again. + +"What other reason could he have? But how did you come to hear of +Randall and Phyllis?" + +"Never mind," said I, "I did. And if Gedge is angry, I can to some +extent sympathize with him." + +"But he's not. Not the least little bit in the world," she declared, +lighting a cigarette. "Gedge and Randall are as thick as thieves, and +Phyllis won't have anything to do with either of them." + +"Now, my dear," said I. "Now that you're married, become a real womanly +woman and fill my empty soul with gossip." + +"There's no gossip at all about it," she replied serenely. "It's all +sordid and romantic fact. The two men hold long discussions together at +Gedge's house, Gedge talking anti-patriotism and Randall talking rot +which he calls philosophy. You can hear them, can't you? Their +meeting-ground is the absurdity of Randall joining the army." + +"And Phyllis?" + +"She is a loyal little soul and as miserable as can be. She's +deplorably in love with Randall. She has told me so. And because she's +in love with a man whom she knows to be a slacker she's eaten up with +shame. Now she won't speak to him. To avoid meeting him she lives +entirely at the hospital--a paying probationer." + +"That must be since the last Committee Meeting," I said. + +"Yes." + +"And Daniel Gedge pays a guinea a week?" + +"He doesn't," said Betty. "I do." + +I accepted the information with a motion of the head. She went on after +a minute or so. "I have always been fond of the child"--there were only +three or four years difference between them!--"and so I want to protect +her. The time may come when she'll need protection. She has told me +things--not now--but long ago--which frightened her. She came to me for +advice. Since then I've kept an eye on her--as far as I could. Her +coming into the hospital helps me considerably." + +"When you say 'things which frightened her,' do you mean in connection +with her father?" + +Again the dark look in Betty's eyes. + +"Yes," she said. "He's an evil, dangerous man." + +That was all I could get out of her. If she had meant me to know the +character of Gedge's turpitude, she would have told me of her own +accord. But in our talk at the hospital she had hinted at +blackmail--and blackmailers are evil, dangerous men. + +I went to see Sir Anthony about it. Beyond calling him a damned +scoundrel, a term which he applied to all pro-Germans, pacifists and +half the Cabinet, he did not concern himself about Gedge. Young Randall +Holmes's intimacy with the scoundrel seemed to him a matter of far +greater importance. He strode up and down his library, choleric and +gesticulating. + +"A gentleman and a scholar to hob-nob with a traitorous beast like +that! I know that he writes for a filthy weekly paper. Somebody sent me +a copy a few days ago. It's rot--but not actually poisonous like that +he must hear from Gedge. That's the reason, I suppose, he's not in the +King's uniform. I've had my eye on him for some time. That's why I've +not asked him to the house." + +I told Sir Anthony of my interview with the young man. He waxed wroth. +In a country with a backbone every Randall Holmes in the land would +have been chucked willy-nilly into the army. But the country had spinal +disorders. It had locomotor ataxy. The result of sloth and +self-indulgence. We had the Government we deserved ... I need not quote +further. You can imagine a fine old fox-hunting Tory gentleman, with +England filling all the spaces of his soul, blowing off the steam of +his indignation. + +When he had ended, "What," said I, "is to be done?" + +"I'll lay my horsewhip across the young beggar's shoulders the next +time I meet him." + +"Capital," said I. "If I were you I should never ride abroad except in +my mayor's gown and chain, so that you can give an official character +to the thrashing." + +He glanced swiftly at me in his bird-like fashion, his brow creased +into a thousand tiny horizontal lines--it always took him a fraction of +a second to get clear of the literal significance of words--and then he +laughed. Personal violence was out of the question. Why, the young +beggar might summon him for assault. No; he had a better idea. He would +put in a word at the proper quarter, so that every recruiting sergeant +in the district should have orders to stop him at every opportunity. + +"I shouldn't do that," said I. + +"Then, I don't know what the deuce I can do," said Sir Anthony. + +As I didn't know, either, our colloquy was fruitless. Eventually Sir +Anthony said: + +"Perhaps it's likely, after all, that Gedge may offend young Oxford's +fastidiousness. It can't be long before he discovers Gedge to be +nothing but a vulgar, blatant wind-bag; and then he may undergo some +reaction." + +I agreed. It seemed to be the most sensible thing he had said. Give +Gedge enough rope and he would hang himself. So we parted. + +I have said before that when I want to shew how independent I am of +everybody I drive abroad in my donkey carriage. But there are times +when I have to be dependent on Marigold for carrying me into the houses +I enter; on these helpless occasions I am driven about by Marigold in a +little two-seater car. That is how I visited Wellings Park and that is +how I set off a day or two later to call on Mrs. Boyce. + +As she took little interest in anything foreign to her own inside, she +was not to most people an exhilarating companion. She even discussed +the war in terms of her digestion. But we were old friends. Being a bit +of a practical philosopher I could always derive some entertainment +from her serial romance of a Gastric Juice, and besides, she was the +only person in Wellingsford whom I did not shrink from boring with the +song of my own ailments. Rather than worry the Fenimores or Betty or +Mrs. Holmes with my aches and pains I would have hung on, like the +idiot boy of Sparta with the fox, until my vitals were gnawed +out--parenthetically, it has always worried me to conjecture why a boy +should steal a fox, why it should have been so valuable to the owner, +and to what use he put it. In the case of all my other friends I +regarded myself as too much of an obvious nuisance, as it was, for me +to work on their sympathy for infirmities that I could hide; but with +Mrs. Boyce it was different. The more I chanted antistrophe to her +strophe of lamentation the more was I welcome in her drawing-room. I +had not seen her for some weeks. Perhaps I had been feeling remarkably +well with nothing in the world to complain about, and therefore +unequipped with a topic of conversation. However, hearty or not, it was +time for me to pay her a visit. So I ordered the car. + +Mrs. Boyce lived in a comfortable old house half a mile or so beyond +the other end of the town, standing in half a dozen well-wooded acres. +It was a fair April afternoon, all pale sunshine and tenderness. A +dream of fairy green and delicate pink and shy blue sky melting into +pearl. The air smelt sweet. It was good to be in it, among the trees +and the flowers and the birds. + +Others must have also felt the calls of the spring, for as we were +driving up to the house, I caught a glimpse of the lawn and of two +figures strolling in affectionate attitude. One was that of Mrs. Boyce; +the other, khaki-clad and towering above her, had his arm round her +waist. The car pulled up at the front door. Before we had time to ring, +a trim parlour-maid appeared. + +"Mrs. Boyce is not at home, sir." + +Marigold, who, when my convenience was in question, swept away social +conventions like cobwebs, fixed her with his one eye, and before I +could interfere, said: + +"I'm afraid you're mistaken. I've just seen Major Boyce and Madam on +the lawn." + +The maid reddened and looked at me appealingly. + +"My orders were to say not at home, sir." + +"I quite understand, Mary," said I. "Major Boyce is home on short +leave, and they don't want to be disturbed. Isn't that it?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Marigold," said I. "Right about turn." + +Marigold, who had stopped the car, got out unwillingly and went to the +starting-handle. That I should be refused admittance to a house which I +had deigned to honour with my presence he regarded as an intolerable +insult. He also loved to have tea, as a pampered guest, in other folks' +houses. When he got home Mrs. Marigold, as like as not, would give him +plain slabs of bread buttered by her economical self. I knew my +Marigold. He gave a vicious and ineffectual turn or two and then stuck +his head in the bonnet. + +The situation was saved by the appearance from the garden of Mrs. Boyce +herself, a handsome, erect, elegantly dressed old lady in the late +sixties, pink and white like a Dresden figure and in her usual +condition of resplendent health. She held out her hand. + +"I couldn't let you go without telling you that Leonard is back. I +don't want the whole town to know. If it did, I should see nothing of +him, his leave is so short. That's why I told Mary to say 'not at +home.' But an old friend like you--Would you like to see him?" + +Marigold closed the bonnet and stood up with a grimace which passed for +a happy smile. + +"I should, of course," said I, politely. "But I quite understand. You +have everything to say to each other. No. I won't stay"--Marigold's +smile faded into woodenness--"I only turned in idly to see how you were +getting on. But just tell me. How is Leonard? Fit, I hope?" + +"He's wonderful," she said. + +I motioned Marigold to start the car. + +"Give him my kind regards," said I. "No, indeed. He doesn't want to see +an old crock like me." The engine rattled. "I hope he's pleased at +finding his mother looking so bonny." + +"It's only excitement at having Leonard," she explained earnestly. "In +reality I'm far from well. But I wouldn't tell him for worlds." + +"What's that you wouldn't tell, mother?" cried a soft, cheery voice, +and Leonard, the fine flower of English soldiery, turned the corner of +the house. + +There he stood, tall, deep-chested, clear-eyed, bronzed, his heavy chin +in the air, his bull-neck not detracting from his physical +handsomeness, but giving it a seal of enormous strength. + +"My dear fellow," he cried, grasping my hand heartily, "how glad I am +to see you. Come along in and let mother give you some tea. Nonsense!" +he waved away my protest. "Marigold, stop that engine and bring in the +Major. I've got lots of things to tell you. That's right." + +He strode boyishly to the front door, which he threw open wide to admit +Marigold and myself and followed us with Mrs. Boyce into the +drawing-room, talking all the while. I must confess that I was just a +little puzzled by his exuberant welcome. And, to judge by the blank +expression that flitted momentarily over her face, so was his mother. +If he were so delighted by my visit, why had he not crossed the lawn at +once as soon as he saw the car? Why had he sent his mother on ahead? I +was haunted by an exchange of words overheard in imagination: + +"Confound the fellow! What has he come here for?" + +"Mary will say 'not at home.'" + +"But he has spotted us. Do go and get rid of him." + +"Such an old friend, dear." + +"We haven't time for old fossils. Tell him to go and bury himself." + +And (in my sensitive fancy) she had delivered the import of the +message. I had gathered that my visit was ill-timed. I was preparing to +cut it short, when Leonard himself came up and whisked me against my +will to the tea-table. If my hypothesis were correct he had evidently +changed his mind as to the desirability of getting rid, in so summary a +fashion, of what he may have considered to be an impertinent and +malicious little factor in Wellingsford gossip. + +At any rate, if he was playing a part, he played it very well. It was +not in the power of man to be more cordial and gracious. He gave me a +vivid account of the campaign. He had been through everything, the +retreat from Mons, the Battle of the Aisne, the great rush north, and +the Battle of Neuve Chapelle on the 17th of March. I listened, +fascinated, to his tale, which he told with a true soldier's impersonal +modesty. + +"I was glad," said I, after a while, "to see you twice mentioned in +dispatches." + +Mrs. Boyce turned on me triumphantly. "He is going to get his D. S. O." + +"By Jove!" said I. + +Leonard laughed, threw one gaitered leg over the other and held up his +hands at her. + +"Oh, you feminine person!" He smiled at me. "I told my dear old mother +as a dead and solemn secret." + +"But it will be gazetted in a few days, dear." + +"One can never be absolutely sure of these things until they're in +black and white. A pretty ass I'd look if there was a hitch--say +through some fool of a copying clerk--and I didn't get it after all. +It's only dear, silly understanding things like mothers that would +understand. Other people wouldn't. Don't you think I'm right, Meredyth?" + +Of course he was. I have known, in my time, of many disappointments. It +is not every recommendation for honours that becomes effective. I +congratulated him, however, and swore to secrecy. + +"It's all luck," said he. "Just because a man happens to be spotted. If +my regiment got its deserts, every Jack man would walk about in a suit +of armour made of Victoria Crosses. Give me some more tea, mother." + +"The thing I shall never understand, dear," she said, artlessly, +looking up at him, while she handed him his cup, "is when you see a lot +of murderous Germans rushing at you with guns and shells and bayonets, +how you are not afraid." + +He threw back his head and laughed in his debonair fashion; but I +watched him narrowly and I saw the corners of his mouth twitch for the +infinitesimal fraction of a second. + +"Oh, sometimes we're in an awful funk, I assure you," he replied gaily. +"Ask Meredyth." + +"We may be," said I, "but we daren't shew it--I'm speaking of officers. +If an officer funks he's generally responsible for the death of +goodness knows how many men. And if the men funk they're liable to be +shot for cowardice in the face of the enemy." + +"And what happens to officers who are afraid?" + +"If it's known, they get broke," said I. + +Boyce swallowed his tea at a gulp, set down the cup, and strode to the +window. There was a short pause. Presently he turned. + +"Physical fear is a very curious thing," he said in a voice +unnecessarily loud. "I've seen it take hold of men of proved courage +and paralyse them. It's just like an epileptic fit--beyond a man's +control. I've known a fellow--the most reckless, hare-brained daredevil +you can imagine--to stand petrified with fear on the bank of a river, +and let a wounded comrade drown before his eyes. And he was a good +swimmer too." + +"What happened to him?" I asked. + +He met my gaze for a moment, looked away, and then met it again--it +seemed defiantly. + +"What happened to him? Well--" there was the tiniest possible pause--a +pause that only an uneasy, suspicious repository of the abominable +story of Vilboek's Farm could have noticed--"Well, as he stood there he +got plugged--and that was the end of him. But what I--" + +"Was he an officer, dear?" + +"No, no, mother, a sergeant," he answered abruptly, and in the same +breath continued. "What I was going to say is this. No one as far as I +know has ever bothered to work out the psychology of fear. Especially +the sudden thing that hits a man's heart and makes him stand +stock-still like a living corpse--unable to move a muscle--all his +willpower out of gear--just as a motor is out of gear. I've seen a lot +of it. Those men oughtn't to be called cowards. It's as much a fit, +say, as epilepsy. Allowances ought to made for them." + +It was a warm day, the windows were closed, my valetudinarian hostess +having a horror of draughts, and a cheery fire was blazing up the +chimney. Boyce took out a handkerchief and mopped his forehead. + +"Dear old mother," said he, "you keep this room like an oven." + +"It is you who have got so excited talking, dear," said Mrs. Boyce. +"I'm sure it can't be good for your heart. It is just the same with me. +I remember I had to speak quite severely to Mary a week--no, to-day's +Tuesday--ten days ago, and I had dreadful palpitations afterwards and +broke out into a profuse perspiration and had to send for Doctor Miles." + +"Now, that's funny," said I. "When I'm excited about anything I grow +quite cold." + +Boyce lit a cigarette and laughed. "I don't see where the excitement in +the present case comes in. Mother started an interesting hare, and I +followed it up. Anyhow--" he threw himself on the sofa, blew a kiss to +his mother in the most charming way in the world, and smiled on +me--"anyhow, to see you two in this dearest bit of dear old England is +like a dream. And I'm not going to think of the waking up. I want all +the cushions and the lavender and the neat maid's caps and aprons--I +said to Mary this morning when she drew my curtains: 'Stay just there +and let me look at you so that I can realise I'm at home and not in my +little grey trench in West Flanders'--she got red and no doubt thought +me a lunatic and felt inclined to squawk--but she stayed and looked +jolly pretty and refreshing--only for a minute or two, after which I +dismissed her--yes, my dears, I want everything that the old life +means, the white table linen, the spring flowers, the scent of the air +which has never known the taint of death, and all that this beautiful +mother of England, with her knitting needles, stands for. I want to +have a debauch of sweet and beautiful things." + +"As far as I can give them you shall have them. My dear--" she dropped +her knitting in her lap and looked over at him tragically--"I quite +forgot to ask. Did Mary put bath-salts, as I ordered, into your bath +this morning?" + +Leonard threw away his cigarette and slapped his leg. + +"By George!" he cried. "That explains it. I was wondering where the +Dickens that smell of ammonia came from." + +"If you use it every day it makes your skin so nice and soft," remarked +Mrs. Boyce. + +He laughed, and made the obvious jest on the use of bath-salts in the +trenches. + +"I wonder, mother, whether you have any idea of what trenches and +dug-outs look like." + +He told her, very picturesquely, and went on to a general sketch of +life at the front. He entertained me with interesting talk for the rest +of my visit. I have already said that he was a man of great personal +charm. + +He accompanied me to the car and saw me comfortably tucked in. + +"You won't give me away, will you?" he said, shaking hands. + +"How?" I asked. + +"By telling any one I'm here." + +I promised and drove off. Marigold, full of the tea that is given to a +guest, strove cheerfully to engage me in conversation. I hate to snub +Marigold, excellent and devoted fellow, so I let him talk; but my mind +was occupied with worrying problems. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +Leonard Boyce had received me on sufferance. I had come upon him while +he was imprudently exposing himself to view. There had been no way out +of it. But he made it clear that he desired no other Wellingsfordian to +invade his privacy. Secretly he had come to see his mother and secretly +he intended to go. I remembered that before he went to the front he had +not come home, but his mother had met him in London. He had asked me +for no local news. He had inquired after the welfare of none of his old +friends. Never an allusion to poor Oswald Fenimore's gallant death--he +used to run in and out of Wellings Park as if it were his own house. +What had he against the place which for so many years had been his home? + +With regard to Betty Fairfax, he had loved and ridden away, it is true, +leaving her disconsolate. But though everyone knew of the engagement, +no one had suspected the defection. Betty was a young woman who could +keep her own counsel and baffle any curiosity-monger or purveyor of +gossip in the country. So when she married Captain Connor, a little +gasp went round the neighbourhood, which for the first time remembered +Leonard Boyce. There were some who blamed her for callous treatment of +Boyce, away and forgotten at the front. The majority, however, took the +matter calmly, as we have had to take far more amazing social +convulsions. The fact remained that Betty was married, and there was no +reason whatever, on the score of the old engagement, for Boyce to +manifest such exaggerated shyness with regard to Wellingsford society. + +If it had been any other man than Boyce, I should not have worried +about the matter at all. Save that I was deeply attached to Betty, what +had her discarded lover's attitude to do with me? But Boyce was Boyce, +the man of the damnable story of Vilboek's Farm. And he, of his own +accord, had revived in my mind that story in all its intensity. A +chance foolish question, such as thousands of gentle, sheltered women +have put to their suddenly uncomprehended, suddenly deified sons and +husbands, had obviously disturbed his nervous equilibrium. That little +reflex twitch at the corner of his lips--I have seen it often in the +old times. I should like to have had him stripped to the waist so that +I could have seen his heart--the infallible test. At moments of mighty +moral strain men can keep steady eyes and nostrils and mouth and +speech; but they cannot control that tell-tale diaphragm of flesh over +the heart. I have known it to cause the death of many a Kaffir spy.... +But, at any rate, there was the twitch of the lips ... I deliberately +threw weight into the scale of Mrs. Boyce's foolish question. If he had +not lost his balance, why should he have launched into an almost +passionate defence of the physical coward? + +My memory went back to the narrative of the poor devil in the Cape Town +hospital. Boyce's description of the general phenomenon was a deadly +corroboration of Somers's account of the individual case. They had used +the same word--"paralysed." Boyce had made a fierce and definite +apologia for the very act of which Somers had accused him. He put it +down to the sudden epilepsy of fear for which a man was irresponsible. +Somers's story had never seemed so convincing--the first part of it, at +least--the part relating to the paralysis of terror. But the second +part--the account of the diabolical ingenuity by means of which Boyce +rehabilitated himself--instead of blowing his brains out like a +gentleman--still hammered at the gates of my credulity. + +Well--granted the whole thing was true--why revive it after fifteen +years' dead silence, and all of a sudden, just on account of an idle +question? Even in South Africa, his "mention" had proved his courage. +Now, with the D. S. O. a mere matter of gazetting, it was established +beyond dispute. + +On the other hand, if the Vilboek story, more especially the second +part, was true, what reparation could he make in the eyes of honourable +men?--in his own eyes, if he himself had succeeded to the status of an +honourable man? Would not any decent soldier smite him across the face +instead of grasping him by the hand? I was profoundly worried. + +Moreover Betty, level-headed Betty, had called him a devil. Why? + +If the second part of Somers's story were true, he had acted like a +devil. There is no other word for it. Now, what concrete diabolical +facts did Betty know? Or had her instinctive feminine insight pierced +through the man's outer charm and merely perceived horns, tail, and +cloven hoof cast like a shadow over his soul? + +How was I to know? + +She came to dine with me the next evening: a dear way she had of coming +uninvited, and God knows how a lonely cripple valued it. She was in +uniform, being too busy to change, and looked remarkably pretty. She +brought with her a cheery letter from her husband, received that +morning, and read me such bits as the profane might hear, her eyes +brightening as she glanced over the sections that she skipped. Beyond +doubt her marriage had brought her pleasure and pride. The pride she +would have felt to some extent, I think, if she had married a grampus; +for when a woman has a husband at the front she feels that she is +taking her part in the campaign and exposing herself vicariously to +hardship and shrapnel; and in the eyes of the world she gains thereby a +little in stature, a thing dear to every right-minded woman. But +Betty's husband was not a grampus, but a very fine fellow, a mate to be +wholly proud of: and he loved her devotedly and expressed his love +beautifully loverwise, as her tell-tale face informed me. Gratefully +and sturdily she had set herself out to be happy. She was +succeeding.... Lord bless you! Millions of women who have married, not +the wretch they loved, but the other man, have lived happy ever after. +No: I had no fear for Betty now. I could not see that she had any fear +for herself. + +After dinner she sat on the floor by my side and smoked cigarettes in +great content. She had done a hard day's work at the hospital; her +husband had done a hard day's work--probably was still doing it--in +Flanders. Both deserved well of their country and their consciences. +She was giving a poor lonely paralytic, who had given his legs years +ago to the aforesaid country, a delightful evening. ... No, I'm quite +sure such a patronising thought never entered my Betty's head. After +all, my upper half is sound, and I can talk sense or nonsense with +anybody. What have one's legs to do with a pleasant after-dinner +conversation? Years ago I swore a great oath that I would see them +damned before they got in the way of my intelligence. + +We were getting on famously. We had put both war and Wellingsford +behind us, and talked of books. I found to my dismay that this fair and +fearless high product of modernity had far less acquaintance with +Matthew Arnold than with the Evangelist of the same praenomen. She had +never heard of "The Forsaken Merman," one of the most haunting romantic +poems in the English language. I pointed to a bookcase and bade her +fetch the volume. She brought it and settled down again by my chair, +and, as a punishment of ignorance, and for the good of her soul, I +began to read aloud. She is an impressionable young person and yet one +of remarkable candour. If she had not been held by the sea-music of the +poem, she would not have kept her deep, steady brown eyes fixed on me. +I have no hesitation in repeating that we were getting on famously and +enjoying ourselves immensely. I got nearly to the end: + +"... Here came a mortal, But faithless was she, And alone dwell forever +The Kings of the sea. But, children at midnight--" + +The door opened wide. Topping his long stiff body, Marigold's ugly +one-eyed head appeared, and, as if he was tremendously proud of +himself, he announced: + +"Major Boyce." + +Boyce strode quickly past him and, suddenly aware of Betty by my side, +stopped short, like a private suddenly summoned to attention. Marigold, +unconscious of the blackest curses that had ever fallen upon him during +his long and blundering life, made a perfect and self-satisfied exit. +Betty sprang to her feet, held her tall figure very erect, and faced +the untimely visitor, her cheeks flushing deep red. For an appreciable +time, say, thirty seconds, Boyce stood stock still, looking at her from +under heavy contracted brows. Then he recovered himself, smiled, and +advanced to her with outstretched hand, But, on his movement, she had +been quick to turn and bend down in order to pick up the book that had +fallen from my fingers on the further side of my chair. So, swiftly he +wheeled to me with his handshake. It was very deft manoeuvring on both +sides. + +"The faithful Marigold didn't tell me that you weren't alone, +Meredyth," he said in his cordial, charming way. "Otherwise I shouldn't +have intruded. But my dear old mother had an attack of something and +went to bed immediately after dinner, and I thought I'd come round and +have a smoke and a drink in your company." + +Betty, who had occupied herself by replacing Matthew Arnold's poems in +the bookcase, caught up the box of cigars that lay on the brass tray +table by my side, and offered it to him. + +"Here is the smoke," she said. + +And when, after a swift, covert glance at her, he had selected a cigar, +she went to the bell-push by the mantelpiece. + +"The drinks will be here in a minute." + +In order to do something to save this absurd situation, I drew from my +waistcoat pocket a little cigar-cutter attached to my watch-chain, and +clipped the end of his cigar. I also lit a match from my box and handed +it up to him. When he had finished with the match he threw it into the +fireplace and turned to Betty. + +"My congratulations are a bit late, but I hope I may offer them." + +She said, "Thank you." Waved a hand. "Won't you sit down?" + +"Wasn't it rather sudden?" he asked. + +"Everything in war time is sudden--except the action of the British +Government. Your own appearance to-night is sudden." + +He laughed at her jest and explained, much as he had done to me, his +reasons for wishing to keep his visit to Wellingsford a secret. +Meanwhile Marigold had brought in decanters and syphons. Betty attended +to Boyce's needs with a provoking air of nonchalance. If a notorious +German imbrued in the blood of babes had chanced to be in her hospital, +she would have given him his medicine with just the same air. Although +no one could have specified a lack of courtesy towards a guest--for in +my house she played hostess--there was an indefinable touch of cold +contumely in her attitude. Whether he felt the hostility as acutely as +I did, I cannot say; but he carried it off with a swaggering grace. He +bowed to her over his glass. + +"Here's to the fortunate and gallant fellow over there." + +I saw her knuckles whiten as, with an inclination of the head, she +acknowledged the toast. + +"By the way," said he, "what's his regiment? My good mother told me his +name. Captain Connor, isn't it? But for the rest she is vague. She's +the vaguest old dear in the world. I found out to-day that she thought +there was a long row of cannons, hundreds of them, all in a line, in +front of the English Army, and a long row in front of the German Army, +and, when there was a battle, that they all blazed away. So when I +asked her whether your husband was in the Life Guards or the Army +Service Corps, she said cheerfully that it was either one or the other +but she wasn't quite sure. So do give me some reliable information." + +"My husband is in the 10th Wessex Fusiliers, a Territorial battalion," +she replied coldly. + +"I hope some day to have the pleasure of making his acquaintance." + +"Stranger things have happened," said Betty. She glanced at the clock +and rose abruptly. "It's time I was getting back to the hospital." + +Boyce rose too. "How are you going?" he asked. + +"I'm walking." + +He advanced a step towards her. "Won't you let me run you round in the +car?" + +"I prefer to walk." + +Her tone was final. She took affectionate leave of me and went to the +door, which Boyce held open. + +"Good-night," she said, without proffering her hand. + +He followed her out into the hall. + +"Betty," he said in a low voice, "won't you ever forgive me?" + +"I have no feelings towards you either of forgiveness or resentment," +she replied. + +They did not mean to be overheard, but my hearing is unusually acute, +and I could not help catching their conversation. + +"I know I seem to have behaved badly to you." + +"You have behaved worse to others," said Betty. "I don't wonder at your +shrinking from showing your face here." Then, louder, for my benefit. +"Good-night, Major Boyce. I really can walk up to the hospital by +myself." + +Evidently she walked away and Boyce after her, for I heard him say: + +"You shan't go till you've told me what you mean." + +What she replied I don't know. To judge by the slam of the front door +it must have been something defiant. Presently he entered debonair, +with a smile on his lips. + +"I'm afraid I've left you in a draught," he said, shutting the door. "I +couldn't resist having a word with her and wishing her happiness and +the rest of it. We were engaged once upon a time." + +"I know," said I. + +"I hope you don't think I did wrong in releasing her from the +engagement. I don't consider a man has a right to go on active +service--especially on such service as the present war--and keep a girl +bound at home. Still less has he a right to marry her. What happens in +so many cases? A fortnight's married life. The man goes to the front. +Then ping! or whizz-bang! and that's the end of him, and so the girl is +left." + +"On the other hand," said I, "you must remember that the girl may hold +very strong opinions and take pings and whizz-bangs very deliberately +into account." + +Boyce helped himself to another whisky and soda. "It's a matter for the +individual conscience. I decided one way. Connor obviously decided +another, and, like a lucky fellow, found Betty of his way of thinking. +Perhaps I have old-fashioned notions." He took a long pull at his +drink. "Well, it can't be helped," he said with a smile. "The other +fellow has won, and I must take it gracefully. ... By George! wasn't +she looking stunning to-night--in that kit? ... I hope you didn't mind +my bursting in on you--" + +"Of course not," said I, politely. + +He drained his glass. "The fact is," said he, "this war is a +nerve-racking business. I never dreamed I was so jumpy until I came +home. I hate being by myself. I've kept my poor devoted mother up till +one o'clock in the morning. To-night she struck, small blame to her; +but, after five minutes on my lones, I felt as if I should go off my +head. So I routed out the car and came along. But of course I didn't +expect to see Betty. The sight of Betty in the flesh as a married woman +nearly bowled me over. May I help myself again?" He poured out a very +much stiffer drink than before, and poured half of it down his throat. +"It's not a joyous thing to see the woman one has been crazy over the +wife of another fellow." + +"I suppose it isn't," said I. + +Of course I might have made some subtle and cunning remark, suavely put +a leading question which would have led him on, in his unbalanced mood, +to confidential revelations. But the man was a distinguished soldier +and my guest. To what he chose to tell me voluntarily I could listen. I +could do no more. He did not reply to my last unimportant remark, but +lay back in his armchair watching the blue spirals of smoke from the +end of his cigar. There was a fairly long silence. + +I was worried by the talk I had overheard through the open door. "You +have behaved worse to others. I don't wonder at your shrinking from +showing your face here." Betty had, weeks ago, called him a devil. She +had treated him to-night in a manner which, if not justified, was +abominable. I was forced to the conclusion that Betty was fully aware +of some discreditable chapter in the man's life which had nothing to do +with the affair at Vilboek's Farm, which, indeed, had to do with +another woman and this humdrum little town of Wellingsford. Otherwise +why did she taunt him with hiding from the light of Wellingsfordian day? + +Now, please don't think me little-minded. Or, if you do think so, +please remember the conditions under which I have lived for so many +years and grant me your kind indulgence for a confession I have to +make. Besides being worried, I felt annoyed. Wellingsford was my little +world. I knew everybody in it. I had grown to regard myself as the +repository of all its gossip. The fraction of it that I retailed was a +matter of calculated discretion. I made a little hobby--it was a +foible, a vanity, what you will--of my omniscience. I knew months ahead +the dates of the arrivals of young Wellingsfordians in this world of +pain and plenitude. I knew of maidens who were wronged and youths who +were jilted; of wives who led their husbands a deuce of a dance, and of +wives who kept their husbands out of the bankruptcy court. When young +Trexham, the son of the Lord Lieutenant of the county, married a minor +light of musical comedy at a registrar's office, I was the first person +in the place to be told; and I flatter myself that I was instrumental +in inducing a pig-headed old idiot to receive an exceedingly charming +daughter-in-law. I loved to look upon Wellingsford as an open book. Can +you blame me for my resentment at coming across, so to speak, a couple +of pages glued together? The only logical inference from Betty's remark +was that Boyce had behaved abominably and even notoriously to a woman +in Wellingsford. To do him justice, I declare I had never heard his +name associated with any woman or girl in the place save Betty herself. +I felt that, in some crooked fashion, or the other, I had been done out +of my rights. + +And there, placidly smoking his cigar and watching the wreaths of blue +smoke with the air of an idle seraph contemplating a wisp of cirrus in +Heaven's firmament, sat the man who could have given me the word of the +enigma. + +He broke the silence by saying: + +"Have you ever seriously considered the real problems of the Balkans?" + +Now what on earth had the Balkans to do with the thoughts that must +have been rolling at the back of the man's mind? I was both +disappointed and relieved. I expected him to resume the personal talk, +and I dreaded lest he should entrust me with embarrassing confidences. +After three strong whiskies and sodas a man is apt to relax hold of his +discretion.... Anyhow, he jerked me back to my position of host. I made +some sort of polite reply. He smiled. + +"You, my dear Meredyth, like the rest of the country, are half asleep. +In a few months' time you'll get the awakening of your life." + +He began to discourse on the diplomatic situation. Months afterwards I +remembered what he had said that night and how accurate had been his +forecast. He talked brilliantly for over an hour, during which, keenly +interested in his arguments, I lost the puzzle of the man in admiration +of the fine soldier and clear and daring thinker. It was only when he +had gone that I began to worry again. + +And before I went to sleep I had fresh cause for anxious speculation. + +"Marigold," said I, when he came in as usual to carry me to bed, +"didn't I tell you that Major Boyce particularly wanted no one to know +that he was in the town?" + +"Yes, sir," said Marigold. "I've told nobody." + +"And yet you showed him in without informing him that Mrs. Connor was +here. Really you ought to have had more tact." + +Marigold received his reprimand with the stolidity of the old soldier. +I have known men who have been informed that they would be +court-martialled and most certainly shot, make the same reply. + +"Very good, sir," said he. + +I softened. I was not Marigold's commanding officer, but his very +grateful friend. "You see," said I, "they were engaged before Mrs. +Connor married--I needn't tell you that; it was common knowledge--and +so their sudden meeting was awkward." + +"Mrs. Marigold has already explained, sir," said he. + +I chuckled inwardly all the way to my bedroom. + +"All the same, sir," said he, aiding me in my toilet, which he did with +stiff military precision, "I don't think the Major is as incognighto" +(the spelling is phonetic) "as he would like. Prettilove was shaving me +this morning and told me the Major was here. As I considered it my +duty, I told him he was a liar, and he was so upset that he nicked my +Adam's apple and I was that covered with blood that I accused him of +trying to cut my throat, and I went out and finished shaving myself at +home, which is unsatisfactory when you only have a thumb on your right +hand to work the razor." + +I laughed, picturing the scene. Prettilove is an inoffensive little +rabbit of a man. Marigold might sit for the model of a war-scarred +mercenary of the middle ages, and when he called a man a liar he did it +with accentuaton and vehemence. No wonder Prettilove jumped. + +"And then again this evening, sir," continued Marigold, slipping me +into my pyjama jacket, "as I was starting the Major's car, who should +be waiting there for him but Mr. Gedge." + +"Gedge?" I cried. + +"Yes, sir. Waiting by the side of the car. 'Can I have a word with you, +Major Boyce?' says he. 'No, you can't,' says the Major. 'I think it's +advisable,' says he. 'Those repairs are very pressing.' 'All right,' +says the Major, 'jump in.' Then he says: 'That'll do, Marigold. +Good-night.' And he drives off with Mr. Gedge. Well, if Mr. Gedge and +Prettilove know he's here, then everyone knows it." + +"Was Gedge inside the drive?" I asked. The drive was a small +semicircular sort of affair, between gate and gate. + +"He was standing by the car waiting," said Marigold. "Now, sir." He +lifted me with his usual cast-iron tenderness into bed and pulled the +coverings over me. "It's a funny time to talk about house repairs at +eleven o'clock, at night," he remarked. + +"Nothing is funny in war-time," said I. + +"Either nothing or everything," said Marigold. He fussed methodically +about the room, picked up an armful of clothes, and paused by the door, +his hand on the switch. + +"Anything more, sir?" + +"Nothing, thank you, Marigold." + +"Good-night, sir." + +The room was in darkness. Marigold shut the door. I was alone. + +What the deuce was the meaning of this waylaying of Boyce by Daniel +Gedge? + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +"Major Boyce has gone, sir," said Marigold, the next morning, as I was +tapping my breakfast egg. + +"Gone?" I echoed. Boyce had made no reference the night before to so +speedy a departure. + +"By the 8.30 train, sir." + +Every train known by a scheduled time at Wellingsford goes to London. +There may be other trains proceeding from the station in the opposite +direction but nobody heeds them. Boyce had taken train to London. I +asked my omniscient sergeant: + +"How did you find that out?" + +It appeared it was the driver of the Railway Delivery Van. I smiled at +Boyce's ostrich-like faith in the invisibility of his hinder bulk. What +could occur in Wellingsford without it being known at once to vanmen +and postmen and barbers and servants and masters and mistresses? How +could a man hope to conceal his goings and comings and secret actions? +He might just as well expect to take a secluded noontide bath in the +fountain in Piccadilly Circus. + +"Perhaps that's why the matter of those repairs was so pressing, sir," +said Marigold. + +"No doubt of it," said I. + +Marigold hung about, his finger-tips pushing towards me mustard and +apples and tulips and everything that one does not eat with egg. But it +was no use. I had no desire to pursue the conversation. I continued my +breakfast stolidly and read the newspaper propped up against the +coffee-pot. So many circumstances connected with Boyce's visit were of +a nature that precluded confidential discussion with Marigold,--that +precluded, indeed, confidential discussion with anyone else. The +suddenness of his departure I learned that afternoon from Mrs. Boyce, +who sent me by hand a miserable letter characteristically rambling. +From it I gathered certain facts. Leonard had come into her bedroom at +seven o'clock, awakening her from the first half-hour's sleep she had +enjoyed all night, with the news that he had been unexpectedly summoned +back. When she came to think of it, she couldn't imagine how he got the +news, for the post did not arrive till eight o'clock, and Mary said no +telegram had been delivered and there had been no call on the +telephone. But she supposed the War Office had secret ways of +communicating with officers which it would not be well to make known. +The whole of this war, with its killing off of the sons of the best +families in the land, and the sleeping in the mud with one's boots on, +to say nothing of not being able to change for dinner, and the way in +which they knew when to shoot and when not to shoot, was all so +mysterious that she had long ago given up hope of understanding any of +its details. All she could do was to pray God that her dear boy should +be spared. At any rate, she knew the duty of an English mother when the +country was in danger; so she had sent him away with a brave face and +her blessing, as she had done before. But, although English mothers +could show themselves Spartans--(she spelt it "Spartians," dear lady, +but no matter)--yet they were women and had to sit at home and weep. In +the meanwhile, her palpitations had come on dreadfully bad, and so had +her neuritis, and she had suffered dreadfully after eating some fish at +dinner which she was sure Pennideath, the fishmonger--she always felt +that man was an anarchist in disguise--had bought out of the condemned +stock at Billingsgate, and none of the doctor's medicines were of the +slightest good to her, and she was heartbroken at having to part so +suddenly from Leonard, and would I spare half an hour to comfort an old +woman who had sent her only son to die for his country and was ready, +when it pleased God, if not sooner, to die in the same sacred cause? + +So of course I went. The old lady, propped on pillows in an overheated +room, gave me tea and poured into my ear all the anguish of her simple +heart. In an abstracted, anxious way, she ate a couple of crumpets and +a wedge of cake with almond icing, and was comforted. + +We continued our discussion of the war--or rather Leonard, for with her +Leonard seemed to be the war. She made some remark deliciously inept--I +wish I could remember it. I made a sly rejoinder. She sat bolt upright +and a flush came into her Dresden-china cheek and her old eyes flashed. + +"You may think I'm a silly old woman, Duncan. I dare say I am. I can't +take in things as I used to do when I was young. But if Leonard should +be killed in the war--I think of it night and day--what I should like +to do would be to drive to the Market Square of Wellingsford and wave a +Union Jack round and round and fall down dead." + +I made some sort of sympathetic gesture. + +"And I certainly should," she added. + +"My dear friend," said I, "if I could move from this confounded chair, +I would kiss your brave hands." + +And how many brave hands of English mothers, white and delicate, coarse +and toil-worn, do not demand the wondering, heart-full homage of us all? + +And hundreds of thousands of them don't know why we are fighting. +Hundreds of thousands of them have never read a newspaper in their +lives. I doubt whether they would understand one if they tried, I doubt +whether all could read one in the literal sense of the word. We have +had--we have still--the most expensive and rottenest system of primary +education in the world, the worst that squabbling sectarians can +devise. Arab children squatting round the courtyard of a Mosque and +swaying backwards and forwards as they get by heart meaningless bits of +the Koran, are not sent out into life more inadequately armed with +elementary educational weapons than are English children. Our state of +education has nominally been systematised for forty-five years, and yet +now in our hospitals we have splendid young fellows in their early +twenties who can neither read nor write. I have talked with them. I +have read to them. I have written letters for them. Clean-cut, decent, +brave, honourable Englishmen--not gutter-bred Hooligans dragged from +the abyss by the recruiting sergeant, but men who have thrown up good +employment because something noble inside them responded to the Great +Call. And to the eternal disgrace of governments in this disastrously +politician-ridden land such men have not been taught to read and write. +It is of no use anyone saying to me that it is not so. I know of my own +certain intimate knowledge that it is so. + +Even among those who technically have "the Three R's," I have met +scores of men in our Wellingsford Hospital who, bedridden for months, +would give all they possess to be able to enjoy a novel--say a volume +of W. W. Jacobs, the writer who above all others has conferred the +precious boon of laughter on our wounded--but to whom the intellectual +strain of following the significance of consecutive words is far too +great. Thousands and thousands of men have lain in our hospitals +deprived, by the criminal insanity of party politicians, of the +infinite consolation of books. + +Christ, whom all these politicians sanctimoniously pretend to make such +a fuss of, once said that a house divided against itself cannot stand. +And yet we regard this internecine conflict between our precious +political parties as a sacred institution. By Allah, we are a funny +people! + +Of course your officials at the Board of Education--that beautiful +timber-headed, timber-hearted, timber-souled structure--could come down +on me with an avalanche of statistics. "Look at our results," they cry. +I look. There are certain brains that even our educational system +cannot benumb. A few clever ones, at the cost of enormously expensive +machinery, are sent to the universities, where they learn how to teach +others the important things whereby they achieved their own unimportant +success. The shining lights are those whom we turn out as syndicalist +leaders and other kinds of anti-patriotic demagogues. We systematically +deny them the wine of thought, but give them the dregs. But in the past +we did not care; they were vastly clever people, a credit to our +national system. It gave them chances which they took. We were devilish +proud of them. + +On the other hand, the vast mass are sent away with the intellectual +equipment of a public school-boy of twelve, and, as I have declared, a +large remnant have not been taught even how to read and write. The +storm of political controversy on educational matters has centred round +such questions as whether the story of Joseph and his Brethren and the +Parable of the Prodigal Son should be taught to little Baptists by a +Church of England teacher, and what proportion of rates paid by Church +of England ratepayers should go to giving little Baptists a Baptistical +training. If there was a Christ who could come down among us, with what +scorching sarcasm would he not shrivel up the Scribes and Pharisees, +hypocrites, who in His Name have prevented the People from learning how +to read and write. + +Look through Hansard. There never has been a Debate in the House of +Commons devoted to the question of Education itself. If the War can +teach us any lessons, as a nation--and sometimes I doubt whether it +will--it ought at least to teach us the essential vicious rottenness of +our present educational system. + +This tirade may seem a far cry from Mrs. Boyce and her sister mothers. +It is not. I started by saying that there are hundreds of thousands of +British mothers, with sons in the Army, who have never read a line of +print dealing with the war, who have the haziest notion of what it is +all about. All they know is that we are fighting Germans, who for some +incomprehensible reason have declared themselves to be our enemies; +that the Germans, by hearsay accounts, are dreadful people who stick +babies on bayonets and drop bombs on women and children. They really +know little more. But that is enough. They know that it is the part of +a man to fight for his country. They would not have their sons be +called cowards. They themselves have the blind, instinctive, and +therefore sacred love of country, which is named patriotism--and they +send forth their sons to fight. + +I stand up to kiss the white and delicate hand of the gentlewoman who +sends her boy to the war, for its owner knows as well as I do (or ought +to) all that is involved in this colossal struggle. But to the +toil-worn, coarse-handed mother I go on bended knees; nothing +intellectual comes within the range of her ideas. Her boy is fighting +for England. She would be ashamed if he were not. Were she a man she +would fight too. He has gone "with a good 'eart"--the stereotyped +phrase with which every English private soldier, tongue-tied, hides the +expression of his unconquerable soul. How many times have I not heard +it from wounded men healed of their wounds? I have never heard anything +else. "The man who says he WANTS to go back is a liar. But if they send +me, I'll go WITH A GOOD 'EART"--The phrase which ought to be +immortalized on every grave in Flanders and France and Gallipoli and +Mesopotamia. + + + 17735 P'V'TE THOMAS ATKINS 1ST GOD'S OWN REG'T + HE DIED WITH A GOOD 'EART + + +So, you see, I looked at this rather silly malade imaginaire of an old +lady with whom I was taking tea, and suddenly conceived for her a vast +respect--even veneration. I say "rather silly." I had many a time +qualified the adjective much more forcibly. I took her to have the +intellectual endowment of a hen. But then she flashed out suddenly +before me an elderly Jeanne d'Arc. That to me Leonard Boyce was suspect +did not enter at all into the question. To her--and that was all that +mattered--he was Sir Galahad, Lancelot, King Arthur, Bayard, St. +George, Hector, Lysander, Miltiades, all rolled into one. The passion +of her life was spent on him. To do him justice, he had never failed to +display to her the most tender affection. In her eyes he was +perfection. His death would mean the wiping out of everything between +Earth and Heaven. And yet, paramount in her envisagement of such a +tragedy was the idea of a public proclamation of the cause of England +in which he died. + +In this war the women of England--the women of Great Britain and +Ireland--the women of the far-flung regions of the British Empire, have +their part. + +Now and then mild business matters call me up to London. On these +occasions Marigold gets himself up in a kind of yachting kit which he +imagines will differentiate him from the ordinary chauffeur and at the +same time proclaim the dignity of the Meredyth-Marigold establishment. +He loves to swagger up the steps of my Service Club and announce my +arrival to the Hall Porter, who already, warned by telephone of my +advent, has my little wicker-work tricycle chair in readiness. I think +he feels, dear fellow, that he and I are keeping our end up; that, +although there are only bits of us left, we are there by inalienable +right as part and parcel of the British Army--none of your Territorials +or Kitcheners, but the old original British Army whose prestige and +honour were those of his own straight soul. The Hall Porter is an +ex-Sergeant-Major, and he and Marigold are old acquaintances, and the +meeting of the two warriors is acknowledged by a wink and a military +jerk of the head. I think it is Marigold that impresses Bunworthy with +a respect for me, for that august functionary never fails to descend +the steps and cross the pavement to my modest little two-seater; an act +of graciousness which (so I am given to understand by my friends) he +will only perform in the case of Royalty Itself. A mere Field-marshal +has to mount the steps unattended like any subaltern. + +These red-letter days when I drive through the familiar (and now +exciting) hubbub of London, I love (strange taste!) every motor +omnibus, every pretty woman, every sandwich-man, every fine young +fellow in khaki, every car-load of men in blue hospital uniform. I love +the smell of London, the cinematographic picture of London, the thrill +of London. To understand what I mean you have only got to get rid of +your legs and keep your heart and nerves and memories, and live in a +little country town. + +Yes, my visits to London are red-letter days. To get there with any +enjoyment to myself involves such a fussification, and such an +unauthorised claim on the services of other people, that my visits are +few and far between. + +A couple of hours in a club smoking-room--to the normal man a mere +putting in of time, a vain surcease from boredom, a vacuous habit--is +to me, a strange wonder and delight. After Wellingsford the place is +resonant with actualities. I hear all sorts of things; mostly lies, I +know; but what matter? When a man tells me that his cousin knows a man +attached as liaison officer to the staff of General Joffre, who has +given out confidentially that such and such a thing is going to happen +I am all ears. I feel that I am sucked into the great whirlpool of Vast +Events. I don't care a bit about being disillusioned afterwards. The +experience has done me good, made a man of me and sent me back to +Wellingsford as an oracle. And if you bring me a man who declares that +he does not like being an oracle, I will say to his face that he is an +unblushing liar. + +All this is by way of preface to the statement that on the third of May +(vide diary) I went to the club. It was just after lunch and the great +smoking-room was full of men in khaki and men in blue and gold, with a +sprinkling of men, mostly elderly, in mufti; and from their gilt frames +the full-length portraits of departed men of war in gorgeous uniforms +looked down superciliously on their more sadly attired descendants. I +got into a corner by the door, so as to be out of the way, for I knew +by experience that should there be in the room a choleric general, he +would inevitably trip over the casually extended front wheel of my +chair, greatly to the scandal of modest ears and to my own physical +discomfiture. + +Various seniors came up and passed the time of the day with me--one or +two were bald-headed retired colonels of sixty, dressed in khaki, with +belts like equators on a terrestrial globe and with a captain's three +stars on their sleeves. Gallant old boys, full of gout and softness, +they had sunk their rank and taken whatever dull jobs, such as guarding +internment camps or railway bridges, the War Office condescendingly +thought fit to give them. They listened sympathetically to my +grievances, for they had grievances of their own. When soldiers have no +grievances the Army will perish of smug content. + +"Why can't they give me a billet in the Army Pay and let me release a +man sounder of wind and limb?" I asked. "What's the good of legs to a +man who sits on his hunkers all day in an office and fills up Army +forms? I hate seeing you lucky fellows in uniform." + +"We're not a pretty sight," said the most rotund, who was a wag in his +way. + +Then we discussed what we knew and what we didn't know of the Battle of +Ypres, and the withdrawal of our Second Army, and shook our heads +dolorously over the casualty lists, every one of which in those days +contained the names of old comrades and of old comrades' boys. And when +they had finished their coffee and mild cigars they went off well +contented to their dull jobs and the room began to thin. Other +acquaintances on their way out paused for a handshake and a word, and I +gathered scraps of information that had come "straight from Kitchener," +and felt wonderfully wise and cheerful. + +I had been sitting alone for a few minutes when a man rose from a far +corner, a tall soldierly figure, his arm in a sling, and came straight +towards me with that supple, easy stride that only years of confident +command can give. He had keen blue eyes and a pleasant bronzed face +which I knew that I had seem somewhere before. I noticed on his sleeve +the crown and star of a lieutenant-colonel. He said pleasantly: + +"You're Major Meredyth, aren't you?" + +"Yes," said I. + +"You don't remember me. No reason why you should. But my name's +Dacre--Reggie Dacre, brother of Johnnie Dacre in your battery. We met +in Cape Town." + +I held out my hand. + +"Of course," said I. "You took me to a hospital. Do sit down for a bit. +You a member here?" + +"No. I belong to the Naval and Military. Lunching with old General +Donovan, a sort of god-father of mine. He told me who you were. I +haven't seen you since that day in South Africa." + +I asked for news of Johnnie, who had been lost to my ken for years. +Johnnie had been in India, and was now doing splendidly with his +battery somewhere near La Bassee. I pointed to the sling. Badly hurt? +No, a bit of flesh torn by shrapnel. Bone, thank God, not touched. It +was only horny-headed idiots like the British R. A. M. C. that would +send a man home for such a trifle. It was devilish hard lines to be +hoofed away from the regiment practically just after he had got his +command. However, he would be back in a week or two. He laughed. + +"Lucky to be alive at all." + +"Or not done in for ever like myself," said I. + +"I didn't like to ask--" he said. Men would rather die than commit the +indelicacy of appearing to notice my infirmity. + +"You haven't been out there?" + +"No such luck," said I. "I got this little lot about a fortnight after +I saw you. Johnnie was still on sick leave and so was out of that +scrap." + +He commiserated with me on my ill-fortune, and handed me his cigarette +case. We smoked. + +"You've been on my mind for months," he said abruptly. + +"I?" + +He nodded. "I thought I recognised you. I asked the General who you +were. He said 'Meredyth of the Gunners.' So I knew I was right and made +a bee line for you. Do you remember the story of that man in the +hospital?" + +"Perfectly," said I. + +"About Boyce of the King's Watch?" + +"Yes," said I. "I saw Boyce, home on leave, about a fortnight ago. I +suppose you saw his D.S.O. gazetted?" + +"I did. And he deserves a jolly sight more," he exclaimed heartily. +"I've come to the conclusion that that fellow in the hospital--I forget +the brute's name--" + +"Somers," said I. + +"Yes, Somers. I've come to the conclusion that he was the damn'dest, +filthiest, lyingest hound that ever was pupped." + +"I'm glad to hear it," said I. "It was a horrible story. I remember +making your brother and yourself vow eternal secrecy." + +"You can take it from me that we haven't breathed a word to anybody. As +a matter of fact, the whole damn thing had gone out of my head for +years. Then I begin to hear of a fellow called Boyce of the Rifles +doing the most crazy magnificent things. I make enquiries and find it's +the same Leonard Boyce of the Vilboek Farm story. We're in the same +Brigade. + +"You don't often hear of individual men out there--your mind's too +jolly well concentrated on your own tiny show. But Boyce has sort of +burst out beyond his own regiment and, with just one or two others, is +beginning to be legendary. He has done the maddest things and won the +V.C. twenty times over. So that blighter Somers, accusing him of +cowardice, was a ghastly liar. And then I remembered taking you up to +hear that damnable slander, and I felt that I had a share in it, as far +as you were concerned, and I longed to get at you somehow and tell you +about it. I wanted to get it off my chest. And now," said he with a +breath of relief, "thank God, I've been able to do so." + +"I wish you would tell me of an incident or two," said I. + +"He has got a life-preserver that looks like an ordinary cane--had it +specially made. It's quite famous. Men tell me that the knob is a rich, +deep, polished vermilion. He'll take on any number of Boches with it +single-handed. If there's any sign of wire-cutting, he'll not let the +men fire, but will take it on himself, and creep like a Gurkha and do +the devils in. One night he got a whole listening post like that. He +does a lot of things a second in command hasn't any business to do, but +his men would follow him anywhere. He bears a charmed life. I could +tell you lots of things--but I see my old General's getting restive." +He rose, stretched out his hand. "At any rate, take my word for it--if +there's a man in the British Army who doesn't know what fear is, that +man is Leonard Boyce." + +He nodded in his frank way and rejoined his old General. As I had had +enough exciting information for one visit to town, I motored back to +Wellingsford. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +My house, as I have already mentioned, is situated at the extreme end +of the town on the main road, already called the Rowdon Road, which is +an extension of the High Street. It stands a little way back to allow +room for a semicircular drive, at each end of which is a broad gate. +The semicircle encloses a smooth-shaven lawn of which I am vastly +proud. In the spandrels by the side of the house are laburnums and +lilacs and laurels. From gate to gate stretch iron railings, planted in +a low stone parapet and unencumbered with vegetation, so that the view +from road to lawn and from lawn to road is unrestricted. Thus I can +take up my position on my lawn near the railings and greet all +passers-by. + +It was a lovely May morning. My laburnums and lilacs were in flower. On +the other side of the way the hedge of white-thorn screening the +grounds of a large preparatory school was in flower also, and +deliciously scented the air. I sat in my accustomed spot, a table with +writing materials, tobacco, and books by my side, and a mass of +newspapers at my feet. There was going to be a coalition Government. +Great statesmen were going to forget that there was such a thing as +party politics, except in the distribution of minor offices, when the +claims of good and faithful jackals on either side would have to be +considered. And my heart grew sick within me, and I longed for a Man to +arise who, with a snap of his strong fingers, would snuff out the +Little Parish-Pump Folk who have misruled England this many a year with +their limited vision and sordid aspirations, and would take the great, +unshakable, triumphant command of a mighty Empire passionately yearning +to do his bidding... I could read no more newspapers. They disgusted +me. One faction seemed doggedly opposed to any proposition for the +amelioration of the present disastrous state of affairs. The salvation +of wrecked political theories loomed far more important in their +darkened minds than the salvation, by hook or crook, of the British +Empire. The other faction, more patriotic in theory, cried aloud +stinking fish, and by scurrilous over-statement defeated their own +ends. In the general ignoble screech the pronouncements of the one or +two dignified and thoughtful London newspapers passed unheeded.... + +I drew what comfort I could from the sight of the continually passing +troops; a platoon off to musketry training; a battalion, brown and +dusty, on a route march with full equipment, whistling "Tipperary"; +sections of an Army Service train cursing good-humouredly at their +mules; a battery of artillery thundering along at a clean, rhythmical +trot which, considering what they were like in their slovenly jogging +and bumping three months ago, afforded me prodigious pleasure. On the +passing of these last-mentioned I felt inclined to clap my hands and +generally proclaim my appreciation. Indeed, I did arrest a fresh-faced +subaltern bringing up the rear of the battery who, having acquaintance +with me, saluted, and I shouted: + +"They're magnificent!" + +He reared up his horse and flushed with pleasure. + +"We've done our best, sir," said he. "We had news last week that we +should be sent out quite soon, and that has bucked them up enormously." + +He saluted again and rode off, and my heart went with him. What a joy +it would be to clatter down a road once again with the guns! + +And other people passed. Townsfolk who gave me a kindly "Morning, +Major!" and went on, and others who paused awhile and gave me the +gossip of the day. And presently young Randall Holmes went by on a +motor bicycle. He caught sight of me, disappeared, and then suddenly +reappeared, wheeling his machine. He rested it by the kerb of the +sidewalk and approached the railings. He was within a yard of me. + +"Would you let me speak to you for half a minute, Major?" + +"Certainly," said I. "Come in." + +He swung through the gate and crossed the lawn. + +"You said very hard things to me some time ago." + +"I did," said I, "and I don't think they were undeserved." + +"Up to a certain point I agree with you," he replied. + +He looked extraordinarily robust and athletic in his canvas kit. Why +should he be tearing about aimlessly on a motor bicycle this May +morning when he ought to be in France? + +"I wish you agreed with me all along the line," said I. + +He found a little iron garden seat and sat down by my side. + +"I don't want to enter into controversial questions," he said. + +Confound him! He might have been fifty instead of four-and-twenty. +Controversial questions! His assured young Oxford voice irritated me. + +"What do you want to enter into?" I asked. + +"A question of honour," he answered calmly. "I have been wanting to +speak to you, but I didn't like to. Passing you by, just now, I made a +sudden resolution. You have thought badly of me on account of my +attitude towards Phyllis Gedge. I want to tell you that you were quite +right. My attitude was illogical and absurd." + +"You have discovered," said I, "that she is not the inspiration you +thought she was, and like an honest man have decided to let her alone." + +"On the contrary," said he. "I'd give the eyes out of my head to marry +her." + +"Why?" + +He met my gaze very frankly. "For the simple reason, Major Meredyth, +that I love her." + +All this natural, matter-of-fact simplicity coming from so artificial a +product of Balliol as Randall Holmes, was a bit upsetting. After a +pause, I said: + +"If that is so, why don't you marry her?" + +"She'll have nothing to do with me." + +"Have you asked her?" + +"I have, in writing. There's no mistake about it. I'm in earnest." + +"I'm exceedingly glad to hear it," said I. + +And I was. An honest lover I can understand, and a Don Juan I can +understand. But the tepid philanderer has always made my toes tingle. +And I was glad, too, to hear that little Phyllis Gedge had so much +dignity and commonsense. Not many small builders' daughters would have +sent packing a brilliant young gentleman like Randall Holmes, +especially if they happened to be in love with him. As I did not +particularly wish to be the confidant of this love-lorn shepherd, I +said nothing more. Randall lit a cigarette. + +"I hope I'm not boring you," he said. + +"Not a bit." + +"Well--what complicates the matter is that her father's the most +infernal swine unhung." I started, remembering what Betty had told me. + +"I thought," said I, "that you were fast friends." + +"Who told you so?" he asked. + +"All the birds of Wellingsford." + +"I did go to see him now and then," he admitted. "I thought he was much +maligned. A man with sincere opinions, even though they're wrong, is +deserving of some respect, especially when the expression of them +involves considerable courage and sacrifice. I wanted to get to the +bottom of his point of view." + +"If you used such a metaphor in the Albemarle," I interrupted, "I'm +afraid you would be sacrificed by your friends." + +He had the grace to laugh. "You know what I mean." + +"And did you get to the bottom of it?" + +"I think so." + +"And what did you find?" + +"Crass ignorance and malevolent hatred of everyone better born, better +educated, better off, better dressed, better spoken than himself." + +"Still," said I, "a human being can have those disabilities and yet not +deserve to be qualified as the most infernal swine unhung." + +"That's a different matter," said he, unbuttoning his canvas jacket, +for the morning was warm. "I can talk patiently to a fool--to be able +to do so is an elementary equipment for a life among men and women--" +Why the deuce, thought I, wasn't he expending this precious acquirement +on a platoon of agricultural recruits? The officer who suffers such +gladly has his name inscribed on the Golden Legend (unfortunately +unpublished) of the British Army--"but when it comes," he went on, "to +low-down lying knavery, then I'm done. I don't know how to tackle it. +All I can do is to get out of the knave's way. I've found Gedge to be a +beast, and I'm very honourably in love with Gedge's daughter, and I've +asked her to marry me. I attach some value, Major, to your opinion of +me, and I want you to know these two facts." + +I again expressed my gratification at learning his honourable +intentions towards Phyllis, and I commended his discovery of Gedge's +fundamental turpitude. I cannot say that I was cordial. At this period, +the unmilitary youth of England were not affectionately coddled by +their friends. Still, I was curious to see whether Gedge's depravity +extended beyond a purely political scope. I questioned my young visitor. + +"Oh, it's nothing to do with abstract opinions," said he, thinning away +the butt-end of his cigarette. "And nothing to do with treason, or +anything of that kind. He has got hold of a horrible story--told me all +about it when he was foully drunk--that in itself would have made me +break with him, for I loathe drunken men--and gloats over the fact that +he is holding it over somebody's head. Oh, a ghastly story!" + +I bent my brows on him. "Anything to do with South Africa?" + +"South Africa--? No. Why?" + +The puzzled look on his face showed that I was entirely on the wrong +track. I was disappointed at the faultiness of my acumen. You see, I +argued thus: Gedge goes off on a mysterious jaunt with Boyce. Boyce +retreats precipitately to London. Gedge in his cups tells a horrible +scandal with a suggestion of blackmail to Randall Holmes. What else +could he have divulged save the Vilboek Farm affair? My nimble wit had +led me a Jack o' Lantern dance to nowhere. + +"Why South Africa?" he repeated. + +I replied with Macchiavellian astuteness, so as to put him on a false +scent: "A stupid slander about illicit diamond buying in connection +with a man, now dead, who used to live here some years ago." + +"Oh, no," said Randall, with a superior smile "Nothing of that sort." + +"Well, what is it?" I asked. + +He helped himself to another cigarette. "That," said he, "I can't tell +you. In the first place I gave my word of honour as to secrecy before +he told me, and, in the next, even if I hadn't given my word, I would +not be a party to such a slander by repeating it to any living man." He +bent forward and looked me straight in the eyes. "Even to you, Major, +who have been a second father to me." + +"A man," said I, "has a priceless possession that he should always +keep--his own counsel." + +"I've only told you as much as I have done," said Randall, "because I +want to make clear to you my position with regard both to Phyllis and +her father." + +"May I ask," said I, "what is Phyllis's attitude towards her father?" I +knew well enough from Betty; but I wanted to see how much Randall knew +about it. + +"She is so much out of sympathy with his opinions that she has gone to +live at the hospital." + +"Perhaps she thinks you share those opinions, and for that reason won't +marry you?" + +"That may have something to do with it, although I have done my best to +convince her that I hold diametrically opposite views, But you can't +expect a woman to reason." + +"The unexpected sometimes happens," I remarked. "And then comes +catastrophe; in this case not to the woman." I cannot say that my tone +was sympathetic. I had cause for interest in his artless tale, but it +was cold and dispassionate. "Tell me," I continued, "when did you +discover the diabolical nature of the man Gedge?" + +"Last night." + +"And when did you ask Phyllis to marry you?" + +"A week ago." + +"What's going to happen now?" I asked. + +"I'm hanged if I know," said he, gloomily. + +I was in no mood to offer the young man any advice. The poor little +wretch at the hospital--so Betty had told me--was crying her eyes out +for him; but it was not for his soul's good that he should know it. + +"In heroic days," said I, "a hopeless lover always found a sovereign +remedy against an obdurate mistress." + +He rose and buttoned up his canvas jacket. + +"I know what you mean," he said. "And I didn't come to discuss it--if +you'll excuse my apparent rudeness in saying so." + +"Then things are as they were between us." + +"Not quite, I hope," he replied in a dignified way. "When last you +spoke to me about Phyllis Gedge, I really didn't know my own mind. I am +not a cad and the thought of--of anything wrong never entered my head. +On the other hand, marriage seemed out of the question." + +"I remember," said I, "you talked some blithering rot about her being a +symbol." + +"I am quite willing to confess I was a fool," he admitted gracefully. +"And I merited your strictures." + +His reversion to artificiality annoyed me. I'm far from being of an +angelic disposition. + +"My dear boy," I cried. "Do, for God's sake, talk human English, and +not the New Oxford Dictionary." + +He flushed angrily, snapped an impatient finger and thumb, and marched +away to the gravel path. I sang out sharply: + +"Randall!" + +He turned. I cried: + +"Come here at once." + +He came with sullen reluctance. Afterwards I was rather tickled at +realizing that the lame old war-dog had so much authority left. If he +had gone defiantly off, I should have felt rather a fool. + +"My dear boy," I said, "I didn't mean to insult you. But can't a clever +fellow like you understand that all the pretty frills and preciousness +of a year ago are as dead as last year's Brussels sprouts? We're up +against elemental things and can only get at them with elemental ideas +expressed in elemental language." + +"I'd have you to know," said Randall, "that I spoke classical English." + +"Quite so," said I. "But the men of to-day speak Saxon English, Cockney +English, slang English, any damned sort of English that is virile and +spontaneous. As I say, you're a clever fellow. Can't you see my point? +Speech is an index of mental attitude. I bet you what you like Phyllis +Gedge would see it at once. Just imagine a subaltern at the front after +a bad quarter of an hour with his Colonel--'I've merited your +strictures, sir!' If there was a bomb handy, the Colonel would catch it +up and slay him on the spot." + +"But I don't happen to be at the front, Major," said Randall. + +"Then you damned well ought to be," said I, in sudden wrath. + +I couldn't help it. He asked for it. He got it. + +He went away, mounted his motor bicycle, and rode off. + +I was sorry. The boy evidently was in a chastened mood. If I had +handled him gently and diplomatically, I might have done something with +him. I suppose I'm an irritable, nasty-tempered beast. It is easy to +lay the blame on my helpless legs. It isn't my legs. I've conquered my +damned legs. It isn't my legs. Its ME. + +I was ashamed of myself. And when, later, Marigold enquired whether the +doors were still shut against Mr. Holmes, I asked him what the blazes +he meant by not minding his own business. And Marigold said: "Very +good, sir." + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +For a week or two the sluggish stream of Wellingsfordian life flowed on +undisturbed. The chief incident was a recruiting meeting held on the +Common. Sir Anthony Fenimore in his civic capacity, a staff-officer +with red tabs, a wounded soldier, an elderly, eloquent gentleman from +recruiting headquarters in London, and one or two nondescripts, +including myself, were on the platform. A company of a County +Territorial Battalion and the O.T.C. of the Godbury Grammar School gave +a semblance of military display. The Town Band, in a sort of Hungarian +uniform, discoursed martial music. Old men and maidens, mothers and +children, and contented young fellows in khaki belonging to all kinds +of arms, formed a most respectable crowd. The flower of Wellingsfordian +youth was noticeably absent. They were having too excellent a time to +be drawn into the temptation of a recruiting meeting, in spite of the +band and the fine afternoon and the promiscuity of attractive damsels. +They were making unheard-of money at the circumjacent factories; their +mothers were waxing fat on billeting-money. They never had so much +money to spend on moving-picture-palaces and cheap jewellery for their +inamoratas in their lives. As our beautiful Educational system had most +scrupulously excluded from their school curriculum any reference to +patriotism, any rudimentary conception of England as their sacred +heritage, and as they had been afforded no opportunity since they left +school of thinking of anything save their material welfare and grosser +material appetites, the vague talk of peril to the British Empire left +them unmoved. They were quite content to let others go and fight. They +had their own comfortable theories about it. Some fellows liked that +sort of thing. They themselves didn't. In ordinary times, it amused +that kind of fellow to belong to a Harriers Club, and clad in shorts +and zephyrs, go on Sundays for twenty-mile runs. It didn't amuse them. +A cigarette, a girl, and a stile formed their ideal of Sunday +enjoyment. They had no quarrel with the harrier fellow or the soldier +fellow for following his bent. They were most broad-minded. But they +flattered themselves that they were fellows of a superior and more +intelligent breed. They were making money and living warm, the only +ideal of existence of which they had ever heard, and what did anything +else matter? + +If a man has never been taught that he has a country, how the deuce do +you expect him to love her--still less to defend her with his blood? +Our more than damnable governments for the last thirty years have done +everything in their power to crush in English hearts the national +spirit of England. God knows I have no quarrel with Scotland, Ireland, +and Wales. I speak in no disparagement of them. Quite the reverse. In +this war they have given freely of their blood. I only speak as an +Englishman of England, the great Mother of the Empire. Scot, Irishman, +Welshman, Canadian, Australian are filled with the pride of their +nationality. It is part of their being. Wisely they have been trained +to it from infancy. England, who is far bigger, far more powerful than +the whole lot of them put together--it's a statistical fact--has +deliberately sunk herself in her own esteem, in her own pride. Only one +great man has stood for England, as England, the great Mother, for the +last thirty years. And that man is Rudyard Kipling. And the Little Folk +in authority in England have spent their souls in rendering nugatory +his inspired message. + +This criminal self-effacement of England is at the root of the peril of +the British Empire during this war. + +I told you at the beginning that I did not know how to write a story. +You must forgive me for being led away into divagations which seem to +be irrelevant to the dramatic sequence. But when I remember that the +result of all the pomp and circumstance of that meeting was seven +recruits, of whom three were rejected as being physically unfit, my pen +runs away with my discretion, and my conjecturing as to artistic +fitness. + +Yes, the Major spoke. Sir Anthony is a peppery little person and the +audience enjoyed the cayenne piquancy of his remarks. The red-tabbed +Lieutenant-Colonel spoke. He was a bit dull. The elderly orator from +London roused enthusiastic cheers. The wounded sergeant, on crutches, +displaying a foot like a bandaged mop, brought tears into the eyes of +many women and evoked hoarse cheers from the old men. I spoke from my +infernal chair, and I think I was quite a success with the good fellows +in khaki. But the only men we wanted to appeal to had studiously +refrained from being present. The whole affair was a fiasco. + +When we got home, Marigold, who had stood behind my chair during the +proceedings, said to me: + +"I think I know personally about thirty slackers in this town, sir, and +I'm more than a match for any three of them put together. Suppose I was +to go the rounds, so to speak, and say to each of them, 'You young +blighter, if you don't come with me and enlist, I 'll knock hell out of +you!'--and, if he didn't come, I did knock hell out of him--what +exactly would happen, sir?" + +"You would be summoned," said I, "for thirty separate cases of assault +and battery. Reckoning the penalty at six months each, you would have +to go to prison for fifteen years." + +Marigold's one eye grew pensive and sad. + +"And they call this," said he, "a free country!" + +I began this chapter by remarking that for a week or two after my +second interview with Randall Holmes, nothing particular happened. Then +one afternoon came Sir Anthony Fenimore to see me, and with a view to +obtaining either my advice or my sympathy, reopened the story of his +daughter Althea found drowned in the canal eleven months before. + +What he considered a most disconcerting light had just been cast on the +tragedy by Maria Beccles. This lady was Lady Fenimore's sister. A +deadly feud, entirely of Miss Beccles' initiating and nourishing, had +existed between them for years. They had been neither on speaking nor +on writing terms. Miss Beccles, ten years Lady Fenimore's senior, was, +from all I had heard, a most disagreeable and ill-conditioned person, +as different from my charming friend Edith Fenimore as the ugly old +sisters were from Cinderella. Although she belonged to a good old South +of England family, she had joined, for reasons known only to herself, +the old Free Kirk of Scotland, found a congenial Calvinistic centre in +Galloway, and after insulting her English relations and friends in the +most unconscionable way, cut herself adrift from them for ever. "Mad as +a hatter," Sir Anthony used to say, and, never having met the lady, I +agreed with him. She loathed her sister, she detested Anthony, and she +appeared to be coldly indifferent to the fact of the existence of her +nephew Oswald. But for Althea, and for Althea alone, she entertained a +curious, indulgent affection, and every now and then Althea went to +spend a week or so in Galloway, where she contrived to obtain +considerable amusement. Aunt Maria did both herself and her visitors +very well, said Althea, who had an appreciative eye for the material +blessings of life. Althea walked over the moors and fished and took +Aunt Maria's cars out for exercise and, except whistle on the Sabbath, +seemed to do exactly what she liked. + +Now, in January 1914, Althea announced to her parents that Aunt Maria +had summoned her for a week to Galloway. Sir Anthony stuffed her +handbag with five-pound notes, and at an early hour of the morning sent +her up in the car to London in charge of the chauffeur. The chauffeur +returned saying that he had bought Miss Althea's ticket at Euston and +seen her start off comfortably on her journey. A letter or two had been +received by the Fenimores from Galloway, and letters they had written +to Galloway had been acknowledged by Althea. She returned to +Wellingsford in due course, with bonny cheeks and wind-swept eyes, and +told us all funny little stories about Aunt Maria. No one thought +anything more about it until one fine afternoon in May, 1915, when +Maria Beccles walked unexpectedly into the drawing-room of Wellings +Park, while Sir Anthony and Lady Fenimore were at tea. + +"My dear Edith," she said to her astounded hostess, who had not seen +her for fifteen years. "In this orgy of hatred and strife that is going +on in the world, it seems ridiculous to go on hating and fighting one's +own family. We must combine against the Germans and hate them. Let us +be friends." + +"Mad as Crazy Jane," said Sir Anthony, telling me the story. But I, who +had never heard Aunt Maria's side of the dispute, thought it very +high-spirited of the old lady to come and hold out the olive-branch in +so uncompromising a fashion. + +Lady Fenimore then said that she had never wished to quarrel with +Maria, and Sir Anthony declared that her patriotic sentiments did her +credit, and that he was proud to receive her under his roof, and in a +few minutes Maria was drinking tea and discussing the war in the most +contented way in the world. + +"I didn't write to you on the occasion of the death of your two +children because you knew I didn't like you," said this outspoken lady. +"I hate hypocrisy. Also I thought that tribulation might chasten you in +the eyes of the Lord. I've discussed it with our Minister, a poor body, +but a courageous man. He told me I was unchristian. Now, what with all +this universal massacre going on and my unregenerate longing, old woman +as I am, to wade knee-deep in German blood, I don't know what the devil +I am." + +The more Anthony told me of Aunt Maria, the more I liked her. + +"Can't I come round and make her acquaintance?" I cried. "She's the +sort of knotty, solid human thing that I should love. No wonder Althea +was fond of her." + +"This happened a week ago. She only stayed a night," replied Sir +Anthony. "I wish to God we had never seen her or heard of her." + +And then the good, heart-wrung little man, who had been beating about +the bush for half an hour, came straight to the point. + +"You remember Althea's visit to Scotland in January last year?" + +"Perfectly," said I. + +He rose from his chair and looked at me in wrinkled anguish. + +"She never went there," he said. + +That was what he had come to tell me. A natural reference to the last +visit of Althea to her aunt had established the stupefying fact. + +"Althea's last visit was in October, 1913," said Miss Beccles. + +"But we have letters from your house to prove she was with you in +January," said Sir Anthony. + +Most methodical and correspondence-docketing of men, he went to his +library and returned with a couple of letters. + +The old lady looked them through grimly. + +"Pretty vague. No details. Read 'em again, Anthony." + +When he had done so, she said: "Well?" + +Lady Fenimore objected: "But Althea did stay with you. She must have +stayed with you." + +"All right, Edith," said Maria, sitting bolt upright. "Call me a liar, +and have done with it. I've come here at considerable dislocation of +myself and my principles, to bury the hatchet for the sake of unity +against the enemy, and this is how I'm treated. I can only go back to +Scotland at once." + +Sir Anthony succeeded in pacifying her. The letters were evidence that +Edith and himself believed that Althea was in Galloway at the time. +Maria's denial had come upon them like a thunderclap, bewildering, +stunning. If Althea was not in Galloway, where was she? + +Maria Beccles did not reply for some time to the question. Then she +took the pins out of her hat and threw it on a chair, thus symbolising +the renunciation of her intention of returning forthwith to Scotland. + +"Yes, Maria," said Lady Fenimore, with fear in her dark eyes, "we don't +doubt your word--but, as Anthony has said, if she wasn't with you, +where was she?" + +"How do I know?" + +Maria Beccles pointed a lean finger--she was a dark and shrivelled, +gipsy-like creature. "You might as well ask the canal in which she +drowned herself." + +"But, my God, Anthony!" I cried, when he had got thus far, "What did +you think? What did you say?" + +I realised that the old lady had her social disqualifications. +Plain-dealing is undoubtedly a virtue. But there are several virtues +which the better class of angel keeps chained up in a dog-kennel. Of +course she was acute. A mind trained in the acrobatics of Calvinistic +Theology is, within a narrow compass, surprisingly agile. It jumped at +one bound from the missing week in Althea's life into the black water +of the canal. It was incapable, however, of appreciating the awful +horror in the minds of the beholders. + +"I don't know what I said," replied Sir Anthony, walking restlessly +about my library. "We were struck all of a heap. As you know, we never +had reason to think that the poor dear child's death was anything but +an accident. We were not narrow-minded old idiots. She was a dear good +girl. In a modern way she claimed her little independence. We let her +have it. We trusted her. We took it for granted--you know it, Duncan, +as well as I do--that, a hot night in June--not able to sleep--she had +stuck on a hat and wandered about the grounds, as she had often done +before, and a spirit of childish adventure had tempted her, that night, +to walk round the back of the town and--and--well, until in the dark, +she stepped off the tow-path by the lock gates, into nothing--and found +the canal. It was an accident," he continued, with a hand on my +shoulder, looking down on me in my chair. "The inquest proved that. I +accepted it, as you know, as a visitation of God. Edith and I sorrowed +for her like cowards. It took the war to bring us to our senses. But, +now, this damned old woman comes and upsets the whole thing." + +"But," said I, "after all, it was only a bow at a venture on the part +of the old lady." + +"I wish it were," said he, and he handed me a letter which Maria had +written to him the day after her return to Scotland. + +The letter contained a pretty piece of information. She had summarily +discharged Elspeth Macrae, her confidential maid of five-and-twenty +years' standing. Elspeth Macrae, on her own confession, had, out of +love for Althea, performed the time-honoured jugglery with +correspondence. She had posted in Galloway letters which she had +received, under cover, from Althea, and had forwarded letters that had +arrived addressed to Althea to an accommodation address in Carlisle. So +have sentimental serving-maids done since the world began. + +"What do you make of it?" asked Sir Anthony. + +What else could I make of it but the one sorry theory? What woman +employs all this subterfuge in order to obtain a weeks liberty for any +other purpose than the one elementary purpose of young humanity? + +We read the inevitable conclusion in each other's eyes. + +"Who is the man, Duncan?" + +"I suppose you have searched her desk and things?" + +"Last year. Everything most carefully. It was awful--but we had to. Not +a scrap of paper that wasn't innocence itself." + +"It can't be anyone here," said I. "You know what the place is. The +slightest spark sends gossip aflame like the fumes of petrol." + +He sat down by my side and rubbed his close-cropped grey head. + +"It couldn't have been young Holmes?" + +The little man had a brave directness that sometimes disconcerted me. I +knew the ghastly stab that every word cost him. + +"She used to make mock of Randall," said I. "Don't you remember she +used to call him 'the gilded poet'? Once she said he was the most +lady-like young man of her acquaintance. I don't admire our young +friend, but I think you're on the wrong track, Anthony." + +"I don't see it," said he. "That sort of flippancy goes for nothing. +Women use it as a sort of quickset hedge of protection." He bent +forward and tapped me on my senseless knee. "Young Holmes always used +to be in and out of the house. They had known each other from +childhood. He had a distinguished Oxford career. When he won the +Newdigate, she came running to me with the news, as pleased as Punch. I +gave him a dinner in honour of it, if you remember." + +"I remember," said I. + +I did not remind him that he had made a speech which sent cold shivers +down the spine of our young Apollo; that, in a fine rhetorical +flourish--dear old fox-hunting ignoramus--he declared that the winner +of the Newdigate carried the bays of the Laureate in his knapsack; that +Randall, white-lipped with horror, murmured to Betty Fairfax, his +neighbour at the table: "My God! The Poet-Laureate's unhallowed grave! +I must burn the knapsack and take to a hod!" It was too tragical a +conversation for light allusion. + +"The poor dear child--Edith and I have sized it up--was all over him +that evening." + +"What more youthfully natural," said I, "than that she should carry off +the hero of the occasion--her childhood's playfellow?" + +"All sorts of apparently insignificant details, Duncan, taken +together--especially if they fit in--very often make up a whole case +for prosecution." + +"You're a Chairman of Quarter Sessions," I admitted, "and so you ought +to know." + +"I know this," said he, "that Holmes only spent part of that Christmas +vacation with his mother, and went off somewhere or the other early in +January." I cudgelled back my memory into confirmation of his +statement. To remember trivial incidents before the war takes a lot of +cudgelling. Yes. I distinctly recollected the young man's telling me +that Oxford being an intellectual hothouse and Wellingsford an +intellectual Arabia Petrea, he was compelled, for the sake of his +mental health, to find a period of repose in the intellectual Nature of +London. I mentioned this to Sir Anthony. + +"Yet," I said, "I don't think he had anything to do with it." + +"Why?" + +"It would have been far too much moral exertion--" + +"You call it moral?" Sir Anthony burst out angrily. + +I pacified him with an analysis, from my point of view, of Randall's +character. Centripetal forces were too strong for the young man. I +dissertated on his amours with Phyllis Gedge. + +"No, my dear old friend," said I, in conclusion, "I don't think it was +Randall Holmes." + +Sir Anthony rose and shook his fist in my face. As I knew he meant me +no bodily harm, I did not blench. + +"Who was it, then?" + +"Althea," said I, "often used to stay in town with your sister. Lady +Greatorex has a wide circle of acquaintances. Do you know anything of +the men Althea used to meet at her house?" + +"Of course I don't," replied Sir Anthony. Then he sat down again with a +gesture of despair. "After all, what does it matter? Perhaps it's as +well I don't know who the man was, for if I did, I'd kill him!" + +He set his teeth and glowered at nothing and smote his left palm with +his right fist, and there was a long silence. Presently he repeated: + +"I'd kill him!" + +We fell to discussing the whole matter over again. Why, I asked, should +we assume that the poor child was led astray by a villain? Might there +not have been a romantic marriage which, for some reason we could not +guess, she desired to keep secret for a time? Had she not been bright +and happy from January to June? And that night of tragedy... What more +likely than that she had gone forth to keep tryst with her husband and +accidentally met her death? "He arrives," said I, "waits for her. She +never comes. He goes away. The next day he learns from local gossip or +from newspapers what has happened. He thinks it best to keep silent and +let her fair name be untouched...What have you to say against that +theory?" + +"Possible," he replied. "Anything conceivable within the limits of +physical possibility is possible. But it isn't probable. I have an +intuitive feeling that there was villainy about--and if ever I get hold +of that man--God help him!" + +So there was nothing more to be said. + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +I haven't that universal sympathy which is the most irritating +attribute of saints and other pacifists. When, for instance, anyone of +the fraternity arguing from the Sermon on the Mount tells me that I +ought to love Germans, either I admit the obligation and declare that, +as I am a miserable sinner, I have no compunction in breaking it, or, +if he is a very sanctimonious saint, I remind him that, such creatures +as modern Germans not having been invented on or about the year A.D. +30, the rule about loving your enemies could not possibly apply. At +least I imagine I do one of these two things (sometimes, indeed, I +dream gloatfully over acts of physical violence) when I read the +pronouncements of such a person; for I have to my great good fortune +never met him in the flesh. If there are any saintly pacifists in +Wellingsford, they keep sedulously out of my way, and they certainly do +not haunt my Service Club. And these are the only two places in which I +have my being. Even Gedge doesn't talk of loving Germans. He just lumps +all the belligerents together in one conglomerate hatred, for upsetting +his comfortable social scheme. + +As I say, I lack the universal sympathy of the saint. I can't like +people I don't like. Some people I love very deeply; others, being of a +kindly disposition, I tolerate; others again I simply detest. Now +Wellingsford, like every little country town in England, is drab with +elderly gentlewomen. As I am a funny old tabby myself, I have to mix +with them. If I refuse invitations to take tea with them, they invite +themselves to tea with me. "The poor Major," they say, "is so lonely." +And they bait their little hooks and angle for gossip of which I am +supposed--Heaven knows why--to be a sort of stocked pond. They don't +carry home much of a catch, I assure you.... Well, of some of them I am +quite fond. Mrs. Boyce, for all her shortcomings, is an old crony for +whom I entertain a sincere affection. Towards Betty's aunt, Miss +Fairfax, a harmless lady with a passion for ecclesiastical embroidery, +I maintain an attitude of benevolent neutrality. But Mrs. Holmes, +Randall's mother, and her sisters, the daughters of an eminent +publicist who seems to have reared his eminence on bones of talk flung +at him by Carlisle, George Eliot, Lewes, Monckton Milnes, and is now, +doubtless, recording their toe-prints on the banks of Acheron, I never +could and never can abide. My angel of a wife saw good in them, and she +loved the tiny Randall, of whom I too was fond; so, for her sake, I +always treated them with courtesy and kindness. Also for Randall's +father's sake. He was a bluff, honest, stock-broking Briton who fancied +pigeons and bred greyhounds for coursing, and cared less for literature +and art than does the equally honest Mrs. Marigold in my kitchen. But +his wife and her sisters led what they called the intellectual life. +They regarded it as a heritage from their pompous ass of a father. Of +course they were not eighteen-sixty, or even eighteen-eighty. They +prided themselves on developing the hereditary tradition of culture to +its extreme modern expression. They were of the semi-intellectual type +of idiot--and, if it destroys it, the great war will have some +justification--which professes to find in the dull analysis of the drab +adultery and suicide of a German or Scandinavian rabbit-picker a +supreme expression of human existence. All their talk was of Hauptmann +and Sudermann (they dropped them patriotically, I must say, as +outrageous fellows, on the outbreak of war), Strindberg, +Dostoievsky--though I found they had never read either "Crime and +Punishment" or "The Brothers Karamazoff"--Tolstoi, whom they didn't +understand; and in art--God save the mark!--the Cubist school. That is +how my poor young friend, Randall, was trained to get the worst of the +frothy scum of intelligent Oxford. But even he sometimes winced at the +pretentiousness of his mother and his aunts. He was a clever fellow and +his knowledge was based on sound foundations. I need not say that the +ladies were rather feared than loved in Wellingsford. + +All this to explain why it was that when Marigold woke me from an +afternoon nap with the information that Mrs. Holmes desired to see me, +I scowled on him. + +"Why didn't you say I was dead?" + +"I told Mrs. Holmes you were asleep, sir, and she said: 'Will you be so +kind as to wake him?' So what could I do, sir?" + +I have never met with an idiot so helpless in the presence of a woman. +He would have defended my slumbers before a charge of cavalry; but one +elderly lady shoo'd him aside like a chicken. + +Mrs. Holmes was shewn in, a tall, dark, thin, nervous woman wearing +pince-nez and an austere sad-coloured garment. + +She apologised for disturbing me. + +"But," she said, sitting down on the couch, "I am in such great trouble +and I could think of no one but you to advise me." + +"What's the matter?" I asked. + +"It's Randall. He left the house the day before yesterday, without +telling any of us good-bye, and he hasn't written, and I don't know +what on earth has become of him." + +"Did he take any luggage?" + +"Just a small suit-case. He even packed it himself, a thing he has +never done at home in his life before." + +This was news. The proceedings were unlike Randall, who in his goings +and comings loved the domestic brass-band. To leave his home without +valedictory music and vanish into the unknown, betokened some unusual +perturbation of mind. + +I asked whether she knew of any reason for such perturbation. + +"He was greatly upset," she replied, "by the stoppage of The Albemarle +Review for which he did such fine work." + +I strove politely to hide my inability to condole and wagged my head +sadly: + +"I'm afraid there was no room for it in a be-bombed and be-shrapnelled +world." + +"I suppose the still small voice of reason would not be heard amid the +din," she sighed. "And no other papers--except the impossible +ones--would print Randall's poems and articles." + +More news. This time excellent news. A publicist denied publicity is as +useful as a German Field Marshal on a desert island. I asked what The +Albemarle died of. + +"Practically all the staff deserted what Randall called the Cause and +dribbled away into the army," she replied mournfully. + +As to what this precious Cause meant I did not enquire, having no wish +to enter into an argument with the good lady which might have become +exacerbated. Besides, she would only have parroted Randall. I had never +yet detected her in the expression of an original idea. + +"Perhaps he has dribbled away too?" I suggested grimly. She was silent. +I bent forward. "Wouldn't you like him to dribble into the great flood?" + +She lifted her lean shoulders despairingly. + +"He's the only son of a widow. Even in France and Germany they're not +expected to fight. But if he were different I would let him go +gladly--I'm not selfish and unpatriotic, Major," she said with an +unaccustomed little catch in her throat--and for the very first time I +found in her something sympathetic--"but," she continued, "it seems so +foolish to sacrifice all his intellectual brilliance to such crudities +as fighting, when it might be employed so much more advantageously +elsewhere." + +"But, good God, my dear lady!" I cried. "Where are your wits? Where's +your education? Where's your intelligent understanding of the daily +papers? Where's your commonsense?"--I'm afraid I was brutally rude. +"Can't you give a minute's thought to the situation? If there's one +institution on earth that's shrieking aloud for intellectual +brilliance, it's the British Army! Do you think it's a refuge for +fools? Do you think any born imbecile is good enough to outwit the +German Headquarters Staff? Do you think the lives of hundreds of his +men--and perhaps the fate of thousands--can be entrusted to any +brainless ass? An officer can't have too much brains. We're clamouring +for brains. It's the healthy, brilliant-brained men like Randall that +the Army's yelling for--simply yelling for," I repeated, bringing my +hand down on the arm of my chair. + +Two little red spots showed on each side of her thin face. + +"I've never looked at it in that light before," she admitted. + +"Of course I agree with you," I said diplomatically, "that Randall +would be more or less wasted as a private soldier. The heroic stuff of +which Thomas Atkins is made is, thank God, illimitable. But intellect +is rare--especially in the ranks of God's own chosen, the British +officer. And Randall is of the kind we want as officers. As for a +commission, he could get one any day. I could get one for him myself. I +still have a few friends. He's a good-looking chap and would carry off +a uniform. Wouldn't you be proud to see him?" + +A tear rolled down her cheek. I patted myself on the back for an artful +fellow. But I had underrated her wit. To my chagrin she did not fall +into my trap. + +"It's the uncertainty that's killing me," she said. And then she burst +out disconcertingly: "Do you think he has gone off with that dreadful +little Gedge girl?" + +Phyllis! I was a myriad miles from Phyllis. I was talking about real +things. The mother, however, from her point of view, was talking of +real things also. But how did she come to know about her son's amours? +I thought it useless to enquire. Randall must have advertised his +passion pretty widely. I replied: + +"It's extremely improbable. In the first place Phyllis Gedge isn't +dreadful, but a remarkably sweet and modest young woman, and in the +second place she won't have anything to do with him." + +"That's nonsense," she said, bridling. + +"Why?" + +"Because--" + +A gesture and a smile completed the sentence. That a common young +person should decline to have dealings with her paragon was incredible. + +"I can find out in a minute," I smiled, "whether she is still in +Wellingsford." + +I wheeled myself to the telephone on my writing-table and rang up Betty +at the hospital. + +"Do you know where Phyllis Gedge is?" + +Betty's voice came. "Yes. She's here. I've just left her to come to +speak to you. Why do you want to know?" + +"Never mind so long as she is safe and sound. There's no likelihood of +her running away or eloping?" + +Betty's laughter rang over the wires. "What lunacy are you talking? You +might as well ask me whether I'm going to elope with you." + +"I don't think you're respectful, Betty," I replied. "Good-bye." + +I rang off and reported Betty's side of the conversation to my visitor. + +"On that score," said I, "you can make your mind quite easy." + +"But where can the boy have gone?" she cried. + +"Into the world somewhere to learn wisdom," I said, and in order to +show that I did not speak ironically, I wheeled myself to her side and +touched her hand. "I think his swift brain has realised at last that +all his smart knowledge hasn't brought him a little bit of wisdom worth +a cent. I shouldn't worry. He's working out his salvation somehow, +although he may not know it." + +"Do you really think so?" + +"I do," said I. "And if he finds that the path of wisdom leads to the +German trenches--will you be glad or sorry?" + +She grappled with the question in silence for a moment or two. Then she +broke down and, to my dismay, began to cry. + +"Do you suppose there's a woman in England that, in her heart of +hearts, doesn't want her men folk to fight?" + +I only allow the earlier part of this chapter to stand in order to show +how a man quite well-meaning, although a trifle irascible, may be +wanting in Christian charity and ordinary understanding; and of how +many tangled knots of human motive, impulse, and emotion this war is a +solvent. You see, she defended her son to the last, adopting his own +specious line of argument; but at the last came the breaking-point.... + +The rest of our interview was of no great matter. I did my best to +reassure and comfort her; and when I next saw Marigold, I said affably: + +"You did quite well to wake me." + +"I thought I was acting rightly, sir. Mr. Randall having bolted, so to +speak, it seemed only natural that Mrs. Holmes should come to see you." + +"You knew that Mr. Randall had bolted and you never told me?" + +I glared indignantly. Marigold stiffened himself--the degree of +stiffness beyond his ordinary inflexibility of attitude could only have +been ascertained by a vernier, but that degree imparted an appreciable +dignity to his demeanour. + +"I beg pardon, sir, but lately I've noticed that my little bits of +local news haven't seemed to be welcome." + +"Marigold," said I, "don't be an ass." + +"Very good, sir." + +"My mind," said I, "is in an awful muddle about all sorts of things +that are going on in this town. So I should esteem it a favour if you +would tell me at once any odds and ends of gossip you may pick up. They +may possibly be important." + +"And if I have any inferences to draw from what I hear," said he +gravely, fixing me with his clear eye, "may I take the liberty of +acquainting you with them?" + +"Certainly." + +"Very good, sir," said Marigold. + +Now what was Marigold going to draw inferences about? That was another +puzzle. I felt myself being drawn into a fog-filled labyrinth of +intrigue in which already groping were most of the people I knew. What +with the mysterious relations between Betty and Boyce and Gedge, what +with young Dacre's full exoneration of Boyce, what with young Randall's +split with Gedge and his impeccable attitude towards Phyllis, things +were complicated enough; Sir Anthony's revelations regarding poor +Althea and his dark surmises concerning Randall complicated them still +more; and now comes Mrs. Holmes to tell me of Randall's mysterious +disappearance. + +"A plague on the whole lot!" I exclaimed wrathfully. + +I dined that evening with the Fenimores. My dear Betty was there too, +the only other guest, looking very proud and radiant. A letter that +morning from Willie Connor informed her that the regiment, by holding a +trench against an overwhelming German attack, had achieved glorious +renown. The Brigadier-General had specially congratulated the Colonel, +and the Colonel had specially complimented Willie on the magnificent +work of his company. Of course there was a heavy price in +casualties--poor young Etherington, whom we all knew, for instance, +blown to atoms--but Willie, thank God! was safe. + +"I wonder what would happen to me, if Willie were to get the V.C. I +think I should go mad with pride!" she exclaimed with flushed cheeks, +forgetful of poor young Etherington, a laughter-loving boy of twenty, +who had been blown to atoms. It is strange how apparently callous this +universal carnage has made the noblest and the tenderest of men and +women. We cling passionately to the lives of those near and dear to us. +But as to those near and dear to others, who are killed--well--we pay +them the passing tribute not even of a tear, but only of a sign. They +died gloriously for their country. What can we say more? If we--we +survivors, not only invalids and women and other stay-at-homes, but +also comrades on the field--were riven to our souls by the piteous +tragedy of splendid youth destroyed in its flower, we could not stand +the strain, we should weep hysterically, we should be broken folk. But +a merciful Providence steps in and steels our hearts. The loyal hearts +are there beating truly; and in order that they should beat truly and +stoutly, they are given this God-sent armour. + +So, when we raised our glasses and drank gladly to the success of +Willie Connor the living, and put from our thoughts Frank Etherington +the dead, you must not account it to us as lack of human pity. You must +be lenient in your judgment of those who are thrown into the furnace of +a great war. + +Lady Fenimore smiled on Betty. "We should all be proud, my dear, if +Captain Connor won the Victoria Cross. But you mustn't set your heart +on it. That would be foolish. Hundreds of thousands of men deserve the +V.C. ten times a day, and they can't all be rewarded." + +Betty laughed gaily at good Lady Fenimore's somewhat didactic reproof. +"You know I'm not an absolute idiot. Fancy the poor dear coming home +all over bandages and sticking-plaster. 'Where's your V. C?' 'I haven't +got it.' 'Then go back at once and get it or I shan't love you.' Poor +darling!" Suddenly the laughter in her eyes quickened into something +very bright and beautiful. "There's not a woman in England prouder of +her husband than I am. No V.C. could possibly reward him for what he +has done. But I want it for myself. I'd like my babies to cut their +teeth on it." + + +When I went out to the Boer War, the most wonderful woman on earth said +to me on parting: + +"Wherever you are, dear, remember that I am always with you in spirit +and soul and heart and almost in body." + +And God knows she was. And when I returned a helpless cripple she +gathered me in her brave arms on the open quay at Southampton, and +after a moment or two of foolishness, she said: + +"Do you know, when I die, what you'll find engraven on my heart?" + +"No," said I. + +"Your D.S.O. ribbon." + +So when Betty talked about her babies and the little bronze cross, my +eyes grew moist and I felt ridiculously sentimental. + +Not a word, of course, was spoken before Betty of the new light, or the +new darkness, whichsoever you will, that had been cast on the tragedy +of Althea. I could not do otherwise than agree with the direct-spoken +old lady who had at once correlated the adventure in Carlisle with the +plunge into the Wellingsford Canal. And so did Sir Anthony. They were +very brave, however, the little man and Edith, in their dinner-talk +with Betty. But I saw that the past fortnight had aged them both by a +year or more. They had been stabbed in their honour, their trust, and +their faith. It was a secret terror that stalked at their side by day +and lay stark at their side by night. It was only when the ladies had +left us that Sir Anthony referred to the subject. + +"I suppose you know that young Randall Holmes has bolted." + +"So his mother informed me to-day." + +He pricked his ears. "Does she know where he has gone to?" + +"No," said I. + +"What did I tell you?" said Sir Anthony. + +I held up my glass of port to the light and looked through it. + +"A lot of damfoolishness, my dear old friend," said I. + +He grew angry. A man doesn't like to be coldly called a damfool at his +own table. He rose on his spurs, in his little red bantam way. Was I +too much of an idiot to see the connection? As soon as the Carlisle +business became known, this young scoundrel flies the country. Couldn't +I see an inch before my blind nose? Forbearing to question this +remarkable figure of speech, I asked him how so confidential a matter +could have become known. + +"Everything gets known in this infernal little town," he retorted. + +"That's where you're mistaken," said I. "Half everything gets +known--the unimportant half. The rest is supplied by malicious or +prejudiced invention." + +We discussed the question after the futile way of men until we went +into the drawing-room, where Betty played and sang to us until it was +time to go home. + +Marigold was about to lift me into the two-seater when Betty, who had +been lurking in her car a little way off, ran forward. + +"Would it bore you if I came in for a quarter of an hour?" + +"Bore me, my dear?" said I. "Of course not." + +So a short while afterwards we were comfortably established in my +library. + +"You rang me up to-day about Phyllis Gedge." + +"I did," said I. + +She lit a cigarette and seated herself on the fender-stool. She has an +unconscious knack of getting into easy, loose-limbed attitudes. I said +admiringly: + +"Do you know you're a remarkably well-favoured young person?" + +And as soon as I said it, I realised what a tremendous factor Betty was +in my circumscribed life. What could I do without her sweet intimacy? +If Willie Connor's Territorial regiment, like so many others, had been +ordered out to India, and she had gone with him, how blank would be the +days and weeks and months! I thanked God for granting me her +graciousness. + +She smiled and blew me a kiss. "That's very gratifying to know," she +said. "But it has nothing to do with Phyllis." + +"Well, what about Phyllis?" + +"I'll tell you," she replied. + +And she told me. Her story was not of world-shaking moment, but it +interested me. I have since learned its substantial correctness and am +able to add some supplementary details. + +You see, things were like this.... In order to start I must go back +some years.... I have always had a warm corner in my heart for little +Phyllis Gedge, ever since she was a blue-eyed child. My wife had a +great deal to do with it. She was a woman of dauntless courage and +clear vision into the heart of things. I find many a reflection of her +in Betty. Perhaps that is why I love Betty so dearly. + +Some strange, sweet fool feminine of gentle birth and deplorable +upbringing fell in love with a vehemently socialistic young artisan by +the name of Gedge and married him. Her casual but proud-minded family +wiped her off the proud family slate. She brought Phyllis into the +world and five years afterwards found herself be-Gedged out of +existence. They were struggling people in those days, and before her +death my wife used to employ her, when she could, for household sewing +and whatnot. And tiny Phyllis, in a childless home, became a petted +darling. When my great loneliness came upon me, it was a solace to have +the little dainty prattling thing to spend an occasional hour in my +company. Gedge, an excellent workman, set up as a contractor. He took +my modest home under his charge. A leaky tap, a broken pane, a new set +of bookshelves, a faulty drainpipe--all were matters for Gedge. I +abhorred his politics but I admired his work, and I continued, with +Mrs. Marigold's motherly aid, to make much of Phyllis. + +Gedge, for queer motives of his own, sent her to as good a school as he +could afford, as a matter of fact an excellent school, one where she +met girls of a superior social class and learned educated speech and +graceful manners. Her holidays, poor child, were somewhat dreary, for +her father, an anti-social creature, had scarce a friend in the town. +Save for here and there an invitation to tea from Betty or myself, she +did not cross the threshold of a house in Wellingsford. But to my +house, all through her schooldays and afterwards, Phyllis came, and on +such occasions Mrs. Marigold prepared teas of the organic lusciousness +dear to the heart of a healthy girl. + +Now, here comes the point of all this palaver. Young Master Randall +used also to come to my house. Now and then by chance they met there. +They were good boy and girl friends. + +I want to make it absolutely clear that her acquaintance with Randall +was not any vulgar picking-up-in-the-street affair. + +When she left school, her father made her his book-keeper, secretary, +confidential clerk. Anybody turning into the office to summon Gedge to +repair a roof or a burst boiler had a preliminary interview with +Phyllis. Young Randall, taking over the business of the upkeep of his +mother's house, gradually acquired the habit of such preliminary +interviews. The whole imbroglio was very simple, very natural. They had +first met at my own rich cake and jam-puff bespread tea-table. When +Randall went into the office to speak, presumably, about a defective +draught in the kitchen range, and really about things quite different, +the ethics of the matter depended entirely on Randall's point of view. +Their meetings had been contrived by no unmaidenly subterfuge on the +part of Phyllis. She knew him to be above her in social station. She +kept him off as long as she could. But que voulez-vous? Randall was a +very good-looking, brilliant, and fascinating fellow; Phyllis was a +dear little human girl. And it is the human way of such girls to fall +in love with such fascinating, brilliant fellows. I not only hold a +brief for Phyllis, but I am the judge, too, and having heard all the +evidence, I deliver a verdict overwhelmingly in her favour. Given the +circumstances as I have stated them, she was bound to fall in love with +Randall, and in doing so committed not the little tiniest speck of a +peccadillo. + +My first intimation of tender relations between them came from my sight +of them in February in Wellings Park. Since then, of course, I have +much which I will tell you as best I may. + +So now for Betty's story, confirmed and supplemented by what I have +learned later. But before plunging into the matter, I must say that +when Betty had ended I took up my little parable and told her of all +that Randall had told me concerning his repudiation of Gedge. And Betty +listened with a curiously stony face and said nothing. + +When Betty puts on that face of granite I am quite unhappy. That is why +I have always hated the statues of Egypt. There is something beneath +their cold faces that you can't get at. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +Gedge bitterly upbraided his daughter, both for her desertion of his +business and her criminal folly in abandoning it so as to help mend the +shattered bodies of fools and knaves who, by joining the forces of +militarism, had betrayed the Sacred Cause of the International +Solidarity of Labour. His first ground for complaint was scarcely +tenable; with his dwindling business the post of clerk had dwindled +into a sinecure. To sit all day at the receipt of imaginary custom is +not a part fitted for a sane and healthy young human being. Still, from +Gedge's point of view her defection was a grievance; but that she could +throw in her lot openly with the powers of darkness was nothing less +than an outrage. + +I suppose, in a kind of crabbed way, the crabbed fellow was fond of +Phyllis. She was pretty. She had dainty tricks of dress. She flitted, +an agreeable vision, about his house. He liked to hear her play the +piano, not because he had any ear for music, but because it tickled his +vanity to reflect that he, the agricultural labourer's son and +apprentice to a village carpenter, was the possessor both of a Broadway +Grand and of a daughter who, entirely through his efforts, had learned +to play on it. Like most of his political type, he wallowed in his own +peculiar snobbery. But of anything like companionship between father +and daughter there had existed very little. While railing, wherever he +found ears into which to rail, against the vicious luxury and sordid +shallowness of the upper middle classes, his instinctive desire to +shine above his poorer associates had sent Phyllis to an upper middle +class school. Now Gedge had a certain amount of bookish and political +intelligence. Phyllis inheriting the intellectual equipment of her +sentimental fool of a mother, had none, Oh! she had a vast fund of +ordinary commonsense. Of that I can assure you. A bit of hard brain +fibre from her father had counteracted any over-sentimental folly in +the maternal heritage. And she came back from school a very ladylike +little person. If pressed, she could reel off all kinds of artificial +scraps of knowledge, like a dear little parrot. But she had never heard +of Karl Marx and didn't want to hear. She had a vague notion that +International Socialism was a movement in favour of throwing bombs at +monarchs and of seizing the wealth of the rich in order to divide it +among the poor--and she regarded it as abominable. When her father gave +her Fabian Society tracts to read, he might just as well, for all her +understanding of the argument, set her down to a Treatise on the +Infinitesimal Calculus. Her brain stood blank before such abstract +disquisitions. She loved easily comprehended poetry and novels that +made her laugh or cry and set her mind dancing round the glowing +possibilities of life; all disastrous stuff abhorred by the +International Socialist, to whom the essential problems of existence +are of no interest whatever. So, after a few futile attempts to darken +her mind, Gedge put her down as a mere fool woman, and ceased to bother +his head about her intellectual development. That came to him quite +naturally. There is no Turk more contemptuous of his womankind's +political ideas than the Gedges of our enlightened England. But on +other counts she was a distinct asset. He regarded her with immense +pride, as a more ornamental adjunct to his house than any other county +builder and contractor could display, and, recognising that she was +possessed of some low feminine cunning in the way of adding up figures +and writing letters, made use of her in his office as general clerical +factotum. + +When the war broke out, he discovered, to his horror, that Phyllis +actually had political ideas--unshakable, obstinate ideas opposed to +his own--and that he had been nourishing in his bosom a viperous +patriot. Phyllis, for her part, realised with equal horror the +practical significance of her father's windy theories. When Randall, +who had stolen her heart, took to visiting the house, in order, as far +as she could make out, to talk treason with her father, the strain of +the situation grew more than she could bear. She fled to Betty for +advice. Betty promptly stepped in and whisked her off to the hospital. + +It was on the morning on which Randall interviewed me in the garden, +the morning after he had broken with Gedge, that Phyllis, having a +little off-time, went home. She found her father in the office making +out a few bills. He thrust forward his long chin and aggressive beard +and scowled at her. + +"Oh, it's you, is it? Come at last where your duty calls you, eh?" + +"I always come when I can, father," she replied. + +She bent down and kissed his cheek. He caught her roughly round the +waist and, leaning back in his chair, looked up at her sourly. + +"How long are you going on defying me like this?" + +She tried to disengage herself, but his arm was too strong. "Oh, +father," she said, rather wearily, "don't let us go over this old +argument again." + +"But suppose I find some new argument? Suppose I send you packing +altogether, refuse to contribute further to your support. What then?" + +She started at the threat but replied valiantly: "I should have to earn +my own living." + +"How are you going to do it?" + +"There are heaps of ways." + +He laughed. "There ain't; as you'd soon find out. They don't even pay +you for being scullery-maid to a lot of common soldiers." + +She protested against that view of her avocation. In the perfectly +appointed Wellingsford Hospital she had no scullery work. She was a +probationer, in training as a nurse. He still gripped her. + +"The particular kind of tomfoolery you are up to doesn't matter. We +needn't quarrel. I've another proposition to put before you--much more +to your fancy, I think. You like this Mr. Randall Holmes, don't you?" + +She shivered a little and flushed deep red. Her father had never +touched on the matter before. She said, straining away: + +"I don't want to talk about Mr. Holmes." + +"But I do. Come, my dear. In this life there must be always a certain +amount of give and take. I'm not the man to drive a one-sided bargain. +I'll make you a fair offer--as between father and daughter. I'll wipe +out all that's past. In leaving me like this, when misfortune has come +upon me, you've been guilty of unfilial conduct--no one can deny it. But +I'll overlook everything, forgive you fully and take you to my heart +again and leave you free to do whatever you like without interfering +with your opinions, if you'll promise me one thing--" + +"I know what you're going to say." She twisted round on him swiftly. +"I'll promise at once. I'll never marry Mr. Holmes. I've already told him +I won't marry him." + +Surprise relaxed his grip. She took swift advantage and sheered away to +the other side of the table. He rose and brought down his hand with a +thump. + +"You refused him? Why, you silly little baggage, my condition is that +you should marry him. You're sweet on him aren't you?" + +"I detest him," cried Phyllis. "Why should I marry him?" + +Her eyes, young and pure, divined some sordid horror behind eyes crafty +and ignoble. Once before she had had such a fleeting, uncomprehended +vision into the murky depths of the man's soul. This was some time ago. +In the routine of her secretarial duties she had, one morning, opened +and read a letter, not marked "Private" or "Personal," whose tenor she +could scarcely understand. When she handed it to her father, he smiled, +vouchsafed a specious explanation, and looked at her in just the same +crafty and ignoble fashion, and she shrank away frightened. The matter +kept her awake for a couple of nights. Then, for sheer easing of her +heart, she went to her adored Betty Fairfax, her Lady Patroness and +Mother Confessor, who, being wise and strong, and possessing the power +of making her kind eyes unfathomable, laughed, bade her believe her +father's explanation, and sent her away comforted. The incident passed +out of her mind. But now memory smote her, as she shrank from her +father's gaze and the insincere smile on his thin lips. + +"For one thing," he replied after a pause, pulling his straggly beard, +"your poor dear mother was a lady, and if she had lived she would have +wanted you to marry a gentleman. It's for her sake I've given you an +education that fits you to consort with gentlefolk--just for her +sake--don't make any mistake about it, for I've always hated the breed. +If I've violated my principles in order to meet her wishes, I think you +ought to meet them too. You wouldn't like to marry a small tradesman or +a working man, would you?" + +"I'm not going to marry anybody," cried Phyllis. She was only a pink +and white, very ordinary little girl. I have no idealisations or +illusions concerning Phyllis. But she had a little fine steel of +character running through her. It flashed on Gedge. + +"I don't want to marry anybody," she declared. "But I'd sooner marry a +bricklayer who was fighting for his country than a fine gentleman like +Mr. Holmes who wasn't. I'd sooner die," she cried passionately. + +"Then go and die and be damned to you!" snarled Gedge, planting himself +noisily in his chair. "I've no use for khaki-struck drivelling idiots. +I've no use for patriots. Bah! Damn patriots! The upper classes are out +for all they can get, and they befool the poor imbecile working man +with all their highfalutin phrases to get it for them at the cost of +his blood. I've no use for them, I tell you. And I've no use either for +undutiful daughters. I've no use for young women who blow hot and cold. +Haven't I seen you with the fellow? Do you think I'm a blind dodderer? +Do you think I haven't kept an eye on you? Haven't I seen you blowing +as hot as you please? And now because he refuses to be a blinking idiot +and have his guts blown out in this war of fools and knaves and +capitalists, you blast him like a three-farthing iceberg." + +Everything in her that was tender, maidenly, English, shrank lacerated. +But the steel held her. She put both her hands on the table and bent +over towards him. + +"But, father, except that he's a gentleman, you haven't told me why you +want me to marry Mr. Holmes." + +He fidgeted with his fingers. "Haven't you a spark of affection for me +left?" + +She said dutifully, "Yes, father." + +"I want you to marry him. I've set my heart on it. It has been the one +bright hope in my life for months. Can't you marry him because you love +me?" + +"One generally marries because one loves the man one's going to marry," +said Phyllis. + +"But you do love him," cried Gedge. "Either you're just a wanton little +hussy or you must care for the fellow." + +"I don't. I hate him. And I don't want to have anything more to do with +him." The tears came. "He's a pro-German and I won't have anything to +do with pro-Germans." + +She fled precipitately from the office into the street and made a blind +course to the hospital; feeling, in dumb misery, that she had committed +the unforgivable sin of casting off her father and, at the same time, +that she had made stalwart proclamation of her faith. If ever a good, +loyal little heart was torn into piteous shreds, that little heart was +Phyllis's. + +In the bare X-ray room of the hospital, which happened to be vacant, +Betty sat on the one straight-backed wooden chair, while a weeping +damsel on the uncarpeted floor sobbed in her lap and confessed her sins +and sought absolution. + +Of course Gedge was a fool. If I, or any wise, diplomatic, tactful +person like myself, had found it necessary to tackle a young woman on +the subject of a matrimonial alliance, we should have gone about the +business in quite a different way. But what could you expect from an +anarchical Turk like Gedge? + +Phyllis, not knowing whether she were outcast and disinherited or not, +found, of course, a champion in Betty, who, in her spacious manner, +guaranteed her freedom from pecuniary worries for the rest of her life. +But Phyllis was none the less profoundly unhappy, and it took a whole +convoy of wounded to restore her to cheerfulness. You can't attend to a +poor brave devil grinning with pain, while a surgeon pokes a six-inch +probe down a sinus in search of bits of bone or shrapnel, and be +acutely conscious of your own two-penny-half-penny little miseries. +Many a heartache, in this wise, has been cured in the Houses of Pain. + +Now, nothing much would have happened, I suppose, if Phyllis, driven +from the hospital by superior decree that she should take fresh air and +exercise, had not been walking some days afterwards across the common +by the canal. Bordering the latter, Wellingsford has an avenue of +secular chestnuts of which it is inordinately proud. Dispersed here and +there are wooden benches sanctified by generations of lovers. Carven +thereon are the presentments, often interlaced, of hearts that have +long since ceased to beat; lonely hearts transfixed by arrows, which in +all probability survived the wound and inspired the owner to the +parentage of a dozen children; initials once, individually, the record +of many a romance, but now, collectively, merely an alphabet run mad. + +Phyllis entered the avenue, practically deserted at midday, and rested, +a pathetically lonely little grey-uniformed figure on one of the +benches. On the common, some distance behind her, stretched the lines +of an Army Service train, with mules and waggons, and here and there a +tent. In front of her, beyond the row of trees, was the towing-path; an +old horse in charge of a boy jogged by, pulling something of which only +a moving stove pipe like a periscope was visible above the bank. +Overhead the chestnuts rioted in broad leaf and pink and white blossom, +showing starry bits of blue sky and admitting arrow shafts of spring +sunshine. A dirty white mongrel dog belonging to the barge came up to +her, sniffed, and made friends; then, at last obeying a series of +whistles from the boy, looked at her apologetically and trotted off. +Her gaze followed him wistfully, for he was a very human dear dog, and +with a sympathetic understanding of all her difficulties in his deep +topaz eyes. After that she had as companions a couple of butterflies +and a bumble-bee and a perky, portly robin who hopped within an inch of +her feet and looked up at her sideways out of his hard little eye (so +different from the dog's) with the expression of one who would say: +"The most beauteous and delectable worm I have ever encountered. If I +were a bit bigger, say the size of the roc of the Arabian Nights, what +a dainty morsel you would make! In the meantime can't you shed +something of yourself for my entertainment like others, though grosser, +of your species?" She laughed at the cold impudence of the creature, +just as she had smiled at the butterflies and the bumble-bee. She +surrendered herself to the light happiness of the moment. It was good +to escape for an hour from the rigid lines of beds and the pale +suffering faces and the eternal faint odour of disinfectants, into all +this greenery and the fellowship of birds and beasts unconscious of +war. She remembered that once, in the pocket of her cloak, there had +been a biscuit or two. Very slowly and carefully, her mind fixed on the +robin, she fished for crumbs and very carefully and gently she fed the +impudent, stomach-centred fellow. She had attracted him to the end of +the seat, when, whizz and clatter, came a motor cycle down the avenue, +and off in a terrible scare flew the robin; the idyll of tree and beast +and birds suffered instant disruption and Randall Holmes, in his canvas +suit, stood before her. + +He said: + +"Good morning, Phyllis." + +She said, with cold politeness: "Good morning." But she asked the +spring morning in dumb piteousness, "Oh, why has he come? Why has he +come to spoil it all?" + +He sat down by her side. "This is the luckiest chance I've ever +had--finding you here," he said. "You've had all my letters, haven't +you?" + +"Yes," she answered, "and I've torn them all up." + +"Why?" + +"Because I didn't want them," she flashed on him: "I've destroyed them +without reading them." + +He flushed angrily. Apart from the personal affront, the fact that the +literary products of a poet, precious and, in this case, sincere, +should have been destroyed, unread, was an anti-social outrage. + +"If it didn't please a woman to believe in God," he said, "and God came +in Person and stood in front of her, she would run out of the room and +call upon somebody to come and shoot Him for a burglar, just to prove +she was right." + +Phyllis was shocked. Her feminine mind pounced on the gross literalness +of his rhetorical figure. + +"I've never heard anything more blasphemous and horrible," she +exclaimed, moving to her end of the bench. "Putting yourself in the +position of the Almighty! Oh!" she flung out her hand. "Don't speak to +me." + +In spite of the atheistical Gedge, Phyllis believed in God and Jesus +Christ and the Ten Commandments. She also believed in a host of other +simple things, such as Goodness and Truth, Virtue and Patriotism. The +arguments and theories and glosses that her father and Randall wove +about them appeared to her candid mind as meaningless arabesques. She +could not see how all the complications concerning the elementary +canons of faith and conduct could arise. She appreciated Randall's +intellectual gifts; his power of weaving magical words into rhyme +fascinated her; she was childlike in her wonder at his command of the +printed page; when he revealed to her the beauty of things, as the +rogue had a pretty knack of doing, her nature thrilled responsive. He +gave her a thousand glimpses into a new world, and she loved him for +it. But when he talked lightly of sacred matters, such as God and Duty, +he ran daggers into her heart. She almost hated him. + +He had to expend much eloquence and persuasion to induce her to listen +to him. He had no wish to break any of the Commandments, especially the +Third. He professed penitence. But didn't she see that her treatment of +him was driving him into a desperate unbelief in God and man? When a +woman accepted a man's love she accepted many responsibilities. + +Phyllis stonily denied acceptance. + +"I've refused it. You've asked me to marry you and I told you I +wouldn't. And I won't." + +"You're mixing up two things," he said, with a smile. "Love and +marriage. Many people love and don't marry, just as many marry and +don't love. Now once you did tell me that you loved me, and so you +accepted my love. There's no getting out of it. I've given you +everything I've got, and you can't throw it away. The question is--what +are you going to do with it? What are you going to do with me?" + +His sophistries frightened her; but she cut through them. + +"Isn't it rather a question of what you're going to do with yourself?" + +"If you give me up I don't care a hang what becomes of me." He came +very near and his voice was dangerously soft. "Phyllis dear, I do love +you with all my heart. Why won't you marry me?" + +But a hateful scene rushed to her memory. She drew herself up. + +"Why are my father and you persecuting me to marry you?" + +"Your father?" he interrupted, in astonishment. "When?" + +She named the day, Wednesday of last week. In desperation she told him +what had happened. The poor child was fighting for her soul against +great odds. + +"It's a conspiracy to get me round to your way of thinking. You want me +to be a pro-German like yourselves, and I won't be a pro-German, and I +think it wicked even to talk to pro-Germans!" + +She rose, all sobs, fluster, and heroism, and walked away. He strode a +step or two and stood in front of her with his hands on her shoulders. + +"I've never spoken to your father in that way about you. Never. Not a +word has passed my lips about my caring for you. On my word of honour. +On Tuesday night I left your father's house never to go there again. I +told him so." + +She writhed out of his grasp and spread the palms of her hands against +him. "Please don't," she said, and seeing that she stood her ground, he +made no further attempt to touch her. The austerity of her grey nurse's +uniform gave a touch of pathos to her childish, blue-eyed comeliness +and her pretty attitude of defiance. + +"I suppose," she said, "he was too pro-German even for you." + +He looked at her for a long time disconcertingly: so disconcertingly +and with so much pain and mysterious hesitation in his eyes as to set +even Phyllis's simple mind a-wondering and to make her emphasize it, in +her report of the matter to Betty, as extraordinary and frightening. It +seemed, so she explained, in her innocent way, that he had discovered +something horrible about her father which he shrank from telling her. +But if they had quarrelled so bitterly, why had her father the very +next day urged her to marry him? The answer came in a ghastly flash. +She recoiled as though in the presence of defilement. If she married +Randall, his lips would be closed against her father. That is what her +father had meant. The vague, disquieting suspicions of years that he +might not have the same standards of uprightness as other men, attained +an awful certainty. She remembered the incident of the private letter +and the look in her father's eyes.... Finally she revolted. Her soul +grew sick. She took no heed of Randall's protest. She only saw that she +was to be the cloak to cover up something unclean between them. At a +moment like this no woman pretends to have a sense of justice. Randall +had equal share with her father in an unknown baseness. She hated him +as he stood there so strong and handsome. And she hated herself for +having loved him. + +At last he said with a smile: + +"Yes, That's just it." + +"What?" + +She had forgotten the purport of her last remark. + +"He was a bit too--well, not too pro-German--but too anti-English for +me. You have got hold of the wrong end of the stick all the time, +Phyllis dear. I'm no more pro-German than you are. Perhaps I see things +more clearly than you do. I've been trained to an intellectual view of +human phenomena." + +Her little pink and white face hardened until it looked almost ugly. +The unpercipient young man continued: + +"And so I take my stand on a position that you must accept on trust. I +am English to the backbone. You can't possibly dream that I'm not. +Come, dear, let me try to explain." + +His arm curved as if to encircle her waist. She sprang away. + +"Don't touch me. I couldn't bear it. There's something about you I +can't understand." + +In her attitude, too, he found a touch of the incomprehensible. He +said, however, with a sneer: + +"If I were swaggering about in a cheap uniform, you'd find me +simplicity itself." + +She caught at his opening, desperately. + +"Yes. At any rate I'd find a man. A man who wasn't afraid to fight for +his country." + +"Afraid!" + +"Yes," she cried, and her blue eyes blazed. "Afraid. That's why I can't +marry you. I'd rather die than marry you. I've never told you. I +thought you'd guess. I'm an English girl and I can't marry a coward--a +coward--a coward--a coward." + +Her voice ended on a foolish high note, for Randall, very white, had +seized her by the wrist. + +"You little fool," he cried. "You'll live to repent what you've said." + +He released her, mounted his motor bicycle, and rode away. Phyllis +watched him disappear up the avenue; then she walked rather blindly +back to the bench and sat down among the ruins of a black and +abominable world. After a while the friendly robin, seeing her so +still, perched first on the back of the bench and then hopped on the +seat by her side, and cocking his head, looked at her enquiringly out +of his little hard eye, as though he would say: + +"My dear child, what are you making all this fuss about? Isn't it early +June? Isn't the sun shining? Aren't the chestnuts in flower? Don't you +see that bank of dark blue cloud over there which means a nice +softening rain in the night and a jolly good breakfast of worms in the +morning? What's wrong with this exquisitely perfect universe?" + +And Phyllis--on her own confession--with an angry gesture sent him +scattering up among the cool broad leaves and cried: + +"Get away, you hateful little beast!" + +And having no use for robins and trees and spring and sunshine and such +like intolerable ironies, a white little wisp of a nurse left them all +to their complacent riot and went back to the hospital. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +A few days after this, Mrs. Holmes sent me under cover a telegram which +she had received from her son. It was dispatched from Aberdeen and ran: +"Perfectly well. Don't worry about me. Love. Randall." And that was all +I heard of him for some considerable time. What he was doing in +Aberdeen, a city remote from his sphere of intellectual, political, and +social activities, Heaven and himself alone knew. I must confess that I +cared very little. He was alive, he was well, and his mother had no +cause for anxiety. Phyllis had definitely sent him packing. There was +no reason for me to allow speculation concerning him to keep me awake +of nights. + +I had plenty to think about besides Randall. They made me Honorary +Treasurer of the local Volunteer Training Corps which had just been +formed. The members not in uniform wore a red brassard with "G.R." in +black. The facetious all over the country called them "Gorgeous +Wrecks." I must confess that on their first few parades they did not +look very military. Their composite paunchiness, beardedness, +scragginess, spectacledness, impressed me unfavourably when, from my +Hosea-carriage, I first beheld them. Marigold, who was one of the first +to join and to leap into the grey uniform, tried to swagger about as an +instructor. But as the little infantry drill he had ever learned had +all been changed since the Boer War, I gathered an unholy joy from +seeing him hang like a little child on the lips of the official +Sergeant Instructor of the corps. In the evenings he and I mugged up +the text-books together; and with the aid of the books I put him +through all the new physical exercises. I was a privileged person. I +could take my own malicious pleasure out of Marigold's enforced +humility, but I would be hanged if anybody else should. Sergeant +Marigold should instruct those volunteers as he once instructed the +recruits of his own battery. So I worked with him like a nigger until +there was nothing in the various drills of a modern platoon that he +didn't know, and nothing that he could not do with the mathematical +precision of his splendid old training. + +One night during the thick of it Betty came in. I waved her into a +corner of the library out of the way, and she smoked cigarettes and +looked on at the performance. Now I come to think of it, we must have +afforded an interesting spectacle. There was the gaunt, one-eyed, +preposterously wigged image clad in undervest and shrunken yellow +flannel trousers which must have dated from his gym-instructor days in +the nineties, violently darting down on his heels, springing up, +kicking out his legs, shooting out his arms, like an inspired +marionette, all at the words of command shouted in fervent earnest by a +shrivelled up little cripple in a wheel-chair. + +When it was over--the weather was warm--he passed a curved forefinger +over his dripping forehead, cut himself short in an instinctive action +and politely dried his hand on the seat of his trousers. Then his one +eye gleamed homage at Betty and he drew himself up to attention. + +"Do you mind, sir, if I send in Ellen with the drinks?" + +I nodded. "You'll do very well with a drink yourself, Marigold." + +"It's thirsty work and weather, sir." + +He made a queer movement of his hand--it would have been idiotic of him +to salute--but he had just been dismissed from military drill, so his +hand went up to the level of his breast and--right about turn--he +marched out of the room. Betty rose from her corner and threw herself +in her usual impetuous way on the ground by my chair. + +"Do you know," she cried, "you two dear old things were too funny for +words." + +But as I saw that her eyes were foolishly moist, I was not as offended +as I might have been by her perception of the ludicrous. + +When I said that I had plenty to think about besides Randall, I meant +to string off a list. My prolixity over the Volunteer Training Corps +came upon me unawares. I wanted to show you that my time was fairly +well occupied. I was Chairman of our town Belgian Relief Committee. I +was a member of our County Territorial Association and took over a good +deal of special work connected with one of our battalions that was +covering itself with glory and little mounds topped with white crosses +at the front. If you think I lived a Tom-tabby, tea-party sort of life, +you are quite mistaken. If the War Office could have its way, it would +have lashed me in red tape, gagged me with Regulations, and +sealing-waxed me up in my bed-room. And there are thousands of us who +have shaken our fists under the nose of the War Office and shouted, +"All your blighting, Man-with-the-Mudrake officialdom shan't prevent us +from serving our country." And it hasn't! The very Government itself, +in spite of its monumental efforts, has not been able to shackle us +into inertia or drug us into apathy. Such non-combatant francs-tireurs +in England have done a power of good work. + +And then, of course, there was the hospital which, in one way or +another, took up a good deal of my time. + +I was reposing in the front garden one late afternoon in mid-June, +after a well-filled day, when a car pulled up at the gate, in which +were Betty (at the wheel) and a wounded soldier, in khaki, his cap +perched on top of a bandaged head. I don't know whether it is usual for +young women in nurse's uniform to career about the country driving +wounded men in motor cars, but Betty did it. She cared very little for +the usual. She came in, leaving the man in the car, and crossed the +lawn, flushed and bright-eyed, a refreshing picture for a tired man. + +"We're in a fix up at the hospital," she announced as soon as she was +in reasonable speaking distance, "and I want you to get us out of it." + +Sitting on the grass, she told me the difficulty. A wounded soldier, +discharged from some distant hospital, and home now on sick furlough +before rejoining his depot, had been brought into the hospital with a +broken head. The modern improvements on vinegar and brown paper having +been applied, the man was now ready to leave. I interrupted with the +obvious question. Why couldn't he go to his own home? It appeared that +the prospect terrified him. On his arrival, at midday, after eight +months' absence in France, he found that his wife had sold or pawned +practically everything in the place, and that the lady herself was in +the violent phase of intoxication. His natural remonstrances not being +received with due meekness, a quarrel arose from which the lady emerged +victorious. She laid her poor husband out with a poker. They could not +keep him in hospital. He shied at an immediate renewal of conjugal +life. He had no relations or intimate friends in Wellingsford. Where +was the poor devil to go? + +"I thought I might bring him along here and let the Marigolds look +after him for a week or two." + +"Indeed," said I. "I admire your airy ways." + +"I know you do," she replied, "and that's why I've brought him." + +"Is that the fellow?" + +She laughed. "You're right first time. How did you guess?" She +scrambled to her feet. "I'll fetch him in." + +She fetched him in, a haggard, broad-shouldered man with a back like a +sloping plank of wood. He wore corporal's stripes. He saluted and stood +at rigid attention. + +"This is Tufton," said Betty. + +I despatched her in search of Marigold. To Tufton I said, regarding him +with what, without vanity, I may term an expert eye: + +"You're an old soldier." + +"Yes, sir." + +"Guards?" + +His eyes brightened. "Yes, sir. Seven years in the Grenadiers. Then two +years out. Rejoined on outbreak of war, sir." + +I rubbed my hands together in satisfaction. "I'm an old soldier too," +said I. + +"So Sister told me, sir." + +A delicate shade in the man's tone and manner caught at my heart. +Perhaps it was the remotest fraction of a glance at my rug-covered +legs, the pleased recognition of my recognition, ... perhaps some queer +freemasonry of the old Army. + +"You seem to be in trouble, boy," said I. "Tell me all about it and +I'll do what I can to help you." + +So he told his story. After his discharge from the Army he had looked +about for a job and found one at the mills in Wellingsford, where he +had met the woman, a mill-hand, older than himself, whom he had +married. She had been a bit extravagant and fond of her glass, but when +he left her to rejoin the regiment, he had had no anxieties. She did +not write often, not being very well educated and finding difficult the +composition of letters. A machine gun bullet had gone through his +chest, just missing his lung. He had been two months in hospital. He +had written to her announcing his arrival. She had not met him at the +station. He had tramped home with his kit-bag on his back--and the +cracked head was his reception. He supposed she had had a lot of easy +money and had given way to temptation--and---- + +"And what's a man to do, sir?" + +"I'm sure I don't know, Corporal," said I. "It's damned hard lines on +you. But, at any rate, you can look upon this as your home for as long +as you like to stay." + +"Thank you kindly, sir," said he. + +I turned and beckoned to Betty and Marigold, who had been hovering out +of earshot by the house door. They approached. + +"I want to have a word with Marigold," I said. + +Tufton saluted and went off with Betty. Sergeant Marigold stood stiff +as a ramrod on the spot which Tufton had occupied. + +"I suppose Mrs. Connor," said I, "has told you all about this poor +chap?" + +"Yes, sir," said Marigold. + +"We must put him up comfortably. That's quite simple. The only thing +that worries me is this--supposing his wife comes around here raising +Cain--?" + +Marigold held me with his one glittering eye--an eye glittering with +the pride of the gunner and the pride (more chastened) of the husband. + +"You can leave all that, sir, to Mrs. Marigold. If she isn't more than +a match for any Grenadier Guardsman's wife, then I haven't been married +to her for the last twenty years." + +Nothing more was to be said. Marigold marched the man off, leaving me +alone with Betty. + +"I'm going to get in before Mrs. Marigold," she remarked, with a smile. +"I'm off now to interview Madam Tufton and bring back her husband's +kit." + +In some ways it is a pity Betty isn't a man. She would make a splendid +soldier. I don't think such a thing as fear, physical, moral, or +spiritual, lurks in any recess of Betty's nature. Not every young woman +would brave, without trepidation, a virago who had cracked a +hard-bitten warrior's head with a poker. + +"Marigold and I will come with you," I said. + +She protested. It was nonsense. Suppose Mrs. Tufton went for Marigold +and spoiled his beauty? No. It was too dangerous. No place for men. We +argued. At last I blew the police-whistle which I wear on the end of my +watch-chain. Marigold came hurrying out of the house. + +"Mrs. Connor is going to take us for a run," said I. + +"Very good, sir." + +"Your blood be on your own heads," said Betty. + +We talked a while of what had happened. Vague stories of the +demoralization of wives left alone with a far greater weekly income +than they had ever handled before had reached our ears. We had read +them in the newspapers. But till now we had never come across an +example. The woman in question belonged to a bad type. Various dregs +from large cities drift into the mills around little country towns and +are the despair of Mayors, curates, and other local authorities. We +genteel folk regarded them as a plague-spot in the midst of us. + +I remember the scandal when the troops first came in August, 1914, to +Wellingsford--a scandal put a summary end to, after a fortnight's +grinning amazement at our country morals, by the troops themselves. +Tufton had married into an undesirable community. + +"We're wasting time," said Betty. + +So Marigold put me into the back of the car and mounted into the front +seat by Betty, and we started. + +Flowery End was the poetic name of the mean little row of red-brick +houses inhabited exclusively by Mrs. Tufton and her colleagues at the +mills. To get to it you turn off the High Street by the Post Office, +turn to the right down Avonmore Avenue, and then to the left. There you +find Flowery End, and, fifty yards further on, the main road to Godbury +crosses it at right angles. Betty, who lived on the Godbury Road, was +quite familiar with Flowery End. Mid-June did its best to justify the +name. Here and there, in the tiny patches of front garden, a tenant +tried to help mid-June by cultivating wall-flowers and geraniums and +snapdragon and a rose or two; but the majority cared as much for the +beauty of mid-June as for the cleanliness of their children,--an +unsightly brood, with any slovenly rags about their bodies, and the +circular crust of last week's treacle on their cheeks. In his +abominable speeches before the war Gedge used to point out these +children to unsympathetic Wellingsfordians as the Infant Martyrs of an +Accursed Capitalism. + +Betty pulled up the car at Number Seven. Marigold sprang out, helped +her down, and would have walked up the narrow flagged path to knock at +the door. But she declined his aid, and he stood sentry by the gap +where the wicket gate of the garden should have been. I saw the door +open on Betty's summons, and a brawny, tousled, red-faced woman +appear--a most horrible and forbidding female, although bearing traces +of a once blowsy beauty. As in most cottages hereabouts, you entered +straight from garden-plot into the principal livingroom. On each side +of the two figures I obtained a glimpse of stark emptiness. + +Betty said: "Are you Mrs. Tufton? I've come to talk to you about your +husband. Let me come in." + +The attack was so debonair, so unquestioning, that the woman withdrew a +pace or two and Betty, following up her advantage, entered and shut the +door behind her. I could not have done what Betty did if I had had as +many legs as a centipede. Marigold turned to me anxiously. + +"You do think she's safe, sir?" + +I nodded. "Anyway, stand by." + +The neighbours came out of adjoining houses; slatternly women with +babies, more unwashed children, an elderly, vacant male or two--the +young men and maidens had not yet been released from the mills. As far +as I could gather, there was amused discussion among the gossips +concerning the salient features of Sergeant Marigold's physical +appearance. I heard one lady bid another to look at his wicked old eye, +and receive the humorous rejoinder: "Which one?" I should have liked to +burn them as witches; but Marigold stood his ground, imperturbable. + +Presently the door opened, and Betty came sailing down the path with a +red spot on each cheek, followed by Mrs. Tufton, vociferous. + +"Sergeant Marigold," cried Betty. "Will you kindly go into that house +and fetch out Corporal Tufton's kit-bag?" + +"Very good, madam," said Marigold. + +"Sergeant or no sergeant," cried Mrs. Tufton, squaring her elbows and +barring his way, "nobody's coming into my house to touch any of my +husband's property...." Really what she said I cannot record. The +British Tommy I know upside-down, inside-out. I could talk to you about +him for the week together. The ordinary soldier's wife, good, straight, +heroic soul, I know as well and and profoundly admire as I do the +ordinary wife of a brother-officer, and I could tell you what she +thinks and feels in her own language. But the class whence Mrs. Tufton +proceeded is out of my social ken. She was stale-drunk; she had, +doubtless, a vile headache; probably she felt twinges of remorse and +apprehension of possible police interference. As a counter-irritant to +this, she had worked herself into an astounding temper. She would give +up none of her husband's belongings. She would have the law on them if +they tried. Bad enough it was for her husband to come home after a +year's desertion, leaving her penniless, and the moment he set eyes on +her begin to knock her about; but for sergeants suffering under a +blight and characterless females masquerading as hospital nurses to +come and ride rough-shod over an honest working woman was past +endurance. Thus I paraphrase my memory of the lady's torrential speech. +"Lay your hand on me," she cried, "and I'll summons you for assault." + +As Marigold could not pass her without laying hands on her, and as the +laying of hands on her, no matter how lightly, would indubitably have +constituted an assault in the eyes of the law, Marigold stiffly +confronted her and tried to argue. + +The neighbours listened in sardonic amusement. Betty stood by, with the +spots burning on her cheek, clenching her slender capable fingers, +furious at defeat. I was condemned to sit in the car a few yards off, +an anxious spectator. In a moment's lull of the argument, Betty +interposed: + +"Every woman here knows what you have done. You ought to be ashamed of +yourself." + +"And you ought to be ashamed of yourself," Mrs. Tufton +retorted--"taking an honest woman's husband away from her." + +It was time to interfere. I called out: + +"Betty, let us get back. I'll fix the man up with everything he wants." + +At the moment of her turning to me a telegraph boy hopped from his +bicycle on the off-side of the ear and touched his cap. + +"I've a telegram for Mrs. Connor, sir. I recognised the car and I think +that's the lady. So instead of going on to the house--" + +I cut him short. Yes. That was Mrs. Connor of Telford Lodge. He dodged +round the car and, entering the garden path, handed the orange-coloured +envelope to Betty. She took it from him absent-mindedly, her heart and +soul engaged in the battle with Mrs. Tufton. The boy stood patient for +a second or two. + +"Any answer, ma'am?" + +She turned so that I could see her face in profile, and impatiently +opened the envelope and glanced at the message. Then she stiffened, +seeming in a curious way to become many inches taller, and grew deadly +white. The paper dropped from her hand. Marigold picked it up. + +The diversion of the telegraph boy had checked Mrs. Tufton's eloquence +and compelled the idle interest of the neighbours. I cried out from the +car: + +"What's the matter?" + +But I don't think Betty heard me. She recovered herself, took the +telegram from Marigold, and showed it to the woman. + +"Read it," said Betty, in a strange, hard voice. "This is to tell me +that my husband was killed yesterday in France. Go on your knees and +thank God that you have a brave husband still alive and pray that you +may be worthy of him." + +She went into the house and in a moment reappeared like a ghost of +steel, carrying the disputed canvas kit-bag over her shoulder. The +woman stared open-mouthed and said nothing. Marigold came forward to +relieve Betty of her burden, but she waved him imperiously away, passed +him and, opening the car-door, threw the bag at my feet. Not one of the +rough crowd moved a foot or uttered a sound, save a baby in arms two +doors off, who cut the silence with a sickly wail and was immediately +hushed by its mother. Betty turned to the attendant Marigold. + +"You can drive me home." + +She sat by my side. Marigold took the wheel in front and drove on. She +sought for my hand, held it in an iron grip, and said not a word. It +was but a five minutes' run at the pace to which Marigold, time-worn +master of crises of life and death, put the car. Betty held herself +rigid, staring straight in front of her, and striving in vain to stifle +horrible little sounds that would break through her tightly closed lips. + +When we pulled up at her door she said queerly: "Forgive me. I'm a +damned little coward." + +And she bolted from the car into the house. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +Thus over the sequestered vale of Wellingsford, far away from the sound +of shells, even off the track of marauding Zeppelins, rode the fiery +planet, Mars. There is not a homestead in Great Britain that in one +form or another has not caught a reflection of its blood-red ray. No +matter how we may seek distraction in work or amusement, the angry glow +is ever before our eyes, colouring our vision, colouring our thoughts, +colouring our emotions for good or for ill. We cannot escape it. Our +personal destinies are inextricably interwoven with the fate directing +the death grapple of the thousand miles or so of battle line, and +arbitrating on the doom of colossal battleships. + +Our local newspaper prints week by week its ever-lengthening Roll of +Honour. The shells that burst and slew these brave fellows spread their +devastation into our little sheltered town; in a thundering crash +tearing off from the very trunk of life here a friend, there a son, +there a father, there a husband. And I repeat, at the risk of wearisome +insistence, that our sheltered homeland shares the calm, awful fatalism +of the battlefield; we have to share it because every rood of our +country is, spiritually, as much a battlefield as the narrow, +blood-sodden wastes of Flanders and France. + +Willie Connor, fine brave gentleman, was dead. My beloved Betty was a +widow. No Victoria Cross for Betty. Even if there had been one, no +children to be bred from birth on its glorious legend. The German shell +left Betty stripped and maimed. With her passionate generosity she had +given her all; even as his all had been nobly given by her husband. And +then all of both had been swept ruthlessly away down the gory draught +of sacrifice. + +Poor Betty! "I'm a damned little coward," she said, as she bolted into +the house. The brave, foolish words rang in my ears all that night. In +the early morning I wondered what I should do. A commonplace message, +written or telephoned, would be inept. I shrank from touching her, +although I knew she would feel my touch to be gentle. You have seen, I +hope, that Betty was dearer to me than anyone else in the world, and I +knew that, apart from the stirring emotions in her own young life, +Betty held me in the closest affection. When she needed me, she would +fly the signal. Of that I felt assured. Still... + +While I was in this state of perplexity, Marigold came in to rouse me +and get me ready for the day. + +"I've taken the liberty, sir," said he, "to telephone to Telford Lodge +to enquire after Mrs. Connor. The maid said she had Mrs. Connor's +instructions to reply that she was quite well." + +The good, admirable fellow! I thanked him. While I was shaving, he said +in his usual wooden way: + +"Begging your pardon, sir, I thought you might like to send Mrs. Connor +a few flowers, so I took upon myself to cut some roses, first thing +this morning, with the dew on them." + +Of course I cut myself and the blood flowed profusely. + +"Why the dickens do you spring things like that on people while they're +shaving?" I cried. + +"Very sorry, sir," said he, solicitous with sponge and towel. + +"All the same, Marigold," said I, "you've solved a puzzle that has kept +me awake since early dawn. We'll go out as soon as I'm dressed and +we'll send her every rose in the garden." + +I have an acre or so of garden behind the house of which I have not yet +spoken, save incidentally--for it was there that just a year ago poor +Althea Fenimore ate her giant strawberries on the last afternoon of her +young life; and a cross-grained old misanthropist, called Timbs, +attends to it and lavishes on the flowers the love which, owing, I +suspect, to blighted early affection, he denies to mankind. I am very +fond of my garden and am especially interested in my roses. Do you know +an exquisitely pink rose--the only true pink--named Mrs. George +Norwood? ... I bring myself up with a jerk. I am not writing a book on +roses. When the war is over perhaps I shall devote my old age to +telling you what I feel and know and think about them.... + +I had a battle with Timbs. Timbs was about sixty. He had shaggy, bushy +eyebrows over hard little eyes, a shaggy grey beard, and a long, +clean-shaven, obstinate upper lip. Stick him in an ill-fitting frock +coat and an antiquated silk hat, and he would be the stage model of a +Scottish Elder. As a matter of fact he was Hampshire born and a devout +Roman Catholic. But he was as crabbed an old wretch as you can please. +He flatly refused to execute my order. I dismissed him on the spot. He +countered with the statement that he was an old man who had served me +faithfully for many years. I bade him go on serving me faithfully and +not be a damned fool. The roses were to be cut. If he didn't cut them, +Marigold would. + +"He's been a-cutting them already," he growled. "Before I came." + +Timbs loathed Marigold--why, I could never discover--and Marigold had +the lowest opinion of Timbs. It was an offence for Marigold to +desecrate the garden by his mere footsteps; to touch a plant or a +flower constituted a damnable outrage. On the other side, Timbs could +not approach my person for the purpose of rendering me any necessary +physical assistance, without incurring Marigold's violent resentment. + +"He'll go on cutting them," said I, "unless you start in at once." + +He began. I sent off Marigold in search of a wheelbarrow. Then, having +Timbs to myself, I summoned him to my side. + +"Do you hold with a man sacrificing his life for his country?" + +He looked at me for a moment or two, in his dour, crabbed way. + +"I've got a couple of sons in France, trying their best to do it," he +replied. + +That was the first I had ever heard of it. I had always regarded him as +a gnarled old bachelor without human ties. Where he had kept the sons +and the necessary mother I had not the remotest notion. + +"You're proud of them?" + +"I am." + +"And if one was killed, would you grudge his grave a few roses? For the +sake of him wouldn't you sacrifice a world of roses?" + +His manner changed. "I don't understand, sir. Is anybody killed?" + +"Didn't I say that all these roses were for Mrs. Connor?" + +He dropped his secateur. "Good God, sir! Is it Captain Connor?" + +The block-headed idiot of a Marigold had not told him! Marigold is a +very fine fellow, but occasionally he manifests human frailties that +are truly abominable. + +"We are going to sacrifice all our roses, Timbs," said I, "for the sake +of a very gallant Englishman. It's about all we can do." + +Of course I ought to have entered upon all this explanation when I +first came on the scene; but I took it for granted that Timbs knew of +the tragedy. + +"Need we cut those blooms of the Rayon d'Or?" asked Timbs, alluding to +certain roses under conical paper shades which he had been breathlessly +tending for our local flower show. "We'll cut them first," said I. + +Looking back through the correcting prism of time, I fancy this +slaughter of the innocents may have been foolishly sentimental. But I +had a great desire to lay all that I could by way of tribute of +consolation at Betty's feet, and this little sacrifice of all my roses +seemed as symbolical an expression of my feelings as anything that my +unimaginative brain could devise. + +During the forenoon I superintended the packing of the baskets of roses +in Pawling the florist's cart, which I was successful in engaging for +the occasion,--neither wheelbarrow nor donkey carriage nor two-seater, +the only vehicles at my disposal, being adequate; and when I saw it +start for its destination, I wheeled myself, by way of discipline, +through my bereaved garden. It looked mighty desolate. But though all +the blooms had gone, there were a myriad buds which next week would +burst into happy flower. And the sacrifice seemed trivial, almost +ironical; for in Betty's heart there were no buds left. + +After lunch I went to the hospital for the weekly committee meeting. To +my amazement the first person I met in the corridor was Betty--Betty, +white as wax, with black rings round unnaturally shining eyes. She +waited for me to wheel myself up to her. I said severely: + +"What on earth are you doing here? Go home to bed at once." + +She put her hand on the back of my chair and bent down. + +"I'm better here. And so are the dear roses. Come and see them." + +I followed her into one of the military wards on the ground floor, and +the place was a feast of roses. I had no idea so many could have come +from my little garden. And the ward upstairs, she told me, was +similarly beflowered. By the side of each man's bed stood bowl or vase, +and the tables and the window sills were bright with blooms. It was the +ward for serious cases--men with faces livid from gas-poisoning, men +with the accursed trench nephritis, men with faces swathed in bandages +hiding God knows what distortions, men with cradles over them +betokening mangled limbs, men recovering from operations, chiefly the +picking of bits of shrapnel and splinters of bone from shattered arms +and legs; men with pale faces, patient eyes, and with cheery smiles +round their lips when we passed by. A gramophone at the end of the room +was grinding out a sentimental tune to which all were listening with +rapt enjoyment. I asked one man, among others, how he was faring. He +was getting on fine. With the death-rattle in his throat the wounded +British soldier invariably tells you that he is getting on fine. + +"And ain't these roses lovely? Makes the place look like a garden. And +that music--seems appropriate, don't it, sir?" + +I asked what the gramophone was playing. He looked respectfully shocked. + +"Why, it's 'The Rosary,' sir." + +After we had left him, Betty said: + +"That's the third time they've asked for it to-day. They've got mixed +up with the name, you see. They're beautiful children, aren't they?" + +I should have called them sentimental idiots, but Betty saw much +clearer than I did. She accompanied me back to the corridor and to the +Committee Room door. I was a quarter of an hour late. + +"I've kept the precious Rayon d'Ors for myself," she said. "How could +you have the heart to cut them?" + +"I would have cut out my heart itself, for the matter of that," said I, +"if it would have done any good." + +She smiled in a forlorn kind of way. + +"Don't do that, for I shall want it inside you more than ever now. Tell +me, how is Tufton?" + +"Tufton--?" + +"Yes--Tufton." + +I must confess that my mind being so full of Betty, I had clean +forgotten Tufton. But Betty remembered. + +I smiled. "He's getting on fine," said I. I reached out my hand and +held her cold, slim fingers. "Promise me one thing, my dear." + +"All right," she said. + +"Don't overdo things. There's a limit to the power of bearing strain. +As soon as you feel you're likely to go FUT, throw it all up and come +and see me and let us lay our heads together." + +"I despise people who go FUT," said Betty. + +"I don't," said I. + +We nodded a mutual farewell. She opened the Committee Room door for me +and walked down the corridor with a swinging step, as though she would +show me how fully she had made herself mistress of circumstance. + +Some evenings later she came in, as usual, unheralded, and established +herself by my chair. + +The scents of midsummer came in through the open windows, and there was +a great full moon staring in at us from a cloudless sky. Letters from +the War Office, from brother-officers, from the Colonel, from the +Brigadier General himself, had broken her down. She gave me the letters +to read. Everyone loved him, admired him, trusted him. "As brave as a +lion," wrote one. "Perhaps the most brilliant company officer in my +brigade," wrote the General. And his death--the tragic common story. A +trench; a high-explosive shell; the fate of young Etherington; and no +possible little wooden cross to mark his grave. + +And Betty, on the floor by my side, gave way. + +The proud will bent. She surrendered herself to a paroxysm of sorrow. + +She was not in a fit state to return to the hospital, where, I learned, +she shared a bedroom with Phyllis Gedge. I shrank from sending her home +to the tactless comforting of her aunts. They were excellent, +God-fearing ladies, but they had never understood Betty. All her life +they had worried her with genteel admonitions. They had regarded her +marriage with disfavour, as an act of foolhardiness--I even think they +looked on her attitude as unmaidenly; and now in her frozen widowhood +they fretted her past endurance. On the night when the news came they +sent for the vicar of their parish--not my good friend who christened +Hosea--a very worthy, very serious, very evangelistically religious +fellow, to administer spiritual consolation. If Betty had sat devoutly +under him on Sundays, there might have been some reason in the summons. +But Betty, holding her own religious views, had only once been inside +the church--on the occasion of her wedding--and had but the most formal +acquaintance with the good man.... No, I could not send Betty home, +unexpectedly, to have her wounds mauled about by unskilful fingers. +Nothing remained but to telephone to the hospital and put her in Mrs. +Marigold's charge for the night. So broken was my dear Betty, that she +allowed herself to be carried off without a word.... Once before, years +ago, she had behaved with the same piteous docility; and that was when, +a short-frocked maiden, she had fallen from an apple tree and badly +hurt herself, and Marigold had carried her into the house and Mrs. +Marigold had put her to bed.... + +In the morning I found her calm and sedate at the breakfast table. + +"You've been and gone and done for both of us, Majy dear," she +remarked, pouring out tea. + +"What do you mean?" + +"Our reputations. What a scandal in Wellingsford!" + +She looked me clearly in the eyes and smiled, and her hand did not +shake as she held my cup. And by these signs I knew that she had taken +herself again in grip and forbade reference to the agony through which +she had passed. + +Quickly she turned the conversation to the Tuftons. What had happened? +I told her meagrely. She insisted on fuller details. So, flogged by +her, I related what I had gleaned from Marigold's wooden reports. He +always conveyed personal information as though he were giving evidence +against a defaulter. I had to start all over again. Apparently this had +happened: Mrs. Tufton had arrayed herself, not in sackcloth and ashes, +for that was apparently her normal attire, but in an equivalent, as far +as a symbol of humility was concerned; namely, in decent raiment, and +had sought her husband's forgiveness. There had been a touching scene +in the scullery which Mrs. Marigold had given up to them for the sake +of privacy, in which the lady had made tearful promises of reform and +the corporal had magnanimously passed the sponge over the terrible +reckoning on her slate. Would he then go home to his penitent wife? But +the gallant fellow, with the sturdy common-sense for which the British +soldier is renowned, contrasted the clover in which he was living here +with the aridness of Flowery End, and declined to budge. High sentiment +was one thing, snug lying was another. Next time he came back, if she +had re-established the home in its former comfort, he didn't say as how +he wouldn't-- + +"But," she cried--and this bit I didn't tell Betty--"the next time you +may come home dead!" + +"Then," replied Tufton, "let me see what a nice respectable coffin, +with brass handles and lots of slap-up brass nails and a brass plate, +you can get ready for me." + +Since the first interview, I informed Betty, there had been others +daily--most decorous. They were excellent friends. Neither seemed to +perceive anything absurd in the situation. Even Marigold looked on it +as a matter of course. + +"I have an idea," said Betty. "You know we want some help in the +servant staff of the hospital?" + +I did. The matron had informed the Committee, who had empowered her to +act. + +"Why not let me tackle Mrs. Tufton while she is in this beautifully +chastened and devotional mood? In this way we can get her out of the +mills, out of Flowery End, fill her up with noble and patriotic +emotions instead of whisky, and when Tufton returns, present her to him +as a model wife, sanctified by suffering and ennobled by the +consciousness of duty done. It would be splendid!" + +For the first time since the black day there came a gleam of fun into +Betty's eyes and a touch of colour into her cheeks. + +"It would indeed," said I. "The only question is whether Tufton would +really like this Red Cross Saint you'll have provided for him." + +"In case he does not," said Betty, "you can provide him with a refuge +as you are doing now." + +She rose from the table, announcing her intention of going straight to +the hospital. I realised with a pang that breakfast was over; that I +had enjoyed a delectable meal; that, by some sort of dainty miracle, +she had bemused me into eating and drinking twice my ordinary ration; +that she had inveigled me into talking--a thing I have never done +during breakfast for years--it is as much as Marigold's ugly head is +worth to address a remark to me during the unsympathetic duty--why, if +my poached egg regards me with too aggressive a pinkiness, I want to +slap it--and into talking about those confounded Tuftons with a gusto +only provoked by a glass or two of impeccable port after a good dinner. +One would have thought, considering the anguished scene of the night +before, that it would have been one of the most miserably impossible +tete-a-tete breakfasts in the whole range of such notoriously ghastly +meals. But here was Betty, serene and smiling, as though she had been +accustomed to breakfast with me every morning of her life, off to the +hospital, with a hard little idea in her humorous head concerning Mrs. +Tufton's conversion. + +The only sign she gave of last night's storm was when, by way of +good-bye, she bent down and kissed my cheek. + +"You know," she said, "I love you too much to thank you." + +And she went off with her brave little head in the air. + +In the afternoon I went to Wellings Park. Sir Anthony was away, but +Lady Fenimore was in. She showed me a letter she had received from +Betty in reply to her letter of condolence: + +"My dears, + +"It is good to realise one has such rocks to lean on. You long to help +and comfort me. Well, I'll tell you how to do it. You just forget. +Leave it to me to do all the remembering. + +"Yours, Betty." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +On the first of July there was forwarded to me from the club a letter +in an unknown handwriting. I had to turn to the signature to discover +the identity of my correspondent. It was Reggie Dacre, Colonel Dacre, +whom I had met in London a couple of months before. As it tells its own +little story, I transcribe it. + + +"Dear Major Meredyth: + +"I should like to confirm by the following anecdote, which is going the +round of the Brigade, what I recently told you about our friend Boyce. +I shouldn't worry you, but I feel that if one has cast an unjustifiable +slur on a brother-officer's honour--and I can't tell you how the thing +has lain on my conscience--one shouldn't leave a stone unturned to +rehabilitate him, even in the eyes of one person. + +"There has been a good deal of scrapping around Ypres lately--that +given away by the communiques; but for reasons which both the Censor +and yourself will appreciate, I can't be more explicit as to locality. +Enough to say that somewhere in this region--or sector, as we call it +nowadays--there was a certain bit of ground that had been taken and +retaken over and over again. B.'s Regiment was in this fighting, and at +one particular time we were holding a German front trench section. A +short distance further on the enemy held a little farm building, +forming a sort of redoubt. They sniped all day long. They also had a +machine gun. I can't give you accurate details, for I can only tell you +what I've heard; but the essentials are true. Well, we got that +farmhouse. We got it single-handed. Boyce put up the most amazing bluff +that has ever happened in this war. He crawls out by himself, without +anybody knowing--it was a pitch-black night--gets through the barbed +wire, heaven knows how, up to the house; lays a sentry out with his +life-preserver; gives a few commands to an imaginary company; and +summons the occupants--two officers and fifteen men--to surrender. +Thinking they are surrounded, they obey like lambs, come out unarmed, +with their hands up, officers and all, and are comfortably marched off +in the dark, as prisoners into our trenches. They say that when the +German officers discovered how they had been done, they foamed so hard +that we had to use empty sandbags as strait waistcoats. + +"Now, it's picturesque, of course, and being picturesque, it has flown +from mouth to mouth. But it's true. Verb. sap. + +"Hoping some time or other to see you again, + + "Yours sincerely, + "R. DACRE, + "Lt. Col." + + +I quote this letter here for the sake of chronological sequence. It +gave me a curious bit of news. No man could have performed such a feat +without a cold brain, soundly beating heart, and nerves of steel. It +was not an act of red-hot heroism. It was done in cold blood, a +deliberate gamble with death on a thousand to one chance. It was +staggeringly brave. + +I told the story to Mrs. Boyce. Her comment was characteristic: + +"But surely they would have to surrender if called upon by a British +Officer." + +To the Day of Judgment I don't think she will understand what Leonard +did. Leonard himself, coming home slightly wounded two or three weeks +afterwards, pooh-poohed the story as one of no account and only further +confused the dear lady's ill-conceived notions. + +In the meanwhile life at Wellingsford flowed uneventfully. Now and +again a regiment or a brigade, having finished its training, +disappeared in a night, and the next day fresh troops arrived to fill +its place. And this great, silent movement of men went on all over the +country. Sometimes our hearts sank. A reserve Howitzer Territorial +Brigade turned up in Wellings Park with dummy wooden guns. The officers +told us that they had been expecting proper guns daily for the past two +months. Marigold shook a sad head. But all things, even six-inch +howitzers, come to him who waits. + +Little more was heard of Randall Holmes. He corresponded with his +mother through a firm of London solicitors, and his address and his +doings remained a mystery. He was alive, he professed robust health, +and in reply to Mrs. Holmes's frantically expressed hope that he was +adopting no course that might discredit his father's name, he twitted +her with intellectual volte-face to the views of Philistia, but at the +same time assured her that he was doing nothing which the most +self-righteous bourgeois would consider discreditable. + +"But it IS discreditable for him to go away like this and not let his +own mother know where he is," cried the poor woman. + +And of course I agreed with her. I find it best always to agree with +mothers; also with wives. + +After her own lapse from what Mrs. Boyce would have called +"Spartianism," Betty kept up her brave face. When Willie Connor's kit +came home she told me tearlessly about the heartrending consignment. +Now and then she spoke of him--with a proud look in her eyes. She was +one of the women of England who had the privilege of being the wife of +a hero. In this world one must pay for everything worth having. Her +widowhood was the price. All the tears of a lifetime could not bring +him back. All the storms of fate could not destroy the glory of those +few wonderful months. He was laughing, so she heard, when he met his +death. So would she, in honour of him, go on laughing till she met hers. + +"And that silly little fool, Phyllis, is still crying her eyes out over +Randall," she said. "Don't I think she was wrong in sending him away? +If she had married him she might have influenced him, made him get a +commission in the army. I've threatened to beat her if she talks such +nonsense. Why can't people take a line and stick to it?" + +"This isn't a world of Bettys, my dear," said I. + +"Rubbish! The outrageous Mrs. Tufton's doing it." + +Apparently she was. She followed Betty about as the lamb followed Mary. +Tufton, after a week or two at Wellington Barracks, had been given +sergeant's stripes and sent off with a draft to the front. Betty's +dramatic announcement of her widowhood seemed to have put the fear of +death into the woman's soul. As soon as her husband landed in France +she went scrupulously through the closely printed casualty lists of +non-commissioned officers and men in The Daily Mail, in awful dread +lest she should see her husband's name. Betty vainly assured her that, +in the first place, she would hear from the War Office weeks before +anything could appear in the papers, and that, in the second, his name +would occur under the heading "Grenadier Guards," and not under "Royal +Field Artillery," "Royal Engineers," "Duke of Cornwall's Light +Infantry," "R.A.M.C.," or Australian and Canadian contingents. Mrs. +Tufton went through the lot from start to finish. Once, indeed, she +came across the name, in big print, and made a bee-line through the +wards for Betty--an offence for which the Matron nearly threw her, +there and then, into the street. It was that of the gallant Colonel of +a New Zealand Regiment at Gallipoli. Betty had to point to the brief +biographical note to prove to the distracted woman that the late +Colonel Tufton of New Zealand could not be identical with Sergeant +Tufton of the Grenadiers. She regarded Mrs. Tufton as a brand she had +plucked from the burning and took a great deal of trouble with her. On +the other hand, I imagine Mrs. Tufton looked upon herself as a very +important person, a sergeant's wife, and the confidential intimate of a +leading sister at the Wellingsford Hospital. In fact, Marigold +mentioned her notorious vanity. + +"What does it matter," cried Betty, when I put this view before her, +"how swelled her head may be, so long as it isn't swollen with drink?" + +And I could find no adequate reply. + +Towards the end of the month comes Boyce to Wellingsford, this time not +secretly; for the day after his arrival he drove his mother through the +town and incidentally called on me. A neglected bullet graze on the +neck had turned septic. An ugly temperature had sent him to hospital. +The authorities, as soon as the fever had abated and left him on the +high road to recovery, had sent him home. A khaki bandage around his +bull-throat alone betokened anything amiss. He would be back, he said, +as soon as the Medical Board at the War Office would let him. + +On this occasion, for the first time since South African days, I met +him without any mistrust. What had passed between Betty and himself, I +did not know. Relations between man and woman are so subtle and +complicated, that unless you have the full pleadings on both sides in +front of you, you cannot arbitrate; and, as often as not, if you +deliver the most soul-satisfying of judgments, you are hopelessly +wrong, because there are all important, elusive factors of personality, +temperament, sex, and what not which all the legal acumen in the world +could not set down in black and white. So half unconsciously I ruled +out Betty from my contemplation of the man. I had been obsessed by the +Vilboek Farm story, and by that alone. Reggie Dacre--to say nothing of +personages in high command--had proved it to be a horrible lie. He had +Marshal Ney's deserved reputation--le brave des braves--and there is no +more coldly critical conferrer of such repute than the British Army in +the field. To win it a man not only has to do something heroic once or +twice--that is what he is there for--but he has to be doing it all the +time. Boyce had piled up for himself an amazing record, one that +overwhelmed the possibility of truth in old slanders. When I gripped +him by the hand, I felt immeasurable relief at being able to do so +without the old haunting suspicion and reservation. + +He spoke, like thousands of others of his type--the type of the fine +professional English soldier--with diffident modesty of such personal +experiences as he deigned to recount. The anecdotes mostly had a +humorous side, and were evoked by allusion. Like all of us +stay-at-homes, I cursed the censorship for leaving us so much in the +dark. He laughed and cursed the censorship for the opposite reason. + +"The damned fools--I beg your pardon, Mother, but when a fool is too +big a fool even for this world, he must be damned--the damned fools +allow all sorts of things to be given away. They were nearly the death +of me and were the death of half a dozen of my men." + +And he told the story. In a deserted brewery behind the lines the vats +were fitted up as baths for men from the trenches, and the furnaces +heated ovens in which horrible clothing was baked. This brewery had +been immune from attack until an officially sanctioned newspaper +article specified its exact position. A few days after the article +appeared, in fact, as soon as a copy of the paper reached Germany, a +thunderstorm of shells broke on the brewery. Out of it poured a +helter-skelter stream of stark-naked men, who ran wherever they could +for cover. From one point of view it was vastly comic. In the meanwhile +the building containing all their clothes, and all the spare clothing +for a brigade, was being scientifically destroyed. That was more comic +still. The bather cut off from his garments is a world-wide joke. The +German battery, having got the exact range, were having a systematic, +Teutonic afternoon's enjoyment. But from another point of view the +situation was desperate. There were these poor fellows, hordes of them, +in nature's inadequate protection against the weather, shivering in the +cold, with the nearest spare rag of clothing some miles away. Boyce got +them together, paraded them instantly under the shell fire, and led +them at a rush into the blazing building to salve stores. Six never +came out alive. Many were burned and wounded. But it had to be done, or +the whole crowd would have perished from exposure. Tommy is fairly +tough; but he cannot live mother-naked through a March night of driving +sleet. + +"No," said Boyce, "if you suffered daily from the low cunning of +Brother Bosch, you wouldn't cry for things to be published in the +newspapers." + +At the end of their visit I accompanied my guests to the hall. Marigold +escorted Mrs. Boyce to the car. Leonard picked up his cap and cane and +turned to shake hands. I noticed that the knob of the cane was neatly +cased in wash-leather. Idly I enquired the reason. He smiled grimly as +he slipped off the cover and exposed the polished deep vermilion butt +of the life-preserver which Reggie Dacre had described. + +"It's a sort of fetish I feel I must carry around with me," he +explained. "When I've got it in my hand, I don't seem to care a damn +what I do. When I haven't, I miss it. Remember the story of Sir Walter +Scott's boy with the butter? Something like that, you know. But in its +bare state it's not a pretty sight for the mother." + +"It ought to have a name," said I. "The poilu calls his bayonet +Rosalie." + +He looked at it darkly for a moment, before refitting the wash-leather. + +"I might call it The Reminder," said he. "Good-bye." And he turned +quickly and strode out of the door. + +The Reminder of what? He puzzled me. Why, in spite of all my +open-heartedness, did he still contrive to leave me with a sense of the +enigmatic? + +Although he showed himself openly about the town, he held himself aloof +from social intercourse with the inhabitants. He called, I know, on +Mrs. Holmes, and on one or two others who have no place in this +chronicle. But he refused all proposals of entertainment, notably an +invitation to dinner from the Fenimores. Sir Anthony met him in the +street, upbraided him in his genial manner for neglect of his old +friends, and pressingly asked him to dine at Wellings Park. Just a few +old friends. The duties of a distinguished soldier, said he, did not +begin and end on the field. He must uplift the hearts of those who had +to stay at home. Sir Anthony had a nervous trick of rattling off many +sentences before his interlocutor could get in a word. When he had +finished, Boyce politely declined the invitation. + +"And with a damned chilly, stand-offish politeness," cried Sir Anthony +furiously, when telling me about it. "Just as if I had been Perkins, +the fish-monger, asking him to meet the Prettiloves at high tea. It's +swelled head, my dear chap; that's what it is. Just swelled head. None +of us are good enough for him and his laurels. He's going to remain the +modest mossy violet of a hero blushing unseen. Oh, damn the fellow!" + +I did my best to soothe my touchy and choleric friend. No soldier, said +I, likes to be made a show of. Why had he suggested a dinner party? A +few friends. Anyone in Boyce's position knew what that meant. It meant +about thirty gawking, gaping people for whom he didn't care a hang. Why +hadn't Anthony asked the Boyces to dine quietly with Edith and +himself--with me thrown in, for instance, if they wanted exotic +assistance? Let me try, I said, to fix matters up. + +So the next day I called on Boyce and told him, with such tact as I +have at command, of Sir Anthony's wounded feelings. + +"My dear Meredyth," said he. "I can only say to you what I tried to +explain to the irascible little man. If I accepted one invitation, I +should have to accept all invitations or give terrible offence all over +the place. I'm here a sick man and my mother's an invalid. And I merely +want to be saved from my friends and have a quiet time with the old +lady. Of course if Sir Anthony is offended, I'm only too sorry, and I +beg you to assure him that I never intended the slightest discourtesy. +The mere idea of it distresses me." + +The explanation was reasonable, the apology frank. Sir Anthony received +them both grumpily. He had his foibles. He set his invitations to +dinner in a separate category from those of the rag-tag and bobtail of +Wellingsford society. So for the sake of principle he continued to damn +the fellow. + +On the other hand, for the sake of principle, reparation for injustice, +I continued to like the fellow and found pleasure in his company. For +one thing, I hankered after the smoke and smell and din of the front, +and Boyce succeeded more than anyone else in satisfying my appetite. +While he talked, as he did freely with me alone, I got near to the grim +essence of things. Also, with the aid of rough military maps, he made +actions and strategical movements of which newspaper accounts had given +me but a confused notion, as clear as if I had been a chief of staff. +Often he went to considerable trouble in obtaining special information. +He appeared to set himself out to win my esteem. Now a cripple is very +sensitive to kindness. I could not reject his overtures. What +interested motive could he have in seeking out a useless hulk like me? +On the first opportunity I told Betty of the new friendship, having a +twinge or two of conscience lest it might appear to her disloyal. + +"But why in the world shouldn't you see him, dear?" she said, +open-eyed. "He brings the breath of battle to you and gives you fresh +life. You're looking ever so much better the last few days. The only +thing is," she added, turning her head away, "that I don't want to run +the risk of meeting him again." + +Naturally I took precautions against such an occurrence. The +circumstances of their last meeting at my house lingered unpleasantly +in my mind. Perhaps, for Betty's sake, I ought to have turned a cold +shoulder on Boyce. But when you have done a man a foul injustice for +years, you must make him some kind of secret reparation. So, by making +him welcome, I did what I could. + +Now I don't know whether I ought to set down a trivial incident +mentioned in my diary under the date of the 15th August, the day before +Boyce left Wellingsford to join his regiment in France. In writing an +account of other people's lives it is difficult to know what to put in +and what to leave out. If you bring in your own predilections or +prejudices or speculations concerning them, you must convey a distorted +impression. You lie about them unconsciously. A fact is a fact, and, if +it is important, ought to be recorded. But when you are not sure +whether it is a fact or not, what are you to do? + +Perhaps I had better narrate what happened and tell you afterwards why +I hesitate. + +Marigold had driven me over to Godbury, where I had business connected +with a County Territorial Association, and we were returning home. It +was a moist, horrible, depressing August day. A slimy, sticky day. +Clouds hung low over the reeking earth. The honest rain had ceased, but +wet drops dribbled from the leaves of the trees and the branches and +trunks exuded moisture. The thatched roofs of cottages were dank. In +front gardens roses and hollyhocks drooped sodden. The very droves of +steers coming from market sweated in the muggy air. The good slush of +the once dusty road, broken to bits by military traffic, had stiffened +into black grease. Round a bend of the road we skidded alarmingly. +Marigold has a theory that in summer time a shirt next the skin is the +only wear for humans and square-tread tyres the only wear for +motor-cars. With some acerbity I pointed out the futility of his +proposition. With the blandness of superior wisdom he assured me that +we were perfectly safe. You can't knock into the head of an +artilleryman who has been trained to hang on to a limber by the +friction of his trousers, that there can be any danger in the luxurious +seat of a motor-car. + +There is a good straight half mile of the Godbury Road which is known +in the locality as "The Gut." It is sunken and very narrow, being +flanked on one side by the railway embankment, and on the other by the +grounds of Godbury Chase. A most desolate bit of road, half overhung by +trees and oozing with all the moisture of the country-side. On this day +it was the wettest, slimiest bit of road in England. We had almost +reached the end of it, when it entered the head of a stray puppy dog to +pause in the act of crossing and sit down in the middle and hunt for +fleas. To spare the abominable mongrel, Marigold made a sudden swerve. +Of course the car skidded. It skidded all over the place, as if it were +drunk, and, aided by Marigold, described a series of ghastly +half-circles. At last he performed various convulsive feats of +jugglery, with the result that the car, which was nosing steadily for +the ditch, came to a stand-still. Then Marigold informed me in +unemotional tones that the steering gear had gone. + +"It's all the fault of that there dog," said he, twisting his head so +as to glare at the little beast, who, after a yelp and a bound, had +calmly recaptured his position and resumed his interrupted occupation. + +"It's all the fault of that there Marigold," I retorted, "who can't see +the sense of using studded tyres on a greasy surface. What's to be done +now?" + +Marigold thrust his hand beneath his wig and scratched his head. He +didn't exactly know. He got out and stared intently at the car. If mind +could have triumphed over matter, the steering gear would have become +disfractured. But the good Marigold's mind was not powerful enough. He +gave up the contest and looked at me and the situation. There we were, +broadside on to the narrow road, and only manhandling could bring us +round to a position of safety by the side. He was for trying it there +and then; but I objected, having no desire to be slithered into the +ditch. + +"I would just as soon," said I, "ride a giraffe shod with roller +skates." + +He didn't even smile. He turned his one reproachful eye on me. What was +to be done? I told him. We must wait for assistance. When I had been +transferred into the vehicle of a passing Samaritan, it was time enough +for the manhandling. + +Fate brought the Samaritan very quickly. A car coming from Godbury +tooted violently, then slowed down, stopped, and from it jumped Leonard +Boyce. As he was to rescue me from a position of peculiar helplessness, +I regarded his great khaki-clad figure as that of a ministering angel. +I beamed on him. + +"Hallo! What's the matter?" he asked cheerily. + +I explained. Being merciful, I spared Marigold and threw the blame on +the dog and on the County Council for allowing the roads to get into +such a filthy condition. + +"That's all right," said Boyce. "We'll soon fix you up. First we'll get +you into my car. Then Marigold and I will slue this one round, and then +we'll send him a tow." + +Marigold nodded and approached to lift me out. + +Then, what happened next, happened in the flash of a few breathless +seconds. There was the dull thud of hoofs. A scared bay thoroughbred, +coming from Godbury, galloping hell for leather, with a dishevelled boy +in khaki on his back. The boy had lost his stirrups; he had lost his +reins; he had lost his head. He hung half over the saddle and had a +death grip on the horse's mane. And the uncontrolled brute was +thundering down on us. There was my infernal car barring the narrow +road. I remember bracing myself to meet the shock. An end, thought I, +of Duncan Meredyth. I saw Boyce leap aside like a flash and appear to +stand stock-still. The next second I saw Marigold semaphore a few yards +in front of the car and then swing sickeningly at the horse's bit; and +then the whole lot of them, Marigold, horse and rider, come down in a +convulsive heap on the greasy road. To my intense relief I saw Marigold +pick himself up and go to the head of the plunging, prostrate horse. In +a moment or two he had got the beast on his feet, where he stood +quivering. It was a fine, smart piece of work on the part of the old +artilleryman. I was so intent on his danger that I forgot all about +Boyce: but as soon as the three crashed down, I saw him run to assist +the young subaltern who had rolled himself clear. + +"By Jove, that was a narrow shave!" he cried cordially, giving him a +hand. + +"It was indeed, sir," said the young man, scraping the mud off his +face. "That's the second time the brute has done it. He shies and bucks +and kicks like a regular devil. This time he shied at a steam lorry and +bucked my feet out of the stirrups. Everybody in the squadron has +turned him down, and I'm the junior, I've had to take him." He eyed the +animal resentfully. "I'd just like to get him on some grass and knock +hell out of him!" + +"I'm glad to see you're not hurt," said Boyce with a smile. + +"Oh, not a bit, sir," said the boy. He turned to Marigold. "I don't +know how to thank you. It was a jolly plucky thing to do. You've saved +my life and that of the gentleman in the car. If we had busted into it, +there would have been pie." He came to the side of the car. "I think +you're Major Meredyth, sir. I must have given you an awful fright. I'm +so sorry. My name is Brown. I'm in the South Scottish Horse." + +He had a courteous charm of manner in spite of his boyish desire to +appear unshaken by the accident. A little bravado is an excellent +thing. I laughed and held out my hand. + +"I'm glad to meet you--although our meeting might have been contrived +less precipitously. This is Sergeant Marigold, late R.F.A., who does me +the honour of looking after me. And this is Major Boyce." + +Observe the little devil of malice that made me put Marigold first. + +"Of the Rifles?" + +A quick gleam of admiration showed in the boy's eyes as he saluted. No +soldier could be stationed at Wellingsford without hearing of the hero +of the neighbourhood. A great hay waggon came lumbering down the road +and pulled up, there being no room for it to pass. This put an end to +social amenities. Brown mounted his detested charger and trotted off. +Marigold transferred me to Boyce's car. Several pairs of brawny arms +righted the two-seater and Boyce and I drove off, leaving Marigold +waiting with his usual stony patience for the promised tow. On the way +Boyce talked gaily of Marigold's gallantry, of the boy's spirit, of the +idiotic way in which impossible horses were being foisted on newly +formed cavalry units. When we drew up at my front door, it occurred to +me that there was no Marigold in attendance. + +"How the deuce," said I, "am I going to get out?" + +Boyce laughed. "I don't think I'll drop you." + +His great arms picked me up with ease. But while he was carrying me I +experienced a singular physical revolt. I loathed his grip. I loathed +the enforced personal contact. Even after he had deposited me--very +skilfully and gently--in my wheel-chair in the hall, I hated the +lingering sense of his touch. He owed his whisky and soda to the most +elementary instinct of hospitality. Besides, he was off the next day, +back to the trenches and the hell of battle, and I had to bid him +good-bye and God-speed. But when he went, I felt glad, very glad, as +though relieved of some dreadful presence. My old distrust and dislike +returned increased a thousandfold. + +It was only when he got my frail body in his arms, which I realized +were twice as strong as my good Marigold's, that I felt the ghastly and +irrational revulsion. The only thing to which I can liken it, although +it seems ludicrous, is what I imagine to be the instinctive recoil of a +woman who feels on her body the touch of antipathetic hands. I know +that my malady has made me a bit supersensitive. But my vanity has +prided itself on keeping up a rugged spirit in a fool of a body, so I +hated myself for giving way to morbid sensations. All the same, I felt +that if I were alone in a burning house, and there were no one but +Leonard Boyce to save me, I should prefer incineration to rescue. + +And now I will tell you why I have hesitated to give a place in this +chronicle to the incident of the broken-down car and the runaway horse. + +It all happened so quickly, my mind was so taken up with the sudden +peril, that for the life of me I cannot swear to the part played by +Leonard Boyce. I saw him leap aside, and had the fragment of an +impression of him standing motionless between the radiator of his car +and the tail of mine which was at right angles. The next time he thrust +himself on my consciousness was when he was lugging young Brown out of +reach of the convulsive hoofs. In the meanwhile Marigold, +single-handed, had rushed into the jaws of death and stopped the horse. +But as it was a matter of seconds, I had no reason for believing that, +but for adventitious relative positions on the road, Boyce would not +have done the same.... And yet out of the corner of my eye I got an +instantaneous photograph of him standing bolt upright between the two +cars, while the abominable bay brute, with distended red nostrils and +wild eyes, was thundering down on us. + +On the other hand, the swift pleasure in the boy's eyes when he +realised that he was in the presence of the popular hero, proved him +free of doubts such as mine. And when Marigold, having put the car in +hospital, came to make his report, and lingered in order to discuss the +whole affair, he said, in wooden deprecation of my eulogy: + +"If Major Boyce hadn't jumped in, sir, young Mr. Brown's head would +have been kicked into pumpkin-squash." + +Well, I have known from long experience that there are no more +untrustworthy witnesses than a man's own eyes; especially in the +lightning dramas of life. + +I was kept awake all night, and towards the dawn I came into thorough +agreement with Sir Anthony and I heartily damned the fellow. + +What had I to do with him that he should rob me of my sleep? + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +The next morning he strode in while I was at breakfast, handsome, +erect, deep-chested, the incarnation of physical strength, with a glad +light in his eyes. + +"Congratulate me, old man," he cried, gripping my frail shoulder. "I've +three days' extra leave. And more than that, I go out in command of the +regiment. No temporary business but permanent rank. Gazetted in due +course. Bannatyne--that's our colonel--damned good soldier!--has got a +staff appointment. I take his place. I promise you the Fourth King's +Rifles are going to make history. Either history or manure. History for +choice. As I say, Bannatyne's a damned good soldier, and personally as +brave as a lion, but when it comes to the regiment, he's too much on +the cautious side. The regiment's only longing to make things hum, and +I'm going to let 'em do it." + +I congratulated him in politely appropriate terms and went on with my +bacon and eggs. He sat on the window-seat and tapped his gaiters with +his cane life-preserver. He wore his cap. + +"I thought you'd like to know," said he. "You've been so good to the +old mother while I've been away and been so charitable, listening to my +yarns, while I've been here, that I couldn't resist coming round and +telling you." + +"I suppose your mother's delighted," said I. + +He threw back his head and laughed, as though he had never a black +thought or memory in the world. + +"Dear old mater! She has the impression that I'm going out to take +charge of the blessed campaign. So if she talks about 'my dear son's +army,' don't let her down, like a good chap--for she'll think either me +a fraud or you a liar." + +He rose suddenly, with a change of expression. + +"You're the only man in the world I could talk to like this about my +mother. You know the sterling goodness and loyalty that lies beneath +her funny little ways." + +He strode to the window which looks out on to the garden, his back +turned on me. And there he stood silent for a considerable time. I +helped myself to marmalade and poured out a second cup of tea. There +was no call for me to speak. I had long realized that, whatever may +have been the man's sins and weaknesses, he had a very deep and tender +love for the Dresden china old lady that was his mother. There was +London of the clubs and the theatres and the restaurants and the +night-clubs, a war London full and alive, not dead as in Augusts of +far-off tradition, all ready to give him talk and gaiety and the things +that matter to the man who escapes for a brief season from the +never-ending hell of the battlefield; ready, too, to pour flattery into +his ear, to touch his scars with the softest of its fingers. Yet he +chose to stay, a recluse, in our dull little town, avoiding even the +kindly folk round about, in order to devote himself to one dear but +entirely uninteresting old woman. It is not that he despised London, +preferring the life of the country gentleman. On the contrary, before +the war Leonard Boyce was very much the man about town. He loved the +glitter and the chatter of it. From chance words during this spell of +leave, I had divined hankering after its various fleshpots. For the +sake of one old woman he made reckless and gallant sacrifice. When he +was bored to misery he came round to me. I learned later that in +visiting Wellingsford he faced more than boredom. All of this you must +put to the credit side of his ledger. + +There he stood, his great broad shoulders and bull-neck silhouetted +against the window. That broad expanse, a bit fleshy, below the base of +the skull indicates brutality. Never before, to my eyes, had the sign +asserted itself with so much aggression. I had often wondered why, +apart from the Vilboek Farm legend, I had always disliked and +distrusted him. Now I seemed to know. It was the neck not of a man, but +of a brute. The curious repulsion of the previous evening, when he had +carried me into the house, came over me again. From junction of arm and +body protruded six inches of the steel-covered life-preserver, the +washleather that hid its ghastly knob staring at me blankly. I hated +the thing. The gallant English officer--and in my time I have known and +loved a many of the most gallant--does not go about in private life +fondling a trophy reeking with the blood of his enemies. It is the +trait of a savage. That truculent knob and that truculent bull-neck +correlated themselves most horribly in my mind. And again, with a +shiver, I had the haunting flash of a vision of him, out of the tail of +my eye, standing rigid and gaping between the two cars, while my rugged +old Marigold, in a businesslike, old-soldier sort of way, without +thought of danger or death, was swaying at the head of the runaway +horse. + +Presently he turned, and his brows were set above unfathomable hard +eyes. The short-cropped moustache could not hide the curious twitch of +the lips which I had seen once before. It was obvious that these few +minutes of silence had been spent in deep thought and had resulted in a +decision. A different being from the gay, successful soldier who had +come in to announce his honours confronted me. He threw down cap and +stick and passed his hand over his crisp brown hair. + +"I don't know whether you're a friend of mine or not," he said, hands +on hips and gaitered legs slightly apart. "I've never been able to make +out. All through our intercourse, in spite of your courtesy and +hospitality, there has been some sort of reservation on your part." + +"If that is so," said I, diplomatically, "it is because of the defects +of my national quality." + +"That's possibly what I've felt," said he. "But it doesn't matter a +damn with regard to what I want to say. It's a question not of your +feelings towards me, but my feelings towards you. I don't want to make +polite speeches--but you're a man whom I have every reason to honour +and trust. And unlike all my other brother-officers, you have no reason +to be jealous--" + +"My dear fellow," I interrupted, "what's all this about? Why jealousy?" + +"You know what a pot-hunter is in athletics? A chap that is simply out +for prizes? Well, that's what a lot of them think of me. That I'm just +out to get orders and medals and distinctions and so forth." + +"That's nonsense," said I. "I happen to know. Your reputation in the +brigade is unassailable." + +"In the way of my having done what I'm credited with, it is," he +answered. "But all the same, they're right." + +"What do you mean?" I asked. + +"What I say. They're right. I'm out for everything I can get. Now I'm +out for a V.C. I see you think it abominable. That's because you don't +understand. No one but I myself could understand. I feel I owe it to +myself." He looked at me for a second or two and then broke into a +sardonic sort of laugh. "I suppose you think me a conceited ass," he +continued. "Why should Leonard Boyce be such a vastly important person? +It isn't that, I assure you." + +I lit a cigarette, having waved an invitation to join me, which with a +nod he refused. + +"What is it, then?" + +"Has it ever struck you that often a man's most merciless creditor is +himself?" + +Here was a casuistical proposition thrown at my head by the last person +I should have suspected of doing so. It was immensely interesting, in +view of my long puzzledom. I spoke warily. + +"That depends on the man--on the nice balance of his dual nature. On +the one side is the power to demand mercilessly; on the other, the +instinct to respond. Of course, the criminal--" + +"What are you dragging in criminals for?" he said sharply. "I'm talking +about honourable men with consciences. Criminals haven't consciences. +The devil who has just been hung for murdering three women in their +baths hadn't any dual nature, as you call it. Those murders didn't +represent to him a mountain of debt to God which his soul was summoned +to discharge. He went to his death thinking himself a most unlucky and +hardly used fellow." + +His fingers went instinctively into the cigarette-box. I passed him the +matches. + +"Precisely," said I. "That was the point I was about to make." + +He puffed at his cigarette and looked rather foolish, as though +regretting his outburst. + +"We've got away," he said, after a pause, "from what I was meaning to +tell you. And I want to tell you because I mayn't have another chance." +He turned to the window-seat and picked up his life-preserver. "I'm out +for two things. One is to kill Germans--" He patted the covered +knob--and there flashed across my mind a boyhood's memory of +Martin--wasn't it Martin?--in "Hereward the Wake," who had a +deliciously blood-curdling habit of patting his revengeful axe.--"I've +done in eighty-five with this and my revolver. That, I consider, is my +duty to my country. The other is to get the V.C. That's for payment to +my creditor self." + +"In full, or on account?" said I. + +"There's only one payment in full," he answered grimly, "and that I've +been offering for the past twelve months. And it's a thousand chances +to one it will be accepted before the end of this year. And that, after +all this palaver, is what I've just made up my mind to talk to you +about." + +"You mean your death?" + +"Just that," said he. "A man pot-hunting for Victoria Crosses takes a +thousand to one chance." He paused abruptly and shot an eager and +curiously wavering glance at me. "Am I boring you with all this?" + +"Good Heavens, no." And then as the insistence of his great figure +towering over me had begun to fret my nerves--"Sit down, man," said I, +with an impatient gesture, "and put that sickening toy away and come to +the point." + +He tossed the cane on the window-seat and sat near me on a +straight-backed chair. + +"All right," he said. "I'll come to the point. I shan't see you again. +I'm going out in command. Thank God we're in the thick of it. Round +about Loos. It's a thousand to one I'll be killed. Life doesn't matter +much to me, in spite of what you may think. There are only two people +on God's earth I care for. One, of course, is my old mother. The other +is Betty Fairfax--I mean Betty Connor. I spoke to you once about +her--after I had met her here--and I gave you to understand that I had +broken off our engagement from conscientious motives. It was an awkward +position and I had to say something. As a matter of fact I acted +abominably. But I couldn't help it." The corners of his lips suddenly +worked in the odd little twitch. "Sometimes circumstances, especially +if a man's own damn foolishness has contrived them, tie him hand and +foot. Sometimes physical instincts that he can't control." He narrowed +his eyes and bent forward, looking at me intently, and he repeated the +phrase slowly--"Physical instincts that he can't control-" + +Was he referring to the incident of yesterday? I thought so. I also +believed it was the motive power of this strangely intimate +conversation. + +He rose again as though restless, and once more went to the window and +seemed to seek inspiration or decision from the sight of my roses. +After a short while he turned and dragged up from his neck a slim chain +at the end of which hung a round object in a talc case. This he +unfastened and threw on the table in front of me. + +"Do you know what that is?" + +"Yes," said I. "Your identification disc." + +"Look on the other side." + +I took it up and found that the reverse contained the head cut out from +some photograph of Betty. After I had handed back the locket, he +slipped it on the chain and dropped it beneath his collar. + +"I'm not a damned fool," said he. + +I nodded understandingly. No one would have accused him of mawkish +sentiment. The woman whose portrait he wore night and day next his skin +was the woman he loved. He had no other way of proving his sincerity +than by exhibiting the token. + +"I see," said I. "What do you propose to do?" + +"I've told you. The V.C. or--" He snapped his fingers. + +"But if it's the V.C. and a Brigade, and perhaps a Division--if it's +everything else imaginable except--" I snapped my fingers in +imitation--"What then?" + +Again the hateful twitch of the lips, which he quickly dissimulated in +a smile. + +"I'll begin to try to be a brave man." He lit another cigarette. "But +all that, my dear Meredyth," he continued, "is away from the point. If +I live, I'll ask you to forget this rotten palaver. But I have a +feeling that I shan't come back. Something tells me that my particular +form of extermination will be a head knocked into slush. I'm absolutely +certain that I shall never see you again. Oh, I'm not morbid," he said, +as I raised a protesting hand. "You're an old soldier and know what +these premonitions are. When I came in--before I had finally made up my +mind to pan out to you like this--I felt like a boy who has been made +captain of the school. But all the same, I know I shan't see you again. +So I want you to promise me two things--quite honourable and easy." + +"Of course, my dear fellow," said I rather tartly, for I did not like +the wind-up of his sentence. It was unthinkable that an officer and a +gentleman should inveigle a brother-officer into a solemn promise to do +anything dishonourable. "Of course. Anything you like." + +"One is to look after the old mother--" + +"That goes without promising," said I. + +"The other is to--what shall I say?--to rehabilitate my memory in the +eyes of Betty Connor. She may hear all kinds of things about me--some +true, others false--I have my enemies. She has heard things already. I +didn't know it till our last meeting here. There's no one else on God's +earth can do what I want but you. Do you think I'm putting you into an +impossible position?" + +"I don't think so," said I. "Go on." + +"Well--there's not much more to be said. Try to make her realise that, +whatever may be my faults--my crimes, if it comes to that--I've done my +damndest out there to make reparation. By God! I have," he cried, in a +sudden flash of passion. "See that she realises it. And--" he thumped +the hidden identification disc, "tell her that she is the only woman +that has ever really mattered in the whole of my blasted life." + +He threw his half-smoked cigarette into the fire-place and walked over +to the sideboard, where stood decanters and syphon. + +"May I help myself to a drink?" + +"Certainly," said I. + +He gulped down half a whisky and soda and turned on me. + +"You promise?" + +"Of course," said I. + +"She may have reasons to think the worst of me. But whatever I am there +is some good in me. I'm not altogether a worthless hound. If you +promise to make her think the best of me, I'll go away happy. I don't +care a damn whether I die or live. That's the truth. As long as I'm +alive I can take care of myself. I'm not dreaming of asking you to say +a word to win her favour. That would be outrageous impudence. You +clearly understand. I don't want you ever to mention my name unless I'm +dead. If I feel that I've an advocate in you--advocatus diaboli, if you +like--I'll go away happy. You've got your brief. You know my life at +home. You know my record." + +"My dear fellow," said I, "I promise to do everything in my power to +carry out your wishes. But as to your record--are you quite certain +that I know it?" + +You must realise that there was a curious tension in the situation, at +any rate as far as it affected myself. Here was a man with whom, for +reasons you know, I had studiously cultivated the most formal social +relations, claiming my active participation in the secret motives of +his heart. Since his first return from the front a bluff friendliness +had been the keynote of our intercourse. Nothing more. Now he came and +without warning enmeshed me in this intimate net of love and death. I +promised to do his bidding--I could not do otherwise. I was in the +position of an executor according to the terms of a last will and +testament. Our comradeship in arms--those of our old Army who survive +will understand--forbade refusal. Besides, his intensity of purpose won +my sympathy and admiration. But I loved him none the more. To my +cripple's detested sensitiveness, as he stood over me, he loomed more +than ever the hulking brute. His semi-confessions and innuendoes +exacerbated my feelings of distrust and repulsion. And yet, at the same +tune, I could not--nor did I try to--repress an immense pity for the +man; perhaps less for the man than for the soul in pain. At the back of +his words some torment burned at red heat, remorselessly. He sought +relief. Perhaps he sought it from me because I was as apart as a woman +from his physical splendour, a kind of bodiless creature with just a +brain and a human heart, the ghost of an old soldier, far away from the +sphere of poor passions and little jealousies. + +I felt the tentacles of the man's nature blindly and convulsively +groping after something within me that eluded them. That is the best +way in which I can describe the psychology of these strange moments. +The morning sun streamed into my little oak-panelled dining-room and +caught the silver and fruit on the breakfast table and made my frieze +of old Delft glow blue like the responsive western sky. With his back +to the vivid window, Leonard Boyce stood cut out black like a +silhouette. That he, too, felt the tension, I know; for a wasp crawled +over his face, from cheek-bone, across his temples, to his hair, and he +did not notice it. + +Instinctively I said the words: "Your record. Are you quite certain +that I know it?" + +With what intensity, with what significance in my eyes, I may have said +them, I know not. I repeat that I had a subconsciousness, almost +uncanny, that we were souls rather than men, talking to each other. He +sat down once more, drawing the chair to the table and resting his +elbow on it. + +"My record," said he. "What about it?" + +Again please understand that I felt I had the man's soul naked before +me. An imponderable hand plucked away my garments of convention. + +"Some time ago," said I, "you spoke of my attitude towards you being +marked by a certain reserve. That is quite true. It dates back many +years. It dates back from the South African War. From an affair at +Vilboek's Farm." + +Again his lips twitched; but otherwise he did not move. + +"I remember," he answered. "My men saw me run away. I came out of it +quite clean." + +I said: "I saw the man afterwards in hospital at Cape Town. His name +was Somers. He told me quite a different story." + +His face grew grey. He glanced at me for a fraction of a second. "What +did he tell you?" he asked quietly. + +In the fewest possible words I repeated what I have set down already in +this book. When I had ended, he said in the same toneless way: + +"You have believed that all these years?" + +"I have done my best not to believe it. The last twelve months have +disproved it." + +He shook his head. "They haven't. Nothing I can do in this world can +disprove it. What that man said was true." + +"True?" + +I drew a deep breath and stared at him hard. His eyes met mine. They +were very sad and behind them lay great pain. Although I expressed +astonishment, it proceeded rather from some reflex action than from any +realised shock to my consciousness. I say the whole thing was uncanny. +I knew, as soon as he sat down by the table, that he would confess to +the Vilboek story. And yet, at last, when he did confess and there were +no doubts lingering in my mind, I gasped and stared at him. + +"I was a bloody coward," he said. "That's frank enough. When they rode +away and left me, I tried to shoot myself--and I couldn't. If the man +Somers hadn't returned, I think I should have waited until they sent to +arrest me. But he did come back and the instinct of self-preservation +was too strong. I know my story about the men's desertion and my +forcing him to back me up was vile and despicable. But I clung to life +and it was my only chance. Afterwards, with the horror of the thing +hanging over me, I didn't care so much about life. In the little +fighting that was left for me I deliberately tried to throw it away. I +ask you to believe that." + +"I do," I said. "You were mentioned in dispatches for gallantry in +action." + +He passed his hand over his eyes. Looking up, he said: + +"It is strange that you of all men, my neighbour here, should have +heard of this. Not a whisper of its being known has ever reached me. +How many people do you think have any idea of it?" + +I told him all that I knew and concluded by showing him Reggie Dacre's +letter, which I had kept in the letter-case in my pocket. He returned +it to me without a word. Presently he broke a spell of silence. All +this time he had sat fixed in the one attitude--only shifted once, when +Marigold entered to clear away the breakfast things and was dismissed +by me with a glance and a gesture. + +"Do you remember," he said, "a talk we had about fear, in April, the +first time I was over? I described what I knew. The paralysis of fear. +Since we are talking as I never thought to talk with a human being, I +may as well make my confession. I'm a man of strong animal passions. +When I see red, I daresay I'm just a brute beast. But I'm a physical +coward. Owing to this paralysis of fear, this ghastly inhibition of +muscular or nervous action, I have gone through things even worse than +that South-African business. I go about like a man under a curse. Even +out there, when I don't care a damn whether I live or die, the blasted +thing gets hold of me." He swung himself away from the table and shook +his great clenched firsts. "By the grace of God, no one yet has seemed +to notice it. I suppose I have a swift brain and as soon as the thing +is over I can cover it up. It's my awful terror that one day I shall be +found out and everything I've gained shall be stripped away from me." + +"But what about a thing like this?" said I, tapping Colonel Dacre's +letter. + +"That's all right," he answered grimly. "That's when I know what I'm +facing. That's deliberate pot-hunting. It's saving face as the Chinese +say. It's doing any damned thing that will put me right with myself." + +He got up and swung about the room. I envied him, I would have given a +thousand pounds to do the same just for a few moments. But I was stuck +in my confounded chair, deprived of physical outlet. Suddenly he came +to a halt and stood once more over me. + +"Now you know what kind of a fellow I am, what do you think of me?" + +It was a brutal question to fling at my head. It gave me no time to +co-ordinate my ideas. What was one to make of a man avowedly subject to +fits of the most despicable cowardice from the consequences of which he +used any unscrupulous craftiness to extricate himself, and yet was +notorious in his achievement of deeds of the most reckless courage? It +is a problem to which I have devoted all the months occupied in writing +this book. How the dickens could I solve it at a minute's notice? The +situation was too blatant, too raw, too near bedrock, too naked and +unashamed, for me to take refuge in platitudinous generalities of +excuse. The bravest of men know Fear. They know him pretty intimately. +But they manage to kick him to Hades by the very reason of their being +brave men. I had to take Leonard Boyce as I found him. And I must admit +that I found him a tragically miserable man. That is how I answered his +question--in so many words. + +"You're not far wrong," said he. + +He picked up cap and stick. + +"When I get up to town I shall make my will. I've never worried about +it before. Can I appoint you my executor?" + +"Certainly," said I. + +"I'm very grateful. I'll assure you a fireworks sort of finish, so that +you shan't be ashamed. And--I don't ask impossibilities--I can't hold +you to your previous promise--but what about Betty Connor?" + +"You may count," said I, "on my acting like an officer and a gentleman, +and, if I may say so, like a Christian." + +He said: "Thank you, Meredyth. Good-bye." Then he stuck on his cap, +brought his fingers to the peak in salute and marched to the door. + +"Boyce!" I cried sharply. + +He turned. "Yes?" + +"Aren't you going to shake hands with me?" + +He retraced the few steps to my chair. + +"I didn't know whether it would be--" he paused, seeking for a +word--"whether it would be agreeable." + +Then I broke down. The strain had been too great for my sick man's +nerves. I forgot all about the brutality of his bull-neck, for he faced +me in all his gallant manhood and there was a damnable expression in +his eyes like that of a rated dog. I stretched out my hand. + +"My dear good fellow," I cried, "what the hell are you talking about?" + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +Boyce left Wellingsford that afternoon, and for many months I heard +little about him. His astonishing avowal had once more turned +topsy-turvy my conception of his real nature. I had to reconstruct the +man, a very complicated task. I had to reconcile in him all kinds of +opposites--the lusty brute and the sentimental lover; the physical +coward and the baresark hero; the man with hell in his soul and the +debonair gentleman. After a vast deal of pondering, I arrived not very +much nearer a solution of the problem. The fact remained, however, that +I found myself in far closer sympathy with him than ever before. After +all that he had said, I should have had a heart of stone if it had not +been stirred to profound pity. I had seen an instance both of his +spell-bound cowardice and of his almost degrading craft in extrication. +That in itself repelled me. But it lost its value in the light that he +had cast on the never-ceasing torment that consumed him. At any rate he +was at death-grips with himself, strangling the devils of fear and +dishonour with a hand relentlessly certain. He appeared to me a tragic +figure warring against a doom. + +At first I expected every day to receive an agonised message from Mrs. +Boyce announcing his death. Then, as is the way of humans, the keenness +of my apprehension grew blunted, until, at last, I took his continued +existence as a matter of course. I wrote him a few friendly letters, to +which he replied in the same strain. And so the months went on. + +Looking over my diary I find that these months were singularly +uneventful as far as the lives of those dealt with in this chronicle +were concerned. In the depths of our souls we felt the long-drawn-out +agony of the war, with its bitter humiliations, its heartrending +disappointments. In our daily meetings one with another we cried aloud +for a great voice to awaken the little folk in Great Britain from their +selfish lethargy--the little folk in high office, in smug burgessdom, +in seditious factory and shipyard. They were months of sordid +bargaining between all sections of our national life, in the murk of +which the glow of patriotism seemed to be eclipsed. And in the +meantime, the heroic millions from all corners of our far-flung Empire +were giving their lives on land and sea, gaily and gallantly, too often +in tragic futility, for the ideals to which the damnable little folk at +home were blind. The little traitorous folk who gambled for their own +hands in politics, the little traitorous folk who put the outworn +shibboleths of a party before the war-cry of an Empire, the little +traitorous folk who strove with all their power to starve our navy of +ships, our ships of coal, our men in the trenches of munitions, our +armies of men, our country of honour--all these will one day be +mercilessly arraigned at the bar of history. The plains of France, the +steeps of Gallipoli, the swamps of Mesopotamia, the Seven Seas will +give up their dead as witnesses. + +We spoke bitterly of all these things and thought of them with raging +impotence; but the even tenor of our life went on. We continued to do +our obscure and undistinguished work for the country. It became a +habit, part of the day's routine. We almost forgot why we were doing +it. The war seemed to make little real difference in our social life. +The small town was pitch black at night. Prices rose. Small economies +were practised. Labour was scarce. Fewer young men out of uniform were +seen in the streets and neighbouring roads and lanes. Groups of wounded +from the hospital in their uniform of deep blue jean with red ties and +khaki caps gave a note of actuality to the streets. Otherwise, there +were few signs of war. Even the troops who hitherto swarmed about the +town had gradually been removed from billets to a vast camp of huts +some miles away, and appeared only sporadically about the place. I +missed them and the stimulus of their presence. They brought me into +closer touch with things. Marigold, too, pined for more occupation for +his one critical eye than was afforded by the local volunteers. He grew +morose, sick of a surfeit of newspapers. If he could have gone to +France and got through to the firing-line, I am sure he would have dug +a little trench all to himself and defied the Germans on his own +account. + +In November Colonel Dacre was brought home gravely wounded, to a +hospital for officers in London. A nurse gave me the news in a letter +in which she said that he had asked to see me before an impending +hazardous operation. I went up to town and found him wrecked almost +beyond recognition. As we were the merest of acquaintances with nothing +between us save our common link with Boyce, I feared lest he should +desire to tell me of some shameful discovery. But his gay greeting and +the brave smile, pathetically grotesque through the bandages in which +his head was wrapped, reassured me. Only his eyes and mouth were +visible. + +"It's worth while being done in," said he. "It makes one feel like a +Sultan. You have just to clap your hands and say 'I want this,' and +you've got it. I've a good mind to say to this dear lady, 'Fetch their +gracious Majesties from Buckingham Palace,' and I'm sure they'd be here +in a tick. It's awfully good of you to come, Meredyth." + +I signed to Marigold, who had carried me into the ward and set me down +on a chair, and to the Sister, the "dear lady" of Dacre's reference, to +withdraw, and after a few sympathetic words I asked him why he had sent +for me. + +"I'm broken to bits all over," he replied. "The doctors here say they +never saw such a blooming mess-up of flesh pretending to be alive. And +as for talking, they'd just as soon expect speech from a jellyfish +squashed by a steam-roller. If I do get through, I'll be a helpless +crock all my days. I funked it till I thought of you. I thought the +sight of another fellow who has gone through it and stuck it out might +give me courage. I've had my wife here. We're rather fond of one +another, you know ... My God! what brave things women are! If she had +broken down all over me I could have risen to the occasion. But she +didn't, and I felt a cowardly worm." + +"I had a brave wife, too," said I, and for a few moments we talked +shyly about the women who had played sacred parts in our lives. Whether +he was comforted by what I said I don't know. Probably he only listened +politely. But I think he found comfort in a sympathetic ear. + +Presently he turned on to Boyce, the real motive of his summons. He +repented much that he had told and written to me. His long defamation +of the character of a brother-officer had lain on his conscience. And +lately he had, at last, met Boyce personally, and his generous heart +had gone out to the man's soldierly charm. + +"I never felt such a slanderous brute in my life as when I shook him by +the hand. You know the feeling--how one wants to get behind a hedge and +kick oneself. Kick oneself," he repeated faintly. Then he closed his +eyes and his lips contracted in pain. + +The Sister, who had been watching him from a distance, came up. He had +talked enough. It was time to go. But at the announcement he opened his +eyes again and with an effort recovered his gaiety. + +"The whole gist of the matter lies in the postscript. Like a woman's +letter. I must have my postscript." + +"Very well. Two more minutes." + +"Merciless dragon," said he. + +She smiled and left us. + +"The dearest angel, bar one, in the world." said he. "What were we +talking about?" + +"Colonel Boyce." + +"Oh, yes. Forgive me. My head goes FUT now and then. It's idiotic not +to be able to control one's brain.... The point is this. I may peg out. +I know this operation they're going to perform is just touch and go. I +want to face things with a clear conscience. I've convinced you, +haven't I, that there wasn't a word of truth in that South-African +story? If ever it crops up you'll scotch it like a venomous snake?" + +The ethics of my answer I leave to the casuist. I am an old-fashioned +Church of England person. As I am so mentally constituted that I am +unable to believe cheerfully in nothing. I believe in God and Jesus +Christ, and accept the details of doctrine as laid down in the +Thirty-nine Articles. For liars I have the Apocryphal condemnation. Yet +I lied without the faintest rippling qualm of conscience. + +"My dear fellow," said I, stoutly, "there's not the remotest speck of +truth in it. You haven't a second's occasion to worry." + +"That's all right," he said. + +The Sister approached again. Instinctively I stretched out my hand. He +laughed. + +"No good. You must take it as gripped. Goodbye, old chap." + +I bade him good-bye and Marigold wheeled me away. + +A few days afterwards they told me that this gay, gallant, honourable, +sensitive gentleman was dead. Although I had known him so little, it +seemed that I knew him very intimately, and I deeply mourned his loss. + +I think this episode was the most striking of what I may term personal +events during those autumn months. + +Of Randall Holmes we continued to hear in the same mysterious manner. +His mother visited the firm of solicitors in London through whom his +correspondence passed. They pleaded ignorance of his doings and +professional secrecy as to the disclosure of his whereabouts. In +December he ceased writing altogether, and twice a week Mrs. Holmes +received a formal communication from the lawyers to the effect that +they had been instructed by her son to inform her that he was in +perfect health and sent her his affectionate greetings. Such news of +this kind as I received I gave to Betty, who passed it on to Phyllis +Gedge. + +Of course my intimacy with my dear Betty continued unbroken. If the +unmarried Betty had a fault, it was a certain sweet truculence, a +pretty self-assertiveness which sometimes betrayed intolerance of human +foibles. Her widowhood had, in a subtle way, softened these little +angularities of her spiritual contour. And bodily, the curves of her +slim figure had become more rounded. She was no longer the young Diana +of a year ago. The change into the gracious woman who had passed +through the joy and the sorrow of life was obvious even to me, to whom +it had been all but imperceptibly gradual. After a while she rarely +spoke of her husband. The name of Leonard Boyce was never mentioned +between us. With her as with me, the weeks ate up the uneventful days +and the months the uneventful weeks. In her humdrum life the falling +away of Mrs. Tufton loomed catastrophic. + +For four months Mrs. Tufton shone splendid as the wife of the British +warrior. The Wellingsford Hospital rang with her praises and glistened +with her scrubbing brush. She was the Admirable Crichton of the +institution. What with men going off to the war and women going off to +make munitions, there were never-ending temporary gaps in the staff. +And there was never a gap that Mrs. Tufton did not triumphantly fill. +The pride of Betty, who had wrought this reformation, was simply +monstrous. If she had created a real live angel, wings and all, out of +the dust-bin, she could not have boasted more arrogantly. Being a +member of the Hospital Committee, I must confess to a bemused share in +the popular enthusiasm. And was I not one of the original discoverers +of Mrs. Tufton? When Marigold, inspired doubtless by his wife, from +time to time suggested disparagement of the incomparable woman, I +rebuked him for an arrant scandal-monger. There had been a case or two +of drunkenness at the hospital. Wounded soldiers had returned the worse +for liquor, an almost unforgivable offence.... Not that the poor +fellows desired to get drunk. A couple of pints of ale or a couple of +glasses of whisky will set swimming the head of any man who has not +tasted alcohol for months. But to a man with a septic wound or trench +nephritis or smashed up skull, alcohol is poison and poison is death, +and so it is sternly forbidden to our wounded soldiers. They cannot be +served in public houses. Where, then, did the hospital defaulters get +their drink? + +"If I was you, sir," said Marigold, "I'd keep an eye on that there Mrs. +Tufton." + +I instantly annihilated him--or should have done so had his +expressionless face not been made of non-inflammable timber. He said: +"Very good, sir." But there was a damnably ironical and insubordinate +look in his one eye. + +Gradually the lady lapsed from grace. She got up late and complained of +spasms. She left dustpan and brush on a patient's bed. She wrongfully +interfered with the cook, insisting, until she was forcibly ejected +from the kitchen, on throwing lettuces into the Irish stew. Finally, +one Sunday afternoon, a policeman wandering through some waste ground, +a deserted brickfield behind Flowery End, came upon an unedifying +spectacle. There were madam and an elderly Irish soldier sprawling +blissfully comatose with an empty flask of gin and an empty bottle of +whisky lying between them. They were taken to the hospital and put to +bed. The next morning, the lady, being sober, was summarily dismissed +by the matron. Late at night she rang and battered at the door, +clamouring for admittance, which was refused. Then she went away, +apparently composed herself to slumber in the roadway of the +pitch-black High Street, and was killed by a motor-car. And that, bar +the funeral, was the end of Mrs. Tufton. + +From her bereaved husband, with whom I at once communicated, I received +the following reply: + + +"Dear Sir, + +"Yours to hand announcing the accidental death of my wife, which I need +not say I deeply regret. You will be interested to hear that I have +been offered a commission in the Royal Fusiliers, which I am now able +to accept. In view of the same, any expense to which you may be put to +give my late wife honourable burial, I shall be most ready to defray. + +"With many thanks for your kindness in informing me of this unfortunate +circumstance, + +"I am, + +"Yours faithfully, + "JOHN P. TUFTON." + + +"I think he's a horrid, callous, cold-blooded fellow!" cried Betty when +I showed her this epistle. + +"After all," said I, "she wasn't a model wife. If the fatal motor-car +hadn't come along, the probability is that she would have received poor +Tufton on his next leave with something even more deadly than a poker. +Now and again the Fates have brilliant inspirations. This was one of +them. Now, you see the virago-clogged Tufton is a free man, able to +accept a commission and start a new life as an officer and a gentleman." + +"I think you're perfectly odious. Odious and cynical," she exclaimed +wrathfully. + +"I think," said I, "that a living warrior is better than a dead-- +Disappointment." + +"You don't understand," she stormed. "If I didn't love you, I could +rend you to pieces." + +"It is because I do understand, my dear," said I, enjoying the flashing +beauty of her return to Artemisian attitudes, "that I particularly +characterised the dear lady as a disappointment." + +"I think," she said, in dejected generalisation, "the working out of +the whole scheme of the universe is a disappointment." + +"The High Originators of the scheme seem to bear it pretty +philosophically," I rejoined; "so why shouldn't we?" + +"They're gods and we're human," said Betty. + +"Precisely," said I. "And oughtn't it to be our ideal to approximate to +the divine attitude?" + +Again Betty declared that I was odious. From her point of view--No. +That is an abuse of language. There are mental states in which a woman +has no point of view at all. She wanders over an ill-defined circular +area of vision. That is why, in such conditions, you can never pin a +woman down with a shaft of logic and compel her surrender, as you can +compel that of a mere man. We went on arguing, and after a time I +really did not know what I was arguing about. I advanced and tried to +support the theory that on the whole the progress of humanity as +represented by the British Empire in general and the about-to-be +Lieutenant Tufton in particular, was advanced by the opportune demise +of an unfortunately balanced lady. From her point--or rather her +circular area of vision--perhaps my dear Betty was right in declaring +me odious. She hated to be reminded of the intolerable goosiness of her +swan. She longed for comforting, corroborative evidence of essential +swaniness for her own justification. In a word, the poor dear girl was +sore all over with mortification, and wherever one touched her, no +matter with how gentle a finger, one hurt. + +"I would have trusted that woman," she cried tragically, "with a +gold-mine or a distillery." + +"We trusted her with something more valuable, my dear," said I. "Our +guileless faith in human nature. Anyhow we'll keep the faith undamaged." + +She smiled. "That's considerably less odious." + +Nothing more could be said. We let the unfortunate subject rest in +peace for ever after. + +These two episodes, the death of poor Reggie Dacre and the Tufton +catastrophe, are the only incidents in my diary that are worth +recording here. Christmas came and went and we entered on the new year +of 1916. It was only at a date in the middle of February, a year since +I had driven to Wellings Park to hear the tragic news of Oswald +Fenimore's death, that I find an important entry in my diary. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +Mrs. Boyce was shown into my study, her comely Dresden china face very +white and her hands shaking. She held a telegram. I had seen faces like +that before. Every day in England there are hundreds thus stricken. I +feared the worst. It was a relief to read the telegram and find that +Boyce was only wounded. The message said seriously wounded, but gave +consolation by adding that his life was not in immediate danger. Mrs. +Boyce was for setting out for France forthwith. I dissuaded her from a +project so embarrassing to the hospital authorities and so fatiguing to +herself. In spite of the chivalry and humanity of our medical staff, +old ladies of seventy are not welcome at a busy base hospital. As soon +as he was fit to be moved, I assured her, he would be sent home, before +she could even obtain her permits and passes and passport and make +other general arrangements for her journey. There was nothing for it +but her Englishwoman's courage. She held up her hand at that, and went +away to live, like many another, patiently through the long hours of +suspense. + +For two or three days no news came. I spent as much time as I could +with my old friend, seeking to comfort her. + +On the third morning it was announced in the papers that the King had +been graciously pleased to confer the Victoria Cross on Lt. Colonel +Leonard Boyce for conspicuous gallantry in action. It did not occur in +a list of honours. It had a special paragraph all to itself. Such +isolated announcements generally indicate immediate recognition of some +splendid feat. I was thrilled by the news. It was a grand achievement +to win through death to the greatest of all military rewards +deliberately coveted. Here, as I had strange reason for knowing, was no +sudden act of sublime valour. The final achievement was the result of +months of heroic, almost suicidal daring. And it was repayment of a +terrible debt, the whole extent of which I knew not, owed by the man to +his tormented soul. + +I rang up Mrs. Boyce, who replied tremulously to my congratulations. +Would I come over and lunch? + +I found a very proud and tearful old lady. She may not have known the +difference between a platoon and a howitzer, and have conceived the +woolliest notions of the nature of her son's command, but the Victoria +Cross was a matter on which her ideas were both definite and correct. +She had spent the morning at the telephone receiving calls of +congratulation. A great sheaf of telegrams had arrived. Two or three of +them were from the High and Mighty of the Military Hierarchy. She was +in such a twitter of joy that she almost forgot her anxiety as to his +wounds. + +"Do you think he knows? I telegraphed to him at once." + +"So did I." + +She glanced at the ormolu clock on the mantelpiece. + +"How long would it take for a telegram to reach him?" + +"You may be sure he has it by now," said I, "and it has given him a +prodigious appetite for lunch." + +Her face clouded over. "That horrid tinned stuff. It's so dangerous. I +remember once Mary's aunt--or was it Cook's aunt--one of them any +way--nearly died of eating tinned lobster--ptomaine poisoning. I've +always told Leonard not to touch it. + +"They don't give Colonels and V.C.s tinned lobster at Boulogne," I +answered cheerfully. "He's living now on the fat of the land." + +"Let us hope so," she sighed dubiously. "It's no use my sending out +things for him, as they always go wrong. Some time ago I sent him three +brace of grouse and three brace of partridges. He didn't acknowledge +them for weeks, and then he said they were most handy things to kill +Germans with, but were an expensive form of ammunition. I don't quite +know what he meant--but at any rate they were not eatable when they +arrived. Poor fellow!" She sighed again. "If only I knew what was the +matter with him." + +"It can't be much," I reassured her, "or you would have heard again. +And this news will act like a sovereign remedy." + +She patted the back of my hand with her plump palm. "You're always so +sympathetic and comforting." + +"I'm an old soldier, like Leonard," said I, "and never meet trouble +halfway." + +At lunch, the old lady insisted on opening a bottle of champagne, a +Veuve Clicquot which Leonard loved, in honour of the glorious occasion. +We could not drink to the hero's health in any meaner vintage, although +she swore that a teaspoonful meant death to her, and I protested that a +confession of champagne to my medical adviser meant a dog's rating. We +each, conscience-bound, put up the tips of our fingers to the glasses +as soon as Mary had filled them with froth, and solemnly drank the +toast in the eighth of an inch residuum. But by some freakish chance or +the other, there was nothing left in that quart bottle by the time Mary +cleared the table for dessert. And to tell the honest truth, I don't +think the health of either my hostess or myself was a penny the worse. +Let no man despise generous wine. Treated with due reverence it is a +great loosener of human sympathy. + +Generous ale similarly treated produces the same effect. Marigold, +driving me home, cocked a luminous eye on me and said: + +"Begging your pardon, sir, would you mind very much if I broke the neck +of that there Gedge?" + +"You would be aiding the good cause," said I, "but I should deplore the +hanging of an old friend. What has Gedge been doing?" + +Marigold sounded his horn and slowed down round a bend, and, as soon as +he got into a straight road, he replied. + +"I'm not going to say, sir, if I may take the liberty, that I was ever +sweet on Colonel Boyce. People affect you in different ways. You either +like 'em or you don't like 'em. You can't tell why. And a Sergeant, +being, as you may say, a human being, has as much right to his private +feelings regarding a Colonel as any officer." + +"Undoubtedly," said I. + +"Well, sir, I never thought Colonel Boyce was true metal. But I take it +all back--every bit of it." + +"For God's sake," I cried, stretching out a foolish but instinctive +hand to the wheel, "for God's sake, control your emotions, or you'll be +landing us in the ditch." + +"That's all right, sir," he replied, steering a straight course. "She's +a bit skittish at times. I was saying as how I did the Colonel an +injustice. I'm very sorry. No man who wasn't steel all through ever got +the V.C. They don't chuck it around on blighters." + +"That's all very interesting and commendable," said I, "but what has it +to do with Gedge?" + +"He has been slandering the Colonel something dreadful the last few +months, sneering at him, saying nothing definite, but insinuatingly +taking away his character." + +"In what way?" I asked. + +"Well, he tells one man that the Colonel's a drunkard, another that +it's women, another that he gambles and doesn't pay, another that he +pays the newspapers to put in all these things about him, while all the +time in France he's in a blue funk hiding in his dugout." + +"That's moonshine," said I. And as regards the drinking, drabbing, and +gaming of course it was. But the suggestion of cowardice gave me a +sharp stab of surprise and dismay. + +"I know it is," said Marigold. "But the people hereabouts are so +ignorant, you can make them believe anything." Marigold was a man of +Kent and had a poor opinion of those born and bred in other counties. +"I met Gedge this morning," he continued, and thereupon gave me the +substance of the conversation. I hardly think the adjectives of the +report were those that were really used. + +"So your precious Colonel has got the V.C.," sneered Gedge. + +"He has," said Marigold. "And it's too great an honour for your +inconsiderable town." + +"If this inconsiderable town knew as much about him as I do, it would +give him the order of the precious boot." + +"And what do you know?" asked Marigold. + +"That's what all you downtrodden slaves of militarism would like to +find out," replied Gedge. "The time will come when I, and such as I, +will tear the veils away and expose them, and say 'These be thy gods, O +Israel.'" + +"The time will come," retorted Marigold, "when if you don't hold your +precious jaw, I and such as I will smash it into a thousand pieces. For +twopence I'd knock your ugly head off this present minute." + +Whereupon Gedge apparently wilted before the indignant eye of Sergeant +Marigold and faded away down the High Street. + +All this in itself seemed very trivial, but for the past year the +attitude of Gedge had been mysterious. Could it be possible that Gedge +thought himself the sole repository of the secret which Boyce had so +desperately confided to me? But when had the life of Gedge and the +military life of Leonard Boyce crossed? It was puzzling. + +Well, to tell the truth, I thought no more about the matter. The glow +of Mrs. Boyce's happiness remained with me all the evening. Rarely had +I seen her so animated, so forgetful of her own ailments. She had taken +the rosiest view of Leonard's physical condition and sunned herself in +the honour conferred on him by the King. I had never spent a pleasanter +afternoon at her house. We had comfortably criticised our neighbours, +and, laudatores temporis acti, had extolled the days of our youth. I +went to bed as well pleased with life as a man can be in this +convulsion of the world. + +The next morning she sent me a letter to read. It was written at +Boyce's dictation. It ran: + +"Dear Mother: + +"I'm sorry to say I am knocked out pro tem. I was fooling about where a +C.O. didn't ought to, and a Bosch bullet got me so that I can't write. +But don't worry at all about me. I'm too tough for anything the Bosches +can do. To show how little serious it is, they tell me that I'll be +conveyed to England in a day or two. So get hot-water bottles and bath +salts ready. + +"Your ever loving Leonard." + +This was good news. Over the telephone wire we agreed that the letter +was a justification of our yesterday's little merrymaking. Obviously, I +told her, he would live to fight another day. She was of opinion that +he had done enough fighting already. If he went on much longer, the +poor boy would get quite tired out, to say nothing of the danger of +being wounded again. The King ought to let him rest on his laurels and +make others who hadn't worked a quarter as hard do the remainder of the +war. + +"Perhaps," I said light-heartedly, "Leonard will drop the hint when he +writes to thank the King for the nice cross." + +She said that I was laughing at her, and rang off in the best of +spirits. + +In the evening came Betty, inviting herself to dinner. She had been on +night duty at the hospital, and I had not seen her for some days. The +sight of her, bright-eyed and brave, fresh and young, always filled me +with happiness. I felt her presence like wine and the sea wind and the +sunshine. So greatly did her vitality enrich me, that sometimes I +called myself a horrid old vampire. + +As soon as she had greeted me, she said in her downright way: + +"So Leonard Boyce has got his V.C." + +"Yes," said I. "What do you think of it?" + +A spot of colour rose to her cheek. "I'm very glad. It's no use, Majy, +pretending that I ignore his existence. I don't and I can't. Because I +loved and married someone else doesn't alter the fact that I once cared +for him, does it?" + +"Many people," said I, judicially, "find out that they have been +mistaken as to the extent and nature of their own sentiments." + +"I wasn't mistaken," she replied, sitting down on the piano stool, her +hands on the leathern seat, her neatly shod feet stretched out in front +of her, just as she had sat on her wedding eve talking nonsense to +Willie Connor. "I wasn't mistaken. I was never addicted to silly +school-girl fancies. I know my own mind. I cared a lot for Leonard +Boyce." + +"Eh bien?" said I. + +"Well, don't you see what I'm driving at?" + +"I don't a bit." + +She sighed. "Oh, dear! How dull some people are! Don't you see that, +when an affair like that is over, a woman likes to get some evidence of +the man's fine qualities, in order to justify her for having once cared +for him?" + +"Quite so. Yet--" I felt argumentative. The breach, as you know, +between Betty and Boyce was wrapped in exasperating obscurity. "Yet, on +the other hand," said I, "she might welcome evidence of his +worthlessness, so as to justify her for having thrown him over." + +"If a woman isn't a dam-fool already," said Betty, "and I don't think +I'm one, she doesn't like to feel that she ever made a dam-fool of +herself. She is proud of her instincts and her judgments and the +sensitive, emotional intelligence that is hers. When all these seem to +have gone wrong, it's pleasing to realise that originally they went +right. It soothes one's self-respect, one's pride. I know now that all +these blind perceptions in me went straight to certain magnificent +essentials--those that make the great, strong, fearless fighting man. +That's attractive to a woman, you know. At any rate, to an independent +barbarian like myself--" + +"My dear Betty," I interrupted with a laugh. "You a barbarian? You whom +I regard as the last word, the last charming and delightful word, in +modern womanhood?" + +"Of course I'm the child of my century," she cried, flushing. "I want +votes, freedom, opportunity for expansion, power--everything that can +develop Betty Connor into a human product worthy of the God who made +her. But how she could fulfil herself without the collaboration of a +man, has baffled her ever since she was a girl of sixteen, when she +began to awake to the modern movement. On one side I saw women +perfectly happy in the mere savage state of wifehood and motherhood, +and not caring a hang for anything else, and on the other side women +who threw babies back into limbo and preached of nothing but +intellectual and political and economic independence. Oh, I worried +terribly about it, Majy, when I was a girl. Each side seemed to have +such a lot to say for itself. Then it dawned upon me that the only way +out of the dilemma was to combine both ideals--that of the savage woman +in skins and the lady professor in spectacles. That is what, allowing +for the difference of sex, a man does. Why shouldn't a woman? The +woman, of course, has to droop a bit more to the savage, because she +has to produce the babies and suckle them, and so forth, and a man +hasn't. That was my philosophy of life when I entered the world as a +young woman. Love came into it, of course. It was a sanctification of +the savagery. I've gone on like this," she laughed, "because I don't +want you to protest in your dear old-fashioned way against my calling +myself an independent barbarian. I am, and I glory in it. That's why, +as I was saying, I'm deeply glad that Leonard Boyce has made good. His +honour means a good deal to me--to my self-esteem. I hope," she added, +rising and coming to me with a caressing touch. "I hope you've got the +hang of the thing now." + +Within myself I sincerely hoped I had. If her sentiments were just as +she analysed them, all was well. If, on the other hand, the little +demon of love for Boyce still lurked in her heart, in spite of the +marriage and widowhood, there might be trouble ahead. I remembered how +once she had called him a devil. I remembered, too, uncomfortably, the +scrap of conversation I had overheard between Boyce and herself in the +hall. She had lashed him with her scorn, and he had taken his whipping +without much show of fight. Still, a woman's love, especially that of a +lady barbarian, was a curiously complex affair, and had been known to +impel her to trample on a man one minute and the next to fall at his +feet. Now the worm she had trampled on had turned; stood erect as a +properly authenticated hero. I felt dubious as to the ensuing situation. + +"I wrote to old Mrs. Boyce," she added after a while. "I thought it +only decent. I wrote yesterday, but only posted the letter to-day, so +as to be sure I wasn't acting on impulse." + +The latter part of the remark was by way of apology. The breach of the +engagement had occasioned a cessation of social relations between Betty +and Mrs. Boyce. Betty's aunts had ceased calling on Mrs. Boyce and Mrs. +Boyce had ceased calling on Betty's aunts. Whenever the estranged +parties met, which now and then was inevitable in a little town, they +bowed with distant politeness, but exchanged no words. Everything was +conducted with complete propriety. The old lady, knowing how beloved an +intimate of mine was Betty, alluded but once to the broken engagement. +That was when Betty got married. + +"It has been a great unhappiness to me, Major," she said. "In spite of +her daring ways, which an old woman like myself can't quite understand, +I was very fond of her. She was just the girl for Leonard. They made +such a handsome couple. I have never known why it was broken off. +Leonard won't tell me. It's out of the question that it could be his +fault, and I can't believe it is all Betty Fairfax's. She's a girl of +too much character to be a mere jilt." + +I remember that I couldn't help smiling at the application of the +old-fashioned word to my Betty. + +"You may be quite certain she isn't that," said I. + +"Then what was the reason? Do you know?" + +I didn't. I was as mystified as herself. I told her so. I didn't +mention that a few days before she had implied that Leonard was a devil +and she wished that he was dead, thereby proving to me, who knew +Betty's uprightness, that Boyce and Boyce only was to blame in the +matter. It would have been a breach of confidence, and it would not +have made my old friend any the happier. It would have fired her with +flaming indignation against Betty. + +"Young people," said I, "must arrange their own lives." And we left it +at that. Now and then, afterwards, she enquired politely after Betty's +health, and when Willie Connor was killed, she spoke to me very +feelingly and begged me to convey to Betty the expression of her deep +sympathy. In the unhappy circumstances, she explained, she was +naturally precluded from writing. + +So Betty's letter was the first direct communication that had passed +between them for nearly two years. That is why to my meddlesome-minded +self it appeared to have some significance. + +"You did, did you?" said I. Then I looked at her quickly, with an idea +in my head. "What did Mrs. Boyce say in reply?" + +"She has had no time to answer. Didn't I tell you I only posted the +letter to-day?" + +"Then you've heard nothing more about Leonard Boyce except that he has +got the V.C.?" + +"No. What more is there to hear?" + +Even Bettys are sly folk. It behooved me to counter with equal slyness. +I wondered whether she had known all along of Boyce's mishap, or had +been informed of it by his mother. Knowledge might explain her unwonted +outburst. I looked at her fixedly. + +"What's the matter?" she asked, bending slightly down to me. + +"You haven't heard that he is wounded?" + +She straightened herself. "No. When?" + +"Five days ago." + +"Why didn't you tell me?" + +"I haven't seen you." + +"I mean--this evening." + +I reached for her hand. "Will you forgive me, my dear Betty, for +remarking that for the last twenty minutes you have done all the +talking?" + +"Is he badly hurt?" + +She ignored my playful rejoinder. I noted the fact. Usually she was +quick to play Beatrice to my Benedick. Had I caught her off her guard? + +I told her all that I knew. She seated herself again on the piano-stool. + +"I hope Mrs. Boyce did not think me unfeeling for not referring to it," +she said calmly. "You will explain, won't you?" + +Marigold entered, announcing dinner. We went into the dining-room. All +through the meal Bella, my parlour-maid, flitted about with dishes and +plates, and Marigold, when he was not solemnly pouring claret, stood +grim behind my chair, roasting, as usual, his posterior before a +blazing fire, with soldierly devotion to duty. Conversation fell a +little flat. The arrival of the evening newspapers, half an hour +belated, created a diversion. The war is sometimes subversive of nice +table decorum. I read out the cream of the news. Discussion thereon +lasted us until coffee and cigarettes were brought in and the servants +left us to ourselves. + +One of the curious little phenomena of human intercourse is the fact +that now and again the outer personality of one with whom you are daily +familiar suddenly strikes you afresh, thus printing, as it were, a new +portrait on your mind. At varying intervals I had received such +portrait impressions of Betty, and I had stored them in my memory. +Another I received at this moment, and it is among the most delectable. +She was sitting with both elbows on the table, her palms clasped and +her cheek resting on the back of the left hand. Her face was turned +towards me. She wore a low-cut black chiffon evening dress--the thing +had mere straps over the shoulders--an all but discarded vanity of +pre-war days. I had never before noticed what beautiful arms she had. +Perhaps in her girlhood, when I had often seen her in such exiguous +finery, they had not been so shapely. I have told you already of the +softening touch of her womanhood. An exquisite curve from arm to neck +faded into the shadow of her hair. She had a single string of pearls +round her neck. The fatigue of last week's night duty had cast an added +spirituality over her frank, sensitive face. + +We had not spoken for a while. She smiled at me. + +"What are you thinking of?" + +"I wasn't thinking at all," said I. "I was only gratefully admiring +you." + +"Why gratefully?" + +"Oughtn't one to be grateful to God for the beautiful things He gives +us?" + +She flushed and averted her eyes. "You are very good to me, Majy." + +"What made you attire yourself in all this splendour?" I asked, +laughing. The wise man does not carry sentiment too far. He keeps it +like a little precious nugget of pure gold; the less wise beats it out +into a flabby film. + +"I don't know," she said, shifting her position and casting a critical +glance at her bodice. "All kinds of funny little feminine vanities. +Perhaps I wanted to see whether I hadn't gone off. Perhaps I wanted to +try to feel good-looking even if I wasn't. Perhaps I thought my dear +old Majy was sick to death of the hospital uniform perfumed with +disinfectant. Perhaps it was just a catlike longing for comfort. +Anyhow, I'm glad you like me." + +"My dear Betty," said I, "I adore you." + +"And I you," she laughed. "So there's a pair of us." + +She lit a cigarette and sipped her coffee. Then, breaking a short +silence: + +"I hope you quite understand, dear, what I said about Leonard Boyce. I +shouldn't like to leave you with the smallest little bit of a wrong +impression." + +"What wrong impression could I possibly have?" I asked disingenuously. + +"You might think that I was still in love with him." + +"That would be absurd," said I. + +"Utterly absurd. I should feel it to be almost an insult if you thought +anything of the kind. Long before my marriage things that had happened +had killed all such feelings outright." She paused for a few seconds +and her brow darkened, just as it had done when she had spoken of him +in the days immediately preceding her marriage with Willie Connor. +Presently it cleared. "The whole beginning and end of my present +feelings," she continued, "is that I'm glad the man I once cared for +has won such high distinction, and I'm sorry that such a brave soldier +should be wounded." + +I could do nothing else than assure her of my perfect understanding. I +upbraided myself as a monster of indelicacy for my touch of doubt +before dinner; also for a devilish and malicious suspicion that flitted +through my brain while she was cataloguing her possible reasons for +putting on the old evening dress. The thought of Betty's beautiful arm +and the man's bull-neck was a shivering offence. I craved purification. + +"If you've finished your coffee," I said, "let us go into the +drawing-room and have some music." + +She rose with the impulsiveness of a child told that it can be excused, +and responded startlingly to my thought. + +"I think we need it," she said. + +In the drawing-room I swung my chair so that I could watch her hands on +the keys. She was a good musician and had the well-taught executant's +certainty and grace of movement. It may be the fancy of an outer +Philistine, but I love to forget the existence of the instrument and to +feel the music coming from the human finger-tips. She found a volume of +Chopin's Nocturnes on the rest. In fact she had left it there a +fortnight before, the last time she had played for me. I am very fond +of Chopin. I am an uneducated fellow and the lyrical mostly appeals to +me both in poetry and in music. Besides, I have understood him better +since I have been a crock. And I loved Betty's sympathetic +interpretation. So I sat there, listening and watching, and I knew that +she was playing for the ease of both our souls. Once more I thanked God +for the great gift of Betty to my crippled life. Peace gathered round +my heart as Betty played. + +The raucous buzz of the telephone in the corner of the room knocked the +music to shatters. I cried out impatiently. It was the fault of that +giant of ineptitude Marigold and his incompetent satellites, whose duty +it was to keep all upstairs extensions turned off and receive calls +below. Only two months before I had been the victim of their culpable +neglect, when I was forced to have an altercation with a man at +Harrod's Stores, who seemed pained because I declined to take an +interest in some idiotic remark he was making about fish. + +"I'll strangle Marigold with my own hands," I cried. + +Betty, unmoved by my ferocity, laughed and rose from the piano. + +"Shall I take the call?" + +To Betty I was all urbanity. "If you'll be so kind, dear," said I. + +She crossed the room and stopped the abominable buzzing. + +"Yes. Hold on for a minute. It's the post-office"--she turned to +me--"telephoning a telegram that has just come in. Shall I take it down +for you?" + +More urbanity on my part. She found pencil and paper on an escritoire +near by, and went back to the instrument. For a while she listened and +wrote. At last she said: + +"Are you sure there's no signature?" + +She got the reply, waited until the message had been read over, and +hung up the receiver. When she came round to me--my back had been half +turned to her all the time--I was astonished to see her looking rather +shaken. She handed me the paper without a word. + +The message ran: + +"Thanks yesterday's telegram. Just got home. Queen Victoria Hospital, +Belton Square. Must have talk with you before I communicate with my +mother. Rely absolutely on your discretion. Come to-morrow. Forgive +inconvenience caused, but most urgent." + +"It's from Boyce," I said, looking up at her. + +"Naturally." + +"I suppose he omitted the signature to avoid any possible leakage +through the post-office here." + +She nodded. "What do you think is the matter?" + +"God knows," said I. "Evidently something very serious." + +She went back to the piano seat. "It's odd that I should have taken +down that message," she said, after a while. + +"I'll sack Marigold for putting you in that abominable position," I +exclaimed wrathfully. + +"No, you won't, dear. What does it signify? I'm not a silly child. I +suppose you're going to-morrow?" + +"Of course--for Mrs. Boyce's sake alone I should have no alternative." + +She turned round and began to take up the thread of the Nocturne from +the point where she had left off; but she only played half a page and +quitted the piano abruptly. + +"The pretty little spell is broken, Majy. No matter how we try to +escape from the war, it is always shrieking in upon us. We're up +against naked facts all the time. If we can't face them we go under +either physically or spiritually. Anyhow--" she smiled with just a +little touch of weariness,--"we may as well face them in comfort." + +She pushed my chair gently nearer to the fire and sat down by my side. +And there we remained in intimate silence until Marigold announced the +arrival of her car. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +I shrink morbidly from visiting strange houses. I shrink from the +unknown discomforts and trivial humiliations they may hold for me. I +hate, for instance, not to know what kind of a chair may be provided +for me to sit on. I hate to be carried up many stairs even by my +steel-crane of a Marigold. Just try doing without your legs for a +couple of days, and you will see what I mean. Of course I despise +myself for such nervous apprehensions, and do not allow them to +influence my actions--just as one, under heavy fire, does not satisfy +one's simple yearning to run away. I would have given a year's income +to be able to refuse Boyce's request with a clear conscience; but I +could not. I shrank all the more because my visit in the autumn to +Reggie Dacre had shaken me more than I cared to confess. It had been +the only occasion for years when I had entered a London building other +than my club. To the club, where I was as much at home as in my own +house, all those in town with whom I now and then had to transact +business were good enough to come. This penetration of strange +hospitals was an agitating adventure. Apart, however, from the mere +physical nervousness against which, as I say, I fought, there was +another element in my feelings with regard to Boyce's summons. If I +talk about the Iron Hand of Fate you may think I am using a cliche of +melodrama. Perhaps I am. But it expresses what I mean. Something +unregenerate in me, some lingering atavistic savage instinct towards +freedom, rebelled against this same Iron Hand of Fate that, first +clapping me on the shoulder long ago in Cape Town, was now dragging me, +against my will, into ever thickening entanglement with the dark and +crooked destiny of Leonard Boyce. + +I tell you all this because I don't want to pose as a kind of apodal +angel of mercy. + +I was also deadly anxious as to the nature of the communication Boyce +would make to me, before his mother should be informed of his arrival +in London. In spite of his frank confession, there was still such a +cloud of mystery over the man's soul as to render any revelation +possible. Had his hurt declared itself to be a mortal one? Had he +summoned me to unburden his conscience while yet there was time? Was it +going to be a repetition, with a difference, of my last interview with +Reggie Dacre? I worried myself with unnecessary conjecture. + +After a miserable drive through February rain and slush, I reached my +destination in Belton Square, a large mansion, presumably equipped by +its owner as a hospital for officers, and given over to the nation. A +telephone message had prepared the authorities for my arrival. +Marigold, preceded by the Sister in charge, carried me across a +tesselated hall and began to ascend the broad staircase. + +I uttered a little gasp and looked around me, for in a flash I realised +where I was. Twenty years ago I had danced in this house. I had danced +here with my wife before we were married. On the half landing we had +sat out together. It was the town house of the late Lord Madelow, with +whose wife I shared the acquaintance of a couple of hundred young +dancing men inscribed on her party list. Both were dead long since. To +whom the house belonged now I did not know. But I recognised pictures +and statuary and a conservatory with palms. And the place shimmered +with brilliant ghosts and was haunted by hot perfumes and by the echo +of human voices and by elfin music. And the cripple forgot that he was +being carried up the stairs in the grip of the old soldier. He was +mounting them with heart beating high and the presence of a beloved +hand on his arm.... You see, it was all so sudden. It took my breath +away and sent my mind whirling back over twenty years. + +It was like awaking from a dream to find a door flung open in front of +me and to hear the Sister announce my name. I was on the threshold not +of a ward, but of a well-appointed private room fairly high up and +facing the square, for the first thing I saw was the tops of the +leafless trees through the windows. Then I was conscious of a cheery +fire. The last thing I took in was the bed running at right angles to +door and window, and Leonard Boyce lying in it with bandages about his +face. For the dazed second or two he seemed to be Reggie Dacre over +again. But he had thrown back the bedclothes and his broad chest and +great arms were free. His pleasant voice rang out at once. + +"Hallo! Hallo! You are a good Samaritan. Is that you, Marigold? There's +a comfortable chair by the bedside for Major Meredyth." + +He seemed remarkably strong and hearty; far from any danger of death. +Stubs of cigarettes were lying in an ash-tray on the bed. In a moment +or two they settled me down and left me alone with him. + +As soon as he heard the click of the door he said: + +"I've done more than I set out to do. You remember our conversation. I +said I should either get the V.C. or never see you again. I've managed +both." + +"What do you mean?" I asked. + +"I shall never see you or anybody else again, or a dog or a cat, or a +tree or a flower." + +Then, for the first time the dreadful truth broke upon me. + +"Good Heavens!" I cried. "Your eyes--?" + +"Done in. Blind. It's a bit ironical, isn't it?" He laughed bitterly. + +What I said by way of sympathy and consolation is neither here nor +there. I spoke sincerely from my heart, for I felt overwhelmed by the +tragedy of it all. He stretched out his hand and grasped mine. + +"I knew you wouldn't fail me. Your sort never does. You understand now +why I wanted you to come?--To prepare the old mother for the shock. +You've seen for yourself that I'm sound of wind and limb--as fit as a +fiddle. You can make it quite clear to her that I'm not going to die +yet awhile. And you can let her down easy on the real matter. Tell her +I'm as merry as possible and looking forward to going about +Wellingsford with a dog and string." + +"You're a brave chap, Boyce," I said. + +He laughed again. "You're anticipating. Do you remember what I said +when you asked me what I should do if I won all the pots I set my heart +on and came through alive? I said I should begin to try to be a brave +man. God! It's a tough proposition. But it's something to live for, +anyway." + +I asked him how it happened. + +"I got sick," he replied, "of bearing a charmed life and nothing +happening. The Bosch shell or bullet that could hit me wasn't made. I +could stroll about freely where it was death for anyone else to show +the top of his head. I didn't care. Then suddenly one day things went +wrong. You know what I mean. I nearly let my regiment down. It was +touch and go. And it was touch and go with my career. I just pulled +through, however. I'll tell you all about it one of these days--if +you'll put up with me." + +Again the familiar twitch of the lips which looked ghastly below the +bandaged eyes. "No one ever dreamed of the hell I went through. Then I +found I was losing the nerve I had built up all these months. I nearly +went off my head. At last I thought I would put an end to it. It was a +small attack of ours that had failed. The men poured back over the +parapet into the trench, leaving heaven knows how many dead and wounded +outside. I'm not superstitious and I don't believe in premonitions and +warnings, and so forth; but in cases of waiting like mine a man +suddenly gets to know that his hour has come.... I got in six wounded. +Two men were shot while I was carrying them. How I lived God knows. It +was cold hell. My clothes were torn to rags. As I was going for the +seventh, the knob of my life-preserver was shot away and my wrist +nearly broken. I wore it with a strap, you know. The infernal thing had +been a kind of mascot. When I realised it was gone I just stood still +and shivered in a sudden, helpless funk. The seventh man was crawling +up to me. He had a bloody face and one dragging leg. That's my last +picture of God's earth. Before I could do anything--I must have been +standing sideways on--a bullet got me across the bridge of the nose and +night came down like a black curtain. Then I ran like a hare. Sometimes +I tripped over a man, dead or wounded, and fell on my head. I don't +remember much about this part of it. They told me afterwards. At last I +stumbled on to the parapet and some plucky fellow got me into the +trench. It was the regulation V.C. business," he added, "and so they +gave it to me." + +"Specially," said I. + +"Consolation prize, I suppose, for losing my sight. They had just time +to get me away behind when the Germans counter attacked. If I hadn't +brought the six men in, they wouldn't have had a dog's chance. I did +save their lives. That's something to the credit side of the infernal +balance." + +"There can be no balance now, my dear chap," said I. "God knows you've +paid in full." + +He lifted his hand and dropped it with a despairing gesture. + +"There's only one payment in full. That was denied me. God, or whoever +was responsible, had my eyes knocked out, and made it impossible for +ever. He or somebody must be enjoying the farce." + +"That's all very well," said I. "A man can do no more than his +utmost--as you've done. He must be content to leave the rest in the +hands of the Almighty." + +"The Almighty has got a down on me," he replied. "And I don't blame +Him. Of course, from your point of view, you're right. You're a normal, +honourable soldier and gentleman. Anything you've got to reproach +yourself with is of very little importance. But I'm an accursed freak. +I told you all about it when you held me up over the South African +affair. There were other affairs after that. Others again in this war. +Haven't I just told you I let my regiment down?" + +"Don't, my dear man, don't!" I cried, in great pain, for it was +horrible to hear a man talk like this. "Can't you see you've wiped out +everything?" + +"There's one thing at any rate I can't ever wipe out," he said in a low +voice. Then he laughed. "I've got to stick it. It may be amusing to see +how it all pans out. I suppose the very last passion left us is +curiosity." + +"There's also the unconquerable soul," said I. + +"You're very comforting," said he. "If I were in your place, I'd leave +a chap like me to the worms." He drew a long breath. "I suppose I'll +pull through all right." + +"Of course you will," said I. + +"I feel tons better, thanks to you, already." + +"That's right," said I. + +He fumbled for the box of cigarettes on the bed. Instinctively I tried +to help him, but I was tied to my fixed chair. It was a trivial +occasion; but I have never been so terrified by the sense of +helplessness. Just think of it. Two men of clear brain and, to all +intents and purposes, of sound bodily health, unable to reach an object +a few feet away. Boyce uttered an impatient exclamation. + +"Get hold of that box for me, like a good chap," he said, his fingers +groping wide of the mark. + +"I can't move," said I. + +"Good Lord! I forgot." + +He began to laugh. I laughed, too. We laughed like fools and the tears +ran down my cheeks. I suppose we were on the verge of hysterics. + +I pulled myself together and gave him a cigarette from my case. And +then, stretch as I would, I could not reach far enough to apply the +match to the end of the cigarette between his lips. He was unable to +lift his head. I lit another match and, like an idiot, put it between +his fingers. He nearly burned his moustache and his bandage, and would +have burned his fingers had not the match--a wooden one--providentially +gone out. Then I lit a cigarette myself and handed it to him. + +The incident, as I say, was trivial, but it had deep symbolic +significance. All symbols in their literal objectivity are trivial. +What more trivial than the eating of a bit of bread and the sipping +from a cup of wine? This trumpery business with the cigarette +revolutionised my whole feelings towards Boyce. It initiated us into a +sacred brotherhood. Hitherto, it had been his nature which had reached +out towards me tentacles of despair. My inner self, as I have tried to +show you, had never responded. It was restrained by all kinds of +doubts, suspicions, and repulsions. Now, suddenly, it broke through all +those barriers and rushed forth to meet him. My death in life against +which I had fought, I hope like a brave man (it takes a bit of +fighting) for many years, would henceforth be his death in life, at +whose terrors he too would have to snap a disdainful finger. I had felt +deep pity for him; but if pity is indeed akin to love, it is a very +poor relation. Now I had cast pity and such like superior sentiment +aside and accepted him as a sworn brother. The sins, whatever they +were, that lay on the man's conscience mattered nothing. He had paid in +splendid penance and in terrible penalty. + +I should have liked to express to him something of this surge of +emotion. But I could find no words. As a race, our emotions are not +facile, and therefore we lack the necessary practice in expressing +them. When they do come, they come all of a heap and scare us out of +our wits and leave us speechless. So the immediate outcome of all this +psychological upheaval was that we went on smoking and said nothing +more about it. As far as I remember we started talking about the +recruiting muddle, as to which our views most vigorously coincided. + +We parted cheerily. It was only when I got outside the room that the +ghastly irony of the situation again made my heart as lead. We passed +by the conservatory and the statuary and down the great staircase, but +the ghosts had gone. Yet I cast a wistful glance at the spot--it was +just under that Cuyp with the flashing white horse--where we had sat +twenty years ago. But the new tragedy had rendered the memory less +poignant. + +"It's a dreadful thing about the Colonel, sir," said Marigold as we +drove off. + +"More dreadful than anyone can imagine," said I. + +"What he's going to do with himself is what I'm wondering," said +Marigold. + +What indeed? The question went infinitely deeper than the practical +dreams of Marigold's philosophy. My honest fellow saw but the +outside--the full-blooded man of action cabined in his lifelong +darkness. I, to whom chance had revealed more, trembled at the +contemplation of his future. The man, goaded by the Furies, had rushed +into the jaws of death. Those jaws, by some divine ordinance, had +ruthlessly closed against him. The Furies meanwhile attended him +unrelenting. Whither now would they goad him? Into madness? I doubted +it. In spite of his contradictory nature, he did not seem to be the +sort of man who would go mad. He could exercise over himself too +reasoned a control. Yet here were passions and despairs seething +without an outlet. What would be the end? It is true that he had +achieved glory. To the end of his life, wherever he went, he would +command the honour and admiration of men. Greater achievement is +granted to few mortals. In our little town he would be the Great Hero. +But would all that human sympathy and veneration could contrive keep +the Furies at bay and soothe the tormented spirit? + +I tried to eat a meal at the club, but the food choked me. I got into +the car as soon as possible and reached Wellingsford with head and +heart racked with pain. But before I could go home I had to execute +Boyce's mission. + +If I accomplished it successfully, my heart and not my wearied mind +deserves the credit. At first Mrs. Boyce broke down under the shock of +the news, for all the preparation in the world can do little to soften +a deadly blow; but breed and pride soon asserted themselves, and she +faced things bravely. With charming dignity she received Marigold's few +respectful words of condolence. And she thanked me for what I had done, +beyond my deserts. To show how brave she was, she insisted on +accompanying us downstairs and on standing in the bleak evening air +while Marigold put me in the car. + +"After all, I have my son alive and in good strong health. I must +realise how merciful God has been to me." She put her hand into mine. +"I shan't see you again till I bring him home with me. I shall go up to +London early to-morrow morning and stay with my old friend Lady +Fanshawe--I think you have met her here--the widow of the late Admiral +Fanshawe. She has a house in Eccleston Street, which is, I think, in +the neighbourhood of Belton Square. If I haven't thanked you enough, +dear Major Meredyth, it is that, when one's heart is full, one can't do +everything all at once." + +She waved to me very graciously as the car drove off--a true "Spartian" +mother, dear lady, of our modern England. + +Oh! the humiliation of possessing a frail body and a lot of +disorganized nerves! When I got home Marigold, seeing that I was +overtired, was all for putting me to bed then and there. I spurned the +insulting proposal in language plain enough even to his wooden +understanding. Sometimes his imperturbability exasperated me. I might +just as well try to taunt a poker or sting a fire-shovel into +resentment of personal abuse. + +"I'll see you hanged, drawn, and quartered before I'll go to bed," I +declared. + +"Very good, sir." The gaunt wretch was carrying me. "But I think you +might lie down for half an hour before dinner." + +He deposited me ignominiously on the bed and left the room. In about +ten minutes Dr. Cliffe, my inveterate adversary who has kept life in me +for many a year, came in with his confounded pink smiling face. + +"What's this I hear? Been overdoing it?" + +"What the deuce are you doing here?" I cried. "Go away. How dare you +come when you're not wanted?" + +He grinned. "I'm wanted right enough, old man. The good Marigold's +never at fault. He rang me up and I slipped round at once." + +"One of these days," said I, "I'll murder that fellow." + +He replied by gagging me with his beastly thermometer. Then he felt my +pulse and listened to my heart and stuck his fingers into the corners +of my eyes, so as to look at the whites; and when he was quite +satisfied with himself--there is only one animal more self-complacent +than your medical man in such circumstances, and that is a dog who has +gorged himself with surreptitious meat--he ordained that I should +forthwith go properly to bed and stay there and be perfectly quiet +until he came again, and in the meanwhile swallow some filthy medicine +which he would send round. + +"One of these days," said he, rebukingly, "instead of murdering your +devoted Sergeant, you'll be murdering yourself, if you go on such +lunatic excursions. Of course I'm shocked at hearing about Colonel +Boyce, and I'm sorry for the poor lady, but why you should have been +made to half kill yourself over the matter is more than I can +understand." + +"I happen," said I, "to be his only intimate friend in the place." + +"You happen," he retorted, "to be a chronic invalid and the most +infernal worry of my life." + +"You're nothing but an overbearing bully," said I. + +He grinned again. That is what I have to put up with. If I curse +Marigold, he takes no notice. If I curse Cliffe, he grins. Yet what I +should do without them, Heaven only knows. + +"God bless 'em both," said I, when my aching body was between the cool +sheets. + +Although it was none of his duties, Marigold brought me in a light +supper, fish and a glass of champagne. Never a parlour-maid would he +allow to approach me when I was unwell. I often wondered what would +happen if I were really ill and required the attendance of a nurse. I +swear no nurse's touch could be so gentle as when he raised me on the +pillows. He bent over the tray on the table by the bed and began to +dissect out the back-bone of the sole. + +"I can do that," said I, fretfully. + +He cocked a solitary reproachful eye on me. I burst out laughing. He +looked so dear and ridiculous with his preposterous curly wig and his +battered face. He went on with his task. + +"I wonder, Marigold," said I, "how you put up with me." + +He did not reply until he had placed the neatly arranged tray across my +body. + +"I've never heard, sir," said he, "as how a man couldn't put up with +his blessings." + +A bit of sole was on my fork and I was about to convey it to my mouth, +but there came a sudden lump in my throat and I put the fork down. + +"But what about the curses?" + +A horrible contortion of the face and a guttural rumble indicated +amusement on the part of Marigold. I stared, very serious, having been +profoundly touched. + +"What are you laughing at?" I asked. + +The idiot's merriment increased in vehemence. He said: "You're too +funny, sir," and just bolted, in a manner unbecoming not only to a +sergeant, but even to a butler. + +As I mused on this unprecedented occurrence, I made a discovery,--that +of Sergeant Marigold's sense of humour. To that sense of humour my +upbraidings, often, I must confess, couched in picturesque and +figurative terms so as not too greatly to hurt his feelings, had made +constant appeal for the past fifteen years. Hitherto he had hidden all +signs of humorous titillation behind his impassive mask. To-night, a +spark of sentiment had been the match to explode the mine of his mirth. +It was a serious position. Here had I been wasting on him half a +lifetime's choicest objurgations. What was I to do in the future to +consolidate my authority? + +I never enjoyed a fried sole and a glass of champagne more in my life. + +He came in later to remove the tray, as wooden as ever. + +"Mrs. Connor called a little while ago, sir." + +"Why didn't you ask her to come in to see me?" + +"Doctor's orders, sir." + +After the sole and champagne, I felt much better. I should have +welcomed my dear Betty with delight. That, at any rate, was my first +impulsive thought. + +"Confound the doctor!" I cried. And I was going to confound Marigold, +too, but I caught his steady luminous eye. What was the use of any +anathema when he would only take it away, as a dog does a bone, and +enjoy it in a solitary corner? I recovered myself. + +"Well?" said I, with dignity. "Did Mrs. Connor leave any message?" + +"I was to give you her compliments, sir, and say she was sorry you were +so unwell and she was shocked to hear of Colonel Boyce's sad +affliction." + +This was sheer orderly room. Such an expression as "sad affliction" +never passed Betty's lips. I, however, had nothing to say. Marigold +settled me for the night and left me. + +When I was alone and able to consider the point, I felt a cowardly +gratitude towards the doctor who had put me to bed like a sick man and +forbidden access to my room. I had been spared breaking the news to +Betty. How she received it, I did not know. It had been impossible to +question Marigold. After all, it was a matter of no essential moment. I +consoled myself with the reflection and tried to go to sleep. But I +passed a wretched night, my head whirling with the day's happenings. + +The morning papers showed me that Boyce, wishing to spare his mother, +had been wise to summon me at once. They all published an official +paragraph describing the act for which he had received his distinction, +and announcing the fact of his blindness. They also gave a brief and +flattering sketch of his career. One paper devoted to him a short +leading article. The illustrated papers published his photograph. Boyce +was on the road to becoming a popular hero. + +Cliffe kept me in bed all that day, to my great irritation. I had no +converse with the outside world, save vicariously with Betty, who rang +up to enquire after my health. On the following morning, when I drove +abroad with Hosea, I found the whole town ringing with Boyce. It was a +Friday, the day of publication of the local newspaper. It had run to +extravagant bills all over the place: + +"Wellingsford Hero honoured by the King. Tragic End to Glorious Deeds." + +The word--Marigold's, I suppose--had gone round that I had visited the +hero in London. I was stopped half a dozen times on my way up the High +Street by folks eager for personal details. Outside Prettilove the +hairdresser's I held quite a little reception, and instead of moving me +on for blocking the traffic, as any of his London colleagues would have +done, the local police sergeant sank his authority and by the side of a +butcher's boy formed part of the assembly. + +When I got to the Market Square, I saw Sir Anthony Fenimore's car +standing outside the Town Hall. The chauffeur stopped me. + +"Sir Anthony was going to call on you, sir, as soon as he had finished +his business inside." + +"I'll wait for him," said I. It was one of the few mild days of a +wretched month and I enjoyed the air. Springfield, the house agent, +passed and engaged me in conversation on the absorbing topic, and then +the manager of the gasworks joined us. Everyone listened so reverently +to my utterances that I began to feel as if I had won the Victoria +Cross myself. + +Presently Sir Anthony bustled out of the Town Hall, pink, brisk, full +of business. At the august appearance of the Mayor my less civically +distinguished friends departed. His eyes brightened as they fell on me +and he shook hands vigorously. + +"My dear Duncan, I was just on my way to you. Only heard this morning +that you've been seedy. Knocked up, I suppose, by your journey to town. +Just heard of that, too. Must have thought me a brute not to enquire. +But Edith and I didn't know. I was away all yesterday. These infernal +tribunals. With the example of men like Leonard Boyce before their +eyes, it makes one sick to look at able-bodied young Englishmen trying +to wriggle out of their duty to the country. Well, dear old chap, how +are you?" + +I assured him that I had recovered from Cliffe and was in my usual +state of health. He rubbed his hands. + +"That's good. Now give me all the news. What is Boyce's condition? When +will he be able to be moved? When do you think he'll come back to +Wellingsford?" + +At this series of questions I pricked a curious ear. + +"Am I speaking to the man or the Mayor?" + +"The Mayor," said he. "I wish to goodness I could get you inside, so +that you and I and Winterbotham could talk things over." + +Winterbotham was the Town Clerk. Sir Anthony cast an instinctive glance +at his chauffeur, a little withered elderly man. I laughed and made a +sign of dissent. When you have to be carried about, you shy at the +prospect of little withered, elderly men as carriers. Besides-- + +"Unless it would lower Winterbotham's dignity or give him a cold in the +head," said I, "why shouldn't he come out here?" + +Sir Anthony crossed the pavement briskly, gave a message to the +doorkeeper of the Town Hall, and returned to Hosea and myself. + +"It's a dreadful thing. Dreadful. I never realised till yesterday, when +I read his record, what a distinguished soldier he was. A modern +Bayard. For the last year or so he seemed to put my back up. Behaved in +rather a curious way, never came near the house where once he was +always welcome, and when I asked him to dinner he turned me down flat. +But that's all over. Sometimes one has these pettifogging personal +vanities. The best thing is to be heartily ashamed of 'em like an +honest man, and throw 'em out in the dung-heap where they belong. +That's what I told Edith last night, and she agreed with me. Don't you?" + +I smiled. Here was another typical English gentleman ridding his +conscience of an injustice done to Leonard Boyce. + +"Of course I do," said I. "Boyce is a queer fellow. A man with his +exceptional qualities has to be judged in an exceptional way." + +"And then," said Sir Anthony, "it's that poor dear old lady that I've +been thinking of. Edith went to see her yesterday afternoon, but found +she had gone up to London. In her frail health it's enough to kill her." + +"It won't," said I. "A woman doesn't give birth to a lion without +having something of the lion in her nature." + +"I've never thought of that," said Sir Anthony. + +"Haven't you?" + +His face turned grave and he looked far away over the red-brick +post-office on the opposite side of the square. Then he sighed, looked +at me with a smile, and nodded. + +"You're right, Duncan." + +"I know I am," said I. "I broke the news to Mrs. Boyce. That's why he +asked me to go up and see him." + +Winterbotham appeared--a tall, cadaverous man in a fur coat and a soft +felt hat. He shook hands with me in a melancholy way. In a humbler walk +of life, I am sure he would have been an undertaker. + +"Now," said Sir Anthony, "tell us all about your interview with Boyce." + +"Before I commit myself," said I, "with the Civic Authorities, will you +kindly inform me what this conference coram publico is all about?" + +"Why, my dear chap, haven't I told you?" cried Sir Anthony. "We're +going to give Colonel Boyce a Civic Reception." + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +Thenceforward nothing was talked of but the home-coming of Colonel +Boyce. He touched the public imagination. All kinds of stories, some +apocryphal, some having a basis of truth, some authentic, went the +round of the little place. It simmered with martial fervour. Elderly +laggards enrolled themselves in the Volunteer Training Corps. Young +married men who had not attested under the Derby Scheme rushed out to +enlist. The Tribunal languished in idleness for lack of claimants for +exemption. Exempted men, with the enthusiastic backing of employers, +lost the sense of their indispensability and joined the colours. An +energetic lady who had met the Serbian Minister in London conceived the +happy idea of organising a Serbian Flag Day in Wellingsford, and reaped +a prodigious harvest. We were all tremendously patriotic, living under +Boyce's reflected glory. + +At first I had deprecated the proposal, fearing lest Boyce might not +find it acceptable. The reputation he had sought at the cannon's mouth +was a bubble of a different kind from that which the good townsfolk +were eager to celebrate. Vanity had no part in it. For what the outer +world thought of his exploits he did not care a penny. He was past +caring. His soul alone, for its own sore needs, had driven him to the +search. Before his own soul and not before his fellow countrymen, had +he craved to parade as a recipient of the Victoria Cross. His own soul, +as I knew, not being satisfied, he would shrink from obtaining popular +applause under false pretences. No unhappy man ever took sterner +measure of himself. Of all this no one but myself had the faintest +idea. In explaining my opinion I had to leave out all essentials. I +could only hint that a sensitive man like Colonel Boyce might be averse +from exhibiting in public his physical disabilities; that he had always +shown himself a modest soldier with a dislike of self-advertisement; +that he would prefer to seek immediate refuge in the quietude of his +home. But they would not listen to me. Colonel Boyce, they said, would +be too patriotic to refuse the town's recognition. It was part of the +game which he, as a brave soldier, no matter how modest, could not fail +to play. He would recognise that such public honourings of valour had +widespread effect among the population. In face of such arguments I had +to withdraw my opposition; otherwise it might have appeared that I was +actuated by petty personal motives. God knows I only desired to save +Boyce from undergoing a difficult ordeal. For the same reasons I could +not refuse to serve on the Reception Committee which was immediately +formed under the chairmanship of the Mayor. + +Preliminaries having been discussed, the Mayor and the Town Clerk +waited on Boyce in Belton Square, and returned with the triumphant +tidings that they had succeeded in their mission. + +"I can't make out what you were running your head against, Duncan," +said Sir Anthony. "Of course, as you say, he's a modest chap and +dislikes publicity. So do we all. But I quickly talked him out of that +objection. I talked him out of all sorts of objections before he could +raise them. At last what do you think he said?" + +"I should have told you to go to blazes and not worry me." + +"He didn't. He said--now I like the chap for it, it was so simple and +honest--he said: 'If I were alone in the world I wouldn't have it, for +I don't like it. But I'll accept on one condition. My poor old mother +has had rather a thin time and she's going to have a thinner. She never +gets a look in. Make it as far as possible her show, and I'll do what +you like.' What do you think of that?" + +"I think it's very characteristic," said I. + +And it was. In my mental survey of the situation from Boyce's point of +view I had not taken into account the best and finest in the man. His +reason rang true against my exceptional knowledge of him. I had worked +myself into so sympathetic a comprehension that I KNEW he would be +facing something unknown and terrible in the proposed ceremony; I KNEW +that for his own sake he would have unequivocably declined. But, ad +majorem matris gloriam, he assented. + +The main question, at any rate, was settled. The hero would accept the +honour. It was for the Committee to make the necessary arrangements. We +corresponded far and wide in order to obtain municipal precedents. We +had interviews with the military and railway authorities. We were in +constant communication with the local Volunteer Training Corps; with +the Godbury Volunteers and the Godbury School O.T.C., who both desired +to take a part in the great event. In compliance with the conditions +imposed, we gave as much publicity as we could to Mrs. Boyce. +Lieutenant Colonel Boyce, V.C., and Mrs. Boyce were officially +associated in the programme of the reception. How to disentangle them +afterwards, when the presentation of the address, engrossed on velluni +and enclosed in a casket, should be made to the Colonel, was the +subject of heated and confused discussion. Then the feminine elements +in town and county desired to rally to the side of Mrs. Boyce. The Red +Cross and Volunteer Aid Detachment Nurses claimed representation. So +did the munitions workers of Godbury. The Countess of Laleham, the wife +of the Lord Lieutenant of the County, a most imposing and masterful +woman, signified (in genteel though incisive language) her intention to +take a leading part in the proceedings and to bring along her husband, +apparently as an unofficial ornament. This, of course, upset our plans, +which had all to be reconsidered from the beginning. + +"Who is giving the reception?" cried Lady Fenimore, who could stand +upon her dignity as well as anybody. "The County or Wellingsford? I +presume it's Wellingsford, and, so long as I am Mayoress, that dreadful +Laleham woman will have to take a back seat." + +So, you see, we had our hands full. + +All this time I found Betty curiously elusive. Now and then I met her +for a few fugitive moments at the hospital. Twice she ran in for +dinner, in uniform, desperately busy, arriving on the stroke of the +dinner hour and rushing away five minutes after her coffee and +cigarette, alleging as excuse the epidemic of influenza, consequent on +the vile weather, which had woefully reduced the hospital staff. She +seemed to be feverish and ill at ease, and tried to cover the symptoms +by a reversion to her old offhand manner. As I was so seldom alone with +her I could find scant opportunity for intimate conversation. I thought +that she might have regretted the frank exposition of her feelings +regarding Leonard Boyce. But she showed no sign of it. She spoke in the +most detached way of his blindness and the coming ceremony. Never once, +even on the first occasion when I met her--in the hospital +corridor--after my return from London, did her attitude vary from that +of any kind-hearted Englishwoman who deplores the mutilation of a +gallant social acquaintance. Sometimes I wanted to shake her, though I +could scarcely tell why. I certainly would not have had her weep on my +shoulder over Boyce's misfortune; nor would I have cared for her to +exhibit a vindictive callousness. She behaved with perfect propriety. +Perhaps that is what disturbed me. I was not accustomed to associate +perfect propriety with my dear Betty. + +The days went on. The reception arrangements were perfected. We only +waited for the date of Boyce's arrival to be fixed. That depended on +the date of the particular Investiture by the King which Boyce's +convalescence should allow him to attend. At last the date was fixed. + +A few days before the Investiture I went to London and called at Lady +Fanshawe's in Eccleston Street, whither he had been removed after +leaving the hospital. I was received in the dining-room on the ground +floor by Boyce and his mother. He wore black glasses to hide terrible +disfigurement--he lifted them to show me. One eye had been extracted. +The other was seared and sightless. He greeted me as heartily as ever, +made little jests over his infirmity, treating it lightly for his +mother's sake. She, on her side, deemed it her duty to exhibit equal +cheerfulness. She boasted of his progress in self-reliance and in the +accomplishment of various little blind man's tricks. At her bidding he +lit a cigarette for my benefit, by means of a patent fuse. He said, +when he had succeeded: + +"Better than the last time you saw me, eh, Meredyth?" + +"What was that?" asked Mrs. Boyce. + +"He nearly burned his fingers," said I, shortly. I had no desire to +relate the incident. + +We talked of the coming ceremony and I gave them the details of the +programme. Boyce had been right in accepting on the score of his +mother. Only once had she been the central figure in any public +ceremony--on her wedding day, in the years long ago. Here was a new +kind of wedding day in her old age. The prospect filled her with a +tremulous joy which was to both of them a compensation. She bubbled +over with pride and excitement at her inclusion in the homage that was +to be paid to the valour of her only son. + +"After all," she said, "I did bring him into the world. So I can claim +some credit. I only hope I shan't cry and make a fool of myself. They +won't expect me to keep on bowing, will they? I once saw Queen Victoria +driving through the streets, and I thought how dreadfully her poor old +neck must have ached." + +On the latter point I reassured her. On the drive from the station +Boyce would take the salute of the troops on the line of route. If she +smiled charmingly on them, their hearts would be satisfied, and if she +just nodded at them occasionally in a motherly sort of way, they would +be enchanted. She informed me that she was having a new dress made for +the occasion. She had also bought a new hat, which I must see. A +servant was summoned and dispatched for it. She tried it on girlishly +before the mirror over the mantelpiece, and received my compliments. + +"Tell me what it looks like," said Boyce. + +You might as well ask a savage in Central Africa to describe the +interior of a submarine as the ordinary man to describe a woman's hat. +My artless endeavours caused considerable merriment. To hear Boyce's +gay laughter one would have thought he had never a care in the world ... + +When I took my leave, Mrs. Boyce accompanied Marigold and myself to the +front door. + +"Did you ever hear of anything so dreadful?" she whispered, and I saw +her lips quivering and the tears rolling down her cheeks. "If he +weren't so brave and wonderful, I should break my heart." + +"What do you suppose you are yourself, my dear old friend," said I over +Marigold's shoulder. + +I went away greatly comforted. Both of them were as brave as could be. +For the first time I took a more cheerful view of Boyce's future. + +On the evening before the Reception Betty was shown into the library. +It was late, getting on towards my bedtime, and I was nodding in front +of the fire. + +"I'm just in and out, Majy dear," she said. "I had to come. I didn't +want to give you too many shocks." At my expression of alarm, she +laughed. "I've only run in to tell you that I've made up my mind to +come to the Town Hall tomorrow." + +I looked at her, and I suppose my hands moved in a slight gesture. + +"By that," she said, "I suppose you mean you can never tell what I'm +going to do next." + +"You've guessed it, my dear," said I. + +"Do you disapprove?" + +"I couldn't be so presumptuous." + +She bent over me and caught the lapels of my jacket. + +"Oh, don't be so dreadfully dignified. I want you to understand. +Everybody is going to pay honour to-morrow to a man who has given +everything he could to his country. Don't you think it would be petty +of me if I stood out? What have the dead things that have passed +between us to do with my tribute as an Englishwoman?" + +What indeed? I asked her whether she was attending in her private +capacity or as one of the representatives of the V.A.D. nurses. I +learned for the thousandth time that Betty Connor did not deal in half +measures. If she went at all, it was as Betty Connor that she would go. +Her aunts would accompany her. It was part of the municipal ordering of +things that the Town Clerk should have sent them the special cards of +invitation. + +"I think it my duty to go," said Betty. + +"If you think so, my dear," said I, "then it is your duty. So there's +nothing more to be said about it." + +Betty kissed the top of my head and went off. + +We come now to the morning of the great day. Everything had been +finally settled. The Mayor and Aldermen, Lady Fenimore and the +Aldermen's wives, the Lord Lieutenant (in unofficial mufti) and Lady +Laleham (great though officially obscure lady), the General of the +Division quartered in the neighbourhood and officers of his staff, and +a few other magnates to meet the three o'clock train by which the +Boyces were due to arrive. The station hung with flags and +inscriptions. A guard of honour and a band in the station-yard, with a +fleet of motor cars in waiting. Troops lining the route from station to +Town Hall. More troops in the decorated Market Square, including the +Godbury School O.T.C. and the Wellingsford and Godbury Volunteers. I +heard that the latter were very anxious to fire off a feu de joie, but +were restrained owing to lack of precedent. The local fire-brigade in +freshly burnished helmets were to follow the procession of motor cars, +and behind them motor omnibuses with the nurses. + +Marigold, although his attendance on me precluded him from taking part +in the parade of Volunteers, appeared in full grey uniform with all his +medals and the black patch of ceremony over his eyeless socket. I must +confess to regarding him with some jealousy. I too should have liked to +wear my decorations. If a man swears to you that he is free from such +little vanities, he is more often than not a mere liar. But a +broken-down old soldier, although still drawing pay from the +Government, is not allowed to wear uniform (which I think is +outrageous), and he can't go and plaster himself with medals when he is +wearing on his head a hard felt hat. My envy of the martial looking +Marigold is a proof that my mind was not busied with sterner +preoccupations. I ate my breakfast with the serene conscience not only +of a man who knows he has done his duty, but of an organiser confident +in the success of his schemes. The abominable weather of snows and +tempests from which we had suffered for weeks had undergone a change. +It was a mild morning brightened by a pale convalescent sort of sun, +and there was just a little hope of spring in the air. I felt content +with everything and everybody. + +About eleven o'clock the buzz of the library telephone disturbed my +comfortable perusal of the newspaper. I wheeled towards the instrument. +Sir Anthony was speaking. + +"Can you come round at once? Very urgent. The car is on its way to you." + +"What's the matter?" I asked. + +He could not tell me over the wires. I was to take it that my presence +was urgently needed. + +"I'll come along at once," said I. + +Some hitch doubtless had occurred. Perhaps the War Office (whose ways +were ever weird and unaccountable) had forbidden the General to take +part in such a village-pump demonstration. Perhaps Lady Laleham had +insisted on her husband coming down like a uniformed Lord Lieutenant on +the fold. Perhaps the hero himself was laid up with measles. + +With the lightest heart I drove to Wellings Park. Marigold, straight as +a ramrod, sitting in front by the chauffeur. As soon as Pardoe, the +butler, had brought out my chair and Marigold had settled me in it, Sir +Anthony, very red and flustered, appeared and, shaking me nervously by +the hand, said without preliminary greeting: + +"Come into the library." + +He, I think, had come from the morning room on the right of the hall. +The library was on the left. He flung open the door. I steered myself +into the room; and there, standing on the white bearskin hearthrug, his +back to the fire, his hands in his pockets, his six inches of stiff +white beard stuck aggressively outward, I saw Daniel Gedge. + +While I gaped in astonishment, Sir Anthony shut the door behind him, +drew a straight-backed chair from the wall, planted it roughly some +distance away from the fire, and, pointing to it, bade Gedge sit down. +Gedge obeyed. Sir Anthony took the hearthrug position, his hands behind +his back, his legs apart. + +"This man," said he, "has come to me with a ridiculous, beastly story. +At first I was undecided whether I should listen to him or kick him +out. I thought it wiser to listen to him in the presence of a reputable +witness. That's why I've sent for you, Duncan. Now you just begin all +over again, my man," said he, turning to Gedge, "and remember that +anything you say here will be used against you at your trial." + +Gedge laughed--I must admit, with some justification. + +"You forget, Sir Anthony, I'm not a criminal and you're not a +policeman." + +"I'm the Mayor to this town, sir," cried Sir Anthony. "I'm also a +Justice of the Peace." + +"And I'm a law-abiding citizen," retorted Gedge. + +"You're an infernal socialistic pro-German," exclaimed Sir Anthony. + +"Prove it. I only ask you to prove it. No matter what my private +opinions may be, you just try to bring me up under the Defence of the +Realm Act, and you'll find you can't touch me." + +I held out a hand. "Forgive me for interrupting," said I, "but what is +all this discussion about?" + +Gedge crossed one leg over the other and drew his beard through his +fingers. Sir Anthony was about to burst into speech, but I checked him +with a gesture and turned to Gedge. + +"It has nothing to do with political opinions," said he. "It has to do +with the death, nearly two years ago, of Miss Althea Fenimore, Sir +Anthony's only daughter." + +Sir Anthony, his face congested, glared at him malevolently. I started, +with a gasp of surprise, and stared at the man who, caressing his +beard, looked from one to the other of us with an air of satisfaction. + +"Get on," said Sir Anthony. + +"You are going to give a civic reception to-day to Colonel Boyce, V.C., +aren't you?" + +"Yes, I am," snapped Sir Anthony. + +"Do you think you ought to do it when I tell you that Colonel Boyce, +V.C., murdered Miss Althea Fenimore on the night of the 25th June, two +years ago?" + +"Yes," said Sir Anthony. "And do you know why? Because I know you to be +a liar and a scoundrel." + +I can never describe the awful horror that numbed me to the heart. For +a few moments my body seemed as lifeless as my legs. The charge, +astounding almost to grotesqueness in the eyes of Sir Anthony, and +rousing him to mere wrath, deprived me of the power of speech. For I +knew, in that dreadful instant, that the man's words contained some +elements of truth. + +All the pieces of the puzzle that had worried me at odd times for +months fitted themselves together in a vivid flash. Boyce and Althea! I +had never dreamed of associating their names. That association was the +key of the puzzle. Out of the darkness disturbing things shone clear. +Boyce's abrupt retirement from Wellingsford before the war; his +cancellation by default of his engagement; his morbid desire, a year +ago, to keep secret his presence in his own house; Gedge's veiled +threat to me in the street to use a way "that'll knock all you great +people of Wellingsford off your high horses;" his extraordinary +interview with Boyce; his generally expressed hatred of Boyce. Was this +too the secret which he let out in his cups to Randall Holmes and which +drove the young man from his society? And Betty? Boyce was a devil. She +wished he were dead. And her words: "You have behaved worse to others. +I don't wonder at your shrinking from showing your face here." How much +did Betty know? There was the lost week--in Carlisle?--in poor Althea's +life. And then there were Boyce's half confessions, the glimpses he had +afforded me into the tormented soul. To me he had condemned himself out +of his own mouth. + +I repeat that, sitting there paralysed by the sudden shock of it, I +knew--not that the man was speaking the literal truth--God forbid!--but +that Boyce was, in some degree, responsible for Althea's death. + +"Calling me names won't alter the facts, Sir Anthony," said Gedge, with +a touch of insolence. "I was there at the time. I saw it." + +"If that's true," Sir Anthony retorted, "you're an accessory after the +fact, and in greater danger of being hanged than ever." He turned to me +in his abrupt way. "Now that we've heard this blackguard, shall we hand +him over to the police?" + +Being directly addressed, I recovered my nerve. + +"Before doing that," said I, "perhaps it would be best for us to hear +what kind of a story he has to tell us. We should also like to know his +motives in not denouncing the supposed murderer at once, and in keeping +his knowledge hidden all this time." + +"With regard to the last part of your remarks, I dare say you would," +said Gedge. "Only I don't know whether I'll go so far as to oblige you. +Anyhow you may have discovered that I don't particularly care about +your class. I've been preaching against your idleness and vanity and +vices, and the strangling grip you have on the throats of the people, +ever since I was a young man. If one of your lot chose to do in another +of your lot--a common story of seduction and crime--" + +At this slur in his daughter's honour Sir Anthony broke out fiercely, +and, for a moment, I feared lest he would throw himself on Gedge and +wring his neck. I managed to check his outburst and bring him to +reason. He resumed his attitude on the hearthrug. + +"As I was saying," Gedge continued, rather frightened, "from my +sociological point of view I considered the affair no business of mine. +I speak of it now, because ever since war broke out your class and the +parasitical bourgeoisie have done your best to reduce me to starvation. +I thought it would be pleasant to get a bit of my own back. Just a +little bit," he added, rubbing his hands. + +"If you think you've done it, you'll find yourself mistaken." + +Gedge shrugged his shoulders and pulled his beard. I hated the light in +his little crafty eyes. I feel sure he had been looking forward for +months to this moment of pure happiness. + +"Having given us an insight into your motives, which seem consistent +with what we know of your character," said I, judicially, "will you now +make your statement of facts?" + +"What's the good of listening further to his lies?" interrupted Sir +Anthony. "I'm a magistrate. I can give the police at once a warrant for +his arrest." + +Again I pacified him. "Let us hear what the man has to say." + +Gedge began. He spoke by the book, like one who repeats a statement +carefully prepared. + +"It was past ten o'clock on the night of the 25th June, 1914. I had +just finished supper when I was rung up by the landlord of The Three +Feathers on the Farfield road--it's the inn about a quarter of a mile +from the lock gates. He said that the District Secretary of the Red +Democratic Federation was staying there--his brother-in-law, if you +want to know--and he hadn't received my report. I must explain that I +am the local secretary, and as there was to be an important conference +of the Federation at Derby the next day, the District Secretary ought +to have been in possession of my report on local affairs. I had drawn +up the report. My daughter Phyllis had typed it, and she ought to have +posted it. On questioning her, I found she had neglected to do so. I +explained this over the wires and said I would bring the report at once +to The Three Feathers. I only tell you all this, in which you can't be +interested, so that you can't say: 'What were you doing on a lonely +road at that time of night?' My daughter and the landlord of The Three +Feathers can corroborate this part of my story. I set out on my +bicycle. It was bright moonlight. You know that for about two hundred +yards before the lock gate, and for about twenty after, the towing-path +is raised above the level of the main road which runs parallel with it +a few yards away. There are strips of market garden between. When I got +to this open bit I saw two persons up on the towing-path. One was a +girl with a loose kind of cloak and a hat. The other was a man wearing +a soft felt hat and a light overcoat. The overcoat was open and I saw +that he was wearing it over evening dress. That caught my attention. +What was this swell in evening dress doing there with a girl? I slowed +down and dismounted. They didn't see me. I got into the shadow of a +whitethorn. They turned their faces so that the moon beat full on them. +I saw them as plain as I see you. They were Colonel Boyce, V.C.,--Major +then--and your daughter, Mr. Mayor, Miss Althea Fenimore." + +He paused as though to point the dramatic effect, and twisted round, +sticking out his horrible beard at Sir Anthony. Sir Anthony, his hands +thrust deep in his trouser-pockets and his bullet head bent forward, +glared at him balefully out of his old blue eyes. But he said never a +word. Gedge continued. + +"They didn't speak very loud, so I could only hear a scrap or two of +their conversation. They seemed to be quarrelling--she wanted him to do +something which he wouldn't do. I heard the words 'marriage' and +'disgrace.' They stood still for a moment. Then they turned back. I had +overtaken them, you know. I remounted my bicycle and rode to The Three +Feathers. I was there about a quarter of an hour or twenty minutes. +Then I rode back for home. When I came in sight of the lock, there I +saw a man standing alone, sharp in the moonlight. As I came nearer I +recognised the same man, Major Boyce. There were no lights in the +lock-keeper's cottage. He and his wife had gone to bed long before. I +was so interested that I forgot what I was doing and ran into the hedge +so that I nearly came down. There was the noise of the scrape and drag +of the machine which must have sounded very loud in the stillness. It +startled him, for he looked all round, but he didn't see me, for I was +under the hedge. Then suddenly he started running. He ran as if the +devil was after him. I saw him squash down his Trilby hat so that it +was shapeless. Then he disappeared along the path. I thought this a +queer proceeding. Why should he have taken to his heels? I thought I +should like to see him again. If he kept to the towing-path, his +shortest way home, he was bound to go along the Chestnut Avenue, where, +as you know, the road and the path again come together. On a bicycle it +was easy to get there before him. I sat down on a bench and waited. +Presently he comes, walking fast, his hat still squashed in all over +his ears. I walked my bicycle slap in front of him. + +"'Good-night, Major,' I said. + +"He stared at me as if he didn't know me. Then he seemed to pull +himself together and said: 'Good-night, Gedge. What are you doing out +at this time of night?' + +"'If it comes to that, sir,' said I, 'what are you?' + +"Then he says, very haughty, as if I was the dirt under his feet--I +suppose, Sir Anthony Fenimore and Major Meredyth, you think that me and +my class are by divine prescription the dirt beneath your feet, but +you're damn well mistaken--then he says: 'What the devil do you mean?' +and catches hold of the front wheel of the bicycle and swings it and me +out of his way so that I had a nasty fall, with the machine on top of +me, and he marches off. I picked myself up furious with anger. I am an +elderly man and not accustomed to that sort of treatment. I yelled out: +'What have you been doing with the Squire's daughter on the +towing-path?' It pulled him up short. He made a step or two towards me, +and again he asked me what I meant. And this time I told him. He called +me a liar, swore he had never been on any tow-path or had seen any +squire's daughter, and threatened to murder me. As soon as I could +mount my bicycle I left him and made for home. The next afternoon, if +you remember, the unfortunate young lady's body was found at the bottom +of three fathoms of water by the lock gates." + +He had spoken so clearly, so unfalteringly, that Sir Anthony had been +surprised into listening without interruption. The bull-dog expression +on his face never changed. When Gedge had come to the end, he said: + +"Will you again tell me your object in coming to me with this +disgusting story?" + +Gedge lifted his bushy eyebrows. "Don't you believe it even now?" + +"Not a word of it," replied Sir Anthony. + +"I ought to remind you of another point." said Gedge. "Was Major Boyce +ever seen in Wellingsford after that night? No. He went off by the +first train the next morning. Went abroad and stayed there till the +outbreak of war." + +"I happen to know he had made arrangements to start for Norway that +morning," said Sir Anthony. "He had called here a day or two before to +say good-bye." + +"Did he write you any letter of condolence?" Gedge asked sneeringly. + +I saw a sudden spasm pass over Sir Anthony's features. But he said in +the same tone as before: + +"I am not going to answer insolent questions." + +Gedge turned to me with the air of a man giving up argument with a +child. + +"What do you think of it, Major Meredyth?" + +What could I say? I had kept a grim iron face all through the +proceedings. I could only reply: + +"I agree entirely with Sir Anthony." + +Gedge rose and thrust his hand into his jacket pocket. "You gentlemen +are hard to convince. If you want proof positive, just read that." And +he held a letter out to Sir Anthony. + +Sir Anthony glared at him and abruptly plucked the letter out of his +hand; for the fraction of a second he stood irresolute; then he threw +it behind him into the blazing fire. + +"Do you think I'm going to soil my mind with your dirty forgeries?" + +Gedge laughed. "You think you've queered my pitch, I suppose. You +haven't. I've heaps more incriminating letters. That was only a sample." + +"Publish one of them at your peril," said I. + +"Pray, Mister Major Meredyth," said he, "what is to prevent me?" + +"Penal servitude for malicious slander." + +"I should win my case." + +"In that event they would get you, on your own showing, for being an +accessory after the fact of murder, and for blackmail." + +"Suppose I risk it?" + +"You won't," said I. + +Sir Anthony turned to the bell-push by the side of the mantelpiece. + +"What's the good of talking to this double-dyed scoundrel?" He pointed +to the door. "You infamous liar, get out. And if I ever catch you +prowling round this house, I'll set the dogs on you." + +Gedge marched to the door and turned on the threshold and shook his +fist. + +"You'll repent your folly till your dying day!" + +"To Hell with you," cried Sir Anthony. + +The door slammed. We were left alone. An avalanche of silence +overwhelmed us. Heaven knows how long we remained speechless and +motionless--I in my wheel-chair, he standing on the hearthrug staring +awfully in front of him. At last he drew a deep breath and threw up his +arms and flung himself down on a leather-covered couch, where he sat, +elbows on knees and his head in his hands. After a while he lifted a +drawn face. + +"It's true, Duncan," said he, "and you know it." + +"I don't know it," I replied stoutly, "any more than you do." + +He rose in his nervous way and came swiftly to me and clapped both his +hands on my frail shoulders and bent over me--he was a little man, as I +have told you--and put his face so close to mine that I could feel his +breath on my cheek. + +"Upon your soul as a Christian you know that man wasn't lying." + +I looked into his eyes--about six inches from mine. + +"Boyce never murdered Althea," I said. + +"But he is the man--the man I've been looking for." + +I pushed him away with both hands, using all my strength. It was too +horrible. + +"Suppose he is. What then?" + +He fell back a pace or two. "Once I remember saying: 'If ever I get +hold of that man--God help him!'" + +He clenched his fists and started to pace up and down the library, +passing and repassing my chair. At last my nerves could stand it no +longer and I called on him to halt. + +"Gedge's story is curiously incomplete," said I. "We ought to have +crossexamined him more closely. Is it likely that Boyce should have +gone off leaving behind him a witness of his crime whom he had +threatened to murder, and who he must have known would have given +information as soon as the death was discovered? And don't you think +Gedge's reason for holding his tongue very unconvincing? His fool +hatred of our class, instead of keeping him cynically indifferent, +would have made him lodge information at once and gloat over our +discomfiture." + +I could not choose but come to the defence of the unhappy man whom I +had learned to call my friend, although, for all my trying, I could +conjure up no doubt as to his intimate relation with the tragedy. As +Sir Anthony did not speak, I went on. + +"You can't judge a man with Leonard Boyce's record on the EX PARTE +statement of a malevolent beast like Gedge. Look back. If there had +been any affair between Althea and Boyce, the merest foolish +flirtation, even, do you think it would have passed unnoticed? You, +Edith, Betty--I myself--would have cast an uneasy eye. When we were +looking about, some months ago, at the time of your sister-in-law's +visit, for a possible man, the thought of Leonard Boyce never entered +our heads. The only man you could rush at was young Randall Holmes, and +I laughed you out of the idea. Just throw your mind back, Anthony, and +try to recall any suspicious incident. You can't." + +I paused rhetorically, expecting a reply. None came. He just sat +looking at me in a dead way. I continued my special pleading; and the +more I said, the more was I baffled by his dead stare and the more +unconvincing platitudes did I find myself uttering. Some people may be +able to speak vividly to a deaf and dumb creature. On this occasion I +tried hard to do so, and failed. After a while my words dribbled out +with difficulty and eventually ceased. At last he spoke, in the dull, +toneless way of a dead man--presuming that the dead could speak: + +"You may talk till you're black in the face, but you know as well as I +do that the man told the truth--or practically the truth. What he said +he saw, he saw. What motives have been at the back of his miserable +mind, I don't know. You say I can't recall suspicious incidents. I can. +I'll tell you one. I came across them once--about a month before the +thing happened--among the greenhouses. I think we were having one of +our tennis parties. I heard her using angry words, and when I appeared +her face was flushed and there were tears in her eyes. She was taken +aback for a second and then she rushed up to me. 'I think he's +perfectly horrid. He says that Jingo--' pointing to the dog; you +remember Jingo the Sealingham--she was devoted to him--he died last +year--'He says that Jingo is a mongrel--a throw back.' Boyce said he +was only teasing her and made pretty apologies. I left it at that. Hit +a dog or a horse belonging to Althea, and you hit Althea. That was her +way. The incident went out of my mind till this morning. Other +incidents, too. One thinks pretty quick at times. Again, this scoundrel +hit me on the raw. Boyce never wrote to us. Sent us through his mother +a conventional word of condolence. Edith and I were hurt. That was one +of the things that made me speak so angrily of him when he wouldn't +come and dine with us." + +Once more I pleaded. "Your Sealingham incident doesn't impress me. Why +not take it at its face value? As for the letter of condolence, that +may have twenty explanations." + +He passed his hand over his cropped iron-grey head. "What are you +driving at, Duncan? You know as well as I do--you know more than I do. +I saw it in your face ever since that man opened his mouth." + +"If you're so sure of everything," said I foolishly, relaxing grip on +my self-control, "why did you hound him out of the place for a liar?" + +He leaped to his feet and spread himself into a fighting attitude, for +all the world like a half-dead bantam cock springing into a new lease +of combative life. + +"Do you think I'd let a dunghill beast like that crow over me? Do you +think I'd let him imagine for a minute that anything he said could +influence me in my public duty? By God, sir, what kind of a worm do you +think I am?" + +His sudden fury disconcerted me. All this time I had been wondering +what kind of catastrophe was going to happen during the next few hours. +I am afraid I haven't made clear to you the ghastly racket in my brain. +There was the town all beflagged, everyone making holiday, all the pomp +and circumstance at our disposal awaiting the signal to be displayed. +There was the blind conquering hero almost on his way to local +apotheosis. And here were Sir Anthony and I with the revelation of the +man Gedge. It was a fantastic, baffling situation. I had been haunted +by the dread of discussing it. So in reply to his outburst I simply +said: + +"What are you going to do?" + +He drew himself up, with his obstinate chin in the air, and looked at +me straight. + +"If God gives me strength, I am going to do what lies before me." + +At this moment Lady Fenimore came in. + +"Mr. Winterbotham would like to speak to you a minute, Anthony. It's +something about the school children." + +"All right, my dear. I'll go to him at once," said Sir Anthony. "You'll +stay and lunch with us, Duncan?" + +I declined on the plea that I should have to nurse myself for a +strenuous day. Sir Anthony might play the Roman father, but it was +beyond my power to play the Roman father's guest. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +How he passed through the ordeal I don't know. If ever a man stood +captain of his soul, it was Anthony Fenimore that day. And his soul was +steel-armoured. Perhaps, if proof had come to him from an untainted +source, it might have modified his attitude. I cannot tell. Without +doubt the knavery of Gedge set aflame his indignation--or rather the +fierce pride of the great old Tory gentleman. He would have walked +through hell-fire sooner than yielded an inch to Gedge. So much would +scornful defiance have done. But behind all this--and I am as certain +of it as I am certain that one day I shall die--burned even fiercer, +steadier, and clearer the unquenchable fire of patriotic duty. He was +dealing not with a man who had sinned terribly towards him, but with a +man who had offered his life over and over again to his country, a man +who had given to his country the sight of his eyes, a man on whose +breast the King himself had pinned the supreme badge of honour in his +gift. He was dealing, not with a private individual, but with a +national hero. In his small official capacity as Mayor of Wellingsford, +he was but the mouthpiece of a national sentiment. And more than that. +This ceremony was an appeal to the unimaginative, the sluggish, the +faint-hearted. In its little way--and please remember that all +tremendous enthusiasms are fit by these little fires--it was a +proclamation of the undying glory of England. It was impersonal, it was +national, it was Imperial. In its little way it was of vast, +far-reaching importance. + +I want you to remember these things in order that you should understand +the mental processes, or soul processes, or whatever you like, of Sir +Anthony Fenimore. Picture him. The most unheroic little man you can +imagine. Clean-shaven, bullet-headed, close-cropped, his face ruddy and +wrinkled like a withered apple, his eyes a misty blue, his big nose +marked like a network of veins, his hands glazed and reddened, like his +face, by wind and weather; standing, even under his mayoral robes, like +a jockey. Of course he had the undefinable air of breeding; no one +could have mistaken his class. But he was an undistinguished, very +ordinary looking little man; and indeed he had done nothing for the +past half century to distinguish himself above his fellows. There are +thousands of his type, masters of English country houses. And of all +the thousands, every one brought up against the stern issues of life +would have acted like Anthony Fenimore. I say "would have acted," but +anyone who has lived in England during the war knows that they have so +acted. These incarnations of the commonplace, the object of the +disdain, before the war, of the self-styled "intellectuals"--if the war +sweeps the insufferable term into oblivion it will have done some +good--these honest unassuming gentlemen have responded heroically to +the great appeal; and when the intellectuals have thought of their +intellects or their skins, they have thought only of their duty. And it +was only the heroical sense of duty that sustained Sir Anthony Fenimore +that day. + +I did not see the reception at the Railway Station or join the +triumphal procession; but went early to the Town Hall and took my seat +on the platform. I glibly say "took my seat." A wheel-chair, sent there +previously, was hoisted, with me inside, on to the platform by Marigold +and a porter. After all these years, I still hate to be publicly +paraded, like a grizzled baby, in Marigold's arms. For convenience' +sake I was posted at the front left-hand corner. The hall soon filled. +The first three rows of seats were reserved for the recipients of the +municipality's special invitation; the remainder were occupied by the +successful applicants for tickets. From my almost solitary perch I +watched the fluttering and excited crowd. The town band in the organ +gallery at the further end discoursed martial music. From the main door +beneath them ran the central gangway to the platform. I recognised many +friends. In the front row with her two aunts sat Betty, very demure in +her widow's hat relieved by its little white band of frilly stuff +beneath the brim. She looked unusually pale. I could not help watching +her intently and trying to divine how much she knew of the story of +Boyce and Althea. She caught my eye, nodded, and smiled wanly. + +My situation was uncanny. In this crowded assemblage in front of me, +whispering, talking, laughing beneath the blare of the band, not one, +save Betty, had a suspicion of the tragedy. At times they seemed to +melt into a shadow-mass of dreamland .... Time crawled on very slowly. +Anxious forebodings oppressed me. Had Sir Anthony's valiancy stood the +test? Had he been able to shake hands with his daughter's betrayer? Had +he broken down during the drive side by side with him, amid the +hooraying of the townsfolk? And Gedge? Had he found some madman's means +of proclaiming the scandal aloud? Every nerve in my body was strained. +Marigold, in his uniform and medals and patch and grey service cap +plugged over his black wig, stood sentry by the side of the platform +next my chair. All of a sudden he pulled out of his side pocket a phial +of red liqueur in a medicine glass. He poured out the dose and handed +it to me. I turned on him wrathfully. + +"What the dickens is that?" + +"Dr. Cliffe's orders, sir." + +"When did he order it?" + +"When I told him what you looked like after interviewing Mister Daniel +Gedge. And he said, if you was to look like that again I was to give +you this. So I'm giving it to you, sir." + +There was no arguing with Marigold in front of a thousand people. I +swallowed the stuff quickly. He put the phial and glass back in his +pocket and resumed his wooden sentry attitude by my chair. I must own +to feeling better for the draught. But, thought I, if the strain of the +situation is so great for me, what must it be for Sir Anthony? + +Presently the muffled sounds of outside cheering penetrated the hall. +The band stopped abruptly, to begin again with "See the Conquering Hero +Comes" when the civic procession appeared through the great doors. +There was little Sir Anthony in his robes, grave and imposing, and +beside him Mrs. Boyce, flushed, bright-eyed, and tearful. Then came +Lady Fenimore with Boyce, black-spectacled, soldierly, bull-necked, his +little bronze cross conspicuous among the medals on his breast, his +elbow gripped by a weatherbeaten young soldier, one of his captains, as +I learned afterwards, home on leave, who had claimed the privilege of +guiding his blind footsteps. And behind came the Aldermen and the +Councillors, and the General and his staff, and the Lord Lieutenant and +Lady Laleham and the other members of the Reception Committee. The +cheering drowned the strains of the "Conquering Hero." Places were +taken on the platform. To the right of the Mayor sat Boyce, to the left +his mother. On the table in front were set scrolls and caskets. You +see, we had arranged that Mrs. Boyce should have an address and a +casket all to herself. The gallery soon was picturesquely filled with +the nurses, and the fire-brigade, bright-helmeted, was massed in the +doorway. + +God gave the steel-hearted little man strength to go through the +ordeal. He delivered his carefully prepared oration in a voice that +never faltered. The passages referring to Boyce's blindness he spoke +with an accent of amazing sincerity. When he had ended the responsive +audience applauded tumultuously. From my seat by the edge of the +platform I watched Betty. Two red spots burned in her cheeks. The +addresses were read, the caskets presented. Boyce remained standing, +about to respond. He still held the casket in both hands. His FIDUS +ACHATES, guessing his difficulty, sprang up, took it from him, and laid +it on the table. Boyce turned to him with his charming smile and said: +"Thanks, old man." Again the tumult broke out. Men cheered and women +wept and waved wet handkerchiefs. And he stood smiling at his unseen +audience. When he spoke, his deep, beautifully modulated voice held +everyone under its spell, and he spoke modestly and gaily like a brave +gentleman. I bent forward, as far as I was able, and scanned his face. +Never once, during the whole ceremony, did the tell-tale twitch appear +at the corners of his lips. He stood there the incarnation of the +modern knights sans fear and sans reproach. + +I cannot tell which of the two, he or Sir Anthony, the more moved my +wondering admiration. Each exhibited a glorious defiance. + +You may say that Boyce, receiving in his debonair fashion the encomiums +of the man whom he had wronged, was merely exhibiting the familiar +callousness of the criminal. If you do, I throw up my brief. I shall +have failed utterly to accomplish my object in writing this book. I +want no tears of sensibility shed over Boyce. I want you to judge him +by the evidence that I am trying to put before you. If you judge him as +a criminal, it is my poor presentation of the evidence that is at +fault. I claim for Boyce a certain splendour of character, for all his +grievous sins, a splendour which no criminal in the world's history has +ever achieved. I beg you therefore to suspend your judgment, until I +have finished, as far as my poor powers allow, my unravelling of his +tangled skein. And pray remember too that I have sought all through to +present you with the facts PARI PASSU with my knowledge of them. I have +tried to tell the story through myself. I could think of no other way +of creating an essential verisimilitude. Yet, even now, writing in the +light of full knowledge, I cannot admit that, when Boyce in that Town +Hall faced the world--for, in the deep tragic sense Wellingsford was +his world--anyone knowing as much as I did would have been justified in +calling his demeanour criminal callousness. + +I say that he exhibited a glorious defiance. He defied the concrete +Gedge. He defied the more abstract, but none the less real, tormenting +Furies. He defied remorse. In accepting Sir Anthony's praise he defied +the craven in his own soul. + +After a speech or two more, to which I did not listen, the proceedings +in the Town Hall ended. I drew a breath of relief. No breakdown by Sir +Anthony, no scandalous interruption by Gedge, had marred the impressive +ceremony. The band in the gallery played "God Save the King." The crowd +in the body of the hall, who had stood for the anthem, sat down again, +evidently waiting for Boyce and the notables to pass out. The +assemblage on the platform broke up. Several members, among them the +General, who paused to shake hands with Boyce and his mother, left the +hall by the private side door. The Lord Lieutenant and Lady Laleham +followed him soon afterwards. Then the less magnificent crowded round +Boyce, each eager for a personal exchange of words with the hero. Sir +Anthony remained at his post, keeping on the outskirts of the throng, +bidding formal adieux to those who went away. Presently I saw that +Boyce was asking for me, for someone pointed me out to his officer +attendant, who led him down the steps of the platform and round the +edge to my seat. + +"Well, it has gone off all right," said he. "Let me introduce Captain +Winslow, more than ever my right-hand man--Major Meredyth." + +We exchanged bows. + +"The old mother's as pleased as Punch. She didn't know she was going to +get a little box of her own. I should like to have seen her face. I did +hear her give one of her little squeals. Did you?" + +"No," said I, "but I saw her face. It was that of a saint in an +unexpected beatitude." + +He laughed. "Dear old mother," said he. "She has deserved a show." He +turned away unconsciously, and, thinking to address me, addressed the +first row of spectators. "I suppose there's a lot of folks here that I +know." + +By chance he seemed to be looking through his black glasses straight at +Betty a few feet away. She rose impulsively and, before all +Wellingsford, went up to him with hand outstretched. + +"There's one at any rate, Colonel Boyce. I'm Betty Connor--" + +"No need to tell me that," said he, bowing. + +Winslow, at his elbow, most scrupulous of prompters, whispered: + +"She wants to shake hands with you." + +So their hands met. He kept hers an appreciable second or two in his +grasp. + +"I hope you will accept my congratulations," said Betty. + +"I have already accepted them, very gratefully. My mother conveyed them +to me. She was deeply touched by your letter. And may I, too, say how +deeply touched I am by your coming here?" + +Betty looked swiftly round and her cheeks flushed, for there were many +of us within earshot. She laughed off her embarrassment. + +"You have developed from a man into a Wellingsford Institution, and I +had to come and see you inaugurated. My aunts, too, are here." She +beckoned to them. "They are shyer than I am." + +The elderly ladies came forward and spoke their pleasant words of +congratulation. Mrs. Holmes and others, encouraged, followed their +example. Mrs. Boyce suddenly swooped from the platform into the middle +of the group and kissed Betty, who emerged from the excited lady's +embrace blushing furiously. She shook hands with Betty's aunts and +thanked them for their presence; and in the old lady's mind the +reconciliation of the two houses was complete. Then, with cheeks of a +more delicate natural pink than any living valetudinarian of her age +could boast of, and with glistening eyes, she made her way to me, and +reaching up and drawing me down, kissed me, too. + +While all this was going on, the body of the hall began to empty. The +programme had arranged for nothing more by way of ceremonial to take +place. But a public gathering always hopes for something unexpected, +and, when it does not happen, takes its disappointment philosophically. +I think Betty's action must have shown them that the rest of the +proceedings were to be purely private and informal. + +The platform also gradually thinned, until at last, looking round, I +saw that only Sir Anthony and Lady Fenimore and Winterbotham, the Town +Clerk, remained. Then Lady Fenimore joined us. We were about a score, +myself perched on the edge and corner of the platform, the rest +standing on the floor of the hall in a sector round me, Marigold, of +course, in the middle of them by my side, like an ill-graven image. As +soon as she could Lady Fenimore came up to me. + +"Don't you think it splendid of Betty Connor to bury the hatchet so +publicly?" she whispered. + +"The war," said I, "is a solvent of many human complications." + +"It is indeed." Then she added: "I am going to have a little dinner +party some time soon for the Boyces. I sounded him to-day and he +practically promised. I'll ask the Lalehams. Of course you'll come. Now +that things have shown themselves so topsy-turvy I've been wondering +whether I should ask Betty." + +"Does Anthony know of this dinner party?" I enquired. + +"What does it matter whether he does or not?" she laughed. "Dinner +parties come within my province and I'm mistress of it." + +Of course Boyce had half promised. What else could he do without +discourtesy? But the banquet which, in her unsuspecting innocence she +proposed, seemed to me a horrible meal. Doubtless it would seem so to +Sir Anthony. At the moment I did not know whether he intended to tell +Gedge's story to his wife. At any rate, hitherto, he had not done so. + +"All the same, my dear Edith," I replied, "Anthony may have a word to +say. I happen to know he has no particular personal friendship for +Boyce, who, if you'll forgive my saying so, has treated you rather +cavalierly for the past two years. Anthony's welcome to-day was purely +public and official. It had nothing to do with his private feelings." + +"But they have changed. He was referring to the matter only this +morning at breakfast and suggesting things we could do to lighten the +poor man's affliction." + +"I don't think a dinner party would lighten it," I said. "And if I were +you, I wouldn't suggest it to Anthony." + +"That's rather mysterious." She looked at me shrewdly. "And there's +another mysterious thing. Anthony's like a yapping sphinx over it. What +were you two talking to Gedge about this morning?" + +"Nothing particular." + +"That's nonsense, Duncan. Gedge was making himself unpleasant. He never +does anything else." + +"If you want to know," said I, with a convulsive effort of invention, +"we heard that he was preparing some sort of demonstration, going to +bring down some of his precious anti-war-league people." + +"He wouldn't have the pluck," she exclaimed. + +"Anyhow," said I, "we thought we had better have him in and read him +the Riot--or rather the Defence of the Realm--Act. That's all." + +"Then why on earth couldn't Anthony tell me?" + +"You ought to know the mixture of sugar and pepper in your husband's +nature better than I do, my dear Edith," I replied. + +Her laugh reassured me. I had turned a difficult corner. No doubt she +would go to Sir Anthony with my explanation and either receive his +acquiescence or learn the real truth. + +She was bidding me farewell when Sir Anthony came along the platform to +the chair. I glanced up, but I saw that he did not wish to speak to me. +He was looking grim and tired. He called down to his wife: + +"It's time to move, dear. The troops are still standing outside." + +She bustled about giving the signal for departure, first running to +Boyce and taking him by the sleeve. I had not noticed that he had +withdrawn with Betty a few feet away from the little group. They were +interrupted in an animated conversation. At the sight I felt a keen +pang of repulsion. Those two ought not to talk together as old friends. +It outraged decencies. It was all very well for Betty to play the +magnanimous and patriotic Englishwoman. By her first word of welcome +she had fulfilled the part. But this flushed, eager talk lay far beyond +the scope of patriotic duty. How could they thus converse over the body +of the dead Althea? With both of them was I indignant. + +In my inmost heart I felt horribly and vulgarly jealous. I may as well +confess it. Deeply as I had sworn blood-brotherhood with Boyce, +regardless of the crimes he might or might not have committed, I could +not admit him into that inner brotherhood of which Betty and I alone +were members. And this is just a roundabout, shame-faced way of saying +that, at that moment, I discovered that I was hopelessly, insanely in +love with Betty. The knowledge came to me in a great wave of dismay. + +"You'll let me see you again, won't you?" he asked. + +"If you like." + +I don't think I heard the words, but I traced them on their lips. They +parted. Sir Anthony descended from the platform and gave his arm to +Mrs. Boyce. Lady Fenimore still clung to Boyce. Winterbotham came next, +bearing the two caskets, which had been lying neglected on the table. +The sparse company followed down the empty hall. Marigold signalled to +the porter and they hoisted down my chair. Betty, who had lingered +during the operation, walked by my side. Being able now to propel +myself, I dismissed Marigold to a discreet position in the rear. Betty, +her face still slightly flushed, said: + +"I'm waiting for congratulations which seem to be about as overwhelming +as snow in August. Don't you think I've been extraordinarily good?" + +"Do you feel good?" + +"More than good," she laughed. "Christianlike. Aren't we told in the +New Testament to forgive our enemies?" + +"'And love those that despitefully use us?'" I misquoted maliciously. A +sudden gust of anger often causes us to do worse things than trifle +with the text of the Sermon on the Mount. + +She turned on me quickly, as though stung. "Why not? Isn't the sight of +him maimed like that enough to melt the heart of a stone?" + +I replied soberly enough. "It is indeed." + +I had already betrayed my foolish jealousy. Further altercation could +only result in my betraying Boyce. I did not feel very happy. Conscious +of having spoken to me with unwonted sharpness, she sought to make +amends by laying her hand on my shoulder. + +"I think, dear," she said, "we're all on rather an emotional edge +to-day." + +We reached the front door of the hall. At the top of the shallow flight +of broad stairs the little group that had preceded us stood behind +Boyce, who was receiving the cheers of the troops--soldiers and +volunteers and the Godbury School Officers' Training Corps--drawn up in +the Market Square. When the cheers died away the crowd raised cries for +a speech. + +Again Boyce spoke. + +"The reception you have given my mother and myself," he said, "we +refuse to take personally. It is a reception given to the soldiers, and +the mothers and wives of soldiers, of the Empire, of whom we just +happen to be the lucky representatives. Whole regiments, to say nothing +of whole armies, can't all, every jack man, receive Victoria Crosses. +But every regiment very jealously counts up its honours. You'll hear +men say: 'Our regiment has two V.C.s, five D.S.O.s, and twenty +Distinguished Conduct Medals.' and the feeling is that all the honours +are lumped together and shared by everybody, from the Colonel to the +drummer-boys. And each individual is proud of his share because he +knows that he deserves it. And so it happens that those whom chance has +set aside for distinction, like the lucky winners in a sweepstake, are +the most embarrassed people you can imagine, because everybody is doing +everything that they did every day in the week. For instance, if I +began to tell you a thousandth part of the dare-devil deeds of my +friend here, Captain Winslow of my regiment, he would bolt like a +rabbit into the Town Hall and fall on his knees and pray for an +earthquake. And whether the earthquake came off or not, I'm sure he +would never speak to me again. And they're all like that. But in +honouring me you are honouring him, and you're honouring our regiment, +and you're honouring the army. And in honouring Mrs. Boyce, you are +honouring that wonderful womanhood of the Empire that is standing +heroically behind their men in the hell upon God's good earth which is +known as the front." + +It was a soldierlike little speech, delivered with the man's gallant +charm. Young Winslow gripped his arm affectionately and I heard him +say--"You are a brute, sir, dragging me into it." The little party +descended the steps of the Town Hall. The words of command rang out. +The Parade stood at the salute, which Boyce acknowledged. Guided by +Winslow and his mother he reached his car, to which he was attended by +the Mayor and Mayoress. After formal leave-taking the Boyces and +Winslow drove off amid the plaudits of the crowd. Then Sir Anthony and +Lady Fenimore. Then Betty and her aunts. Last of all, while the troops +were preparing to march away and the crowd was dispersing and all the +excitement was over, Marigold picked me out of my chair and carried me +down to my little grey two-seater. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +Of course, after this (in the words of my young friends) I crocked up. +The confounded shell that had played the fool with my legs had also +done something silly to my heart. Hence these collapses after physical +and emotional strain. I had to stay in bed for some days. Cliffe told +me that as soon as I was fit to travel I must go to Bournemouth, where +it would be warm. I told Cliffe to go to a place where it would be +warmer. As neither of us would obey the other, we remained where we +were. + +Cliffe informed me that Lady Fenimore had called him in to see Sir +Anthony, whom she described as being on the obstinate edge of a nervous +breakdown. I was sorry to hear it. + +"I suppose you've tried to send him, too, to Bournemouth?" + +"I haven't," Cliffe replied gravely. "He has got something on his mind. +I'm sure of it. So is his wife. What's the good of sending him away?" + +"What do you think is on his mind?" I asked. + +"How do I know? His wife thinks it must be something to do with Boyce's +reception. He went home dead-beat, is very irritable, off his food, +can't sleep, and swears cantankerously that there's nothing the matter +with him,--the usual symptoms. Can you throw any light on it?" + +"Certainly not," I replied rather sharply. + +Cliffe said "Umph!" in his exasperating professional way and proceeded +to feel my pulse. + +"I don't quite see how Friday's mild exertion could account for YOUR +breakdown, my friend," he remarked. + +"I'm so glad you confess, at last, not to seeing everything," said I. + +I was fearing this physical reaction in Sir Anthony. It was only the +self-assertion of Nature. He had gone splendidly through his ordeal, +having braced himself up for it. He had not braced himself up, however, +sufficiently to go through the other and far longer ordeal of hiding +his secret from his wife. So of course he went to pieces. + +After Cliffe had left me, with his desire for information unsatisfied, +I rang up Wellings Park. It was the Sunday morning after the reception. +To my surprise, Sir Anthony answered me; for he was an old-fashioned +country churchgoer and plague, pestilence, famine, battle, murder and +sudden death had never been known to keep him out of his accustomed pew +on Sunday morning. Edith, he informed me, had gone to church; he +himself, being as nervous as a cat, had funked it; he was afraid lest +he might get up in the middle of the sermon and curse the Vicar. + +"If that's so," said I, "come round here and talk sense. I've something +important to say to you." + +He agreed and shortly afterwards he arrived. I was shocked to see him. +His ruddy face had yellowed and the firm flesh had loosened and sagged. +I had never noticed that his stubbly hair was so grey. He could +scarcely sit still on the chair by my bedside. + +I told him of Cliffe's suspicions. We were a pair of conspirators with +unavowable things on our minds which were driving us to nervous +catastrophe. Edith, said I, was more suspicious even than Cliffe. I +also told him of our talk about the projected dinner party. + +"That," he declared, "would drive me stark, staring mad." + +"So will continuing to hide the truth from Edith," said I. "How do you +suppose you can carry on like this?" + +He grew angry. How could he tell Edith? How could he make her +understand his reason for welcoming Boyce? How could he prevent her +from blazing the truth abroad and crying aloud for vengeance? What kind +of a fool's counsel was I giving him? + +I let him talk, until, tired with reiteration, he had nothing more to +say. Then I made him listen to me while I expounded that which was +familiar to his obstinate mind--namely, the heroic qualities of his own +wife. + +"It comes to this," said I, by way of peroration, "that you're afraid +of Edith letting you down, and you ought to be ashamed of yourself." + +At that he flared out again. How dared I, he asked, eating his words, +suggest that he did not trust the most splendid woman God had ever +made? Didn't I see that he was only trying to shield her from knowledge +that might kill her? I retorted by pointing out that worry over his +insane behaviour--please remember that above our deep unchangeable +mutual affection, a violent surface quarrel was raging--would more +surely and swiftly kill her than unhappy knowledge. Her quick +brain--had already connected Gedge, Boyce, and his present condition as +the main factors of some strange problem. "Her quick brain!" I cried. +"A half idiot child would have put things together." + +Presently he collapsed, sitting hopelessly, nervelessly in his chair. +At last he lifted a piteously humble face. + +"What would you suggest my doing, Duncan?" + +There seemed to me to be only one thing he could do in order to +preserve, if not his reason, at any rate his moral equilibrium in the +position which he had contrived for himself. To tell him this had been +my object in seeking the interview, and the blessed opportunity only +came after an hour's hard wrangle--in current metaphor after an hour's +artillery preparation for attack. He looked so battered, poor old +Anthony, that I felt almost ashamed of the success of my bombardment. + +"It's not a question of suggesting," said I. "It's a question of things +that have to be done. You need a holiday. You've been working here at +high pressure for nearly a couple of years. Go away. Put yourself in +the hands of Cliffe, and go to Bournemouth, or Biarritz, or Bahia, or +any beastly place you can fix up with him to go to. Go frankly, for +three or four months. Go to-morrow. As soon as you're well out of the +place, tell Edith the whole story. Then you can take counsel and +comfort together." + +He was in the state of mind to be impressed by my argument. I followed +up my advantage. I undertook to send a ruthless flaming angel of a +Cliffe to pronounce the inexorable decree of exile. After a few +faint-hearted objections he acquiesced in the scheme. I fancy he +revolted against even this apparent surrender to Gedge, although he was +too proud to confess it. No man likes running away. Sir Anthony also +regarded as pusillanimous the proposal to leave his wife in ignorance +until he had led her into the trap of holiday. Why not put her into his +confidence before they started? + +"That," said I, "is a delicate question which only you yourself can +decide. By following my plan you get away at once, which is the most +important thing. Once comfortably away, you can choose the opportune +moment." + +"There's something in that," he replied; and, after thanking me for my +advice, he left me. + +I do not defend my plan. I admit it was Machiavellian. My one desire +was to remove these two dear people from Wellingsford for a season. +Just think of the horrible impossibility of their maintaining social +relations with the Boyces .... + +By publicly honouring Boyce, Sir Anthony had tied his own hands. It was +a pledge to Boyce, although the latter did not know it, of condonation. +Whatever stories Gedge might spread abroad, whatever proofs he might +display, Sir Anthony could take no action. But to carry on a semblance +of friendship with the man responsible for his daughter's death--for +the two of them, mind you, since Lady Fenimore would sooner or later +learn everything--was, as I say, horribly impossible. + +Let them go, then, on their nominal holiday, during which the air might +clear. Boyce might take his mother away from Wellingsford. She would do +far more than uproot herself from her home in order to gratify a wish +of her adored and blinded son. He would employ his time of darkness in +learning to be brave, he had told me. It took some courage to face the +associations of dreadful memories unflinchingly, for his mother's sake. +Should he learn, however, that the Fenimores had an inkling of the +truth, he would recognise his presence in the place to be an outrage. +And such inkling--who would give it him? Perhaps I, myself. The Boyces +would go--the Fenimores could return. Anything, anything rather than +that the Fenimores and the Boyces should continue to dwell in the same +little town. + +And there was Betty--with all the inexplicable feminine whirring inside +her--socially reconciled with Boyce. Where the deuce was this +reconciliation going to lead? I have told you how my lunatic love for +Betty had stood revealed to me. Had she chosen to love and marry any +ordinary gallant gentleman, God knows I should not have had a word to +say. The love that such as I can give a woman can find its only true +expression in desiring and contriving her happiness. But that she +should sway back to Leonard Boyce--no, no. I could not bear it. All the +shuddering pictures of him rose up before me, the last, that of him +standing by the lock gates and suddenly running like a frightened +rabbit, with his jaunty soft felt hat squashed shapelessly over his +ears. + +Gedge could not have invented that abominable touch of the squashed hat. + +I have said that possibly I myself might give Boyce an inkling of the +truth. Thinking over the matter in my restless bed, I shrank from doing +so. Should I not be disingenuously serving my own ends? Betty stepped +in, whom I wanted for myself. Neither could I go to Boyce and challenge +him for a villain and summon him to quit the town and leave those dear +to me at peace. I could not condemn him. I had unshaken faith in the +man's noble qualities. That he drowned Althea Fenimore I did not, could +not, believe. After all that had passed between us, I felt my loyalty +to him irrevocably pledged. More than ever was I enmeshed in the net of +the man's destiny. + +As yet, however, I could not bear to see him. I could not bear to see +Betty, who called now and then. For the first time in my life I took +refuge in my invalidity, whereby I earned the commendation of Cliffe. +Betty sent me flowers. Mrs. Boyce sent me grapes and an infallible +prescription for heart attacks which, owing to the hopeless mess she +had made in trying to copy the wriggles indicating the quantities of +the various drugs, was of no practical use. Phyllis Gedge sent me a few +bunches of violets with a shy little note. Lady Fenimore wrote me an +affectionate letter bidding me farewell. They were going to Bude in +Cornwall, Anthony having put himself under Dr. Cliffe's orders like a +wonderful lamb. When she came back, she hoped that her two sick men +would be restored to health and able to look more favourably upon her +projected dinner party. Marigold also brought into my bedroom a +precious old Waterford claret jug which I had loved and secretly +coveted for twenty years, with a card attached bearing the inscription +"With love from Anthony." That was his dumb, British way of informing +me that he was taking my advice. + +When my self-respect would allow me no longer to remain in bed, I got +up; but I still shrank from publishing the news of my recovery, in +which reluctance I met with the hearty encouragement both of Cliffe and +Marigold. The doctor then informed me that my attack of illness had +been very much more serious than I realised, and that unless I made up +my mind to lead the most unruffled of cabbage-like existences, he would +not answer for what might befall me. If he could have his way, he would +carry me off and put me into solitary confinement for a couple of +months on a sunny island, where I should hold no communication with the +outside world. Marigold heard this announcement with smug satisfaction. +Nothing would please him more than to play gaoler over me. + +At last, one morning, I said to him: "I'm not going to submit to +tyranny any longer. I resume my normal life. I'm at home to anybody who +calls. I'm at home to the devil himself." + +"Very good, sir," said Marigold. + +An hour or two afterwards the door was thrown open and there stood on +the threshold the most amazing apparition that ever sought admittance +into a gentleman's library; an apparition, however, very familiar +during these days to English eyes. From the shapeless Tam-o'-Shanter to +the huge boots it was caked in mud. Over a filthy sheepskin were slung +all kinds of paraphernalia, covered with dirty canvas which made it +look a thing of mighty bulges among which a rifle was poked away. It +wore a kilt covered by a khaki apron. It also had a dirty and unshaven +face. A muddy warrior fresh from the trenches, of course. But what was +he doing here? + +"I see, sir, you don't recognise me," he said with a smile. + +"Good Lord!" I cried, with a start, "it's Randall." + +"Yes, sir. May I come in?" + +"Come in? What infernal nonsense are you talking?" I held out my hand, +and, after greeting him, made him sit down. + +"Now," said I, "what the deuce are you doing in that kit?" + +"That's what I've been asking myself for the last ten months. Anyhow I +shan't wear it much longer." + +"How's that?" + +"Commission, sir," he answered. + +"Oh!" said I. + +His entrance had been so abrupt and unexpected that I hardly knew as +yet what to make of him. Speculation as to his doings had led me to +imagine him engaged in some elegant fancy occupation on the fringe of +the army, if indeed he were serving his country so creditably. I found +it hard to reconcile my conception of Master Randall Holmes with this +businesslike Tommy who called me "Sir" every minute. + +"I'll tell you about it, sir, if you're interested. But first--how is +my mother?" + +"Your mother? You haven't seen her yet?" + +Here, at least, was a bit of the old casual Randall. He shook his head. + +"I've only just this minute arrived. Left the trenches yesterday. +Walked from the station. Not a soul recognised me. I thought I had +better come here first and report, just as I was, and not wait until I +had washed and shaved and put on Christian clothes again. He looked at +me and grinned. "Seeing is believing." + +"Your mother is quite well," said I. "Haven't you given her any warning +of your arrival?" + +"Oh, no!" he answered. "I didn't want any brass bands. Besides, as I +say, I wanted to see you first. Then to look in at the hospital. I +suppose Phyllis Gedge is still at the hospital?" + +"She is. But I think, my dear chap, your mother has the first call on +you." + +"She wouldn't enjoy my present abominable appearance as much as +Phyllis," he replied, coolly. "You see, Phyllis is responsible for it. +I told you she refused to marry me, didn't I, sir? After that, she +called me a coward. I had to show her that I wasn't one. It was an +awful nuisance, I admit, for I had intended to do something quite +different. Oh! not Gedging or anything of that sort--but--" he dived +beneath his sheepskin and brought out a tattered letter case and from a +mass of greasy documents (shades of superior Oxford!) selected a dirty, +ragged bit of newspaper--"but," said he, handing me the fragment, "I +think I've succeeded. I don't suppose this caught your eye, but if you +look closely into it, you'll see that 11003 Private R. Holmes, 1st +Gordon Highlanders, a couple of months ago was awarded the +Distinguished Conduct Medal. I may be any kind of a fool or knave she +likes to call me, but she can't call me a coward." + +I congratulated him with all my heart, which, after the first shock, +was warming towards him rapidly. + +"But why," I asked, still somewhat bewildered, "didn't you apply for a +commission? A year ago you could have got one easily. Why enlist? And +the 1st Gordons--that's the regular army." + +He laughed and asked permission to help himself to a cigarette. "By +George, that's good," he exclaimed after a few puffs. "That's good +after months of Woodbines. I found I could stand everything except +Tommy's cigarettes. Everything about me has got as hard as nails, +except my palate for tobacco .... Why didn't I apply for a commission? +Any fool could get a commission. It's different now. Men are picked and +must have seen active service, and then they're sent off to cadet +training corps. But last year I could have got one easily. And I might +have been kicking my heels about England now." + +"Yet, at the sight of a Sam Browne belt, Phyllis would have surely +recanted," said I. + +"I didn't want the girl I intended to marry and pass my life with to +have her head turned by such trappings as a Sam Browne belt. She has +had to be taught that she is going to marry a man. I'm not such a fool +as you may have thought me, Major," he said, forgetful of his humble +rank. "Suppose I had got a commission and married her. Suppose I had +been kept at home and never gone out and never seen a shot fired, like +heaps of other fellows, or suppose I had taken the line I had marked +out--do you think we should have been assured a happy life? Not a bit +of it. We might have been happy for twenty years. And then--women are +women and can't help themselves--the old word--by George, sir, she spat +it at me from a festering sore in her very soul--the old word would +have rankled all the time, and some stupid quarrel having arisen, she +would have spat it at me again. I wasn't taking any chances of that +kind." + +"My dear boy," said I, subridently, "you seem to be very wise." And he +did. So far as I knew anything about humans, male and female, his +proposition was incontrovertible. "But where did you gather your +wisdom?" + +"I suppose," he replied seriously, "that my mind is not entirely +unaffected by a very expensive education." + +I looked at the extraordinary figure in sheepskin, bundles and mud, and +laughed out loud. The hands of Esau and the voice of Jacob. The garb of +Thomas Atkins and the voice of Balliol. Still, as I say, the fellow was +perfectly right. His highly trained intelligence had led him to an +exact conclusion. The festering sore demanded drastic treatment,--the +surgeon's knife. As we talked I saw how coldly his brain had worked. +And side by side with that working I saw, to my amusement, the +insistent claims of his vanity. The quickest way to the front, where +alone he could re-establish his impugned honour was by enlistment in +the regular army. For the first time in his life he took a grip on +essentials. He knew that by going straight into the heart of the old +army his brains, provided they remained in his head, would enable him +to accomplish his purpose. As for his choice of regiment, there his +vanity guided. You may remember that after his disappearance we first +heard of him at Aberdeen. Now Aberdeen is the depot of the Gordon +Highlanders. + +"What on earth made you go there?" I asked. + +"I wanted to get among a crowd where I wasn't known, and wasn't ever +likely to be known," he replied. "And my instinct was right. I was +among farmers from Skye and butchers from Inverness and drunken +scallywags from the slums of Aberdeen, and a leaven of old soldiers +from all over Scotland. I had no idea that such people existed. At +first I thought I shouldn't be able to stick it. They gave me a bad +time for being an Englishman. But soon, I think, they rather liked me. +I set my brains to work and made 'em like me. I knew there was +everything to learn about these fellows and I went scientifically to +work to learn it. And, by Heaven, sir, when once they accepted me, I +found I had never been in such splendid company in my life." + +"My dear boy," I cried in a burst of enthusiasm, "have you had +breakfast?" + +"Of course I have. At the Union Jack Club--the Tommies' place the other +side of the river--bacon and eggs and sausages. I thought I'd never +stop eating." + +"Have some more?" + +He laughed. "Couldn't think of it." + +"Then," said I, "get yourself a cigar." I pointed to a stack of boxes. +"You'll find the Corona--Coronas the best." + +As I am not a millionaire I don't offer these Coronas to everybody. I +myself can only afford to smoke one or two a week. + +When he had lit it he said: "I was led away from what I wanted to tell +you,--my going to Aberdeen and plunging into the obscurity of a +Scottish regiment. I was absolutely determined that none of my friends, +none of you good people, should know what an ass I had made of myself. +That's why I kept it from my mother. She would have blabbed it all over +the place." + +"But, my good fellow," said I, "why the dickens shouldn't we have +known?" + +"That I was making an ass of myself?" + +"No, you young idiot!" I cried. "That you were making a man of +yourself." + +"I preferred to wait," said he, coolly, "until I had a reasonable +certainty that I had achieved that consummation--or, rather, something +that might stand for it in the prejudiced eyes of my dear friends. I +knew that you all, ultimately, you and mother and Phyllis, would judge +by results. Well, here they are. I've lived the life of a Tommy for ten +months. I've been five in the thick of it over there. I've refused +stripes over and over again. I've got my D.C.M. I've got my commission +through the ranks, practically on the field. And of the draft of two +hundred who went out with me only one other and myself remain." + +"It's a splendid record, my boy," said I. + +He rose. "Don't misunderstand me, Major. I'm not bragging. God forbid. +I'm only wanting to explain why I kept dark all the time, and why I'm +springing smugly and complacently on you now." + +"I quite understand," said I. + +"In that case," he laughed, "I can proceed on my rounds." But he did +not proceed. He lingered. "There's another matter I should like to +mention," he said. "In her last letter my mother told me that the Mayor +and Town Council were on the point of giving a civic reception to +Colonel Boyce. Has it taken place yet?" + +"Yes," said I. + +"And did it go off all right?" + +In spite of wisdom learned at Balliol and shell craters, he was still +an ingenuous youth. + +"Gedge was perfectly quiet," I answered. + +He started, as he had for months learned not to start, and into his +eyes sprang an alarm that was usually foreign to them. + +"Gedge? How do you know anything about Gedge and Colonel Boyce? Good +Lord! He hasn't been spreading that poisonous stuff over the town?" + +"That's what you were afraid of when you asked about the reception?" + +"Of course," said he. + +"And you wanted to have your mind clear on the point before +interviewing Phyllis." + +"You're quite right, sir," he replied, a bit shamefacedly. "But if he +hasn't been spreading it, how do you know? And," he looked at me +sharply, "what do you know?" + +"You gave your word of honour not to repeat what Gedge told you. I +think you may be absolved of your promise. Gedge came to Sir Anthony +and myself with a lying story about the death of Althea Fenimore." + +"Yes," said he. "That was it." + +"Sit down for another minute or two," said I, "and let us compare +notes." + +He obeyed. We compared notes. I found that in most essentials the two +stories were identical, although Gedge had been maudlin drunk when he +admitted Randall into his confidence. + +"But in pitching you his yarn," cried Randall, "he left out the +blackmail. He bragged in his beastly way that Colonel Boyce was worth a +thousand a year to him. All he had to live upon now that the +blood-suckers had ruined his business. Then he began to weep and +slobber--he was a disgusting sight--and he said he would give it all up +and beg with his daughter in the streets as soon as he had an +opportunity of unmasking 'that shocking wicked fellow.'" + +"What did you say then?" I asked. + +"I told him if ever I heard of him spreading such infernal lies abroad, +I'd wring his neck." + +"Very good, my boy," said I. "That's practically what Sir Anthony told +him." + +"Sir Anthony doesn't believe there's any truth in it?" + +"Sir Anthony," said I, boldly, "knows there's not a particle of truth +in it. The man's malignancy has taken the form of a fixed idea. He's +crack-brained. Between us we put the fear of God into him, and I don't +think he'll give any more trouble." + +Randall got to his feet again. "I'm very much relieved to hear you say +so. I must confess I've been horribly uneasy about the whole thing." He +drew a deep breath. "Thank goodness I can go to Phyllis, as you say, +with a clear mind. The last time I saw her I was half crazy." + +He held out his hand, a dirty, knubbly, ragged-nailed hand--the hand +that was once so irritatingly manicured. + +"Good-bye, Major. You won't shut the door on me now, will you?" + +I wrung his hand hard and bade him not be silly, and, looking up at +him, said: + +"What was the other thing quite different you were intending to do +before you, let us say, quarreled with Phyllis?" + +He hesitated, his forehead knit in a little web of perplexity. + +"Whatever it was," I continued, "let us have it. I'm your oldest +friend, a sort of father. Be frank with me and you won't regret it. The +splendid work you've done has wiped out everything." + +"I'm afraid it has," said he ruefully. "Wiped it out clean." With a +hitch of the shoulders he settled his pack more comfortably. "Well, +I'll tell you, Major. I thought I had brains. I still think I have. I +was on the point of getting a job in the Secret Service--Intelligence +Department. I had the whole thing cut and dried--to get at the +ramifications of German espionage in socialistic and so-called +intellectual circles in neutral and other countries. It would have been +ticklish work, for I should have been carrying my life in my hands. I +could have done it well. I started out by being a sort of +'intellectual' myself. All along I wanted to put my brains at the +service of my country. I took some time to hit upon the real way. I hit +upon it. I learned lots of things from Gedge. If he weren't an arrant +coward, he might be dangerous. He would be taking German money long +ago, but that he's frightened to death of it." He laughed. "It never +occurred to you, I suppose, a year ago," he continued, "that I spent +most of my days in London working like a horse." + +"But," I cried--I felt myself flushing purple--and, when I flush +purple, the unregenerate old soldier in me uses language of a +corresponding hue--"But," I cried--and in this language I asked him why +he had told me nothing about it. + +"The essence of the Secret Service, sir," replied this maddening young +man, "is--well--secrecy." + +"You had a billet offered to you, of the kind you describe?" + +"The offer reached me, very much belated, one day when I was half dead, +after having performed some humiliating fatigue duty. I think I had +persisted in trying to scratch an itching back on parade. Military +discipline, I need not tell you, Major, doesn't take into account the +sensitiveness of a recruit's back. It flatly denies such a phenomenon. +Now I think I can defy anything in God's quaint universe to make me +itch. But that's by the way. I tore the letter up and never answered +it. You do these things, sir, when the whole universe seems to be a +stumbling-block and an offence. Phyllis was the stumbling-block and the +rest of the cosmos was the other thing. That's why I have reason on my +side when I say that, all through Phyllis Gedge, I made an ass of +myself." + +He clutched his rude coat with both hands. "An ass in sheep's clothing." + +He drew himself up, saluted, and marched out. + +He marched out, the young scoundrel, with all the honours of war. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + + +So, in drawing a bow at a venture, I had hit the mark. You may remember +that I had rapped out the word "blackmail" at Gedge; now Randall +justified the charge. Boyce was worth a thousand a year to him. The +more I speculated on the danger that might arise from Gedge, the easier +I grew in my mind. Your blackmailer is a notorious saver of his skin. +Gedge had no desire to bring Boyce to justice and thereby incriminate +himself. His visit to Sir Anthony was actuated by sheer malignity. +Without doubt, he counted on his story being believed. But he knew +enough of the hated and envied aristocracy to feel assured that Sir +Anthony would not subject his beloved dead to such ghastly disinterment +as a public denunciation of Boyce would necessitate. He desired to +throw an asphyxiating bomb into the midst of our private circle. He +reckoned on the Mayor taking some action that would stop the reception +and thereby put a public affront on Boyce. Sir Anthony's violent +indignation and perhaps my appearance of cold incredulity upset his +calculations. He went out of the room a defeated man, with the secret +load (as I knew now) of blackmail on his shoulders. + +I snapped my fingers at Gedge. Randall seemed to do the same, +undesirable father-in-law IN PROSPECTU as he was. But that was entirely +Randall's affair. The stomach that he had for fighting with Germans +would stand him in good stead against Gedge, especially as he had +formed so contemptuous an estimate of the latter's valour. + +I emerged again into my little world. I saw most of my friends. Phyllis +lay in wait for me at the hospital, radiant and blushing, ostensibly to +congratulate me on recovery from my illness, really (little baggage!) +to hear from my lips a word or two in praise of Randall. Apparently he +had come, in his warrior garb, seen, and conquered on the spot. I saw +Mrs. Holmes, who, gladdened by the Distinguished Conduct Medallist's +return, had wiped from her memory his abominably unfilial behaviour. I +saw Betty and I saw Boyce. + +Now here I come to a point in this chronicle where I am faced by an +appalling difficulty. Hitherto I have striven to tell you no more about +myself and my motives and feelings than was demanded by my purpose of +unfolding to you the lives of others. Primarily I wanted to explain +Leonard Boyce. I could only do it by showing you how he reacted on +myself--myself being an unimportant and uninteresting person. It was +all very well when I could stand aside and dispassionately analyse such +reactions. The same with regard to my dear Betty. But now if I adopted +the same method of telling you the story of Betty and the story of +Boyce--the method of reaction, so to speak--I should be merely whining +into your ears the dolorous tale of Duncan Meredyth, paralytic and +idiot. + +The deuce of it is that, for a long time, nothing particular or +definite happened. So how can I describe to you a very important period +in the lives of Betty and Boyce and me? + +I had to resume my intimacy with Boyce. The blind and lonely man craved +it and claimed it. It would be an unmeaning pretence of modesty to +under-estimate the value to him of my friendship. He was a man of +intense feelings. Torture had closed his heart to the troops of friends +that so distinguished a soldier might have had. He granted admittance +but to three, his mother, Betty and--for some unaccountable +reason--myself. On us he concentrated all the strength of his +affection. Mind you, it was not a case of a maimed creature clinging +for support to those who cared for him. In his intercourse with me, he +never for a moment suggested that he was seeking help or solace in his +affliction. On the contrary, he ruled it out of the conditions of +social life. He was as brave as you please. In his laughing scorn of +blindness he was the bravest man I have ever known. He learned the +confidence of the blind with marvellous facility. His path through +darkness was a triumphant march. + +Sometimes, when he re-fought old battles and planned new ones, forecast +the strategy of the Great Advance, word-painted scenes and places, drew +character sketches of great leaders and quaint men, I forgot the +tragedy of Althea Fenimore. And when the memory came swiftly back, I +wondered whether, after all, Gedge's story from first to last had not +been a malevolent invention. The man seemed so happy. Of course you +will say it was my duty to give a hint of Gedge's revelation. It was. +To my shame, I shirked it. I could not find it in my heart suddenly to +dash into his happiness. I awaited an opportunity, a change of mood in +him, an allusion to confidences of which I alone of human beings had +been the recipient. + +Betty visited me as usual. We talked war and hospital and local gossip +for a while and then she seemed to take refuge at the piano. We had one +red-letter day, when a sailor cousin of hers, fresh from the North Sea, +came to luncheon and told us wonders of the Navy which we had barely +imagined and did not dare to hope for. His tidings gave subject for +many a talk. + +I knew that she was seeing Boyce constantly. The former acquaintance of +the elders of the two houses flamed into sudden friendship. From a +remark artlessly let fall by Mrs. Boyce, I gathered that the old ladies +were deliberately contriving such meetings. Boyce and Betty referred to +each other rarely and casually, but enough to show me that the old feud +was at an end. And of what save one thing could the end of a feud +between lovers be the beginning? What did she know? Knowing all, how +could she be drawn back under the man's fascination? The question +maddened me. I suffered terribly. + +At last, one evening, I could bear it no longer. She was playing +Chopin. The music grated on me. I called out to her: + +"Betty!" + +She broke off and turned round, with a smile of surprise. Again she was +wearing the old black evening dress, in which I have told you she +looked so beautiful. + +"No more music, dear. Come and talk to me." + +She crossed the room with her free step and sat near my chair. + +"What shall I talk about?" she laughed. + +"Leonard Boyce." + +The laughter left her face and she gave me a swift glance. + +"Majy dear, I'd rather not," she said with a little air of finality. + +"I know that," said I. "I also know that in your eyes I am committing +an unwarrantable impertinence." + +"Not at all," she replied politely. "You have the right to talk to me +for my good. It's impertinence in me not to wish to hear it." + +"Betty dear," said I, "will you tell me what was the cause of your +estrangement?" + +She stiffened. "No one has the right to ask me that." + +"A man who loves you very, very dearly," said I, "will claim it. Was +the cause Althea Fenimore?" + +She looked at me almost in frightened amazement. + +"Is that mere guesswork?" + +"No, dear," said I quietly. + +"I thought no one knew--except one person. I was not even sure that +Leonard Boyce was aware that I knew." + +Another bow at a venture. "That one person is Gedge." + +"You're right. I suppose he has been talking," she said, greatly +agitated. "He has been putting it about all over the place. I've been +dreading it." Then she sprang to her feet and drew herself up and +snapped her fingers in an heroical way. "And if he has said that Althea +Fenimore drowned herself for love of Leonard Boyce, what is there in +it? After all, what has Leonard Boyce done that he can't be forgiven? +Men are men and women are women. We've tried for tens of thousands of +years to lay down hard and fast lines for the sexes to walk upon, and +we've failed miserably. Suppose Leonard Boyce did make love to Althea +Fenimore--trifle with her affections, in the old-fashioned phrase. What +then? I'm greatly to blame. It has only lately been brought home to me. +Instead of staying here while we were engaged, I would have my last +fling as an emancipated young woman in London. He consoled himself with +Althea. When she found he meant nothing, she threw herself into the +canal. It was dreadful. It was tragic. He went away and broke with me. +I didn't discover the reason till months afterwards. She drowned +herself for love of him, it's true. But what was his share in it that +he can't be forgiven for? Millions of men have been forgiven by women +for passing loves. Why not he? Why not a tremendous man like him? A man +who has paid every penalty for wrong, if wrong there was? Blind!" + +She walked about and threw up her hands and halted in front of my +chair. "I'll own that until lately I accused him of unforgivable +sin--deceiving me and making love to another girl and driving her to +suicide. I tore him out of my heart and married Willie. We won't speak +of that .... But since he has come back, things seem different. His +mother has told me that one day when he was asleep she found he was +still wearing his identification disc ... there was an old faded +photograph of me on the other side ... it had been there all through +the war .... You see," she added, after a pause during which her +heaving bosom and quivering lip made her maddeningly lovely, "I don't +care a brass button for anything that Gedge may say." + +And that was all my clean-souled Betty knew about it! She had no idea +of deeper faithlessness; no suspicion of Boyce's presence with Althea +on the bank of the canal. She stood pathetic in her half knowledge. My +heart ached. + +From her pure woman's point of view she had been justified in her +denunciation of Boyce. He had left her without a word. A wall of +silence came between them. Then she learned the reason. He had trifled +with a young girl's affections and out of despair she had drowned +herself .... But how had she learned? I had to question her. And it was +then that she told me the story of Phyllis and her father to which I +have made previous allusion: how Phyllis, as her father's secretary, +had opened a letter which had frightened her; how her father's crafty +face had frightened her still more; how she had run to Betty for the +easing of her heart. And this letter was from Leonard Boyce. "I cannot +afford one penny more," so the letter ran, according to Betty's +recollection of Phyllis's recollection, "but if you remain loyal to our +agreement, you will not regret it. If ever I hear of your coupling my +name with that of Miss Fenimore, I'll kill you. I am a man of my word." +I think Betty crystallised Phyllis's looser statement. But the exact +wording was immaterial. Here was Boyce branding himself with complicity +in the tragedy of Althea, and paying Gedge to keep it dark. Like Sir +Anthony, Betty remembered trivial things that assumed grave +significance. There was no room for doubt. Catastrophe following on his +villainy had kept Boyce away from Wellingsford, had terrified him out +of his engagement. And so her heart had grown bitter against him. You +may ask why her knowledge of the world had not led her to suspect +blacker wrong; for a man does not pay blackmail because he has led a +romantic girl into a wrong notion of the extent of his affection. My +only answer is that Betty was Betty, clean-hearted and clean-souled +like the young Artemis she resembled. + +And now she proclaimed that he had expiated his offence. She proclaimed +her renewed and passionate interest in the man. I saw that deep down in +her heart she had always loved him. + +After telling me about Phyllis, she returned to the point where she had +broken off. She supposed that Gedge had been talking all over the place. + +"I don't think so, dear," said I. "So far as I know he has only spoken, +first to Randall Holmes--that was what made him break away from Gedge, +whose society he had been cultivating for other reasons than those I +imagined (you remember telling me Phyllis's sorrowful little tale last +year?)." She nodded. "And secondly to Sir Anthony and myself, a few +hours before the Reception." + +She clenched her fists and broke out again. "The devil! The incarnate +devil! And Sir Anthony?" + +"Pretended to treat Gedge's story as a lie, threw into the fire without +reading it an incriminating letter--possibly the letter that Phyllis +saw, ordered Gedge out of the house and, like a great gentleman, went +through the ceremony." + +"Does Leonard know?" + +"Not that I'm aware of," said I. + +"He must be told. It's terrible to have an enemy waiting to stab you in +the dark--and you blind to boot. Why haven't you told him?" + +Why? Why? Why? + +It was so hard to keep to the lower key of her conception of things. I +made a little gesture signifying I know not what: that it was not my +business, that I was not on sufficient terms of intimacy with Boyce, +that it didn't seem important enough .... My helpless shrug suggested, +I suppose, all of these excuses. Why hadn't I warned him? Cowardice, I +suppose. + +"Either you or I must do it," she went on. "You're his friend. He +thinks more of you than of any other man in the world. And he's right, +dear--" she flashed me a proud glance, sweet and stabbing--"Don't I +know it?" + +Then suddenly a new idea seemed to pass through her brain. She bent +forward and touched the light shawl covering my knees. + +"For the last month or two you've known what he has done. It hasn't +made any difference in your friendship. You must think with me that the +past is past, that he has purged his sins, or whatever you like to call +them; that he is a man greatly to be forgiven." + +"Yes, dear," said I, with a show of bravery, though I dreaded lest my +voice should break, "I think he is a man to be forgiven." + +Her logic was remorseless. + +With her frank grace she threw herself, in her old attitude, by the +side of my chair. + +"I'm so glad we have had this talk, Majy darling. It has made +everything between us so clear and beautiful. It is always such a grief +to me to think you may not understand. I shall always be the little +girl that looked upon you as a wonderful hero and divine dispenser of +chocolates. Only now the chocolates stand for love and forbearance and +sympathy, and all kinds of spiritual goodies." + +I passed my hand over her hair. "Silly child!" + +"I got it into my head," she continued, "that you were blaming me +for--for my reconciliation with Leonard. But, my dear, my dear, what +woman's heart wouldn't be turned to water at the sight of him? It makes +me so happy that you understand. I can't tell you how happy." + +"Are you going to marry him?" I think my voice was steady and kind +enough. + +"Possibly. Some day. If he asks me." + +I still stroked her hair. "I wouldn't let it be too soon," said I. + +Her eyes were downcast. "On account of Willie?" she murmured. + +"No, dear. I don't dare touch on that side of things." + +Again a whisper. "Why, then?" + +How could I tell her why without betrayal of Boyce? I had to turn the +question playfully. I said, "What should I do without my Betty?" + +"Do you really care about me so much?" + +I laughed. There are times when one has to laugh--or overwhelm oneself +in dishonour. + +"Now you see my nature in all its vile egotism," said I, and the +statement led to a pretty quarrel. + +But after it was over to our joint satisfaction, she had to return to +the distressful main theme of our talk. She harked back to Sir Anthony, +touched on his splendid behaviour, recalled, with a little dismay, the +hitherto unnoted fact that, after the ceremony he had held himself +aloof from those that thronged round Boyce. Then, without hint from me, +she perceived the significance of the Fenimores' retirement from +Wellingsford. + +"Leonard's ignorance," she said, "leaves him in a frightful position. +More than ever he ought to know." + +"He ought, indeed, my dear," said I. "And I will tell him. I ought to +have done so before." + +I gave my undertaking. I went to bed upbraiding myself for cowardice +and resolved to go to Boyce the next day. Not only Fate, but honour and +decency forced me to the detested task. + +Alas! Next morning I was nailed to my bed by my abominable malady. The +attacks had become more frequent of late. Cliffe administered +restoratives and for the first time he lost his smile and looked +worried. You see until quite lately I had had a very tranquil life, +deeply interested in other folks' joys and sorrows, but moved by very +few of my own. And now there had swooped down on me this ravening pack +of emotions which were tearing me to pieces. I lay for a couple of days +tortured by physical pain, humiliation and mental anguish. + +On the evening of the second day, Marigold came into the bedroom with a +puzzled look on his face. + +"Colonel Boyce is here, sir. I told him you were in bed and seeing +nobody, but he says he wants to see you on something important. I asked +him whether it couldn't wait till to-morrow, and he said that if I +would give you a password, Vilboek's Farm, you'd be sure to see him." + +"Quite right, Marigold," said I. "Show him in." + +Vilboek's Farm! Fate had driven him to me, instead of me to him. I +would see him though it killed me, and get the horrible business over +for ever. + +Marigold led him in and drew up a chair for him by the bedside. After +pulling on the lights and drawing the curtains, for the warm May +evening was drawing to a close. + +"Anything more, sir, for the present?" he asked. + +"Could I have materials for a whisky and soda to hand?" said Boyce. + +"Of course," said I. + +Marigold departed. Boyce said: + +"If you're too ill to stand me, send me away. But if you can stand me, +for God's sake let me talk to you." + +"Talk as much as you like," said I. "This is only one of my stupid +attacks which a man without legs has to put up with." + +"But Marigold--" + +"Marigold's an old hen," said I. + +"Are you sure you're well enough? That's the curse of not being able to +see. Tell me frankly." + +"I'm quite sure," said I. + +I have never been able to get over the curious embarrassment of talking +to a man whose eyes I cannot see. The black spectacles seemed to be +like a wall behind which the man hid his thoughts. I watched his lips. +Once or twice the odd little twitch had appeared at the corners. + +Even with his baffling black spectacles he looked a gallant figure of a +man. He was precisely dressed in perfectly fitting dinner jacket and +neat black tie; well-groomed from the points of his patent leather +shoes to his trim crisp brown hair. And beneath this scrupulousness of +attire lay the suggestion of great strength. + +Marigold brought in the tray with decanter, siphon and glasses, and put +them on a table, together with cigars and cigarettes, by his side. +After a few deft touches, so as to identify the objects, Boyce smiled +and nodded at Marigold. + +"Thanks very much, Sergeant," he said. + +If there is one thing Marigold loves, it is to be addressed as +"Sergeant." "Marigold" might indicate a butler, but "Sergeant" means a +sergeant. + +"Perhaps I might fetch the Colonel a more comfortable chair, sir," said +he. + +But Boyce laughed, "No, no!" and Marigold left us. + +Boyce's ear listened for the click of the door. Then he turned to me. + +"I was rather mean in sending you in that password. But I felt as if I +should go mad if I didn't see you. You're the only man living who +really knows about me. You're the only human being who can give me a +helping hand. It's strange, old man--the halt leading the blind. But so +it is. And Vilboek's Farm is the damned essence of the matter. I've +come to you to ask you, for the love of God, to tell me what I am to +do." + +I guessed what had happened. "Betty Connor has told you something that +I was to tell you." + +"Yes," said he. "This afternoon. And in her splendid way she offered to +marry me." + +"What did you say?" + +"I said that I would give her my answer to-morrow." + +"And what will that answer be?" + +"It is for you to tell me," said Boyce. + +"In order to undertake such a terrible responsibility," said I, "I must +know the whole truth concerning Althea Fenimore." + +"I've come here to tell it to you," said he. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + + +It was to a priest rather than to a man that he made full confession of +his grievous sin. He did not attempt to mitigate it or to throw upon +another a share of the blame. From that attitude he did not vary a +hair's breadth. Mea culpa; mea maxima culpa. That was the burthen of +his avowal. + +I, knowing the strange mingling in his nature of brutality and +sensitiveness, of animal and spiritual, and knowing something of the +unstable character of Althea Fenimore, may more justly, I think, than +he, sketch out the miserable prologue of the drama. That she was madly, +recklessly in love with him there can be no doubt. Nor can there be +doubt that unconsciously she fired the passion in him. The deliberate, +cold-blooded seducer of his friend's daughter, such as Boyce, in his +confession, made himself out to be, is a rare phenomenon. Almost +invariably it is the woman who tempts--tempts innocently and +unknowingly, without intent to allure, still less with thought of +wrong--but tempts all the same by the attraction which she cannot +conceal, by the soft promise which she cannot keep out of her eyes. + +That was the beginning of it. Betty, whom he loved, and to whom he was +engaged, was away from Wellingsford. In those days she was very much +the young Diana, walking in search of chaste adventures, quite +contented with the love that lay serenely warm in her heart and +thinking little of a passionate man's needs--perhaps starting away from +too violent an expression of them--perhaps prohibiting them altogether. +The psychology of the pre-war young girl absorbed, even though +intellectually and for curiosity's sake, in the feminist movement, is +yet to be studied. Betty, then, was away. Althea, beata possidens, made +her artless, innocent appeal for victory. Unconsciously she tempted. +The man yielded. A touch of the lips in a moment of folly, the man +blazed, the woman helpless was consumed. This happened in January, just +before Althea's supposed visit to Scotland. Boyce was due at a Country +House party near Carlisle. In the first flush of their madness they +agreed upon the wretched plan. She took rooms in the town and he +visited her there. Whether he or she conceived it, I do not know. If I +could judge coldly I should say that it was of feminine inspiration. A +man, particularly one of Boyce's temperament, who was eager for the +possession of a passionately loved woman, would have carried her off to +a little Eden of their own. A calm consideration of the facts leads to +the suggestion of a half-hearted acquiescence on the part of an +entangled man in the romantic scheme of an inexperienced girl to whom +he had suddenly become all in all. + +Such is my plea in extenuation of Boyce's conduct (if plea there can +be), seeing that he raised not a shadow of one of his own. You may say +that my plea is no excuse for his betrayal; that no man, even if he is +tempted, can be pardoned for non-control of his passions. But I am +asking for no pardon; I am trying to obtain your understanding. +Remember what I have told you about Boyce, his great bull-neck, his +blood-sodden life-preserver, the physical repulsion I felt when he +carried me in his arms. In such men the animal instinct is stronger at +times than the trained will. Whether you give him a measure of your +sympathy or not, at any rate do not believe that his short-lived +liaison with Althea was a matter of deliberate and dastardly seduction. +Nor must you think that I am setting down anything in disparagement of +a child whom I once loved. Long ago I touched lightly on the anomaly of +Althea's character--her mid-Victorian sentimentality and softness, +combined with her modern spirit of independence. A fatal anomaly; a +perilous balance of qualities. Once the soft sentimentality was warmed +into romantic passion, the modern spirit led it recklessly to a modern +conclusion. + +The liaison was short-lived. The man was remorseful. He loved another +woman. Very quickly did the poor girl awaken from her dream. + +"I was cruel," said Boyce, fixing me with those awful black spectacles, +"I know it. I ought to have married her. But if I had married her, I +should have been more cruel. I should have hated her. It would have +been an impossible life for both of us. One day I had to tell her so. +Not brutally. In a normal state I think I am as kind-hearted and gentle +as most men. And I couldn't be brutal, feeling an unutterable cur and +craving her forgiveness. But I wanted Betty and I swore that only one +thing should keep me from her." + +"One thing?" I asked. + +"The thing that didn't happen," said he. + +And so it seemed that Althea accepted the inevitable. The placid, +fatalistic side of her nature asserted itself. Pride, too, helped her +instinctive feminine secretiveness. She lived for months in her +father's house without giving those that were dear to her any occasion +for suspicion. In order to preserve the secrecy Boyce was bound to +continue his visits to Wellings Park. Now and then, when they met +alone, she upbraided him bitterly. On the whole, however, he concluded +that they had agreed to bury an ugly chapter in their lives. + +Yes, it was an ugly chapter. From such you cannot get away, bury it, as +you will, never so deep. + +"And all the time remember," he said, "that I was mad for Betty. The +more shy she was, the madder I grew. I could not rest in Wellingsford +without her. When she came here, I came. When she went to town, I went +to town. She was as elusive as a dream. Finally I pinned her down to a +date for our marriage in August. It was the last time I saw her. She +went away to stay with friends. That was the beginning of June. She was +to be away two months. I knew, if I had clamoured, she would have made +it three. It was the shyness of the exquisite bird in her that +fascinated me. I could never touch Betty in those days without dreading +lest I might soil her feathers. You may laugh at a hulking brute like +me saying such things, but that's the way I saw Betty, that's the way I +felt towards her. I could no more have taken her into my bear's hug and +kissed her roughly than I could have smashed a child down with my fist. +And yet--My God, man! how I ached for her!" + +Long as I had loved Betty in a fatherly way, deeply as I loved her now, +the man's unexpected picture of her was a revelation. You see it was +only after her marriage, when she had softened and grown a woman and +come so near me that I felt the great comfort of her presence when she +was by, the need of it when she was away. How could I have known +anything of the elusiveness in her maidenhood before which he knelt so +reverently? + +That he so knelt is the keynote of the man's soul untainted by the +flesh. + +It made clear to me the tenderness that lay beneath that which was +brutal; the reason of that personal charm which had captivated me +against my will; his defencelessness against the Furies. + +So far the narrative has reached the latter part of June. He had spent +the month with his mother. As Betty had ordained that July should be +blank, a month during which the moon should know no changes but only +the crescent of Diana should shine supreme in the heavens, he had made +his mundane arrangements for his fishing excursion to Norway. On the +afternoon of the 23rd he paid a farewell call at Wellings Park. Althea, +in the final settlement of their relations, had laid it down as a +definite condition that he should maintain his usual social intercourse +with the family. A few young people were playing tennis. Tea was served +on the lawn near by the court. Althea gave no sign of agitation. She +played her game, laughed with her young men, and took casual leave of +Boyce, wishing him good sport. He drew her a pace aside and murmured: +"God bless you for forgiving me." + +She laughed a reply out loud: "Oh, that's all right." + +When he told me that, I recalled vividly the picture of her, in my +garden, on the last afternoon of her life, eating the strawberries +which she had brought me for tea. I remembered the little slangy tone +in her voice when she had asked me whether I didn't think life was +rather rotten. That was the tone in which she had said to him, "Oh, +that's all right." + +During the early afternoon on the 25th, she rang him up on the +telephone. Chance willed that he should receive the call at first hand. +She must see him before he left Wellingsford. She had something of the +utmost importance to tell him. A matter of life and death. With one +awful thought in his mind, he placed his time at her disposal. For what +romantic, desperate or tragic reason she appointed the night meeting at +the end of the chestnut avenue where the towing-path turns into regions +of desolate quietude, he could not tell. He agreed without argument, +dreading the possible lack of privacy in their talk over the wires. + +On that afternoon she came to me, as I have told you, with her +strawberries and her declaration of the rottenness of life. + +They met and walked along the towing-path. It was bright moonlight, but +she could not have chosen a lonelier spot, more free from curious eyes +or ears. And then took place a scene which it is beyond my power to +describe. I can only picture it to myself from Boyce's broken, +self-accusing talk. He was going away. She would never see him again +until he returned to marry another woman. She was making her last +frantic bid for happiness. She wept and sobbed and cajoled and +upbraided--You know what women at the end of their tether can do. He +strove to pacify her by the old arguments which hitherto she had +accepted. Suddenly she cried: "If you don't marry me I am disgraced for +ever." And this brought them to a dead halt. + +When he came to this point I remembered the diabolical accuracy of +Gedge's story. + +Boyce said: "There is one usual reason why a man should marry a woman +to save her from disgrace. Is that the reason?" + +She said "Yes." + +The light went out of the man's life. + +"In that case," said he, "there can be no question about it. I will +marry you. But why didn't you tell me before?" + +She said she did not know. She made the faltering excuses of the driven +girl. They walked on together and sat on the great bar of the lock +gates. + +"Till then," said he, "I had never known what it was to have death in +my heart. But I swear to God, Meredyth, I played my part like a man. I +had done a dastardly thing. There was nothing left for me but to make +reparation. In a few moments I tore my life asunder. The girl I had +wronged was to be the mother of my child. I accepted the situation. I +was as kind to her as I could be. She laid her head on my shoulder and +cried, and I put my arm around her. I felt my heart going out to her in +remorse and pity and tenderness. A man must be a devil who could feel +otherwise.... Our lives were bound up together.... I kissed her and she +clung to me. Then we talked for a while--ways and means.... It was time +to go back. We rose. And then--Meredyth--this is what she said: + +"'You swear to marry me?' + +"'I swear it,' said I. + +"'In spite of anything?' + +"I gave my promise. She put her arms round my neck. + +"'What I've told you is not wholly true. But the moral disgrace is +there all the time.' + +"I took her wrists and disengaged myself and held her and looked at her. + +"'What do you mean--not wholly true?' I asked. + +"My God! I shall never forget it." He stuck both his elbows on the bed +and clutched his hair and turned his black glasses wide of me. "The +child crumpled up. She seemed to shrivel like a leaf in the fire. She +said: + +"'I've tried to lie to you, but I can't. I can't. Pity me and forgive +me.' + +"I started back from her in a sudden fury. I could not forgive her. +Think of the awful revulsion of feeling. Foolishly tricked! I was mad +with anger. I walked away and left her. I must have walked ten or +fifteen yards. Then I heard a splash in the water. I turned. She was no +longer on the bank. I ran up. I heard a cry. I just saw her sinking. +AND I COULDN'T MOVE. As God hears me, it is true. I knew I must dive in +and rescue her--I had run up with every impulse to do so; BUT I COULD +NOT MOVE. I stood shivering with the paralysis of fear. Fear of the +deep black water, the steep brick sides of the canal that seemed to +stretch away for ever--fear of death, I suppose that was it. I don't +know. Fear irresistible, unconquerable, gripped me as it had gripped me +before, as it has gripped me since. And she drowned before my eyes +while I stood like a stone." + +There was an awful pause. He had told me the end of the tragedy so +swiftly and in a voice so keyed to the terror of the scene, that I lay +horror-stricken, unable to speak. He buried his face in his hands, and +between the fleshy part of the palms I saw the muscles of his lips +twitch horribly. I remembered, with a shiver, how I had first seen them +twitch, in his mother's house, when he had made his strange, almost +passionate apology for fear. And he had all but described this very +incident: the reckless, hare-brained devil standing on the bank of a +river and letting a wounded comrade drown. I remember how he had +defined it: "the sudden thing that hits a man's heart and makes him +stand stock-still like a living corpse--unable to move a muscle--all +his will-power out of gear--just as a motor is out of gear.... It is as +much of a fit as epilepsy." + +The span of stillness was unbearable. The watch on the little table by +my bedside ticked maddeningly. Marigold put his head in at the door, +apparently to warn me that it was getting late. I waved him imperiously +away. Boyce did not notice his entrance. Presently he raised his head. + +"I don't know how long I stood there. But I know that when I moved she +was long since past help. Suddenly there was a sharp crashing noise on +the road below. I looked round and saw no one. But it gave me a +shock--and I ran. I ran like a madman. And I thought as I ran that, if +I were discovered, I should be hanged for murder. For who would believe +my story? Who would believe it now?" + +"I believe it, Boyce," I said. + +"Yes. You. You know something of the hell my life has been. But who +else? He had every motive for the crime, the lawyers would say. They +could prove it. But, my God! what motive had I for sending all my +gallant fellows to their deaths at Vilboek's Farm? ... The two things +are on all fours--and many other things with them.... My one sane +thought through the horror of it all was to get home and into the house +unobserved. Then I came upon the man Gedge, who had spied on me." + +"I know about that," said I, wishing to spare him from saying more than +was necessary. "He told Fenimore and me about it." + +"What was his version?" he asked in a low tone. "I had better hear it." + +When I had told him, he shook his head. "He lied. He was saving his +skin. I was not such a fool, mad as I was, as to leave him like that. +He had seen us together. He had seen me alone. To-morrow there would be +discovery. I offered him a thousand pounds to say nothing. He haggled. +Oh! the ghastly business! Eventually I suggested that he should come up +to London with me by the first train in the morning and discuss the +money. I was dreading lest someone should come along the avenue and see +me. He agreed. I think I drank a bottle of whisky that night. It kept +me alive. We met in my chambers in London. I had sent my man up the day +before to do some odds and ends for me. I made a clear breast of it to +Gedge. He believed the worst. I don't blame him. I bought his silence +for a thousand a year. I made arrangements for payment through my +bankers. I went to Norway. But I went alone. I didn't fish. I put off +the two men I was to join. I spent over a month all by myself. I don't +think I could tell you a thing about the place. I walked and walked all +day until I was exhausted, and got sleep that way. I'm sure I was going +mad. I should have gone mad if it hadn't been for the war. I suppose +I'm the only Englishman living or dead who whooped and danced with +exultation when he heard of it. I think my brain must have been a bit +touched, for I laughed and cried and jumped about in a pine-wood with a +week old newspaper in my hands. I came home. You know the rest." + +Yes, I knew the rest. The woman he had left to drown had been ever +before his eyes; the avenging Furies in pursuit. This was the torture +in his soul that had led him to many a mad challenge of Death, who +always scorned his defiance. Yes, I knew all that he could tell me. + +But we went on talking. There were a few points I wanted cleared up. +Why should he have kept up a correspondence with Gedge? + +"I only wrote one foolish angry letter," he replied. + +And I told him how Sir Anthony had thrown it unread into the fire. +Gedge's nocturnal waylaying of him in my front garden was another +unsuccessful attempt to tighten the screw. Like Randall and myself, he +had no fear of Gedge. + +Of Sir Anthony he could not speak. He seemed to be crushed by the +heroic achievement. It was the only phase of our interview during +which, by voice and manner and attitude, he appeared to me like a +beaten man. His own bravery at the reception had gone for naught. He +was overwhelmed by the hideous insolence of it. + +"I shall never get that man's voice out of my ears as long as I live," +he said hoarsely. + +After a while he added: "I wonder whether there is any rest or +purification for me this side of the grave." + +I said tentatively, for we had never discussed matters of religion: "If +you believe in Christ, you must believe in the promise regarding the +sins that be as scarlet." + +But he turned it aside. "In the olden days, men like me turned monk and +found salvation in fasting and penance. The times in which we live have +changed and we with them, my friend. Nos mulamur in illis, as the tag +goes." + +We went on talking--or rather he talked and I listened. Now and again +he would help himself to a drink or a cigarette, and I marvelled at the +clear assurance with which he performed the various little operations. +I, lying in bed, lost all sense of pain, almost of personality. My +little ailments, my little selfish love of Betty, my little humdrum +life itself dwindled insignificant before the tragic intensity of this +strange, curse-ridden being. + +And all the time we had not spoken of Betty--except the Betty of long +ago. It was I, finally, who gave him the lead. + +"And Betty?" said I. + +He held out his hand in a gesture that was almost piteous. + +"I could tear her from my life. I had no alternative. In the tearing I +hurt her cruelly. To know it was not the least of the burning hell I +lit for myself. But I couldn't tear her from my heart. When a brute +beast like me does love a woman purely and ideally, it's a desperate +business. It means God's Heaven to him, while it means only an earthly +paradise to the ordinary man. It clutches hold of the one bit of +immortal soul he has left, and nothing in this world can make it let +go. That's why I say it's a desperate business." + +"Yes, I can understand," said I. + +"I schooled myself to the loss of her. It was part of my punishment. +But now she has come back into my life. Fate has willed it so. Does it +mean that I am forgiven?" + +"By whom?" I asked. "By God?" + +"By whom else?" + +"How dare man," said I, "speak for the Almighty?" + +"How is man to know?" + +"That's a hard question," said I. "I can only think of answering it by +saying that a man knows of God's forgiveness by the measure of the +Peace of God in his soul." + +"There's none of it in mine, my dear chap, and never will be," said +Boyce. + +I strove to help him. For what other purpose had he come to me? + +"You think then that the sending of Betty is a sign and a promise? Yes. +Perhaps it is. What then?" + +"I must accept it as such," said he. "If there is a God, He would not +give me back the woman I love, only to take her away again. What shall +I do?" + +"In what way?" I asked. + +"She offered to marry me. I am to give her my answer to-morrow. If I +were the callous, murdering brute that everyone would have the right to +believe I am, I shouldn't have hesitated. If I hadn't been a tortured, +damned soul," he cried, bringing his great fist down on the bed, "I +shouldn't have come here to ask you what my answer can be. My whole +being is infected with horror." He rose and stood over the bed and, +with clenched hands, gesticulated to the wall in front of him. "I'm +incapable of judging. I only know that I crave her with everything in +me. I've got it in my brain that she's my soul's salvation. Is my brain +right? I don't know. I come to you--a clean, sweet man who knows +everything--I don't think there's a crime on my conscience or a +foulness in my nature which I haven't confessed to you. You can judge +straight as I can't. What answer shall I give to-morrow?" + +Did ever man, in a case of conscience, have a greater responsibility? +God forgive me if I solved it wrongly. At any rate, He knows that I was +uninfluenced by mean personal considerations. All my life I have tried +to have an honourable gentleman and a Christian man. According to my +lights I saw only one clear course. + +"Sit down, old man," said I. "You're a bit too big for me like that." +He felt for his chair, sat down and leaned back. "You've done almost +everything," I continued, "that a man can do in expiation of offences. +But there is one thing more that you must do in order to find peace. +You couldn't find peace if you married Betty and left her in ignorance. +You must tell Betty everything--everything that you have told me. +Otherwise you would still be hag-ridden. If she learned the horror of +the thing afterwards, what would be your position? Acquit your +conscience now before God and a splendid woman, and I stake my faith in +each that neither will fail you." + +After a few minutes, during which the man's face was like a mask, he +said: + +"That's what I wanted to know. That's what I wanted to be sure of. Do +you mind ringing your bell for Marigold to take me away? I've kept you +up abominably." He rose and held out his hand and I had to direct him +how it could reach mine. When it did, he gripped it firmly. + +"It's impossible," said he, "for you to realise what you've done for me +to-night. You've made my way absolutely clear to me--for the first time +for two years. You're the truest comrade I've ever had, Meredyth. God +bless you." + +Marigold appeared, answering my summons, and led Boyce away. Presently +he returned. + +"Do you know what time it is, sir?" he asked serenely. + +"No," said I. + +"It's half-past one." + +He busied himself with my arrangements for the night, and administered +what I learned afterwards was a double dose of a sleeping draught which +Cliffe had prescribed for special occasions. I just remember surprise +at feeling so drowsy after the intense excitement of the evening, and +then I fell asleep. + +When I awoke in the morning I gathered my wits together and recalled +what had taken place. Marigold entered on tiptoe and found me already +aroused. + +"I'm sorry to tell you, sir," said he, "that an accident happened to +Colonel Boyce after he left last night." + +"An accident?" + +"I suppose so, sir," said Marigold. "That's what his chauffeur says. He +got out of the car in order to sit by the side of the canal--by the +lock gates. He fell in, sir. He's drowned." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + + +It is Christmas morning, 1916, the third Christmas of the war. The +tragedy of Boyce's death happened six months ago. Since then I have +been very ill. The shock, too great for my silly heart, nearly killed +me. By all the rules of the game I ought to have died. But I suppose, +like a brother officer long since defunct, also a Major, one Joe +Bagstock, I am devilish tough. Cliffe told me this morning that, apart +from a direct hit by a 42-centimetre shell, he saw no reason, after +what I had gone through, why I should not live for another hundred +years. "I wash my hands of you," said he. Which indeed is pleasant +hearing. + +I don't mind dying a bit, if it is my Maker's pleasure; if it would +serve any useful purpose; if it would help my country a myriadth part +of a millimetre on towards victory. But if it would not matter to the +world any more than the demise of a daddy-long-legs, I prefer to live. +In fact, I want to live. I have never wanted to live more in all my +life. I want to see this fight out. I want to see the Light that is +coming after the Darkness. For, by God! it will come. + +And I want to live, too, for personal and private reasons. If I could +regard myself merely as a helpless incumbrance, a useless jellyfish, +absorbing for my maintenance human effort that should be beneficially +exerted elsewhere, I think I should be the first to bid them take me +out and bury me. But it is my wonderful privilege to look around and +see great and beautiful human souls coming to me for guidance and +consolation. Why this should be I do not rightly know. Perhaps my very +infirmity has taught me many lessons.... + +You see, in the years past, my life was not without its lonelinesses. +It was so natural for the lusty and joyous to disregard, through mere +thoughtlessness, the little weather-beaten cripple in his wheelchair. +But when one of these sacrificed an hour's glad life in order to sit by +the dull chair in a corner, the cripple did not forget it. He learned +in its terrible intensity the meaning of human kindness. And, in his +course through the years, or as the years coursed by him, he realised +that a pair of gollywog legs was not the worst disability which a human +being might suffer. There were gollywog hearts, brains, nerves, +temperaments, destinies. + +Perhaps, in this way, he came to the knowledge that in every human +being lies the spark of immortal beauty, to be fanned into flame by one +little rightly directed breath. At any rate, he learned to love his +kind. + +It is Christmas day. I am as happy as a man has a right to be in these +fierce times in England. Love is all around me. I must tell you little +by little. Various things have happened during the last six months. + +At the inquest on the body of Leonard Boyce, the jury gave a verdict of +death by misadventure. The story of the chauffeur, an old soldier +servant devoted to Boyce, received implicit belief. He had faithfully +carried out his master's orders: to conduct him from the road, across +the field, and seat him on the boom of the lock gates, where he wanted +to remain alone in order to enjoy the quiet of the night and listen to +the lap of the water; to return and fetch him in a quarter of an hour. +This he did, dreaming of no danger. When he came back he realised what +had happened. His master had got up and fallen into the canal. What had +really happened only a few of us knew. + +Well, I have told you the man's story. I am not his judge. Whether his +act was the supreme amende, the supreme act of courage or the supreme +act of cowardice, it is not for me to say. I heard nothing of the +matter for many weeks, for they took me off to a nursing home and kept +me in the deathly stillness of a sepulchre. When I resumed my life in +Wellingsford I found smiling faces to welcome me. My first public +action was to give away Phyllis Gedge in marriage to Randall +Holmes--Randall Holmes in the decent kit of an officer and a gentleman. +He made this proposition to me on the first evening of my return. "The +bride's father," said I, somewhat ironically, "is surely the proper +person." + +"The bride's father," said he, "is miles away, and, like a wise and +hoary villain, is likely to remain there." + +This was news. "Gedge has left Wellingsford?" I cried. "How did that +come about?" + +He stuck his hands on his hips and looked down on me pityingly. + +"I'm afraid, sir," said he, "you'll never do adequate justice to my +intelligence and my capacity for affairs." + +Then he laughed and I guessed what had occurred. My young friend must +have paid a stiff price; but Phyllis and peace were worth it; and I +have said that Randall is a young man of fortune. + +"My dear boy," said I, "if you have exorcised this devil of a +father-in-law of yours out of Wellingsford, I'll do any mortal thing +you ask." + +I was almost ecstatic. For think what it meant to those whom I held +dear. The man's evil menace was removed from the midst of us. The man's +evil voice was silenced. The tragic secrets of the canal would be kept. +I looked up at my young friend. There was a grim humour around the +corners of his mouth and in his eyes the quiet masterfulness of those +who have looked scornfully at death. I realised that he had reached a +splendid manhood. I realised that Gedge had realised it too; woe be to +him if he played Randall false. I stuck out my hand. + +"Any mortal thing," I repeated. + +He regarded me steadily. "Anything? Do you really mean it?" + +"You dashed young idiot," I cried, "do you think I'm in the habit of +talking through my hat?" + +"Well," said he, "will you look after Phyllis when I'm gone?" + +"Gone? Gone where? Eternity?" + +"No, no! I've only a fortnight's leave. Then I'm off. Wherever they +send me. Secret Service. You know. It's no use planking Phyllis in a +dug-out of her own"--shades of Oxford and the Albemarle Review!--"she'd +die of loneliness. And she'd die of culture in the mater's highbrow +establishment. Whereas, if you would take her in--give her a shake-down +here--she wouldn't give much trouble--" + +He stammered as even the most audacious young warrior must do when +making so astounding a proposal. But I bade him not be an ass, but send +her along when he had to finish with her; with the result that for some +months my pretty little Phyllis has been an inmate of my house. +Marigold keeps a sort of non-commissioned parent's eye on her. To him +she seems to be still the child whom he fed solicitously but +unemotionally with Mrs. Marigold's cakes at tea parties years ago. She +gives me a daughter's dainty affection. Thank God for it! + +There have been other little changes in Wellingsford. Mrs. Boyce left +the town soon after Leonard's death, and lives with her sister in +London. I had a letter from her this morning--a brave woman's letter. +She has no suspicion of the truth. God still tempereth the wind.... Out +of the innocent generosity of her heart she sent me also, as a +keepsake, "a little heavy cane, of which Leonard was extraordinarily +fond." She will never know that I put it into the fire, and with what +strange and solemn thoughts I watched it burn. + +It is Christmas Day. Dr. Cliffe, although he has washed his hands of +me, tyrannically keeps me indoors of winter nights, so that I cannot, +as usual, dine at Wellings Park. To counter the fellow's machinations, +however, I have prepared a modest feast to which I have bidden Sir +Anthony and Lady Fenimore and my dearest Betty. + +As to Betty-- + +Phyllis comes in radiant, her pretty face pink above an absurd panoply +of furs. She has had a long letter from Randall from the Lord knows +where. He will be home on leave in the middle of January. In her +excitement she drops prayer-books and hymn-books all over me. Then, +picking them up, reminds me it is time to go to church. I am an +old-fashioned fogey and I go to church on Christmas Day. I hope our +admirable and conscientious Vicar won't feel it his duty to tell us to +love Germans. I simply can't do it. + +New Year's Day, 1917. + +I must finish off this jumble of a chronicle. + +Before us lies the most eventful year in all the old world's history. +Thank God my beloved England is strong, and Great Britain and our great +Empire and immortal France. There is exhilaration in the air; a +consciousness of high ideals; an unwavering resolution to attain them; +a thrilling faith in their ultimate attainment. No one has died or lost +sight or limbs in vain. I look around my own little circle. Oswald +Fenimore, Willie Connor, Reggie Dacre, Leonard Boyce--how many more +could I not add to the list? All those little burial grounds in +France--which France, with her exquisite sense of beauty, has assigned +as British soil for all time--all those burial grounds, each bearing +its modest leaden inscription--some, indeed, heart-rendingly inscribed +"Sacred to the memory of six unknown British soldiers killed in +action"--are monuments not to be bedewed with tears of lamentation. +From the young lives that have gone there springs imperishable love and +strength and wisdom--and the vast determination to use that love and +strength and wisdom for the great good of mankind. If there is a God of +Battles, guiding, in His inscrutable omniscience, the hosts that fight +for the eternal verities--for all that man in his straining towards the +Godhead has striven for since the world began--the men who have died +will come into their glory, and those who have mourned will share +exultant in the victory. From before the beginning of Time Mithra has +ever been triumphant and his foot on the throat of Ahriman. + +It was in February, 1915, that I began to expand my diary into this +narrative,--nearly two years ago. We have passed through the darkness. +The Dawn is breaking. Sursum corda. + +I was going to tell you about Betty when Phyllis, with her furs and +happiness and hymn-books, interrupted me. I should like to tell you +now. But who am I to speak of the mysteries in the soul of a great +woman? But I must try. And I can tell you more now than I could on +Christmas Day. + +Last night she insisted on seeing the New Year in with me. If I had +told Marigold that I proposed to sit up after midnight, he would have +come in at ten o'clock, picked me up with finger and thumb as any +Brobdingnagian might have picked up Gulliver, and put me straightway to +bed. But Betty made the announcement in her airily imperious way, and +Marigold, craven before Betty and Mrs. Marigold, said "Very good, +madam," as if Dr. Cliffe and his orders had never existed. At half past +ten she packed off the happy and, I must confess, the somewhat sleepy +Phyllis, and sat down, in her old attitude by the side of my chair, in +front of the fire, and opened her dear heart to me. + +I had guessed what her proud soul had suffered during the last six +months. One who loved her as I did could see it in her face, in her +eyes, in the little hardening of her voice, in odd little betrayals of +feverishness in her manner. But the outside world saw nothing. The +steel in her nature carried her through. She left no duty +unaccomplished. She gave her confidence to no human being. I, to whom +she might have come, was carried off to the sepulchre above mentioned. +Letters were forbidden. But every day, for all her bleak despair, Betty +sent me a box of fresh flowers. They would not tell me it was Betty who +sent them; but I knew. My wonderful Betty. + +When they took off my cerecloths and sent me back to Wellingsford, +Betty was the first to smile her dear welcome. We resumed our old +relations. But Betty, treating me as an invalid, forbore to speak of +Leonard Boyce. Any approach on my part came up against that iron wall +of reserve of which I spoke to you long ago. + +But last night she told me all. What she said I cannot repeat. But she +had divined the essential secret of the double tragedy of the canal. It +had become obvious to her that he had made the final reparation for a +wrong far deeper than she had imagined. She was very clear-eyed and +clear-souled. During her long companionship with pain and sorrow and +death, she had learned many things. She had been purged by the fire of +the war of all resentments, jealousies, harsh judgments, and came forth +pure gold.... Leonard had been the great love of her life. If you +cannot see now why she married Willie Connor, gave him all that her +generous heart could give, and after his death was irresistibly drawn +back to Boyce, I have written these pages in vain. + +A few minutes before midnight Marigold entered with a tray bearing a +cake or two, a pint of champagne and a couple of glasses. While he was +preparing to uncork the bottle Betty slipped from the room and returned +with another glass. + +"For Sergeant Marigold," she said. + +She opened the French window behind the drawn curtains and listened. It +was a still clear night. Presently the clock of the Parish Church +struck twelve. She came down to the little table by my side and filled +the glasses, and the three of us drank the New Year in. Then Betty +kissed me and we both shook hands with Marigold, who stood very stiff +and determined and cleared his throat and swallowed something as though +he were expected to make a speech. But Betty anticipated him. She put +both her hands on his gaunt shoulders and looked up into his ugly face. + +"You've just wished me a Happy New Year, Sergeant." + +"I have," said he, "and I mean it." + +"Then will you let me have great happiness in staying here and helping +you to look after the Major?" + +He gasped for a moment (as did I) and clutched her arms for an instant +in an iron grip. + +"Indeed I will, my dear," said he. + +Then he stepped back a pace and stood rigid, his one eye staring, his +weather-beaten face the colour of beetroot. He was blushing. The beads +of perspiration appeared below his awful wig. He stammered out +something about "Ma'am" and "Madam." He had never so far forgotten +himself in his life. + +But Betty sprang forward and gripped his hand. + +"It is you who are the dear," she said. "You, the greatest and loyalest +friend a man has ever known. And I'll be loyal to you, never fear." + +By what process of enchantment she got an emotion-filled Marigold to +the door and shut it behind him, I shall never discover. On its slam +she laughed--a queer high note. In one swift movement she was by my +knees. And she broke into a passion of tears. For me, I was the most +mystified man under heaven. + +Soon she began to speak, her head bowed. + +"I've come to the end of the tether, Majy dear. They've driven me from +the hospital--I didn't know how to tell you before--I've been doing all +sorts of idiotic things. The doctors say it's a nervous breakdown--I've +had rather a bad time--but I thought it contemptible to let one's own +wretched little miseries interfere with one's work for the country--so +I fought as hard as I could. Indeed I did, Majy dear. But it seems I've +been playing the fool without knowing it,--I haven't slept properly for +months--and they've sent me away. Oh, they've been all that's kind, of +course--I must have at least six months' rest, they say--they talk +about nursing homes--I've thought and thought and thought about it +until I'm certain. There's only one rest for me, Majy dear." She raised +a tear-stained, tense and beautiful face and drew herself up so that +one arm leaned on my chair, and the other on my shoulder. "And that is +to be with the one human being that is left for me to love--oh, really +love--you know what I mean--in the world." + +I could only put my hand on her fair young head and say: + +"My dear, my dear, you know I love you." + +"That is why I'm not afraid to speak. Perfect love casteth out fear--" + +I pushed back her hair. "What is it that you want me to do, Betty?" I +asked. "My life, such as it is, is at your command." + +She looked me full, unflinchingly in the eyes. + +"If you would give me the privilege of bearing your name, I should be a +proud and happy woman." + +We remained there, I don't know how long--she with her hand on my +shoulder, I caressing her dear hair. It was a tremendous temptation. To +have my beloved Betty in all her exquisite warm loyalty bound to me for +the rest of my crippled life. But I found the courage to say: + +"My dear, you are young still, with the wonderful future that no one +alive can foretell before you, and I am old--" + +"You're not fifty." + +"Still I am old, I belong to the past--to a sort of affray behind an +ant-hill which they called a war. I'm dead, my dear, you are gloriously +alive. I'm of the past, as I say. You're of the future. You, my +dearest, are the embodiment of the woman of the Great War--" I +smiled--"The Woman of the Great War in capital letters. What your +destiny is, God knows. But it isn't to be tied to a Prehistoric Man +like me." + +She rose and stood, with her beautiful bare arms behind her, sweet, +magnificent. + +"I am a Woman of the Great War. You are quite right. But in a year or +so I shall be like other women of the war who have suffered and spent +their lives, a woman of the past--not of the future. All sorts of +things have been burned up in it." In a quick gesture she stretched out +her hands to me. "Oh, can't you understand?" + +I cannot set down the rest of the tender argument. If she had loved me +less, she could have lived in my house, like Phyllis, without a thought +of the conventions. But loving me dearly, she had got it into her +feminine head that the sacredness of the marriage tie would crown with +dignity and beauty the part she had resolved to play for my happiness. + +Well, if I have yielded I pray it may not be set down to me for selfish +exploitation of a woman's exhausted hour. When I said something of the +sort, she laughed and cried: + +"Why, I'm bullying you into it!" + +The First of January, 1917--the dawn to me, a broken derelict, of the +annus mirabilis. Somehow, foolishly, illogically, I feel that it will +be the annus mirabilis for my beloved country. + +And come--after all--I am, in spite of my legs, a Man too of the Great +War. I have lived in it, and worked in it, and suffered in it--and in +it have I won a Great Thing. + +So long as one's soul is sound--that is the Great Matter. + +Just before we parted last night, I said to Betty: + +"The beginning and end of all this business is that you're afraid of +Marigold." + +She started back indignantly. + +"I'm not! I'm not!" + +I laughed. "The Lady protests too much," said I. + +The clock struck two. Marigold appeared at the door. He approached +Betty. + +"I think, Madam, we ought to let the Major go to bed." + +"I think, Marigold," said Betty serenely, "we ought to be ashamed of +ourselves for keeping him up so late." + + + + +THE END + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Red Planet, by William J. Locke + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RED PLANET *** + +***** This file should be named 4287.txt or 4287.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/4/2/8/4287/ + +Produced by Robert Rowe, Charles Franks and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team. HTML version by Al Haines. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Hart +and may be reprinted only when these Etexts are free of all fees.] +[Project Gutenberg is a TradeMark and may not be used in any sales +of Project Gutenberg Etexts or other materials be they hardware or +software or any other related product without express permission.] + +*END THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.10/04/01*END* + + + + +Robert Rowe, Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + +THE RED PLANET + +BY WILLIAM J. LOCKE + +AUTHOR OF "THE WONDERFUL YEAH," "JAFFERY," +"THE BELOVED VAGABOND," ETC. + + Not only over death strewn plains, + Fierce mid the cold white stars, + But over sheltered vales of home, + Hides the Red Planet Mars. + + + + + +THE RED PLANET + + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +"Lady Fenimore's compliments, sir, and will you be so kind as to +step round to Sir Anthony at once?" + +Heaven knows that never another step shall I take in this world +again; but Sergeant Marigold has always ignored the fact. That is +one of the many things I admire about Marigold. He does not throw +my poor paralysed legs, so to speak, in my face. He accepts them +as the normal equipment of an employer. I don't know what I should +do without Marigold. ... You see we were old comrades in the South +African War, where we both got badly knocked to pieces. He was +Sergeant in my battery, and the same Boer shell did for both of +us. At times we join in cursing that shell heartily, but I am not +sure that we do not hold it in sneaking affection. It initiated us +into the brotherhood of death. Shortly afterwards when we had +crossed the border-line back into life, we exchanged, as tokens, +bits of the shrapnel which they had extracted from our respective +carcases. I have not enquired what he did with his bit; but I keep +mine in a certain locked drawer. ... There were only the two of us +left on the gun when we were knocked out. ... I should like to +tell you the whole story, but you wouldn't listen to me. And no +wonder. In comparison with the present world convulsion in which +the slaughtered are reckoned by millions, the Boer War seems a +trumpery affair of bows and arrows. I am a back-number. Still, +back-numbers have their feelings--and their memories. + +I sometimes wonder, as I sit in this wheel-chair, with my +abominable legs dangling down helplessly, what Sergeant Marigold +thinks of me. I know what I think of Marigold. I think him the +ugliest devil that God ever created and further marred after +creating him. He is a long, bony creature like a knobbly ram-rod, +and his face is about the colour and shape of a damp, mildewed +walnut. To hide a bald head into which a silver plate has been +fixed, he wears a luxuriant curly brown wig, like those that used +to adorn waxen gentlemen in hair-dressing windows. His is one of +those unhappy moustaches that stick out straight and scanty like a +cat's. He has the slit of a letter-box mouth of the Irishman in +caricature, and only half a dozen teeth spaced like a skeleton +company. Nothing will induce him to procure false ones. It is a +matter of principle. Between the wearing of false hair and the +wearing of false teeth he makes a distinction of unfathomable +subtlety. He is an obstinate beast. If he wasn't he would not, +with four fingers of his right hand shot away, have remained with +me on that gun. In the same way, neither tears nor entreaties nor +abuse have induced him to wear a glass eye. On high days and +holidays, whenever he desires to look smart and dashing, he covers +the unpleasing orifice with a black shade. In ordinary workaday +life he cares not how much he offends the aesthetic sense. But the +other eye, the sound left eye, is a wonder--the precious jewel set +in the head of the ugly toad. It is large, of ultra-marine blue, +steady, fearless, humorous, tender--everything heroic and +beautiful and romantic you can imagine about eyes. Let him clap a +hand over that eye and you will hold him the most dreadful ogre +that ever escaped out of a fairy tale. Let him clap a hand over +the other eye and look full at you out of the good one and you +will think him the Knightliest man that ever was--and in my poor +opinion, you would not be far wrong. + +So, out of this nightmare of a face, the one beautiful eye of +Sergeant Marigold was bent on me, as he delivered his message. + +I thrust back my chair from the writing-table. + +"Is Sir Anthony ill?" + +"He rode by the gate an hour ago looking as well as either you or +me, sir." + +"That's not very reassuring," said I. + +Marigold did not take up the argument. "They've sent the car for +you, sir." + +"In that case," said I, "I'll start immediately." + +Marigold wheeled my chair out of the room and down the passage to +the hall, where he fitted me with greatcoat and hat. Then, having +trundled me to the front gate, he picked me up--luckily I have +always been a small spare man--and deposited me in the car. I am +always nervous of anyone but Marigold trying to carry me. They +seem to stagger and fumble and bungle. Marigold's arms close round +me like an iron clamp and they lift me with the mechanical +certainty of a crane. + +He jumped up beside the chauffeur and we drove off. + +Perhaps when I get on a little further I may acquire the trick of +telling a story. At present I am baffled by the many things that +clamour for prior record. Before bringing Sir Anthony on the +scene, I feel I ought to say something more about myself, to +explain why Lady Fenimore should have sent for me in so peremptory +a fashion. Following the model of my favourite author Balzac--you +need the awful leisure that has been mine to appreciate him--I +ought to describe the house in which I live, my establishment-- +well, I have begun with Sergeant Marigold--and the little country +town which is practically the scene of the drama in which were +involved so many bound to me by close ties of friendship and +affection. + +I ought to explain how I come to be writing this at all. + +Well, to fill in my time, I first started by a diary--a sort of +War Diary of Wellingsford, the little country town in question. +Then things happened with which my diary was inadequate to cope. +Everyone came and told me his or her side of the story. All +through, I found thrust upon me the parts of father-confessor, +intermediary, judge, advocate, and conspirator.... For look you, +what kind of a life can a man lead situated as I am? The crowning +glory of my days, my wife, is dead. I have neither chick nor +child. No brothers or sisters, dead or alive. The Bon Dieu and +Sergeant Marigold (the latter assisted by his wife and a maid or +two) look after my creature comforts. What have I in the world to +do that is worth doing save concern myself with my country and my +friends? + +With regard to my country, in these days of war, I do what I can. +Until finally flattened out by the War Office, I pestered them for +such employment as a cripple might undertake. As an instance of +what a paralytic was capable I quoted Couthon, member of the +National Convention and the Committee of Public Safety. You can +see his chair, not very unlike mine, in the Musee Carnavalet in +Paris. Perhaps that is where I blundered. The idea of a shrieking +revolutionary in Whitehall must have sent a cold shiver down their +spines. In the meanwhile, I serve on as many War Committees in +Wellingsford as is physically possible for Sergeant Marigold to +get me into. I address recruiting meetings. I have taken earnest +young Territorial artillery officers in courses of gunnery. You +know they work with my own beloved old fifteen pounders, brought +up to date with new breeches, recoils, shields, and limbers. For +months there was a brigade in Wellings Park, and I used to watch +their drill. I was like an old actor coming once again before the +footlights.... Of course it was only in the mathematics of the +business that I could be of any help, and doubtless if the War +Office had heard of the goings on in my study, they would have +dropped severely on all of us. Still, I taught them lots of things +about parabolas that they did not know and did not know were to be +known--things that, considering the shells they fired went in +parabolas, ought certainly to be known by artillery officers; so I +think, in this way, I have done a little bit for my country. + +With regard to my friends, God has given me many in this quiet +market town--once a Sleepy Hollow awakened only on Thursdays by +bleating sheep and lowing cattle and red-faced men in gaiters and +hard felt hats; its life flowing on drowsily as the gaudily +painted barges that are towed on the canal towards which, in +scattered buildings, it drifts aimlessly; a Sleepy Hollow with one +broad High Street, melting gradually at each end through shops, +villas, cottages, into the King's Highway, yet boasting in its +central heart a hundred yards or so of splendour, where the +truculent new red brick Post Office sneers across the flagged +market square at the new Portland-stone Town Hall, while the old +thatched corn-market sleeps in the middle and the Early English +spire of the Norman church dreams calmly above them. Once, I say, +a Sleepy Hollow, but now alive with the tramp of soldiers and the +rumble of artillery and transport; for Wellingsford is the centre +of a district occupied by a division, which means twenty thousand +men of all arms, and the streets and roads swarm with men in +khaki, and troops are billeted in all the houses. The War has +changed many aspects, but not my old friendships. I had made a +home here during my soldiering days, long before the South African +War, my wife being a kinswoman of Sir Anthony, and so I have grown +into the intimacy of many folks around. And, as they have been +more than good to me, surely I must give them of my best in the +way of sympathy and counsel. So it is in no spirit of curiosity +that I have pried into my friends' affairs. They have become my +own, very vitally my own; and this book is a record of things as I +know them to have happened. + +My name is Meredyth, with a "Y," as my poor mother used proudly to +say, though what advantage a "Y" has over an "I," save that of a +swaggering tail, I have always been at a loss to determine; Major +Duncan Meredyth, late R.F.A., aged forty-seven; and I live in a +comfortable little house at the extreme north end of the High +Street, standing some way back from the road; so that in fine +weather I can sit in my front garden and watch everybody going +into the town. And whenever any of my friends pass by, it is their +kindly habit to cast an eye towards my gate, and, if I am visible, +to pass the time of day with me for such time as they can spare. + +Years ago, when first I realised what would be my fate for the +rest of my life, I nearly broke my heart. But afterwards, whether +owing to the power of human adaptability or to the theory of +compensation, I grew to disregard my infirmity. By building a +series of two or three rooms on to the ground floor of the house, +so that I could live in it without the need of being carried up +and down stairs, and by acquiring skill in the manipulation of my +tricycle chair, I can get about the place pretty much as I choose. +And Marigold is my second self. So, in spite of the sorrow and +grief incident to humanity of which God has given me my share, I +feel that my lot is cast in pleasant places and I am thankful. + +The High Street, towards its southern extremity, takes a sudden +bend, forming what the French stage directions call a pan coupe. +On the inner angle are the gates of Wellings Park, the residence +of Sir Anthony Fenimore, third baronet, and the most considerable +man in our little community. Through these gates the car took me +and down the long avenue of chestnut trees, the pride of a +district braggart of its chestnuts and its beeches, but now +leafless and dreary, spreading out an infinite tracery of branch +and twig against a grey February sky. Thence we emerged into the +open of rolling pasture and meadow on the highest ground of which +the white Georgian house was situated. As we neared the house I +shivered, not only with the cold, but with a premonition of +disaster. For why should Lady Fenimore have sent for me to see Sir +Anthony, when he, strong and hearty, could have sent for me +himself, or, for the matter of that, could have visited me at my +own home? The house looked stark and desolate. And when we drew up +at the front door and Pardoe, the elderly butler, appeared, his +face too looked stark and desolate. + +Marigold lifted me out and carried me up the steps and put me into +a chair like my own which the Fenimores have the goodness to keep +in a hall cupboard for my use. + +"What's the matter, Pardoe?" I asked. + +"Sir Anthony and her ladyship will tell you, sir. They're in the +morning room." + +So I was shewn into the morning room--a noble square room with +French windows, looking on to the wintry garden, and with a log +fire roaring up a great chimney. On one side of the fire sat Sir +Anthony, and on the other, Lady Fenimore. And both were crying. He +rose as he saw me--a short, crop-haired, clean-shaven, ruddy, +jockey-faced man of fifty-five, the corners of his thin lips, +usually curled up in a cheery smile, now piteously drawn down, and +his bright little eyes now dim like those of a dead bird. She, +buxom, dark, without a grey hair in her head, a fine woman defying +her years, buried her face in her hands and sobbed afresh. + +"It's good of you to come, old man," said Sir Anthony, "but you're +in it with us." + +He handed me a telegram. I knew, before reading it, what message +it contained. I had known, all along, but dared not confess it to +myself. + +"I deeply regret to inform you that your son, Lieutenant Oswald +Fenimore, was killed in action yesterday while leading his men +with the utmost gallantry." + +I had known him since he was a child. By reason of my wife's +kinship, I was "Uncle Duncan." He was just one and twenty, but a +couple of years out of Sandhurst. Only a week before I had +received an exuberant letter from him extolling his men as "super- +devil-angels," and imploring me if I loved him and desired to +establish the supremacy of British arms, to send him some of Mrs. +Marigold's potted shrimp. + +And now, there he was dead; and, if lucky, buried with a little +wooden cross with his name rudely inscribed, marking his grave. + +I reached out my hand. + +"My poor old Anthony!" + +He jerked his head and glance towards his wife and wheeled me to +her side, so that I could put my hand on her shoulder. + +"It's bitter hard, Edith, but--" + +"I know, I know. But all the same--" + +"Well, damn it all!" cried Sir Anthony, in a quavering voice, "he +died like a man and there's nothing more to be said." + +Presently he looked at his watch. + +"By George," said he, "I've only just time to get to my +Committee." + +"What Committee?" I asked. + +"The Lord Lieutenant's. I promised to take the chair." + +For the first time Lady Fenimore lifted her stricken face. + +"Are you going, Anthony?" + +"The boy didn't shirk his duty. Why should I?" + +She looked at him squarely and the most poignant simulacrum of a +smile I have ever seen flitted over her lips. + +"Why not, darling? Duncan will keep me company till you come +back." + +He kissed his wife, a trifle more demonstratively than he had ever +done in alien presence, and with a nod at me, went out of the +room. + +And suddenly she burst into sobbing again. + +"I know it's wrong and wicked and foolish," she said brokenly. +"But I can't help it. Oh, God! I can't help it." + +Then, like an ass, I began to cry, too; for I loved the boy, and +that perhaps helped her on a bit. + + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori. The tag has been all but +outworn during these unending days of death; it has become almost +a cant phrase which the judicious shrink from using. Yet to +hundreds of thousands of mourning men and women there has been +nothing but its truth to bring consolation. They are conscious of +the supreme sacrifice and thereby are ennobled. The cause in which +they made it becomes more sacred. The community of grief raises +human dignity. In England, at any rate, there are no widows of +Ashur. All are silent in their lamentations. You see little black +worn in the public ways. The Fenimores mourned for their only son, +the idol of their hearts; but the manifestation of their grief was +stoical compared with their unconcealed desolation on the occasion +of a tragedy that occurred the year before. + +Towards the end of the preceding June their only daughter, Althea, +had been drowned in the canal. Here was a tragedy unrelieved, +stupid, useless. Here was no consoling knowledge of glorious +sacrifice; no dying for one's country. There was no dismissing it +with a heroic word that caught in the throat. + +I have not started out to write this little chronicle of +Wellingsford in order to weep over the pain of the world. God +knows there is in it an infinity of beauty, fresh revelations of +which are being every day unfolded before my eyes. + +If I did not believe with all my soul that out of Darkness cometh +Light, I would take my old service revolver from its holster and +blow out my brains this very minute. The eternal laughter of the +earth has ever since its creation pierced through the mist of +tears in which at times it has been shrouded. What has been will +be. Nay, more, what has been shall be. It is the Law of what I +believe to be God.... As a concrete instance, where do you find a +fuller expression of the divine gaiety of the human spirit than in +the Houses of Pain, strewn the length and breadth of the land, +filled with maimed and shattered men who have looked into the jaws +of Hell? If it comes to that, I have looked into them myself, and +have heard the heroic jests of men who looked with me. + +For some years up to the outbreak of the war which has knocked all +so-called modern values silly, my young friends, with a certain +respectful superciliousness, regarded me as an amiable person +hopelessly out of date. Now that we are at grip with elementals, I +find myself, if anything, in advance of the fashion. This, +however, by the way. What I am clumsily trying to explain is that +if I am to make this story intelligible I must start from the +darkness where its roots lie hidden. And that darkness is the +black depths of the canal by the lock gates where Althea +Fenimore's body was found. + +It was high June, in leafy England, in a world at peace. Can one +picture it? With such a wrench of memory does one recall scenes of +tender childhood. In the shelter of a stately house lived Althea +Fenimore. She was twenty-one; pretty, buxom, like her mother, +modern, with (to me) a pathetic touch of mid-Victorian softness +and sentimentality; independent in outward action, what we call +"open-air"; yet an anomaly, fond at once of games and babies. I +have seen her in the morning tearing away across country by the +side of her father, the most passionate and reckless rider to +hounds in the county, and in the evening I have come across her, a +pretty mass of pink flesh and muslin--no, it can't be muslin--say +chiffon--anyhow, something white and filmy and girlish--curled up +on a sofa and absorbed in a novel of Mrs. Henry Wood, borrowed, if +one could judge by the state of its greasy brown paper cover, from +the servants' hall. I confess that, though to her as to her +brother I was "Uncle Duncan," and loved her as a dear, sweet +English girl, I found her lacking in spirituality, in intellectual +grasp, in emotional distinction. I should have said that she was +sealed by God to be the chaste, healthy, placid mother of men. She +was forever laughing--just the spontaneous laughter of the +gladness of life. + +On the last afternoon of her existence she came to see me, +bringing me a basket of giant strawberries from her own particular +bed. We had tea in the garden, and with her young appetite she +consumed half the fruit she had brought. At the time I did not +notice an unusual touch of depression. I remember her holding by +its stalk a great half-eaten strawberry and asking me whether +sometimes I didn't find life rather rotten. I said idly: + +"You can't expect the world to be a peach without a speck on it. +Of such is the Kingdom of Heaven. The wise person avoids the +specks." + +"But suppose you've bitten a specky bit by accident?" + +"Spit it out," said I. + +She laughed. "You think you're like the wise Uncle in the Sunday +School books, don't you?" + +"I know I am," I said. + +Whereupon she laughed again, finished the strawberry, and changed +the conversation. + +There seemed to be no foreshadowing of tragedy in that. I had +known her (like many of her kind) to proclaim the rottenness of +the Universe when she was off her stroke at golf, or when a +favourite young man did not appear at a dance. I attributed no +importance to it. But the next day I remembered. What was she +doing after half-past ten o'clock, when she had bidden her father +and mother goodnight, on the steep and lonely bank of the canal, +about a mile and a half away? No one had seen her leave the house. +No one, apparently, had seen her walking through the town. Nothing +was known of her until dawn when they found her body by the lock +gate. She had been dead some hours. It was a mysterious affair, +upon which no light was thrown at the inquest. No one save myself +had observed any sign of depression, and her half-bantering talk +with me was trivial enough. No one could adduce a reason for her +midnight walk on the tow-path. The obvious question arose. Whom +had she gone forth to meet? What man? There was not a man in the +neighbourhood with whom her name could be particularly associated. +Generally, it could be associated with a score or so. The modern +young girl of her position and upbringing has a drove of young +male intimates. With one she rides, with another she golfs, with +another she dances a two-step, with another she Bostons; she will +let Tom read poetry to her, although, as she expresses it, "he +bores her stiff," because her sex responds to the tribute; she +plays lady patroness to Dick, and tries to intrigue him into a +soft job; and as for Harry she goes on telling him month after +month that unless he forswears sack and lives cleanly she will +visit him with her high displeasure. Meanwhile, most of these +satellites have affaires de coeur of their own, some respectable, +others not; they regard the young lady with engaging frankness as +a woman and a sister, they have the run of her father's house, and +would feel insulted if anybody questioned the perfect correctness +of their behaviour. Each man has, say, half a dozen houses where +he is welcomed on the same understanding. Of course, when one +particular young man and one particular young woman read lunatic +things in each other's eyes, then the rest of the respective +quasi-sisters and quasi-brothers have to go hang. (In parenthesis, +I may state that the sisters are more ruthlessly sacrificed than +the brothers.) At any rate, frankness is the saving quality of the +modern note. + +In the case of Althea, there had been no sign of such +specialisation. She could not have gone forth, poor child, to meet +the twenty with whom she was known to be on terms of careless +comradeship. She had gone from her home, driven by God knows what +impulse, to walk in the starlight--there was no moon--along the +banks of the canal. In the darkness, had she missed her footing +and stepped into nothingness and the black water? The Coroner's +Jury decided the question in the affirmative. They brought in a +verdict of death by misadventure. And up to the date on which I +begin this little Chronicle of Wellingsford, namely that of the +summons to Wellings Park, when I heard of the death of young +Oswald Fenimore, that is all I knew of the matter. + +Throughout July my friends were like dead people. There was +nothing that could be said to them by way of consolation. The sun +had gone out of their heaven. There was no light in the world. +Having known Death as a familiar foe, and having fought against +its terrors; having only by the grace of God been able to lift up +a man's voice in my hour of awful bereavement, and cry, "O Death, +where is thy sting, O Grave, thy Victory?" I could suffer with +them and fear for their reason. They lived in a state of coma, +unaware of life, performing, like automata, their daily tasks. + +Then, in the early days of August, came the Trumpet of War, and +they awakened. In my life have I seen nothing so marvellous. No +broken spell of enchantment in an Arabian tale when dead warriors +spring into life was ever more instant and complete. They arose in +their full vigour; the colour came back to their cheeks and the +purpose into their eyes. They laughed once more. Their days were +filled with work and cheerfulness. In November Sir Anthony was +elected Mayor. Being a practical, hard-headed little man, loved +and respected by everybody, he drove a hitherto contentious Town +Council into paths of high patriotism like a flock of sheep. And +no less energy did Lady Fenimore exhibit in the sphere of her own +activities. + +A few days after the tidings came of Oswald's death, Sir Anthony +was riding through the town and pulled up before Perkins' the +fishmonger's. Perkins emerged from his shop and crossed the +pavement. + +"I hear you've had bad news." + +"Yes, indeed, Sir Anthony." + +"I'm sorry. He was a fine fellow. So was my boy. We're in the same +boat, Perkins." + +Perkins assented. "It sort of knocks one's life to bits, doesn't +it?" said he. "We've nothing left." + +"We have our country." + +"Our country isn't our only son," said the other dully. + +"No. She's our mother," said Sir Anthony. + +"Isn't that a kind of abstraction?" + +"Abstraction!" cried Sir Anthony, indignantly. "You must be +imbibing the notions of that poisonous beast Gedge." + +Gedge was a smug, socialistic, pacifist builder who did not hold +with war--and with this one least of all, which he maintained was +being waged for the exclusive benefit of the capitalist classes. +In the eyes of the stalwarts of Wellingsford, he was a horrible +fellow, capable of any stratagem or treason. + +Perkins flushed. "I've always voted conservative, like my father +before me, Sir Anthony, and like yourself I've given my boy to my +country. I've no dealings with unpatriotic people like Gedge, as +you know very well." + +"Of course I do," cried Sir Anthony. "And that's why I ask you +what the devil you mean by calling England an abstraction. For us, +she's the only thing in the world. We're elderly chaps, you and I, +Perkins, and the only thing we can do to help her is to keep our +heads high. If people like you and me crumple up, the British +Empire will crumple up." + +"That's quite true," said Perkins. + +Sir Anthony bent down and held out his hand. + +"It's damned hard lines for us, and for the women. But we must +keep our end up. It's doing our bit." + +Perkins wrung his hand. "I wish to God," said he, "I was young +enough--" + +"By God! so do I!" said Sir Anthony. + +This little conversation (which I afterwards verified) was +reported to me by my arch-gossip, Sergeant Marigold. + +"And I tell you what, sir," said he after the conclusion, "I'm of +the same way of thinking and feeling." + +"So am I." + +"Besides, I'm not so old, sir. I'm only forty-two." + +"The prime of life," said I. + +"Then why won't they take me, sir?" + +If there had been no age limit and no medical examination Marigold +would have re-enlisted as John Smith, on the outbreak of war, +without a moment's consideration of the position of his wife and +myself. And Mrs. Marigold, a soldier's wife of twenty years' +standing, would have taken it, just like myself, as a matter of +course. But as he could not re-enlist, he pestered the War Office +(just as I did) and I pestered for him to give him military +employment. And all in vain. + +"Why don't they take me, sir? When I see these fellows with three +stripes on their arms, and looking at them and wondering at them +as if they were struck three stripes by lightning, and calling +themselves Sergeants and swanking about and letting their men +waddle up to their gun like cows--and when I see them, as I've +done with your eyes--watch one of their men pass by an officer in +the street without saluting, and don't kick the blighter to--to-- +to barracks--it fairly makes me sick. And I ask myself, sir, what +I've done that I should be loafing here instead of serving my +country." + +"You've somehow mislaid an eye and a hand and gone and got a tin +head. That's what you've done," said I. "And the War Office has a +mark against you as a damned careless fellow." + +"Tin head or no tin head," he grumbled, "I could teach those +mother's darlings up there the difference between a battery of +artillery and a skittle-ally." + +"I believe you've mentioned the matter to them already," I +observed softly. + +Marigold met my eye for a second and then looked rather sheepish. +I had heard of a certain wordy battle between him and a +Territorial Sergeant whom he had set out to teach. Marigold +encountered a cannonade of blasphemous profanity, new, up-to-date, +scientific, against which the time-worn expletives in use during +his service days were ineffectual. He was routed with heavy loss. + +"This is a war of the young," I continued. "New men, new guns, new +notions. Even a new language," I insinuated. + +"I wish 'em joy of their language," said Marigold. Then seeing +that I was mildly amusing myself at his expense, he asked me +stiffly if there was anything more that he could do for me, and on +my saying no, he replied "Thank you, sir," most correctly and left +the room. + +On the 3d of March Betty Fairfax came to tea. + +Of all the young women of Wellingsford she was my particular +favourite. She was so tall and straight, with a certain Rosalind +boyishness about her that made for charm. I am not yet, thank +goodness, one of the fossils who hold up horror-stricken hands at +the independent ways of the modern young woman. If it were not for +those same independent ways the mighty work that English women are +doing in this war would be left undone. Betty Fairfax was breezily +independent. She had a little money of her own and lived, when it +suited her, with a well-to-do and comfortable aunt. She was two +and twenty. I shall try to tell you more about her, as I go on. + +As I have said, and as my diary tells me, she came to tea on the +3d of March. She was looking particularly attractive that +afternoon. Shaded lamps and the firelight of a cosy room, with all +their soft shadows, give a touch of mysterious charm to a pretty +girl. Her jacket had a high sort of Medici collar edged with fur, +which set off her shapely throat. The hair below her hat was soft +and brown. Her brows were wide, her eyes brown and steady, nose +and lips sensitive. She had a way of throwing back her head and +pointing her chin fearlessly, as though in perpetual declaration +that she cared not a hang either for black-beetles or Germans. And +she was straight as a dart, with the figure of a young Diana-- +Diana before she began to worry her head about beauty +competitions. A kind of dark hat stuck at a considerable angle on +her head gave her the prettiest little swaggering air in the +world. ... Well, there was I, a small, brown, withered, grizzled, +elderly, mustachioed monkey, chained to my wheel-chair; there were +the brave logs blazing up the wide chimney; there was the tea +table on my right with its array of silver and old china; and +there, on the other side of it, attending to my wants, sat as +brave and sweet a type of young English womanhood as you could +find throughout the length and breadth of the land. Had I not been +happy, I should have been an ungrateful dog. + +We talked of the war, of local news, of the wounded at the +hospital. + +And here I must say that we are very proud of our Wellingsford +Hospital. It is the largest and the wealthiest in the county. We +owe it to the uneasy conscience of a Wellingsford man, a railway +speculator in the forties, who, having robbed widows and orphans +and, after trial at the Old Bailey, having escaped penal servitude +by the skin of his teeth, died in the odour of sanctity, and the +possessor of a colossal fortune in the year eighteen sixty-three. +This worthy gentleman built the hospital and endowed it so +generously that a wing of it has been turned into a military +hospital with forty beds. I have the honour to serve on the +Committee. Betty Fairfax entered as a Probationer early in +September, and has worked there night and day ever since. That is +why we chatted about the wounded. Having a day off, she had +indulged in the luxury of pretty clothes. Of these I had duly +expressed my admiration. + +Tea over, she lit a cigarette for me and one for herself and drew +her chair a trifle nearer the fire. After a little knitting of the +brow, she said:-- + +"You haven't asked me why I invited myself to tea." + +"I thought," said I, "it was for my beaux yeux." + +"Not this time. I rather wanted you to be the first to receive a +certain piece of information." + +I glanced at her sharply. "You don't mean to say you're going to +be married at last?" + +In some astonishment she retorted:-- + +"How did you guess?" + +"Holy simplicity!" said I. "You told me so yourself." + +She laughed. Suddenly, on reflection, her face changed. + +"Why did you say 'at last'?" + +"Well--" said I, with a significant gesture. + +She made a defiant announcement:-- + +"I am going to marry Willie Connor." + +"It was my turn to be astonished. "Captain Connor?" I echoed. + +"Yes. What have you to say against him?" + +"Nothing, my dear, nothing." + +And I hadn't. He was an exemplary young fellow, a Captain in a +Territorial regiment that had been in hard training in the +neighbourhood since August. He was of decent family and +upbringing, a barrister by profession, and a comely pink-faced boy +with a fair moustache. He brought a letter or two of introduction, +was billeted on Mrs. Fairfax, together with one of his subs, and +was made welcome at various houses. Living under the same roof as +Betty, it was natural that he should fall in love with her. But it +was not at all natural that she should fall in love with him. She +was not one of the kind that suffer fools gladly. ... No; I had +nothing against Willie Connor. He was merely a common-place, +negative young man; patriotic, keen in his work, an excellent +soldier, and, as far as I knew, of blameless life; but having met +him two or three times in general company, I had found him a dull +dog, a terribly dull dog,--the last man in the world for Betty +Fairfax. + +And then there was Leonard Boyce. I naturally had him in my head, +when I used the words "at last." + +"You don't seem very enthusiastic," said Betty. + +"You've taken me by surprise," said I. "I'm not young enough to be +familiar with these sudden jerks." + +"You thought it was Major Boyce." + +"I did, Betty. True, you've said nothing about it to me for ever +so long, and when I have asked you for news of him your answers +have shewed me that all was not well. But you've never told me, or +anyone, that the engagement was broken off." + +Her young face was set sternly as she looked into the fire. + +"It's not broken off--in the formal sense. Leonard thought fit to +let it dwindle, and it has dwindled until it has perished of +inanition." She flashed round. "I'm not the sort to ask any man +for explanations." + +"Boyce went out with the first lot in August," I said. "He has had +seven awful months. Mons and all the rest of it. You must excuse a +man in the circumstances for not being aux petits soins des dames. +And he seems to be doing magnificently--twice mentioned in +dispatches." + +"I know all that," she said. "I'm not a fool. But the war has +nothing to do with it. It started a month before the war broke +out. Don't let us talk of it." + +She threw the end of her cigarette into the fire and lit a fresh +one. I accepted the action as symbolical. I dismissed Boyce, and +said:-- + +"And so you're engaged to Captain Connor?" + +"More than that," she laughed. "I'm going to marry him. He's going +out next week. It's idiotic to have an engagement. So I'm going to +marry him the day after to-morrow." + +Now here was a piece of news, all flung at my head in a couple of +minutes. The day after to-morrow! I asked for the reason of this +disconcerting suddenness. + +"He's going out next week." + +"My dear," said I, "I have known you for a very long time--and I +suppose it's because I'm such a very old friend that you've come +to tell me all about it. So I can talk to you frankly. Have you +considered the terrible chances of this war? Heaven knows what may +happen. He may be killed." + +"That's why I'm marrying him," she said. + +There was a little pause. For the moment I had nothing to say, as +I was busily searching for her point of view. Then, with pauses +between each sentence, she went on:-- + +"He asked me two months ago, and again a month ago. I told him to +put such ideas out of his head. Yesterday he told me they were off +to the front and said what a wonderful help it would be to him if +he could carry away some hope of my love. So I gave it to him."-- +She threw back her head and looked at me, with flushed cheeks. +"The love, not the hope." + +"I don't think it was right of him to press for an immediate +marriage," said I, in a grandfatherly way--though God knows if I +had been mad for a girl I should have done the same myself when I +was young. + +"He didn't" said Betty, coolly. "It was all my doing. I fixed it +up there and then. Looked up Whitaker's Almanack for the necessary +information, and sent him off to get a special license." + +I nodded a non-committal head. It all seemed rather mad. Betty +rose and from her graceful height gazed down on me. + +"If you don't look more cheerful, Major, I shall cry. I've never +done so yet, but I'm sure I've got it in me." + +I stretched out my hand. She took it, and, still holding it, +seated herself on a footstool close to my chair. + +"There are such a lot of things that occur to me," I said. "Things +that your poor mother, if she were alive, would be more fitted to +touch on than myself." + +"Such as--" + +She knelt by me and gave me both her hands. It was a pretty way +she had. She had begun it soon after her head overtopped mine in +my eternal wheelbarrow. There was a little mockery in her eyes. + +"Well--" said I. "You know what marriage means. There is the +question of children." + +She broke into frank laughter. + +"My darling Majy--" That is the penalty one pays for admitting +irresponsible modern young people into one's intimacy. They +miscall one abominably. I thought she had outgrown this childish, +though affectionate appellation of disrespect. "My darling Majy!" +she said. "Children! How many do you think I'm going to have?" + +I was taken aback. There was this pure, proud, laughing young face +a foot away from me. I said in desperation:-- + +"You know very well what I mean, young woman. I want to put things +clearly before you--" It is the most difficult thing in the world +for a man--even without legs--to talk straight about the facts of +life to a young girl. He has no idea how much she knows about them +and how much she doesn't. To tear away veils and reveal +frightening starkness is an act from which he shrinks with all the +modesty of a (perhaps) deluded sex. I took courage. "I want," I +repeated, "to put things clearly before you. You are marrying this +young man. You will have a week's married life. He goes away like +a gallant fellow to fight for his country. He may be killed in the +course of the next few weeks. Like a brave girl you've got to face +it. In the course of time a child may be born--without a father +to look after him. It's a terrific responsibility." + +She knelt upright and put both her hands on my shoulders, almost +embracing me, and the laughter died away from her eyes, giving +place to something which awakened memories of what I had seen once +or twice in the eyes of the dearest of all women. She put her face +very close to mine and whispered: + +"Don't you see, dear, it's in some sort of way because of that? +Don't you think it would be awful for a strong, clean, brave +English life like his to go out without leaving behind him someone +to--well, you know what I mean--to carry on the same traditions-- +to be the same clean brave Englishman in the future?" + +I smiled and nodded. Quite a different kind of nod from the +previous one. + +"Thousands of girls are doing it, you dear old Early Victorian, +and aren't ashamed to say so to those who really love and can +understand them. And you do love and understand, don't you?" + +She set me off at arm's length, and held me with her bright +unflinching eyes. + +"I do, my dear," said I. "But there's only one thing that troubles +me. Marriage is a lifelong business. Captain Connor may win +through to a green old age. I hope to God the gallant fellow will. +Your present motives are beautiful and heroic. But do you care for +him sufficiently to pass a lifetime with him--after the war--an +ordinary, commonplace lifetime?" + +With the same clear gaze full on me she said:-- + +"Didn't I tell you that I had given him my love?" + +"You did." + +"Then," she retorted with a smile, "my dear Major Didymus, what +more do you want?" + +"Nothing, my dear Betty." + +I kissed her. She threw her arms round my neck and kissed me +again. Sergeant Marigold entered on the sentimental scene and +preserved a face of wood. Betty rose to her feet slowly and +serenely and smiled at Marigold. + +"Miss Fairfax's car," he announced. + +"Marigold," said I, "Miss Fairfax is going to be married the day +after to-morrow to Captain Connor of the--" + +"I know, sir," interrupted my one-eyed ramrod. "I'm very glad, if +I may be permitted to say so, Miss. I've made it my duty to +inspect all the troops that have been quartered hereabouts during +the last eight months. And Captain Connor is one of the few that +really know their business. I shouldn't at all mind to serve under +him. I can't say more, Miss. I wish you happiness." + +She flushed and laughed and looked adorable, and held out her +hand, which he enclosed in his great left fist. + +"And you'll come to my wedding, Sergeant?" + +"I will, Miss," said he. "With considerable pleasure." + + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +When I want to shew how independent I am of everybody, I drive +abroad in my donkey carriage. I am rather proud of my donkey, a +lithe-limbed pathetically eager little beast, deep bay with white +tips to his ears. Marigold bought him for me last spring, from +some gipsies, when his predecessor, Dan, who had served me +faithfully for some years, struck work and insisted on an old-age +pension. He is called Hosea, a name bestowed on him, by way of +clerical joke, and I am sure with a profane reminiscence of +Jorrocks, by the Vicar, because he "came after Daniel." At first I +thought it rather silly; but when I tried to pull him up I found +that "Whoa-Ho-sea!" came in rather pat; so Hosea he has remained. +He has quite a fast, stylish little trot, and I can square my +elbows and cock my head on one side as I did in the days of my +youth when the brief ownership of a tandem and a couple of +thoroughbreds would have landed me in the bankruptcy court, had it +not mercifully first landed me in the hospital. + +The afternoon after Betty's visit, I took Hosea to Wellings Park. +The Fenimores shewed me a letter they had received from Oswald's +Colonel, full of praise of the gallant boy, and after discussing +it, which they did with brave eyes and voices, Sir Anthony said:-- + +"I want your advice, Duncan, on a matter that has been worrying us +both. Briefly it is this. When Oswald came of age I promised to +allow him a thousand a year till I should be wiped out and he +should come in. Now I'm only fifty-five and as strong as a horse. +I can reasonably expect to live, say, another twenty years. If +Oswald were alive I should owe him, in prospectu, twenty thousand +pounds. He has given his life for his country. His country, +therefore, is his heir, comes in for his assets, his twenty years' +allowance--" + +"And the whole of your estate at your death?" I interposed. + +"No. Not at all," said he. "At my death, it would have been his to +dispose of as he pleased. Up to my death, he would have had no +more claim to deal with it than you have. Look at things from my +point of view, and don't be idiotic. I am considering my debt to +Oswald, and therefore, logically, my debt to the country. It is +twenty thousand pounds. I'm going to pay it. The only question is +--and the question has kept Edith and myself awake the last two +nights--is what's the best thing to do with it? Of course I could +give it to some fund,--or several funds,--but it's a lot of money +and I should like it to be used to the best advantage. Now what do +you say?" + +"I say," said I, "that you Croesuses make a half-pay Major of +Artillery's head reel. If I were like you, I should go into a shop +and buy a super-dreadnought, and stick a card on it with a +drawing pin, and send it to the Admiralty with my compliments." + +"Duncan," said Lady Fenimore, severely, "don't be flippant." + +Heaven knows I was in no flippant mood; but it was worth a foolish +jest to bring a smile to Sir Anthony's face. Also this grave, +conscientious proposition had its humorous side. It was so +British. It reminded me of the story of Swift, who, when Gay and +Pope visited him and refused to sup, totted up the cost of the +meal and insisted on their accepting half-a-crown apiece. It +reminded me too of the rugged old Lancashire commercial blood that +was in him--blood that only shewed itself on the rarest and +greatest of occasions--the blood of his grandfather, the +Manchester cotton-spinner, who founded the fortunes of his house. +Sir Anthony knew less about cotton than he did about ballistics +and had never sat at a desk in a business office for an hour in +his life; but now and again the inherited instinct to put high +impulses on a scrupulously honest commercial basis asserted itself +in the quaintest of fashions. + +"There's some sense in what he says, Edith," remarked Sir Anthony. +"It's only vanity that prompted us to ear-mark this sum for +something special." + +"Vanity!" cried Lady Fenimore. "You weren't by any chance thinking +of advertising our gift or contribution or whatever you like to +call it in the Daily Mail?" + +"Heaven forbid, my dear," Sir Anthony replied warmly; and he +stood, his hands under his coat-tails and his gaitered legs +apart, regarding her with the air of a cock-sparrow accused of +murdering his young, or a sensitive jockey repudiating a +suggestion of crooked riding. "Heaven forbid!" he repeated. "Such +an idea never entered my head." + +"Then where does the vanity come in?" asked Lady Fenimore. + +They had their little argument. I lit a cigarette and let them +argue. In such cases, every married couple has its own queer and +private and particular and idiosyncratic way of coming to an +agreement. The third party who tries to foist on it his own +suggestion of a way is an imbecile. The dispute on the point of +vanity, charmingly conducted, ended by Sir Anthony saying +triumphantly:-- + +"Well, my dear, don't you see I'm right?" and by his wife replying +with a smile:-- + +"No, darling, I don't see at all. But since you feel like that, +there's nothing more to be said." + +I was mildly enjoying myself. Perhaps I'm a bit of a cynic. I +broke in. + +"I don't think it's vanity to see that you get your money's worth. +There's lots of legitimate fun in spending twenty thousand pounds +properly. It's too big to let other people manage or mis-manage. +Suppose you decided on motor-ambulances or hospital trains, for +instance, it would be your duty to see that you got the best and +most up-to-date ambulances or trains, with the least possible +profits, to contractors and middle-men." + +"As far as that goes, I think I know my way about," said Sir +Anthony. + +"Of course. And as for publicity--or the reverse, hiding your +light under a bushel--any fool can remain anonymous." + +Sir Anthony nodded at me, rubbed his hands, and turned to his +wife. + +"That's just what I was saying, Edith." + +"My dear, that is just what I was trying to make you understand." + +Neither of the two dear things had said, or given the other to +understand, anything of the kind. But you see they had come in +their own quaint married way to an agreement and were now +receptive of commonsense. + +"The motor ambulance is a sound idea," said Sir Anthony, rubbing +his chin between thumb and forefinger. + +"So is the hospital train," said Lady Fenimore. + +What an idiot I was to suggest these alternatives! I looked at my +watch. It was getting late. Hosea, like a silly child, is afraid +of the dark. He just stands still and shivers at the night, and +the more he is belaboured the more he shivers, standing stock- +still with ears thrown back and front legs thrown forward. As I +can't get out and pull, I'm at the mercy of Hosea. And he knows +it. Since the mount of Balaam, there was never such an intelligent +idiot of an ass. + +"What do you say?" asked Sir Anthony. "Ambulance or train?" + +"Donkey carriage," said I. "This very moment minute." + +I left them and trotted away homewards. + +Just as I had turned a bend of the chestnut avenue near the Park +gates, I came upon a couple of familiar figures--familiar, that is +to say, individually, but startlingly unfamiliar in conjunction. +They were a young man and girl, Randall Holmes and Phyllis Gedge. +Randall had concluded a distinguished undergraduate career at +Oxford last summer. He was a man of birth, position, and, to a +certain extent, of fortune. Phyllis Gedge was the daughter, the +pretty and attractive daughter, of Daniel Gedge, the socialistic +builder who did not hold with war. What did young Randall mean by +walking in the dark with his arm round Phyllis's waist? Of course +as soon as he heard the click-clack of Hosea's hoofs he whipped +his arm away; but I had already caught him. They tried to look +mighty unconcerned as I pulled up. I took off my hat politely to +the lady and held out my hand to the young man. + +"Good evening, Randall," said I. "I haven't seen you for ages." + +He was a tall, clean-limbed, clear-featured boy, with black hair, +which though not long, yet lacked the military trimness befitting +the heads of young men at the present moment. He murmured +something about being busy. + +"It will do you good to take a night off," I said; "drop in after +dinner and smoke a pipe with an old friend." + +I smiled, bowed again politely, whipped up Hosea and trotted off. +I wondered whether he would come. He had said: "Delighted, I'm +sure," but he had not looked delighted. Very possibly he regarded +me as a meddlesome, gossiping old tom-cat. Perhaps for that reason +he would deem it wise to adopt a propitiatory attitude. Perhaps +also he retained a certain affectionate respect for me, seeing +that I had known him as a tiny boy in a sailor suit, and had fed +him at Harrow (as I did poor Oswald Fenimore at Wellington) with +Mrs. Marigold's famous potted shrimp and other comestibles, and +had put him up, during here and there holidays and later a +vacation, when his mother and aunts, with whom he lived, had gone +abroad to take inefficacious cures for the tedium of a futile +life. Oxford, however, had set him a bit off my plane. + +As an ordinary soldierman, trained in the elementary virtues of +plain-speaking and direct dealing, love of country and the +sacredness of duty, I have had no use for the metaphysician. I +haven't the remotest notion what his jargon means. From Aristotle +to William James, I have dipped into quite a lot of them-- +Descartes, Berkeley, Kant, Schopenhauer (the thrice besotted +Teutonic ass who said that women weren't beautiful), for I hate to +be thought an ignorant duffer--and I have never come across in +them anything worth knowing, thinking, or doing that I was not +taught at my mother's knee. And as for her, dear, simple soul, if +you had asked her what was the Categorical Imperative (having +explained beforehand the meaning of the words), she would have +said, "The Sermon on the Mount." + +Of course, please regard this as a criticism not of the +metaphysicians and the philosophers, but of myself. All these +great thinkers have their niches in the Temple of Fame, and I'm +quite aware that the consensus of human judgment does not +immortalise even such an ass as Schopenhauer, without sufficient +reason. All I want to convey to you is that I am only a plain, +ordinary God-fearing, law-abiding Englishman, and that when young +Randall Holmes brought down from Oxford all sorts of highfalutin +theories about everything, not only in God's Universe, but in the +super-Universe that wasn't God's, and of every one of which he was +cocksure, I found my homely self very considerably out of it. + +Then--young Randall was a poet. He had won the Newdigate. The +subject was Andrea del Sarto, one of my favourite painters--il +pittore senza errore--and his prize poem--it had, of course, to be +academic in form--was excellent. It said just the things about him +which Browning somehow missed, and which I had always been +impotently wanting to say. And a year or so afterwards--when I +praised his poem--he would shrink in a more than deprecating +attitude: I might just as well have extolled him for seducing the +wife of his dearest friend. His later poems, of which he was +immodestly proud--"Sensations Captured on the Wing," he defined +them--left me cold and unsympathetic. So, for these reasons, the +boy and I had drifted apart. Until I had caught him in flagrante +delicto of walking with his arm round the waist of pretty Phyllis +Gedge, I had not seen him to speak to for a couple of months. + +He came, however, after dinner, looking very sleek and handsome +and intellectual, and wearing a velvet dinner jacket which I did +not like. After we had gossiped awhile:-- + +"You said you were very busy?" I remarked. + +He flicked off his cigarette ash and nodded. + +"What at?" + +"War poetry," he replied. "I am trying to supply the real note. It +is badly wanted. There are all kinds of stuff being written, but +all indifferent and valueless. If it has a swing, it's merely +vulgar, and what isn't vulgar is academic, commonplace. There's a +crying need for the high level poetry that shall interpret with +dignity and nobility the meaning of the war." + +"Have you written much?" + +"I have an ode every week in the Albemarle Review. I also write +the political article. Didn't you know? Haven't you seen them?" + +"I don't take in that periodical," said I. "The omniscience of the +last copy I saw dismayed me. I couldn't understand why the +Government were such insensate fools as not to move from Downing +Street to their Editorial offices." + +Randall, with a humouring smile, defended the Albemarle Review. + +"It is run," said he, "by a little set of intellectuals--some men +up with me at Oxford--who must naturally have a clearer vision +than men who have been living for years in the yellow fog of party +politics." + +He expounded the godlike wisdom of young Oxford at some length, +replying vividly to here and there a Socratic interpolation on my +part. After a while I began to grow irritated. His talk, like his +verse, seemed to deal with unrealities. It was a negation of +everything, save the intellectual. If he and his friends had been +in power, there would never have been a war; there never would +have been a German menace; the lamb would have lain down in peace, +outside the lion. He had an airy way of dismissing the ruder and +more human aspects of the war. Said I:-- + +"Anyone can talk of what might have been. But that's all over and +done with. We're up against the tough proposition of the present. +What are you doing for it?" + +He waved a hand. "That's just the point. The present doesn't +matter--not in the wide conception of things. It is the past and +the future that count. The present is mere fluidity." + +"The poor devils up to their waists in water in the trenches would +agree with you," said I. + +"They would also agree with me," he retorted, "if they had time to +go into the reconstruction of the future that we are +contemplating." + +At this juncture Marigold came in with the decanters and syphons. +I noticed his one eye harden on the velvet dinner-jacket. He +fidgeted about the room, threw a log on the fire, drew the +curtains closer, always with an occasional malevolent glance at +the jacket. Then Randall, like a silly young ass, said, from the +depths of his easy chair, a very silly thing. + +"I see you've not managed to get into khaki yet, Sergeant." + +Marigold took a tactical pace or two to the door. + +"Neither have you, sir," he said in a respectful tone, and went +out. + +Randall laughed, though I saw his dark cheek flush. "If Marigold +had his way he would have us all in a barrack square." + +"Preferably in those fluid trenches of the present," said I. "And +he wouldn't be far wrong." + +My eyes rested on him somewhat stonily. People have complained +sometimes--defaulters, say, in the old days--that there can be a +beastly, nasty look in them. + +"What do you mean, Major?" he asked. + +"Sergeant Marigold," said I, "is a brave, patriotic Englishman who +has given his country all he can spare from the necessary physical +equipment to carry on existence; and it's making him hang-dog +miserable that he's not allowed to give the rest to-morrow. You +must forgive his plain speaking," I continued, gathering warmth as +I went on, "but he can't understand healthy young fellows like you +not wanting to do the same. And, for the matter of that, my dear +Randall, neither do I. Why aren't you serving your country?" + +He started forward in his chair and threw out his arms, and his +dark eyes flashed and a smile of conscious rectitude overspread +his clear-cut features. + +"My dear Major--serving my country? Why, I'm working night and day +for it. You don't understand." + +"I've already told you I don't." + +The boy was my guest. I had not intended to hold a pistol to his +head in one hand and dangle a suit of khaki before his eyes in the +other. I had been ill at ease concerning him for months, but I had +proposed to regain his confidence in a tactful, fatherly way. +Instead of which I found myself regarding him with my beastly +defaulter glare. The blood sometimes flies to one's head. + +He condescended to explain. + +"There are millions of what the Germans call 'cannon fodder' +about. But there are few intellects--few men, shall I say?--of +genius, scarcely a poet. And men like myself who can express-- +that's the whole vital point--who can EXPRESS the higher +philosophy of the Empire, and can point the way to its realisation +are surely more valuable than the yokel or factory hand, who, as +the sum-total of his capabilities, can be trained merely into a +sort of shooting machine. Just look at it, my dear Major, from a +commonsense point of view--" He forgot, the amazing young idiot, +that he was talking not to a maiden aunt, but to a hard-bitten old +soldier. "What good would it serve to stick the comparatively rare +man--I say it in all modesty--the comparatively rare man like +myself in the trenches? It would be foolish waste. I assure you +I'm putting all my talents at the disposal of the country." +Seeing, I suppose, in my eyes, the maintained stoniness of non- +conviction, he went on, "But, pay dear sir, be reasonable." ... +Reasonable! I nearly choked. If I could have stood once more on my +useless legs, I should have swung my left arm round and clouted +him on the side of the head. Reasonable indeed! This well-fed, +able-bodied, young Oxford prig to tell me, an honourable English +officer and gentleman, to be reasonable, when the British Empire, +in peril of its existence, was calling on all its manhood to +defend it in arms! I glared at him. He continued:-- + +"Yes, be reasonable. Everyone has his place in this World +conflict. We can't all be practical fighters. You wouldn't set +Kitchener or Grey or Lord Crewe to bayonet Germans--" + +"By God, sir," I cried, smiting one palm with the fist of the +other hand. "By God, sir, I would, if they were three and twenty." +I had completely lost my temper. "And if I saw them doing nothing, +while the country was asking for MEN, but writing rotten doggerel +and messing about with girls far beneath them in station, I should +call them the damnedest skunks unskinned!" + +He had the decency to rise. "Major Meredyth," said he, "you're +under a terrible misapprehension. You're a military man and must +look at everything from a military point of view. It would be +useless to discuss the philosophy of the situation with you. We're +on different planes." + +Just what I said. + +"You," said I, "seem to be hovering near Tophet and the Abyss." + +"No, no," he answered with an indulgent smile. "You are quoting +Carlyle. You must give him up." + +"Damned pro-German, I should think I do," I cried. I had forgotten +where my phrase came from. + +"I'm glad to hear it. He's a back-number. I'm a modern. I +represent equilibrium--" He made a little rocking gesture with his +graceful hand. "I am out for Eternal Truth, which I think I +perceive." + +"In poor little Phyllis Gedge, I suppose?" + +"Why not? Look. I am the son, grandson, great-grandson, of English +Tories. She is the daughter of socialism, syndicalism, pacifism, +internationalism--everything that is most apart from my +traditions. But she brings to me beauty, innocence, the feminine +solution of all intellectual concepts. She, the woman, is the soul +of conflicting England. She is torn both ways. But as she has to +breed men, some day, she is instinctively on our side. She is +invaluable to me. She inspires my poems. You may not believe it, +but she is at the back of my political articles. You must really +be a little more broad-minded, Major, and look at these things +from the right point of view. From the point of view of my work, +she is merely a symbol." + +"And you?" said I, wrathfully. "What are you to her? Do you +suppose she takes you for a symbol? I wish to Heaven she did. A +round cipher of naught, the symbol of inanity. She takes you for +an honourable gentleman. I've known the child since she was born. +As good a little girl as you could wish to meet." + +He drew himself up. "That's the opinion of her I am endeavouring +to express." + +"Quite so. You win a good decent girl's affection,--if you +hadn't, she would never have let you walk about with her at +nightfall, with your arm round her waist,--and you have the +cynical audacity to say that she's only a symbol." + +"When you asked me to come in this evening," said he, "I naturally +concluded you would broach this subject. I came prepared to give +you a complete explanation of what I am ready to admit was a +compromising situation." + +"There is only one explanation," said I angrily. "What are your +intentions regarding the girl?" + +He smiled. "Quite honourable." + +"You mean marriage?" + +"Oh, no," said he, emphatically. + +"Then the other thing? That's not honourable." + +"Of course not. Certainly not the other thing. I'm not a +blackguard." + +"Then what on earth are you playing at?" + +He sighed. "I'm afraid you will never understand." + +"I'm afraid I won't," said I. "By your own confession you are +neither a lusty blackguard nor an honourable gentleman. You're a +sort of philanderer, somewhere in between. You neither mean to +fight like a man nor love like a man. I'm sorry to say it, but +I've no use for you. As I can't do it myself, will you kindly ring +the bell?" + +"Certainly," said he, white with anger, which I was glad to see, +and pressed the electric button beside the mantelpiece. He turned +on me, his head high. There was still some breeding left in him. + +"I'm sorry we're at such cross-purposes, Major. All my life long +I've owed you kindnesses I can't ever repay. But at present we're +hopelessly out of sympathy!" + +"It seems so," said I. "I had hoped your father's son would be a +better man!" + +"My father," said he, "was a successful stockbroker, without any +ideas in his head save the making of money. I don't see what he +has got to do with my well-considered attitude towards life." + +"Your callow attitude towards life, my poor boy," said I, "is a +matter of profound indifference to me. But I shall give orders +that you are no longer admitted to this house except in uniform." + +"That's absurd," said he. + +"Not at all," said I. + +In obedience to the summons of the bell Sergeant Marigold appeared +and stood in his ramrod fashion by the door. + +Randall came forward to my wheel-chair, with hand outstretched. + +"I'm desperately sorry, Major, for this disastrous +misunderstanding." + +I thrust my hands beneath the light shawl that covered my legs. + +"Don't be such a self-sufficient fool, Randall," I said, "as to +think I don't understand. In the present position there are no +subtleties and no complications. Good-night." + +Marigold, with a wooden face, opened wide the door, and Randall, +with a shrug of the shoulders, went out. + +I stayed awake the whole of that livelong night. + +When I learned the death of young Oswald Fenimore, whom I loved +far more dearly than Randall Holmes, I went to bed and slept +peacefully. A gallant lad died in battle; there is nothing more to +be said, nothing more to be thought. The finality, heroically +sublime, overwhelms the poor workings of the brain. But in the +case of a fellow like Randall Holmes--well, as I have said, I did +not get a wink of sleep the whole night long. + +Someone, a few months ago, told me of a young university man-- +Oxford or Cambridge, I forget--who, when asked why he was not +fighting, replied; "What has the war to do with me? I disapprove +of this brawling." + +Was that the attitude of Randall, whom I had known all his life +long? I shivered, like a fool, all night. The only consolation I +had was to bring commonsense to my aid and to meditate on the +statistical fact that the Universities of Oxford and Cambridge +were practically empty. + +But my soul was sick for young Randall Holmes. + + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +On the wedding eve Betty brought the happy young man to dine with +me. He was in that state of unaccustomed and somewhat embarrassed +bliss in which a man would have dined happily with Beelzebub. A +fresh-coloured boy, with fair crisply set hair and a little +moustache a shade or two fairer, he kept on blushing radiantly, as +if apologising in a gallant sort of fashion for his existence in +the sphere of Betty's affection. As I had known him but casually +and desired to make his closer acquaintance, I had asked no one to +meet them, save Betty's aunt, whom a providential cold had +prevented from facing the night air. So, in the comfortable little +oak-panelled dining-room, hung round with my beloved collection of +Delft, I had the pair all to myself, one on each side; and in this +way I was able to read exchanges of glances whence I might form +sage conclusions. Bella, spruce parlour-maid, waited deftly. +Sergeant Marigold, when not occupied in the mild labour of filling +glasses, stood like a guardian ramrod behind my chair--a self- +assigned post to which he stuck grimly like a sentinel. As I +always sat with my back to the fire there must have been times +when, the blaze roaring more fiercely than usual up the chimney, +he must have suffered martyrdom in his hinder parts. + +As I talked--for the first time on such intimate footing--with +young Connor, I revised my opinion of him and mentally took back +much that I had said in his disparagement. He was by no means the +dull dog that I had labelled him. By diligent and sympathetic +enquiry I learned that he had been a Natural Science scholar at +Trinity College, Cambridge, where he had taken a first-class +degree--specialising in geology; that by profession (his +father's) he was a mining-engineer, and, in pursuit of his +vocation, had travelled in Galicia, Mexico and Japan; furthermore, +that he had been one of the ardent little band who of recent years +had made the Cambridge Officers Training Corps an effective +school. Hitherto, when I had met him he had sat so agreeably +smiling and modestly mumchance that I had accepted him at his face +value. + +I was amused to see how Betty, in order to bring confusion on me, +led him to proclaim himself. And I loved the manner in which he +did so. To hear him, one would have thought that he owed +everything in the world to Betty--from his entrance scholarship at +the University to the word of special commendation which his +company had received from the General of his Division at last +week's inspection. Yes, he was the modest, clean-bred, simple +English gentleman who, without self-consciousness or self-seeking, +does his daily task as well as it can be done, just because it is +the thing that is set before him to do. And he was over head and +ears in love with Betty. + +I took it upon myself to dismiss her with a nod after she had +smoked a cigarette over her coffee. Mrs. Marigold, as a soldier's +wife, I announced, had a world of invaluable advice to give her. +Willie Connor opened the door. On the threshold she said very +prettily: + +"Don't drink too much of Major Meredyth's old port. It has been +known before now to separate husbands and wives for years and +years." + +He looked after her for a few seconds before he closed the door. + +Oh, my God! I've looked like that, in my time, after one dear +woman.... Humanity is very simple, after all. Every generation +does exactly the same beautiful, foolish things as its forerunner. +As he approached the table, I said with a smile:-- + +"You're only copying your great-great-grandfather." + +"In what way, sir?" he asked, resuming his place. + +I pushed the decanter of port. "He watched the disappearing skirt +of your great-great-grandmother." + +"She was doubtless a very venerable old lady," said he, flushing +and helping himself to wine. "I never knew her, but she wasn't a +patch on Betty!" + +"But," said I, "when your great-great-grandfather opened the door +for her to pass out, she wasn't venerable at all, but gloriously +young." + +"I suppose he was satisfied, poor old chap." He took a sip. "But +those days did not produce Betty Fairfaxes." He laughed. "I'm +jolly sorry for my ancestors." + +Well--that is the way I like to hear a young man talk. It was the +modern expression of the perfect gentle knight. In so far as went +his heart's intention and his soul's strength to assure it, I had +no fear for Betty's happiness. He gave it to her fully into her +own hands; whether she would throw it away or otherwise misuse it +was another matter. + +Though I have ever loved women, en tout bien et tout honneur, +their ways have never ceased from causing me mystification. I +think I can size up a man, especially given such an opportunity as +I had in the case of Willie Connor--I have been more or less +trained in the business all my man's life; but Betty Fairfax, whom +I had known intimately for as many years as she could remember, +puzzled me exceedingly. I defy anyone to have picked a single +fault in her demeanour towards her husband of to-morrow. She lit a +cigarette for him in the most charming way in the world, and when +he guided the hand that held the match, she touched his crisp hair +lightly with the fingers of the other. She was all smiles. When we +met in the drawing-room, she retailed with a spice of mischief +much of Mrs. Marigold's advice. She had seated herself on the +music stool. Swinging round, she quoted: + +"'Even the best husband,' she said, 'will go on swelling himself +up with vanity just because he's a man. A sensible woman, Miss, +lets him go on priding of himself, poor creature. It sort of helps +his dignity when the time comes for him to eat out of your hand, +and makes him think he's doing you a favour.'" + +"When are you going to eat out of my hand, Willie?" she asked. + +"Haven't I been doing it for the past week?" + +"Oh, they always do that before they're married--so Mrs. Marigold +informed me. I mean afterwards." + +"Don't you think, my dear," I interposed, "it depends on what your +hands hold out for him to eat?" + +Her eyes wavered a bit under mine. + +"If he's good," she answered, "they'll be always full of nice +things." + +She sat, flushed, happy, triumphant, her arms straight down, her +knuckles resting on the leathern seat, her silver-brocaded, +slender feet, clear of the floor, peeping close together beneath +her white frock. + +"And if he isn't good?" + +"They'll be full of nasty medicine." + +She laughed and pivoted round and, after running over the keys of +the piano for a second or two, began to play Gounod's "Death March +of a Marionette." She played it remarkably well. When she had +ended, Connor walked from the hearth, where he had been standing, +to her side. I noticed a little puzzled look in his eyes. + +"Delightful," said he. "But, Betty, what put that thing suddenly +into your head?" + +"We had been talking nonsense," she replied, picking out a chord +or two, without looking al him. "And I thought we ought to give +all past vanities and frivolities and lunacies a decent burial." + +He put both hands very tenderly on her shoulders. + +"Requiescat," said he. + +She spread out her fingers and struck the two resonant chords of +an "Amen," and then glanced up at him, laughing. + +After a while, Marigold announced her car, or, rather, her aunt's +car. They took their leave. I gave them my benediction. Presently, +Betty, fur-coated, came running in alone. She flung herself down, +in her impetuous way, beside my wheel-chair. No visit of Betty's +would have been complete without this performance. + +"I haven't had a word with you all the evening, Majy, dear. I've +told Willie to discuss strategy with Sergeant Marigold in the +hall, till I come. Well--you thought I was a damn little fool the +other day, didn't you? What do you think now?" + +"I think, my dear," said I, with a hand on her forehead, "that you +are marrying a very gallant English gentleman of whose love any +woman in the land might be proud." + +She clutched me round the neck and brought her young face near +mine--and looked at me--I hesitate to say it,--but so it seemed,-- +somewhat haggardly. + +"I love to hear you say that, it means so much to me. Don't think +I haven't a sense of proportion. I have. In all this universal +slaughter and massacre, a woman's life counts as much as that of a +mosquito." She freed an arm and snapped her fingers. "But to the +woman herself, her own life can't help being of some value. Such +as it is, I want to give it all, every bit of it, to Willie. He +shall have everything, everything, everything that I can give +him." + +I looked into the young, drawn, pleading face long and earnestly. +No longer was I mystified. I remembered her talk with me a couple +of days before, and I read her riddle. + +She had struck gold. She knew it. Gold of a man's love. Gold of a +man's strength. Gold of a man's honour. Gold of a man's stainless +past. Gold of a man's radiant future. And though she wore the +mocking face and talked the mocking words of the woman who +expected such a man to "eat out of her hand," she knew that never +out of her hand would he eat save that which she should give him +in honourable and wifely service. She knew that. She was +exquisitely anxious that I should know it too. Floodgates of +relief were expressed when she saw that I knew it. Not that I, +personally, counted a scrap. What she craved was a decent human +soul's justification of her doings. She craved recognition of her +action in casting away base metal forever and taking the pure gold +to her heart. + +"Tell me that I am doing the right thing, dear," she said, "and +to-morrow I'll be the happiest woman in the world." + +And I told her, in the most fervent manner in my power. + +"You quite understand?" she said, standing up, looking very young +and princess-like, her white throat gleaming between her furs and +up-turned chin. + +"You will find, my dear," said I, "that the significance of your +Dead March of a Marionette will increase every day of your married +life." + +She stiffened in a sudden stroke of passion, looking, for the +instant, electrically beautiful. + +"I wish," she cried, "someone had written the Dead March of a +Devil." + +She bent down, kissed me, and went out in a whirr of furs and +draperies. + +Of course, all I could do was to scratch my thin iron-grey hair +and light a cigar and meditate in front of the fire. I knew all +about it--or at any rate I thought I did, which, as far as my +meditation in front of the fire is concerned, comes to the same +thing. + +Betty had cast out the base metal of her love for Loenard Boyce in +order to accept the pure gold of the love of Willie Connor. So she +thought, poor girl. She had been in love with Boyce. She had been +engaged to Boyce. Boyce, for some reason or the other, had turned +her down. Spretae injuria formae--she had cast Boyce aside. But +for all her splendid surrender of her womanhood to Willie Connor, +for the sake of her country, she still loved Leonard Boyce. Or, if +she wasn't in love with him, she couldn't get him out of her head +or her senses. Something like that, anyhow. I don't pretend to +know exactly what goes on in the soul or nature, or whatever it +is, of a young girl, who has given her heart to a man. I can only +use the crude old phrase: she was still in love (in some sort of +fashion) with Leonard Boyce, and she was going to marry, for the +highest motives, somebody else. + +"Confound the fellow," said I, with an irritable gesture and +covered myself with cigar ash. + +She had called Boyce a devil and implied a wish that he were dead. +For myself I did not know what to make of him, for reasons which I +will state. I never approved of the engagement. As a matter of +fact, I knew--and was one of the very few who knew--of a black +mark against him--the very blackest mark that could be put against +a soldier's name. It was a puzzling business. And when I say I +knew of the mark, I must be candid and confess that its awful +justification lies in the conscience of one man living in the +world to-day--if indeed he be still alive. + +Boyce was a great bronzed, bull-necked man, with an overpowering +personality. People called him the very model of a soldier. He was +always admired and feared by his men. His fierce eye and deep, +resonant voice, and a suggestion of hidden strength, even of +brutality, commanded implicit obedience. But both glance and voice +would soften caressingly and his manner convey a charm which made +him popular with men--brother officers and private soldiers alike +--and with women. With regard to the latter--to put things crudely +--they saw in him the essential, elemental male. Of that I am +convinced. It was the open secret of his many successes. And he +had a buoyant, boyish, disarming, chivalrous way with him. If he +desired a woman's lips he would always begin by kissing the hem of +her skirt. + +Had I not known what I did, I, an easy-going sort of Christian +temperamentally inclined to see the best in my fellow-creatures, +and, as I boastingly said a little while ago, a trained judge of +men, should doubtless have fallen, like most other people, under +the spell of his fascination. But whenever I met him, I used to +look at him and say to myself: "What's at the back of you anyway? +What about that business at Vilboek's Farm?" + +Now this is what I knew--with the reservation I have made above-- +and to this day he is not aware of my knowledge. + +It was towards the end of the Boer War. Boyce had come out rather +late; for which, of course, he was not responsible. A soldier has +to go when he is told. After a period of humdrum service he was +sent off with a section of mounted infantry to round up a certain +farm-house suspected of harbouring Boer combatants. The excursion +was a mere matter of routine--of humdrum commonplace. As usual it +was made at night, but this was a night of full dazzling moon. The +farm lay in a hollow of the veldt, first seen from the crest of a +kopje. There it lay below, ramshackle and desolate, a rough wall +around; flanked by outbuildings--barn and cowsheds. The section +rode down. The stoep led to a shuttered front. There was no sign +of life. The moonlight blazed full on it. They dismounted, +tethered their horses behind the wall, and entered the yard. The +place was deserted, derelict--not even a cat. + +Suddenly a shot rang out from somewhere in the main building, and +the Sergeant, the next man to Boyce, fell dead, shot through the +brain. The men looked at Boyce for command and saw a hulking idiot +paralysed by fear. + +"His mouth hung open and his eyes were like a silly servant girl's +looking at a ghost." So said my informant. + +Two more shots and two men fell. Boyce still stood white and +gasping, unable to move a muscle or utter a sound. His face looked +ghastly in the moonlight. A shot pierced his helmet, and the shock +caused him to stagger and lose his legs. A corporal rushed up, +thinking he was hit, and, finding him whole, rose, in order to +leave him there, and, in rising, got a bullet through the neck. +Thus there were four men killed, and the Commanding Officer, of +his own accord, put out of action. It all happened in a few +confused moments. Then the remaining men did what Boyce should +have commanded as soon as the first shot was fired--they rushed +the house. + +It contained one solitary inmate, an old man with a couple of +Mauser rifles, whom they had to shoot in self-defence. + +Meanwhile Boyce, white and haggard-eyed, had picked himself up; +revolver in hand he stood on the stoep. His men came out, cursed +him to his face while giving him their contemptuous reports +brought the dead bodies of their comrades into the house and laid +them out decently, together with the body of the white-bearded +Boer. After that they mounted their horses without a word to him +and rode off. And he let them ride; for his authority was gone; +and he knew that they justly laid the deaths of their comrades at +the door of his cowardice. + +What he did during the next few awful hours is known only to God +and to Boyce himself. The four dead men, his companions, have told +no tales. But at last, one of his men--Somers was his name--came +riding back at break-neck speed. When he had left the moon rode +high in the heavens; when he returned it was dawn--and he had a +bloody tunic and the face of a man who had escaped from hell. He +threw himself from his horse and found Boyce, sitting on the stoep +with his head in his hands. He shook him by the shoulder. Boyce +started to his feet. At first he did not recognise Somers. Then he +did and read black tidings in the man's eyes. + +"What's the matter?" + +"They're all wiped out, sir. The whole blooming lot." + +He told a tale of heroic disaster. The remnant of the section had +ridden off in hot indignation and had missed their way. They had +gone in a direction opposite to safety, and after a couple of +hours had fallen in with a straggling portion of a Boer Commando. +Refusing to surrender, they had all been killed save Somers, who, +with a bullet through his shoulder, had prudently turned bridle +and fled hell for leather. + +Boyce put his hands up to his head and walked about the yard for a +few moments. Then he turned abruptly and stood toweringly over the +scared survivor--a tough, wizened little Cockney of five foot six. + +"Well, what's going to happen now?" he asked, in his soft, +dangerous voice. + +Somers replied, "I must leave that to you, sir." + +Boyce regarded him glitteringly for a long time. A scheme of +salvation was taking vivid shape in his mind.... + +"My report of this occurrence will be that as soon as, say, three +men dropped here, the rest of the troop got into a panic and made +a bolt of it. Say the Sergeant and myself remained. We broke into +the house and did for the old Boer, who, however, unfortunately +did for the Sergeant. Then I alone went out in search of my men +and following their track found they had gone in a wrong +direction, and eventually scented danger, which was confirmed by +my meeting you, with your bloody tunic and your bloody tale." + +"But good God! sir," cried the man, "You'd be having me shot for +running away. I could tell a damned different story, Captain +Boyce." + +"Who would believe you?" + +The Cockney intelligence immediately appreciated the situation. It +also was ready for the alternative it guessed at the back of +Boyce's mind. + +"I know it's a mess, sir," he replied, with a straight look at +Boyce. "A mess for both of us, and, as I have said, I'll leave it +to you, sir." + +"Very well," said Boyce. "It's the simplest thing in the world. +There were four killed at once, including Sergeant Oldham. You +remained faithful when the others bolted. You and I tackled the +old Boer and you got wounded. You and I went on trek for the rest +of the troop. We got within breathing distance of the Commando-- +how many strong?" + +"About a couple of hundred, sir." + +"And of course we bolted back without knowing anything about the +troop, except that we are sure that, dead or alive, the Boers have +accounted for them. If you'll agree to this report, we can ride +back to Headquarters and I think I can promise you sergeant's +stripes in a very short time!" + +"I agree to the report, sir," said Somers, "because I don't see +that I can do anything else. But to hell with the stripes under +false pretences and don't you try playing that sort of thing off +on me." + +"As you like," replied Boyce, unruffled. "Provided we understand +each other on the main point." + +So they left the farm and rode to Headquarters and Boyce made his +report, and as all save one of his troop were dead, there were +none, save that one, to gainsay him. On his story no doubt was +cast; but an officer who loses his whole troop in the military +operation of storming a farm-house garrisoned by one old man does +not find peculiar favour in the eyes of his Colonel. Boyce took a +speedy opportunity of transference, and got into the thick of some +fighting. Then he served with distinction and actually got +mentioned in dispatches for pluckily rescuing a wounded man under +fire. + +For a long time Somers kept his mouth shut; but at last he began +to talk. The ugly rumour spread. It even reached my battery which +was a hundred miles away; for Johnny Dacre, one of my subs, had a +brother in Boyce's old regiment. For my own part I scouted the +story as soon as I heard it, and I withered up young Dacre for +daring to bring such abominable slander within my Rhadamanthine +sphere. I dismissed the calumny from my mind. Providentially, (as +I heard later), the news came of Boyce's "mention," and Somers was +set down as a liar. The poor devil was had up before the Colonel +and being an imaginative and nervous man denied the truth of the +rumour and by dexterous wriggling managed to exculpate himself +from the charge of being its originator. + +I must, parenthetically, crave indulgence for these apparently +irrelevant details. But as, in this chronicle, I am mainly +concerned with the career of Leonard Boyce, I have no option but +to give them. They are necessary for a conception of the character +of a remarkable man to whom I have every reason and every +honourable desire to render justice. It is necessary, too, that I +should state clearly the manner in which I happened to learn the +facts of the affair at Vilboek's Farm, for I should not like you +to think that I have given a credulous ear to idle slander. + +It was in Cape Town, whither I had been despatched, on a false +alarm of enteric. I was walking with Johnny Dacre up Adderley +Street, dun with kahki, when he met his brother Reginald, who was +promptly introduced to Johnny's second in command. Reggie was off +to hospital to see one of his men who had been badly hurt. + +"It's the chap," he said to his brother, "who was with Boyce +through that shady affair at Vilboek's Farm." + +"I don't know why you call it a shady affair," said I, somewhat +acidly. "I know Captain Boyce--he is a near neighbour of mine at +home--and he has proved himself to be a gallant officer and a +brave man." + +The young fellow reddened. "I'm awfully sorry, sir. I withdraw the +word 'shady.' But this poor chap has something on his mind, and +everyone has a down on him. He led a dog's life till he was +knocked out, and he has been leading a worse one since. I don't +call it fair." He looked at me squarely out of his young blue +eyes--the lucky devil, he is commanding his regiment now in +Flanders, with the D.S.O. ribbon on his tunic. "Will you come with +me and see him, sir?" + +"Certainly," said I, for I had nothing to do, and the boy's +earnestness impressed me. + +On our way he told me of such mixture of rumour and fact as he was +acquainted with. It was then that I heard the man Somers's name +for the first time. We entered the hospital, sat by the side of +the man's bed, and he told us the story of Vilboek's Farm which I +have, in bald terms, just related. Shortly afterwards I returned +to the front, where the famous shell knocked me out of the Army +forever. + +What has happened to Somers I don't know. He was, I learned, soon +afterwards discharged from the Army. He either died or disappeared +in the full current of English life. Perhaps he is with our armies +now. It does not matter. What matters is my memory of his nervous, +sallow, Cockney face, its earnestness, its imprint of veracity, +and the damning lucidity of his narrative. + +I exacted from my young friends a promise to keep the unsavoury +tale to themselves. No good would arise from a publicity which +would stain the honour of the army. Besides, Boyce had made good. +They have kept their promise like honest gentlemen. I have never, +personally, heard further reference to the affair, and of course I +have never mentioned it to anyone. + +Now, it is right for me to mention that, for many years, I lived +in a horrible state of dubiety with regard to Boyce. There is no +doubt that, after the Vilboek business, he acted in an exemplary +manner; there is no doubt that he performed the gallant deed for +which he got his mention. But what about Somers's story? I tried +to disbelieve it as incredible. That an English officer--not a +nervous wisp of a man like Somers, but a great, hulking, bull- +necked gladiator--should have been paralysed with fear by one shot +coming out of a Boer farm, and thereby demoralised and +incapacitated from taking command of a handful of men; that, +instead of blowing his brains out, he should have imposed his +Mephistophelian compact upon the unhappy Somers and carried off +the knavish business successfully--I could not believe it. On the +other hand, there was the British private. I have known him all my +life, God bless him! Thank God, it is my privilege to know him +now, as he lies knocked to bits, cheerily, in our hospital. It was +inconceivable that out of sheer funk he could abandon a popular +officer. And his was not even a scratch crowd, but a hard-bitten +regiment with all sorts of glorious names embroidered on its +colours.... + +I hope you see my difficulty in regard to my Betty's love affairs. +I had nothing against Boyce, save this ghastly story, which might +or might not be true. Officially, he had made an unholy mess of +such a simple military operation as rounding up a Boer farm, and +the prize of one dead old Boer had covered him with ridicule; but +officially, also, he had retrieved his position by distinguished +service. After all, it was not his fault that his men had run +away. On the other hand...well, you cannot but appreciate the +vicious circle of my thoughts, when Betty, in her frank way, came +and told me of her engagement to him. What could I say? It would +have been damnable of me to hint at scandal of years gone by. I +received them both and gave them my paralytic blessing, and +Leonard Boyce accepted it with the air of a man who might have +been blessed, without a qualm of conscience, by the Third Person +of the Trinity in Person. + +This was in April, 1914. He had retired from the Army some years +before with the rank of Major, and lived with his mother--he was a +man of means--in Wellingsford. In the June of that year he went +off salmon fishing in Norway. On the outbreak of war he returned +to England and luckily got his job at once. He did not come back +to Wellingsford. His mother went to London and stayed there until +he was ordered out to the front. I had not seen him since that +June. And, as far as I am aware, my dear Betty had not seen him +either. + +Marigold entered. + +"Well?" said I. + +"I thought you rang, sir." + +"You didn't," I said. "You thought I ought to have rung, But you +were mistaken." + +I have on my mantelpiece a tiny, corroded, wooden Egyptian bust, +of so little value that Mr. Hatoun of Cairo (and every visitor to +Cairo knows Hatoun) gave it me as Baksheesh; it is, however, a +genuine bit from a poor humble devil's tomb of about five thousand +years ago. And it has only one positive eye and no expression. + +Marigold was the living replica of it--with his absurd wig. + +"In a quarter of an hour," said I, "I shall have rung." + +"Very good, sir," said Marigold. + +But he had disturbed the harmonical progression of my reflections. +They all went anyhow. When he returned, all I could say was: + +"It's Miss Betty's wedding to-morrow. I suppose I've got a morning +coat and a top hat." + +"You have a morning coat, sir," said Marigold. "But your last silk +hat you gave to Miss Althea, sir, to make a work-bag out of the +outside." + +"So I did," said I. + +It was an unpleasant reminiscence. A hat is about as symbolical a +garment as you may be pleased to imagine. I wanted to wear at the +live Betty's wedding the ceremonious thing which I had given, for +purposes of vanity, to the dead Althea. I was cross with Marigold. + +"Why did you let me do such a silly thing? You might have known +that I should want it some day or other. Why didn't you foresee +such a contingency?" + +"Why," asked Marigold woodenly, "didn't you or I, sir, or many +wiser than us, foresee the war?" + +"Because we were all damned fools," said I. + +Marigold approached my chair with his great inexorable tentacles +of arms. It was bed time. + +"I'm sorry about the hat, sir," said he. + + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +In due course Captain Connor's regiment went off to France; not +with drums beating and colours flying--I wish to Heaven it had; if +there had been more pomp and circumstance in England, the popular +imagination would not have remained untouched for so long a time-- +but in the cold silent hours of the night, like a gang of +marauders. Betty did not go to bed after he had left, but sat by +the fire till morning. Then she dressed in uniform and resumed her +duties at the hospital. Many a soldier's bride was doing much the +same. And her days went on just as they did before her marriage. +She presented a smiling face to the world; she said: + +"If I'm as happy as can be expected in the circumstances, I think +it my duty to look happier." + +It was a valiant philosophy. + +The falling of a chimney-stack brought me up against Daniel Gedge, +who before the war did all my little repairs. The chimney I put +into the hands of Day & Higgins, another firm of builders. + +A day or two afterwards Hosea shied at something and I discovered +it was Gedge, who had advanced into the roadway expressing a +desire to have a word with me. I quieted the patriotic Hosea and +drew up by the kerb. Gedge was a lean foxy-faced man with a long, +reddish nose and a long blunt chin from which a grizzled beard +sprouted aggressively forwards. He had hard, stupid grey eyes. + +"I hope you 'll excuse the liberty I take in stopping you, sir," +he said, civilly. + +"That's all right," said I. "What's the matter?" + +"I thought I had given you satisfaction these last twenty years." + +I assented. "Quite correct," said I. + +"Then, may I ask, sir, without offence, why you've called in Day & +Higgins?" + +"You may," said I, "and, with or without offence, I'll answer your +question. I've called them in because they're good loyal people. +Higgins has joined the army, and so has Day's eldest boy, while +you have been going on like a confounded pro-German." + +"You've no right to say that, Major Meredyth." + +"Not when you go over to Godbury"--the surging metropolis of the +County some fifteen miles off--"and tell a pack of fools to strike +because this is a capitalists' war? Not when you go round the +mills here, and do your best to stop young fellows from fighting +for their country? God bless my soul, in whose interests are you +acting, if not Germany's?" + +He put on his best platform manner. "I'm acting in the best +interests of the people of this country. The war is wrong and +incredibly foolish and can bring no advantage to the working man. +Why should he go and be killed or maimed for life? Will it put an +extra penny in his pocket or his widow's? No. Oh!"--he checked my +retort--"I know everything you would say. I see the arguments +every day in all your great newspapers. But the fact remains that +I don't see eye to eye with you, or those you represent. You think +one way, I think another. We agree to differ." + +"We don't," said I. "I don't agree at all." + +"At any rate," he said, "I can't see how a difference of political +opinion can affect my ability now to put a new chimney-stack in +your house, any more than it has done in the past." + +"In the past," said I, "political differences were parochial +squabbles in comparison with things nowadays. You're either for +England, or against her." + +He smiled wryly. "I'm for England. We both are. You think her +salvation lies one way. I think another. This is a free country in +which every man has a right to his own opinion." + +"Exactly so," said I. "Therefore you'll admit that I've a right to +the opinion that you ought to be locked up either in a gaol or a +lunatic asylum as a danger to the state, and that, having that +rightful opinion, I'm justified in not entrusting the safety of my +house to one who, in my aforesaid opinion, is either a criminal or +a lunatic." + +Dialectically, I had him there. It afforded me keen enjoyment. +Besides being a John Bull Englishman, I am a cripple and therefore +ever so little malicious. + +"It's all very well for you to talk, Major Meredyth," said he, +"but your opinions cost you nothing--mine are costing me my +livelihood. It isn't fair." + +"You might as well say," I replied, "that I, who have never dared +to steal anything in my life, live in ease and comfort, whereas +poor Bill Sykes, who has devoted all his days to burglary, has +seven years' penal servitude. No, Gedge," said I, gathering up the +reins, "it can't be done. You can't have it both ways." + +He put a detaining hand on Hosea's bridle and an evil flash came +into his hard grey eyes. + +"I'll have it some other way, then," he said. "A way you've no +idea of. A way that'll knock all you great people of Wellingsford +off your high horses. If you drive me to it, you'll see. I'll bide +my time and I don't care whether it breaks me." + +He stamped his foot and tugged at the bridle. Two or three +passers-by halted wonderingly and Prettilove, the hairdresser, +moved across the pavement from his shop door where he had been +taking the air. + +"My good fellow," said I, "you have lost your temper and are +talking drivel. Kindly unhand my donkey." + +Prettilove, who has a sycophantic sense of humour, burst into a +loud guffaw. Gedge swung angrily away, and Hosea and I continued +our interrupted progress down the High Street. Although I had +called his dark menaces drivel, I could not help wondering what it +meant. Was he going to guide a German Army to Wellingsford? Was +he, a modern Guy Fawkes, plotting to blow up the Town Hall while +Mayor and Corporation sat in council? He was not the man to utter +purely idle threats. What the dickens was he going to do? +Something mean and dirty and underhand. I knew his ways, He was +always getting the better of somebody. The wise never let him put +in a pane of glass without a specification and estimate, and if he +had not been by far the most competent builder in the town-- +perhaps the only one who thoroughly knew his business in all its +branches--no one would have employed him. + +When I next saw Betty, it was in one of the corridors of the +hospital, after a committee meeting; she stopped by my chair to +pass the time of day. Through the open doorway of a ward I +perceived a well-known figure in nurse's uniform. + +"Why," said I, "there's Phyllis Gedge." + +Betty nodded. "She has just come in as a probationer." + +"I thought her father wouldn't let her. I've heard--Heaven knows +whether it's true, but it sounds likely--that he said if men were +such fools as to get shot he didn't see why his daughter should +help to mend them." + +"He has consented now," said Betty, "and Phyllis is delighted." + +"No doubt it's a bid for popular favour," said I. And I told her +of his dwindling business and of my encounter with him. When I +came to his threat Betty's brows darkened. + +"I don't like that at all," she said. + +"Why? What do you think he means?" + +"Mischief." She lowered her voice, for, it being visiting day at +the hospital, people were passing up and down the corridor. +"Suppose he has some of the people here in his power?" + +"Blackmail--?" I glanced up at her sharply. "What do you know +about it?" + +"Nothing," she replied abruptly. Then she looked down and fingered +her wedding-ring. "I only said 'suppose.'" + +A Sister appeared at the door of the ward and seeing us together +paused hoveringly. + +"I rather think you're wanted," said I. + +I left the hospital somewhat disturbed in mind. Summons to duty +had cut our conversation short; but I knew that no matter how long +I had cross-questioned Betty I should have got nothing further +out of her. She was a remarkably outspoken young woman. What she +said she meant, and what she didn't want to say all the cripples +in the British Army could not have dragged out of her. + +I tried her again a few days later. A slight cold, aided and +abetted by a dear exaggerating idiot of a tyrannical doctor, +confined me to the house and she came flying in, expecting to find +me in extremis. When she saw me clothed and in my right mind and +smoking a big cigar, she called me a fraud. + +"Look here," said I, after a while. "About Gedge--" again her brow +darkened and her lips set stiffly--"do you think he has his knife +into young Randall Holmes?" + +I had worried about the boy. Naturally, if Gedge found the +relations between his daughter and Randall unsatisfactory, no one +could blame him for any outbreak of parental indignation. But he +ought to break out openly, while there was yet time--before any +harm was done--not nurse some diabolical scheme of subterraneous +vengeance. Betty's brow cleared, and she laughed. I saw at once +that I was on a wrong track. + +"Why should he have his knife into Randall? I suppose you've got +Phyllis in your mind." + +"I have. How did you guess?" + +She laughed again. + +"What other reason could he have? But how did you come to hear of +Randall and Phyllis?" + +"Never mind," said I, "I did. And if Gedge is angry, I can to some +extent sympathize with him." + +"But he's not. Not the least little bit in the world," she +declared, lighting a cigarette. "Gedge and Randall are as thick as +thieves, and Phyllis won't have anything to do with either of +them." + +"Now, my dear," said I. "Now that you're married, become a real +womanly woman and fill my empty soul with gossip." + +"There's no gossip at all about it," she replied serenely. "It's +all sordid and romantic fact. The two men hold long discussions +together at Gedge's house, Gedge talking anti-patriotism and +Randall talking rot which he calls philosophy. You can hear them, +can't you? Their meeting-ground is the absurdity of Randall +joining the army." + +"And Phyllis?" + +"She is a loyal little soul and as miserable as can be. She's +deplorably in love with Randall. She has told me so. And because +she's in love with a man whom she knows to be a slacker she's +eaten up with shame. Now she won't speak to him To avoid meeting +him she lives entirely at the hospital--a paying probationer." + +"That must be since the last Committee Meeting," I said. + +'Yes." + +"And Daniel Gedge pays a guinea a week?" + +"He doesn't," said Betty. "I do." + +I accepted the information with a motion of the head. She went on +after a minute or so. "I have always been fond of the child"-- +there were only three or four years difference between them!-- +"and so I want to protect her. The time may come when she'll need +protection. She has told me things--not now--but long ago--which +frightened her. She came to me for advice. Since then I've kept an +eye on her--as far as I could. Her coming into the hospital helps +me considerably." + +"When you say 'things which frightened her,' do you mean in +connection with her father?" + +Again the dark look in Betty's eyes. + +"Yes," she said. "He's an evil, dangerous man." + +That was all I could get out of her. If she had meant me to know +the character of Gedge's turpitude, she would have told me of her +own accord. But in our talk at the hospital she had hinted at +blackmail--and blackmailers are evil, dangerous men. + +I went to see Sir Anthony about it. Beyond calling him a damned +scoundrel, a term which he applied to all pro-Germans, pacifists +and half the Cabinet, he did not concern himself about Gedge. +Young Randall Holmes's intimacy with the scoundrel seemed to him a +matter of far greater importance. He strode up and down his +library, choleric and gesticulating. + +"A gentleman and a scholar to hob-nob with a traitorous beast like +that! I know that he writes for a filthy weekly paper. Somebody +sent me a copy a few days ago. It's rot--but not actually +poisonous like that he must hear from Gedge. That's the reason, I +suppose, he's not in the King's uniform. I've had my eye on him +for some time. That's why I've not asked him to the house." + +I told Sir Anthony of my interview with the young man. He waxed +wroth. In a country with a backbone every Randall Holmes in the +land would have been chucked willy-nilly into the army. But the +country had spinal disorders. It had locomotor ataxy. The result +of sloth and self-indulgence. We had the Government we deserved +... I need not quote further. You can imagine a fine old fox- +hunting Tory gentleman, with England filling all the spaces of his +soul, blowing off the steam of his indignation. + +When he had ended, "What," said I, "is to be done?" + +"I'll lay my horsewhip across the young beggar's shoulders the +next time I meet him." + +"Capital," said I. "If I were you I should never ride abroad +except in my mayor's gown and chain, so that you can give an +official character to the thrashing." + +He glanced swiftly at me in his bird-like fashion, his brow +creased into a thousand tiny horizontal lines--it always took him +a fraction of a second to get clear of the literal significance of +words--and then he laughed. Personal violence was out of the +question. Why, the young beggar might summon him for assault. No; +he had a better idea. He would put in a word at the proper +quarter, so that every recruiting sergeant in the district should +have orders to stop him at every opportunity. + +"I shouldn't do that," said I. + +"Then, I don't know what the deuce I can do," said Sir Anthony. + +As I didn't know, either, our colloquy was fruitless. Eventually +Sir Anthony said: + +"Perhaps it's likely, after all, that Gedge may offend young +Oxford's fastidiousness. It can't be long before he discovers +Gedge to be nothing but a vulgar, blatant wind-bag; and then he +may undergo some reaction." + +I agreed. It seemed to be the most sensible thing he had said. +Give Gedge enough rope and he would hang himself. So we parted. + +I have said before that when I want to shew how independent I am +of everybody I drive abroad in my donkey carriage. But there are +times when I have to be dependent on Marigold for carrying me into +the houses I enter; on these helpless occasions I am driven about +by Marigold in a little two-seater car. That is how I visited +Wellings Park and that is how I set off a day or two later to call +on Mrs. Boyce. + +As she took little interest in anything foreign to her own inside, +she was not to most people an exhilarating companion. She even +discussed the war in terms of her digestion. But we were old +friends. Being a bit of a practical philosopher I could always +derive some entertainment from her serial romance of a Gastric +Juice, and besides, she was the only person in Wellingsford whom I +did not shrink from boring with the song of my own ailments. +Rather than worry the Fenimores or Betty or Mrs. Holmes with my +aches and pains I would have hung on, like the idiot boy of Sparta +with the fox, until my vitals were gnawed out--parenthetically, it +has always worried me to conjecture why a boy should steal a fox, +why it should have been so valuable to the owner, and to what use +he put it. In the case of all my other friends I regarded myself +as too much of an obvious nuisance, as it was, for me to work on +their sympathy for infirmities that I could hide; but with Mrs. +Boyce it was different. The more I chanted antistrophe to her +strophe of lamentation the more was I welcome in her drawing-room. +I had not seen her for some weeks. Perhaps I had been feeling +remarkably well with nothing in the world to complain about, and +therefore unequipped with a topic of conversation. However, hearty +or not, it was time for me to pay her a visit. So I ordered the +car. + +Mrs. Boyce lived in a comfortable old house half a mile or so +beyond the other end of the town, standing in half a dozen well- +wooded acres. It was a fair April afternoon, all pale sunshine and +tenderness. A dream of fairy green and delicate pink and shy blue +sky melting into pearl. The air smelt sweet. It was good to be in +it, among the trees and the flowers and the birds. + +Others must have also felt the calls of the spring, for as we were +driving up to the house, I caught a glimpse of the lawn and of two +figures strolling in affectionate attitude. One was that of Mrs. +Boyce; the other, khaki-clad and towering above her, had his arm +round her waist. The car pulled up at the front door. Before we +had time to ring, a trim parlour-maid appeared. + +"Mrs. Boyce is not at home, sir." + +Marigold, who, when my convenience was in question, swept away +social conventions like cobwebs, fixed her with his one eye, and +before I could interfere, said: + +"I'm afraid you're mistaken. I've just seen Major Boyce and Madam +on the lawn." + +The maid reddened and looked at me appealingly. + +"My orders were to say not at home, sir." + +"I quite understand, Mary," said I. "Major Boyce is home on short +leave, and they don't want to be disturbed. Isn't that it?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Marigold," said I. "Right about turn." + +Marigold, who had stopped the car, got out unwillingly and went to +the starting-handle. That I should be refused admittance to a +house which I had deigned to honour with my presence he regarded +as an intolerable insult. He also loved to have tea, as a pampered +guest, in other folks' houses. When he got home Mrs. Marigold, as +like as not, would give him plain slabs of bread buttered by her +economical self. I knew my Marigold. He gave a vicious and +ineffectual turn or two and then stuck his head in the bonnet. + +The situation was saved by the appearance from the garden of Mrs. +Boyce herself, a handsome, erect, elegantly dressed old lady in +the late sixties, pink and white like a Dresden figure and in her +usual condition of resplendent health. She held out her hand. + +"I couldn't let you go without telling you that Leonard is back. I +don't want the whole town to know. If it did, I should see nothing +of him, his leave is so short. That's why I told Mary to say 'not +at home.' But an old friend like you--Would you like to see him?" + +Marigold closed the bonnet and stood up with a grimace which +passed for a happy smile. + +"I should, of course," said I, politely. "But I quite understand. +You have everything to say to each other. No. I won't stay" +--Marigold's smile faded into woodenness--"I only turned in idly to +see how you were getting on. But just tell me. How is Leonard? +Fit, I hope?" + +"He's wonderful," she said. + +I motioned Marigold to start the car. + +"Give him my kind regards," said I. "No, indeed. He doesn't want +to see an old crock like me." The engine rattled. "I hope he's +pleased at finding his mother looking so bonny." + +"It's only excitement at having Leonard," she explained earnestly. +"In reality I'm far from well. But I wouldn't tell him for +worlds." + +"What's that you wouldn't tell, mother?" cried a soft, cheery +voice, and Leonard, the fine flower of English soldiery, turned +the corner of the house. + +There he stood, tall, deep-chested, clear-eyed, bronzed, his heavy +chin in the air, his bull-neck not detracting from his physical +handsomeness, but giving it a seal of enormous strength. + +"My dear fellow," he cried, grasping my hand heartily, "how glad I +am to see you. Come along in and let mother give you some tea. +Nonsense!" he waved away my protest. "Marigold, stop that engine +and bring in the Major. I've got lots of things to tell you. +That's right." + +He strode boyishly to the front door, which he threw open wide to +admit Marigold and myself and followed us with Mrs. Boyce into the +drawing-room, talking all the while. I must confess that I was +just a little puzzled by his exuberant welcome. And, to judge by +the blank expression that flitted momentarily over her face, so +was his mother. If he were so delighted by my visit, why had he +not crossed the lawn at once as soon as he saw the car? Why had he +sent his mother on ahead? I was haunted by an exchange of words +overheard in imagination: + +"Confound the fellow! What has he come here for?" + +"Mary will say 'not at home.'" + +"But he has spotted us. Do go and get rid of him." + +"Such an old friend, dear." + +"We haven't time for old fossils. Tell him to go and bury +himself." + +And (in my sensitive fancy) she had delivered the import of the +message. I had gathered that my visit was ill-timed. I was +preparing to cut it short, when Leonard himself came up and +whisked me against my will to the tea-table. If my hypothesis were +correct he had evidently changed his mind as to the desirability +of getting rid, in so summary a fashion, of what he may have +considered to be an impertinent and malicious little factor in +Wellingsford gossip. + +At any rate, if he was playing a part, he played it very well. It +was not in the power of man to be more cordial and gracious. He +gave me a vivid account of the campaign. He had been through +everything, the retreat from Mons, the Battle of the Aisne, the +great rush north, and the Battle of Neuve Chapelle on the 17th of +March. I listened, fascinated, to his tale, which he told with a +true soldier's impersonal modesty. + +"I was glad," said I, after a while, "to see you twice mentioned +in dispatches." + +Mrs. Boyce turned on me triumphantly. "He is going to get his D. +S. O." + +"By Jove!" said I. + +Leonard laughed, threw one gaitered leg over the other and held up +his hands at her. + +"Oh, you feminine person!" He smiled at me. "I told my dear old +mother as a dead and solemn secret." + +"But it will be gazetted in a few days, dear." + +"One can never be absolutely sure of these things until they're in +black and white. A pretty ass I'd look if there was a hitch--say +through some fool of a copying clerk--and I didn't get it after +all. It's only dear, silly understanding things like mothers that +would understand. Other people wouldn't. Don't you think I'm +right, Meredyth?" + +Of course he was. I have known, in my time, of many +disappointments. It is not every recommendation for honours that +becomes effective. I congratulated him, however, and swore to +secrecy. + +"It's all luck," said he. "Just because a man happens to be +spotted. If my regiment got its deserts, every Jack man would walk +about in a suit of armour made of Victoria Crosses. Give me some +more tea, mother." + +"The thing I shall never understand, dear," she said, artlessly, +looking up at him, while she handed him his cup, "is when you see +a lot of murderous Germans rushing at you with guns and shells and +bayonets, how you are not afraid." + +He threw back his head and laughed in his debonair fashion; but I +watched him narrowly and I saw the corners of his mouth twitch for +the infinitesimal fraction of a second. + +"Oh, sometimes we're in an awful funk, I assure you," he replied +gaily. "Ask Meredyth." + +"We may be," said I, "but we daren't shew it--I'm speaking of +officers. If an officer funks he's generally responsible for the +death of goodness knows how many men. And if the men funk they're +liable to be shot for cowardice in the face of the enemy." + +"And what happens to officers who are afraid?" + +"If it's known, they get broke," said I. + +Boyce swallowed his tea at a gulp, set down the cup, and strode to +the window. There was a short pause. Presently he turned. + +"Physical fear is a very curious thing," he said in a voice +unnecessarily loud. "I've seen it take hold of men of proved +courage and paralyse them. It's just like an epileptic fit--beyond +a man's control. I've known a fellow--the most reckless, hare- +brained daredevil you can imagine--to stand petrified with fear on +the bank of a river, and let a wounded comrade drown before his +eyes. And he was a good swimmer too." + +"What happened to him?" I asked. + +He met my gaze for a moment, looked away, and then met it again-- +it seemed defiantly. + +"What happened to him? Well--" there was the tiniest possible +pause--a pause that only an uneasy, suspicious repository of the +abominable story of Vilboek's Farm could have noticed--"Well, as +he stood there he got plugged--and that was the end of him. But +what I--" + +"Was he an officer, dear?" + +"No, no, mother, a sergeant," he answered abruptly, and in the +same breath continued. "What I was going to say is this. No one as +far as I know has ever bothered to work out the psychology of +fear. Especially the sudden thing that hits a man's heart and +makes him stand stock-still like a living corpse--unable to move a +muscle--all his willpower out of gear--just as a motor is out of +gear. I've seen a lot of it. Those men oughtn't to be called +cowards. It's as much a fit, say, as epilepsy. Allowances ought to +made for them." + +It was a warm day, the windows were closed, my valetudinarian +hostess having a horror of draughts, and a cheery fire was blazing +up the chimney. Boyce took out a handkerchief and mopped his +forehead. + +"Dear old mother," said he, "you keep this room like an oven." + +"It is you who have got so excited talking, dear," said Mrs. +Boyce. "I'm sure it can't be good for your heart. It is just the +same with me. I remember I had to speak quite severely to Mary a +week--no, to-day's Tuesday--ten days ago, and I had dreadful +palpitations afterwards and broke out into a profuse perspiration +and had to send for Doctor Miles." + +"Now, that's funny," said I. "When I'm excited about anything I +grow quite cold." + +Boyce lit a cigarette and laughed. "I don't see where the +excitement in the present case comes in. Mother started an +interesting hare, and I followed it up. Anyhow--"he threw himself +on the sofa, blew a kiss to his mother in the most charming way in +the world, and smiled on me--"anyhow, to see you two in this +dearest bit of dear old England is like a dream. And I'm not going +to think of the waking up. I want all the cushions and the +lavender and the neat maid's caps and aprons--I said to Mary this +morning when she drew my curtains: 'Stay just there and let me +look at you so that I can realise I'm at home and not in my little +grey trench in West Flanders'--she got red and no doubt thought me +a lunatic and felt inclined to squawk--but she stayed and looked +jolly pretty and refreshing--only for a minute or two, after which +I dismissed her--yes, my dears, I want everything that the old +life means, the white table linen, the spring flowers, the scent +of the air which has never known the taint of death, and all that +this beautiful mother of England, with her knitting needles, +stands for. I want to have a debauch of sweet and beautiful +things." + +"As far as I can give them you shall have them. My dear--" she +dropped her knitting in her lap and looked over at him tragically +--"I quite forgot to ask. Did Mary put bath-salts, as I ordered, +into your bath this morning?" + +Leonard threw away his cigarette and slapped his leg. + +"By George!" he cried. "That explains it. I was wondering where +the Dickens that smell of ammonia came from." + +"If you use it every day it makes your skin so nice and soft," +remarked Mrs. Boyce. + +He laughed, and made the obvious jest on the use of bath-salts in +the trenches. + +"I wonder, mother, whether you have any idea of what trenches and +dug-outs look like." + +He told her, very picturesquely, and went on to a general sketch +of life at the front. He entertained me with interesting talk for +the rest of my visit. I have already said that he was a man of +great personal charm. + +He accompanied me to the car and saw me comfortably tucked in. + +"You won't give me away, will you?" he said, shaking hands. + +"How?" I asked. + +"By telling any one I'm here." + +I promised and drove off. Marigold, full of the tea that is given +to a guest, strove cheerfully to engage me in conversation. I hate +to snub Marigold, excellent and devoted fellow, so I let him talk; +but my mind was occupied with worrying problems. + + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +Leonard Boyce had received me on sufferance. I had come upon him +while he was imprudently exposing himself to view. There had been +no way out of it. But he made it clear that he desired no other +Wellingsfordian to invade his privacy. Secretly he had come to see +his mother and secretly he intended to go. I remembered that +before he went to the front he had not come home, but his mother +had met him in London. He had asked me for no local news. He had +inquired after the welfare of none of his old friends. Never an +allusion to poor Oswald Fenimore's gallant death--he used to run +in and out of Wellings Park as if it were his own house. What had +he against the place which for so many years had been his home? + +With regard to Betty Fairfax, he had loved and ridden away, it is +true, leaving her disconsolate. But though everyone knew of the +engagement, no one had suspected the defection. Betty was a young +woman who could keep her own counsel and baffle any curiosity- +monger or purveyor of gossip in the country. So when she married +Captain Connor, a little gasp went round the neighbourhood, which +for the first time remembered Leonard Boyce. There were some who +blamed her for callous treatment of Boyce, away and forgotten at +the front. The majority, however, took the matter calmly, as we +have had to take far more amazing social convulsions. The fact +remained that Betty was married, and there was no reason whatever, +on the score of the old engagement, for Boyce to manifest such +exaggerated shyness with regard to Wellingsford society. + +If it had been any other man than Boyce, I should not have worried +about the matter at all. Save that I was deeply attached to Betty, +what had her discarded lover's attitude to do with me? But Boyce +was Boyce, the man of the damnable story of Vilboek's Farm. And +he, of his own accord, had revived in my mind that story in all +its intensity. A chance foolish question, such as thousands of +gentle, sheltered women have put to their suddenly, +uncomprehended, suddenly deified sons and husbands, had obviously +disturbed his nervous equilibrium. That little reflex twitch at +the corner of his lips--I have seen it often in the old times. I +should like to have had him stripped to the waist so that I could +have seen his heart--the infallible test. At moments of mighty +moral strain men can keep steady eyes and nostrils and mouth and +speech; but they cannot control that tell-tale diaphragm of flesh +over the heart. I have known it to cause the death of many a +Kaffir spy. ... But, at any rate, there was the twitch of the lips +... I deliberately threw weight into the scale of Mrs. Boyce's +foolish question. If he had not lost his balance, why should he +have launched into an almost passionate defence of the physical +coward? + +My memory went back to the narrative of the poor devil in the Cape +Town hospital. Boyce's description of the general phenomenon was a +deadly corroboration of Somers's account of the individual case. +They had used the same word--"paralysed." Boyce had made a fierce +and definite apologia for the very act of which Somers had accused +him. He put it down to the sudden epilepsy of fear for which a man +was irresponsible. Somers's story had never seemed so convincing-- +the first part of it, at least--the part relating to the paralysis +of terror. But the second part--the account of the diabolical +ingenuity by means of which Boyce rehabilitated himself--instead +of blowing his brains out like a gentleman--still hammered at the +gates of my credulity. + +Well--granted the whole thing was true--why revive it after +fifteen years' dead silence, and all of a sudden, just on account +of an idle question? Even in South Africa, his "mention" had +proved his courage. Now, with the D. S. O. a mere matter of +gazetting, it was established beyond dispute. + +On the other hand, if the Vilboek story, more especially the +second part, was true, what reparation could he make in the eyes +of honourable men?--in his own eyes, if he himself had succeeded +to the status of an honourable man? Would not any decent soldier +smite him across the face instead of grasping him by the hand? I +was profoundly worried. + +Moreover Betty, level-headed Betty, had called him a devil. Why? + +If the second part of Somers's story were true, he had acted like +a devil. There is no other word for it. Now, what concrete +diabolical facts did Betty know? Or had her instinctive feminine +insight pierced through the man's outer charm and merely perceived +horns, tail, and cloven hoof cast like a shadow over his soul? + +How was I to know? + +She came to dine with me the next evening: a dear way she had of +coming uninvited, and God knows how a lonely cripple valued it. +She was in uniform, being too busy to change, and looked +remarkably pretty. She brought with her a cheery letter from her +husband, received that morning, and read me such bits as the +profane might hear, her eyes brightening as she glanced over the +sections that she skipped. Beyond doubt her marriage had brought +her pleasure and pride. The pride she would have felt to some +extent, I think, if she had married a grampus; for when a woman +has a husband at the front she feels that she is taking her part +in the campaign and exposing herself vicariously to hardship and +shrapnel; and in the eyes of the world she gains thereby a little +in stature, a thing dear to every right-minded woman. But Betty's +husband was not a grampus, but a very fine fellow, a mate to be +wholly proud of: and he loved her devotedly and expressed his love +beautifully loverwise, as her tell-tale face informed me. +Gratefully and sturdily she had set herself out to be happy. She +was succeeding. ... Lord bless you! Millions of women who have +married, not the wretch they loved, but the other man, have lived +happy ever after. No: I had no fear for Betty now. I could not see +that she had any fear for herself. + +After dinner she sat on the floor by my side and smoked cigarettes +in great content. She had done a hard day's work at the hospital; +her husband had done a hard day's work--probably was still doing +it--in Flanders. Both deserved well of their country and their +consciences. She was giving a poor lonely paralytic, who had given +his legs years ago to the aforesaid country, a delightful evening. +... No, I'm quite sure such a patronising thought never entered my +Betty's head. After all, my upper half is sound, and I can talk +sense or nonsense with anybody. What have one's legs to do with a +pleasant after-dinner conversation? Years ago I swore a great oath +that I would see them damned before they got in the way of my +intelligence. + +We were getting on famously. We had put both war and Wellingsford +behind us, and talked of books. I found to my dismay that this +fair and fearless high product of modernity had far less +acquaintance with Matthew Arnold than with the Evangelist of the +same praenomen. She had never heard of "The Forsaken Merman," one +of the most haunting romantic poems in the English language. I +pointed to a bookcase and bade her fetch the volume. She brought +it and settled down again by my chair, and, as a punishment of +ignorance, and for the good of her soul, I began to read aloud. +She is an impressionable young person and yet one of remarkable +candour. If she had not been held by the sea-music of the poem, +she would not have kept her deep, steady brown eyes fixed on me. I +have no hesitation in repeating that we were getting on famously +and enjoying ourselves immensely. I got nearly to the end: + +"... Here came a mortal, But faithless was she, And alone dwell +forever The Kings of the sea. But, children at midnight--" + +The door opened wide. Topping his long stiff body, Marigold's ugly +one-eyed head appeared, and, as if he was tremendously proud of +himself, he announced: + +"Major Boyce." + +Boyce strode quickly past him and, suddenly aware of Betty by my +side, stopped short, like a private suddenly summoned to +attention. Marigold, unconscious of the blackest curses that had +ever fallen upon him during his long and blundering life, made a +perfect and self-satisfied exit. Betty sprang to her feet, held +her tall figure very erect, and faced the untimely visitor, her +cheeks flushing deep red. For an appreciable time, say, thirty +seconds, Boyce stood stock still, looking at her from under heavy +contracted brows. Then he recovered himself, smiled, and advanced +to her with outstretched hand, But, on his movement, she had been +quick to turn and bend down in order to pick up the book that had +fallen from my fingers on the further side of my chair. So, +swiftly he wheeled to me with his handshake. It was very deft +manoeuvring on both sides. + +"The faithful Marigold didn't tell me that you weren't alone, +Meredyth," he said in his cordial, charming way. "Otherwise I +shouldn't have intruded. But my dear old mother had an attack of +something and went to bed immediately after dinner, and I thought +I'd come round and have a smoke and a drink in your company." + +Betty, who had occupied herself by replacing Matthew Arnold's +poems in the bookcase, caught up the box of cigars that lay on the +brass tray table by my side, and offered it to him. + +"Here is the smoke," she said. + +And when, after a swift, covert glance at her, he had selected a +cigar, she went to the bell-push by the mantelpiece. + +"The drinks will be here in a minute." + +In order to do something to save this absurd situation, I drew +from my waistcoat pocket a little cigar-cutter attached to my +watch-chain, and clipped the end of his cigar. I also lit a match +from my box and handed it up to him. When he had finished with the +match he threw it into the fireplace and turned to Betty. + +"My congratulations are a bit late, but I hope I may offer them." + +She said, "Thank you." Waved a hand. "Won't you sit down?" + +"Wasn't it rather sudden?" he asked. + +"Everything in war time is sudden--except the action of the +British Government. Your own appearance to-night is sudden." + +He laughed at her jest and explained, much as he had done to me, +his reasons for wishing to keep his visit to Wellingsford a +secret. Meanwhile Marigold had brought in decanters and syphons. +Betty attended to Boyce's needs with a provoking air of +nonchalance. If a notorious German imbrued in the blood of babes +had chanced to be in her hospital, she would have given him his +medicine with just the same air. Although no one could have +specified a lack of courtesy towards a guest--for in my house she +played hostess--there was an indefinable touch of cold contumely +in her attitude. Whether he felt the hostility as acutely as I +did, I cannot say; but he carried it off with a swaggering grace. +He bowed to her over his glass. + +"Here's to the fortunate and gallant fellow over there." + +I saw her knuckles whiten as, with an inclination of the head, she +acknowledged the toast. + +"By the way," said he, "what's his regiment? My good mother told +me his name. Captain Connor, isn't it? But for the rest she is +vague. She's the vaguest old dear in the world. I found out to-day +that she thought there was a long row of cannons, hundreds of +them, all in a line, in front of the English Army, and a long row +in front of the German Army, and, when there was a battle, that +they all blazed away. So when I asked her whether your husband was +in the Life Guards or the Army Service Corps, she said cheerfully +that it was either one or the other but she wasn't quite sure. So +do give me some reliable information." + +"My husband is in the 10th Wessex Fusiliers, a Territorial +battalion," she replied coldly. + +"I hope some day to have the pleasure of making his acquaintance." + +"Stranger things have happened," said Betty. She glanced at the +clock and rose abruptly. "It's time I was getting back to the +hospital." + +Boyce rose too. "How are you going?" he asked. + +"I'm walking." + +He advanced a step towards her. "Won't you let me run you round in +the car?" + +"I prefer to walk." + +Her tone was final. She took affectionate leave of me and went to +the door, which Boyce held open. + +"Good-night," she said, without proffering her hand. + +He followed her out into the hall. + +"Betty," he said in a low voice, "won't you ever forgive me?" + +"I have no feelings towards you either of forgiveness or +resentment," she replied. + +They did not mean to be overheard, but my hearing is unusually +acute, and I could not help catching their conversation. + +"I know I seem to have behaved badly to you." + +"You have behaved worse to others," said Betty. "I don't wonder at +your shrinking from showing your face here." Then, louder, for my +benefit. "Good-night, Major Boyce. I really can walk up to the +hospital by myself." + +Evidently she walked away and Boyce after her, for I heard him +say: + +"You shan't go till you've told me what you mean." + +What she replied I don't know. To judge by the slam of the front +door it must have been something defiant. Presently he entered +debonair, with a smile on his lips. + +"I'm afraid I've left you in a draught," he said, shutting the +door. "I couldn't resist having a word with her and wishing her +happiness and the rest of it. We were engaged once upon a time." + +"I know," said I. + +"I hope you don't think I did wrong in releasing her from the +engagement. I don't consider a man has a right to go on active +service--especially on such service as the present war--and keep a +girl bound at home. Still less has he a right to marry her. What +happens in so many cases? A fortnight's married life. The man goes +to the front. Then ping! or whizz-bang! and that's the end of him, +and so the girl is left." + +"On the other hand," said I, "you must remember that the girl may +hold very strong opinions and take pings and whizz-bangs very +deliberately into account." + +Boyce helped himself to another whisky and soda. "It's a matter +for the individual conscience. I decided one way. Connor obviously +decided another, and, like a lucky fellow, found Betty of his way +of thinking. Perhaps I have old-fashioned notions." He took a long +pull at his drink. "Well, it can't be helped," he said with a +smile. "The other fellow has won, and I must take it gracefully. +... By George! wasn't she looking stunning to-night--in that kit? +... I hope you didn't mind my bursting in on you--" + +"Of course not," said I, politely. + +He drained his glass. "The fact is," said he, "this war is a +nerve-racking business. I never dreamed I was so jumpy until I +came home. I hate being by myself. I've kept my poor devoted +mother up till one o'clock in the morning. To-night she struck, +small blame to her; but, after five minutes on my lones, I felt as +if I should go off my head. So I routed out the car and came +along. But of course I didn't expect to see Betty. The sight of +Betty in the flesh as a married woman nearly bowled me over. May I +help myself again?" He poured out a very much stiffer drink than +before, and poured half of it down his throat. "It's not a joyous +thing to see the woman one has been crazy over the wife of another +fellow." + +"I suppose it isn't," said I. + +Of course I might have made some subtle and cunning remark, +suavely put a leading question which would have led him on, in his +unbalanced mood, to confidential revelations. But the man was a +distinguished soldier and my guest. To what he chose to tell me +voluntarily I could listen. I could do no more. He did not reply +to my last unimportant remark, but lay back in his armchair +watching the blue spirals of smoke from the end of his cigar. +There was a fairly long silence. + +I was worried by the talk I had overheard through the open door. +"You have behaved worse to others. I don't wonder at your +shrinking from showing your face here." Betty had, weeks ago, +called him a devil. She had treated him to-night in a manner +which, if not justified, was abominable. I was forced to the +conclusion that Betty was fully aware of some discreditable +chapter in the man's life which had nothing to do with the affair +at Vilboek's Farm, which, indeed, had to do with another woman and +this humdrum little town of Wellingsford. Otherwise why did she +taunt him with hiding from the light of Wellingsfordian day? + +Now, please don't think me little-minded. Or, if you do think so, +please remember the conditions under which I have lived for so +many years and grant me your kind indulgence for a confession I +have to make. Besides being worried, I felt annoyed. Wellingsford +was my little world. I knew everybody in it. I had grown to regard +myself as the repository of all its gossip. The fraction of it +that I retailed was a matter of calculated discretion. I made a +little hobby--it was a foible, a vanity, what you will--of my +omniscience. I knew months ahead the dates of the arrivals of +young Wellingsfordians in this world of pain and plenitude. I knew +of maidens who were wronged and youths who were jilted; of wives +who led their husbands a deuce of a dance, and of wives who kept +their husbands out of the bankruptcy court. When young Trexham, +the son of the Lord Lieutenant of the county, married a minor +light of musical comedy at a registrar's office, I was the first +person in the place to be told; and I flatter myself that I was +instrumental in inducing a pig-headed old idiot to receive an +exceedingly charming daughter-in-law. I loved to look upon +Wellingsford as an open book. Can you blame me for my resentment +at coming across, so to speak, a couple of pages glued together? +The only logical inference from Betty's remark was that Boyce had +behaved abominably and even notoriously to a woman in +Wellingsford. To do him justice, I declare I had never heard his +name associated with any woman or girl in the place save Betty +herself. I felt that, in some crooked fashion, or the other, I had +been done out of my rights. + +And there, placidly smoking his cigar and watching the wreaths of +blue smoke with the air of an idle seraph contemplating a wisp of +cirrus in Heaven's firmament, sat the man who could have given me +the word of the enigma. + +He broke the silence by saying: + +"Have you ever seriously considered the real problems of the +Balkans?" + +Now what on earth had the Balkans to do with the thoughts that +must have been rolling at the back of the man's mind? I was both +disappointed and relieved. I expected him to resume the personal +talk, and I dreaded lest he should entrust me with embarrassing +confidences. After three strong whiskies and sodas a man is apt to +relax hold of his discretion. ... Anyhow, he jerked me back to my +position of host. I made some sort of polite reply. He smiled. + +"You, my dear Meredyth, like the rest of the country, are half +asleep. In a few months' time you'll get the awakening of your +life." + +He began to discourse on the diplomatic situation. Months +afterwards I remembered what he had said that night and how +accurate had been his forecast. He talked brilliantly for over an +hour, during which, keenly interested in his arguments, I lost the +puzzle of the man in admiration of the fine soldier and clear and +daring thinker. It was only when he had gone that I began to worry +again. + +And before I went to sleep I had fresh cause for anxious +speculation. + +"Marigold," said I, when he came in as usual to carry me to bed, +"didn't I tell you that Major Boyce particularly wanted no one to +know that he was in the town?" + +"Yes, sir," said Marigold. "I've told nobody." + +"And yet you showed him in without informing him that Mrs. Connor +was here. Really you ought to have had more tact." + +Marigold received his reprimand with the stolidity of the old +soldier. I have known men who have been informed that they would +be court-martialled and most certainly shot, make the same reply. + +"Very good, sir," said he. + +I softened. I was not Marigold's commanding officer, but his very +grateful friend. "You see," said I, "they were engaged before Mrs. +Connor married--I needn't tell you that; it was common knowledge-- +and so their sudden meeting was awkward." + +"Mrs. Marigold has already explained, sir," said he. + +I chuckled inwardly all the way to my bedroom. + +"All the same, sir," said he, aiding me in my toilet, which he did +with stiff military precision, "I don't think the Major is as +incognighto" (the spelling is phonetic) "as he would like. +Prettilove was shaving me this morning and told me the Major was +here. As I considered it my duty, I told him he was a liar, and he +was so upset that he nicked my Adam's apple and I was that covered +with blood that I accused him of trying to cut my throat, and I +went out and finished shaving myself at home, which is +unsatisfactory when you only have a thumb on your right hand to +work the razor." + +I laughed, picturing the scene. Prettilove is an inoffensive +little rabbit of a man. Marigold might sit for the model of a war- +scarred mercenary of the middle ages, and when he called a man a +liar he did it with accentuaton and vehemence. No wonder +Prettilove jumped. + +"And then again this evening, sir," continued Marigold, slipping +me into my pyjama jacket, "as I was starting the Major's car, who +should be waiting there for him but Mr. Gedge." + +"Gedge?" I cried. + +"Yes, sir. Waiting by the side of the car. 'Can I have a word with +you, Major Boyce?' says he. 'No, you can't,' says the Major. 'I +think it's advisable,' says he. 'Those repairs are very pressing.' +'All right,' says the Major, 'jump in.' Then he says: 'That'll do, +Marigold. Good-night.' And he drives off with Mr. Gedge. Well, if +Mr. Gedge and Prettilove know he's here, then everyone knows it." + +"Was Gedge inside the drive?" I asked. The drive was a small +semicircular sort of affair, between gate and gate. + +"He was standing by the car waiting," said Marigold. "Now, sir." +He lifted me with his usual cast-iron tenderness into bed and +pulled the coverings over me. "It's a funny time to talk about +house repairs at eleven o'clock, at night," he remarked. + +"Nothing is funny in war-time," said I. + +"Either nothing or everything," said Marigold. He fussed +methodically about the room, picked up an armful of clothes, and +paused by the door, his hand on the switch. + +"Anything more, sir?" + +"Nothing, thank you, Marigold." + +"Good-night, sir." + +The room was in darkness. Marigold shut the door. I was alone. + +What the deuce was the meaning of this waylaying of Boyce by +Daniel Gedge? + + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +Major Boyce has gone, sir," said Marigold, the next morning, as I +was tapping my breakfast egg. + +"Gone?" I echoed. Boyce had made no reference the night before to +so speedy a departure. + +"By the 8.30 train, sir." + +Every train known by a scheduled time at Wellingsford goes to +London. There may be other trains proceeding from the station in +the opposite direction but nobody heeds them. Boyce had taken +train to London. I asked my omniscient sergeant: + +"How did you find that out?" + +It appeared it was the driver of the Railway Delivery Van. I +smiled at Boyce's ostrich-like faith in the invisibility of his +hinder bulk. What could occur in Wellingsford without it being +known at once to vanmen and postmen and barbers and servants and +masters and mistresses? How could a man hope to conceal his goings +and comings and secret actions? He might just as well expect to +take a secluded noontide bath in the fountain in Piccadilly +Circus. + +"Perhaps that's why the matter of those repairs was so pressing, +sir," said Marigold. + +"No doubt of it," said I. + +Marigold hung about, his finger-tips pushing towards me mustard +and apples and tulips and everything that one does not eat with +egg. But it was no use. I had no desire to pursue the +conversation. I continued my breakfast stolidly and read the +newspaper propped up against the coffee-pot. So many circumstances +connected with Boyce's visit were of a nature that precluded +confidential discussion with Marigold,--that precluded, indeed, +confidential discussion with anyone else. The suddenness of his +departure I learned that afternoon from Mrs. Boyce, who sent me by +hand a miserable letter characteristically rambling. From it I +gathered certain facts. Leonard had come into her bedroom at seven +o'clock, awakening her from the first half-hour's sleep she had +enjoyed all night, with the news that he had been unexpectedly +summoned back. When she came to think of it, she couldn't imagine +how he got the news, for the post did not arrive till eight +o'clock, and Mary said no telegram had been delivered and there +had been no call on the telephone. But she supposed the War Office +had secret ways of communicating with officers which it would not +be well to make known. The whole of this war, with its killing off +of the sons of the best families in the land, and the sleeping in +the mud with one's boots on, to say nothing of not being able to +change for dinner, and the way in which they knew when to shoot +and when not to shoot, was all so mysterious that she had long ago +given up hope of understanding any of its details. All she could +do was to pray God that her dear boy should be spared. At any +rate, she knew the duty of an English mother when the country was +in danger; so she had sent him away with a brave face and her +blessing, as she had done before. But, although English mothers +could show themselves Spartans--(she spelt it "Spartians," dear +lady, but no matter)--yet they were women and had to sit at home +and weep. In the meanwhile, her palpitations had come on +dreadfully bad, and so had her neuritis, and she had suffered +dreadfully after eating some fish at dinner which she was sure +Pennideath, the fishmonger--she always felt that man was an +anarchist in disguise--had bought out of the condemned stock at +Billingsgate, and none of the doctor's medicines were of the +slightest good to her, and she was heartbroken at having to part +so suddenly from Leonard, and would I spare half an hour to +comfort an old woman who had sent her only son to die for his +country and was ready, when it pleased God, if not sooner, to die +in the same sacred cause? + +So of course I went. The old lady, propped on pillows in an +overheated room, gave me tea and poured into my ear all the +anguish of her simple heart. In an abstracted, anxious way, she +ate a couple of crumpets and a wedge of cake with almond icing, +and was comforted. + +We continued our discussion of the war--or rather Leonard, for +with her Leonard seemed to be the war. She made some remark +deliciously inept--I wish I could remember it. I made a sly +rejoinder. She sat bolt upright and a flush came into her Dresden- +china cheek and her old eyes flashed. + +"You may think I'm a silly old woman, Duncan. I dare say I am. I +can't take in things as I used to do when I was young. But if +Leonard should be killed in the war--I think of it night and day-- +what I should like to do would be to drive to the Market Square of +Wellingsford and wave a Union Jack round and round and fall down +dead." + +I made some sort of sympathetic gesture. + +"And I certainly should," she added. + +"My dear friend," said I, "if I could move from this confounded +chair, I would kiss your brave hands." + +And how many brave hands of English mothers, white and delicate, +coarse and toil-worn, do not demand the wondering, heart-full +homage of us all? + +And hundreds of thousands of them don't know why we are fighting. +Hundreds of thousands of them have never read a newspaper in their +lives. I doubt whether they would understand one if they tried, I +doubt whether all could read one in the literal sense of the word. +We have had--we have still--the most expensive and rottenest +system of primary education in the world, the worst that +squabbling sectarians can devise. Arab children squatting round +the courtyard of a Mosque and swaying backwards and forwards as +they get by heart meaningless bits of the Koran, are not sent out +into life more inadequately armed with elementary educational +weapons than are English children. Our state of education has +nominally been systematised for forty-five years, and yet now in +our hospitals we have splendid young fellows in their early +twenties who can neither read nor write. I have talked with them. +I have read to them. I have written letters for them. Clean-cut, +decent, brave, honourable Englishmen--not gutter-bred Hooligans +dragged from the abyss by the recruiting sergeant, but men who +have thrown up good employment because something noble inside them +responded to the Great Call. And to the eternal disgrace of +governments in this disastrously politician-ridden land such men +have not been taught to read and write. It is of no use anyone +saying to me that it is not so. I know of my own certain intimate +knowledge that it is so. + +Even among those who technically have "the Three R's," I have met +scores of men in our Wellingsford Hospital who, bedridden for +months, would give all they possess to be able to enjoy a novel-- +say a volume of W. W. Jacobs, the writer who above all others has +conferred the precious boon of laughter on our wounded--but to +whom the intellectual strain of following the significance of +consecutive words is far too great. Thousands and thousands of men +have lain in our hospitals deprived, by the criminal insanity of +party politicians, of the infinite consolation of books. + +Christ, whom all these politicians sanctimoniously pretend to make +such a fuss of, once said that a house divided against itself +cannot stand. And yet we regard this internecine conflict between +our precious political parties as a sacred institution. By Allah, +we are a funny people! + +Of course your officials at the Board of Education--that +beautiful timber-headed, timber-hearted, timber-souled structure-- +could come down on me with an avalanche of statistics. "Look at +our results," they cry. I look. There are certain brains that even +our educational system cannot benumb. A few clever ones, at the +cost of enormously expensive machinery, are sent to the +universities, where they learn how to teach others the important +things whereby they achieved their own unimportant success. The +shining lights are those whom we turn out as syndicalist leaders +and other kinds of anti-patriotic demagogues. We systematically +deny them the wine of thought, but give them the dregs. But in the +past we did not care; they were vastly clever people, a credit to +our national system. It gave them chances which they took. We were +devilish proud of them. + +On the other hand, the vast mass are sent away with the +intellectual equipment of a public school-boy of twelve, and, as +I have declared, a large remnant have not been taught even how to +read and write. The storm of political controversy on educational +matters has centred round such questions as whether the story of +Joseph and his Brethren and the Parable of the Prodigal Son should +be taught to little Baptists by a Church of England teacher, and +what proportion of rates paid by Church of England ratepayers +should go to giving little Baptists a Baptistical training. If +there was a Christ who could come down among us, with what +scorching sarcasm would he not shrivel up the Scribes and +Pharisees, hypocrites, who in His Name have prevented the People +from learning how to read and write. + +Look through Hansard. There never has been a Debate in the House +of Commons devoted to the question of Education itself. If the War +can teach us any lessons, as a nation--and sometimes I doubt +whether it will--it ought at least to teach us the essential +vicious rottenness of our present educational system. + +This tirade may seem a far cry from Mrs. Boyce and her sister +mothers. It is not. I started by saying that there are hundreds of +thousands of British mothers, with sons in the Army, who have +never read a line of print dealing with the war, who have the +haziest notion of what it is all about. All they know is that we +are fighting Germans, who for some incomprehensible reason have +declared themselves to be our enemies; that the Germans, by +hearsay accounts, are dreadful people who stick babies on bayonets +and drop bombs on women and children. They really know little +more. But that is enough. They know that it is the part of a man +to fight for his country. They would not have their sons be called +cowards. They themselves have the blind, instinctive, and +therefore sacred love of country, which is named patriotism--and +they send forth their sons to fight. + +I stand up to kiss the white and delicate hand of the gentlewoman +who sends her boy to the war, for its owner knows as well as I do +(or ought to) all that is involved in this colossal struggle. But +to the toil-worn, coarse-handed mother I go on bended knees; +nothing intellectual comes within the range of her ideas. Her boy +is fighting for England. She would be ashamed if he were not. Were +she a man she would fight too. He has gone "with a good 'eart"-- +the stereotyped phrase with which every English private soldier, +tongue-tied, hides the expression of his unconquerable soul. How +many times have I not heard it from wounded men healed of their +wounds? I have never heard anything else. "The man who says he +WANTS to go back is a liar. But if they send me, I'll go WITH A +GOOD 'EART"--The phrase which ought to be immortalized on every +grave in Flanders and France and Gallipoli and Mesopotamia. + +17735 P'V'TE THOMAS ATKINS 1ST GOD'S OWN REG'T HE DIED WITH A GOOD +'EART + +So, you see, I looked at this rather silly malade imaginaire of an +old lady with whom I was taking tea, and suddenly conceived for +her a vast respect--even veneration. I say "rather silly." I had +many a time qualified the adjective much more forcibly. I took her +to have the intellectual endowment of a hen. But then she flashed +out suddenly before me an elderly Jeanne d'Arc. That to me Leonard +Boyce was suspect did not enter at all into the question. To her-- +and that was all that mattered--he was Sir Galahad, Lancelot, King +Arthur, Bayard, St. George, Hector, Lysander, Miltiades, all +rolled into one. The passion of her life was spent on him. To do +him justice, he had never failed to display to her the most tender +affection. In her eyes he was perfection. His death would mean the +wiping out of everything between Earth and Heaven. And yet, +paramount in her envisagement of such a tragedy was the idea of a +public proclamation of the cause of England in which he died. + +In this war the women of England--the women of Great Britain and +Ireland--the women of the far-flung regions of the British Empire, +have their part. + +Now and then mild business matters call me up to London. On these +occasions Marigold gets himself up in a kind of yachting kit which +he imagines will differentiate him from the ordinary chauffeur and +at the same time proclaim the dignity of the Meredyth-Marigold +establishment. He loves to swagger up the steps of my Service Club +and announce my arrival to the Hall Porter, who already, warned by +telephone of my advent, has my little wicker-work tricycle chair +in readiness. I think he feels, dear fellow, that he and I are +keeping our end up; that, although there are only bits of us left, +we are there by inalienable right as part and parcel of the +British Army--none of your Territorials or Kitcheners, but the old +original British Army whose prestige and honour were those of his +own straight soul. The Hall Porter is an ex-Sergeant-Major, and he +and Marigold are old acquaintances, and the meeting of the two +warriors is acknowledged by a wink and a military jerk of the +head. I think it is Marigold that impresses Bunworthy with a +respect for me, for that august functionary never fails to descend +the steps and cross the pavement to my modest little two-seater; +an act of graciousness which (so I am given to understand by my +friends) he will only perform in the case of Royalty Itself. A +mere Field-marshal has to mount the steps unattended like any +subaltern. + +These red-letter days when I drive through the familiar (and now +exciting) hubbub of London, I love (strange taste!) every motor +omnibus, every pretty woman, every sandwich-man, every fine young +fellow in khaki, every car-load of men in blue hospital uniform. I +love the smell of London, the cinematographic picture of London, +the thrill of London. To understand what I mean you have only got +to get rid of your legs and keep your heart and nerves and +memories, and live in a little country town. + +Yes, my visits to London are red-letter days. To get there with +any enjoyment to myself involves such a fussification, and such an +unauthorised claim on the services of other people, that my visits +are few and far between. + +A couple of hours in a club smoking-room--to the normal man a mere +putting in of time, a vain surcease from boredom, a vacuous habit +--is to me, a strange wonder and delight. After Wellingsford the +place is resonant with actualities. I hear all sorts of things; +mostly lies, I know; but what matter? When a man tells me that his +cousin knows a man attached as liaison officer to the staff of +General Joffre, who has given out confidentially that such and +such a thing is going to happen I am all ears. I feel that I am +sucked into the great whirlpool of Vast Events. I don't care a bit +about being disillusioned afterwards. The experience has done me +good, made a man of me and sent me back to Wellingsford as an +oracle. And if you bring me a man who declares that he does not +like being an oracle, I will say to his face that he is an +unblushing liar. + +All this is by way of preface to the statement that on the third +of May (vide diary) I went to the club. It was just after lunch +and the great smoking-room was full of men in khaki and men in +blue and gold, with a sprinkling of men, mostly elderly, in mufti; +and from their gilt frames the full-length portraits of departed +men of war in gorgeous uniforms looked down superciliously on +their more sadly attired descendants. I got into a corner by the +door, so as to be out of the way, for I knew by experience that +should there be in the room a choleric general, he would +inevitably trip over the casually extended front wheel of my +chair, greatly to the scandal of modest ears and to my own +physical discomfiture. + +Various seniors came up and passed the time of the day with me-- +one or two were bald-headed retired colonels of sixty, dressed in +khaki, with belts like equators on a terrestrial globe and with a +captain's three stars on their sleeves. Gallant old boys, full of +gout and softness, they had sunk their rank and taken whatever +dull jobs, such as guarding internment camps or railway bridges, +the War Office condescendingly thought fit to give them. They +listened sympathetically to my grievances, for they had grievances +of their own. When soldiers have no grievances the Army will +perish of smug content. + +"Why can't they give me a billet in the Army Pay and let me +release a man sounder of wind and limb?" I asked. "What's the good +of legs to a man who sits on his hunkers all day in an office and +fills up Army forms? I hate seeing you lucky fellows in uniform." + +"We're not a pretty sight," said the most rotund, who was a wag in +his way. + +Then we discussed what we knew and what we didn't know of the +Battle of Ypres, and the withdrawal of our Second Army, and shook +our heads dolorously over the casualty lists, every one of which +in those days contained the names of old comrades and of old +comrades' boys. And when they had finished their coffee and mild +cigars they went off well contented to their dull jobs and the +room began to thin. Other acquaintances on their way out paused +for a handshake and a word, and I gathered scraps of information +that had come "straight from Kitchener," and felt wonderfully wise +and cheerful. + +I had been sitting alone for a few minutes when a man rose from a +far corner, a tall soldierly figure, his arm in a sling, and came +straight towards me with that supple, easy stride that only years +of confident command can give. He had keen blue eyes and a +pleasant bronzed face which I knew that I had seem somewhere +before. I noticed on his sleeve the crown and star of a +lieutenant-colonel. He said pleasantly: + +"You're Major Meredyth, aren't you?" + +"Yes," said I. + +"You don't remember me. No reason why you should. But my name's +Dacre--Reggie Dacre, brother of Johnnie Dacre in your battery. We +met in Cape Town." + +I held out my hand. + +"Of course," said I. "You took me to a hospital. Do sit down for a +bit. You a member here?" + +"No. I belong to the Naval and Military. Lunching with old General +Donovan, a sort of god-father of mine. He told me who you were. I +haven't seen you since that day in South Africa." + +I asked for news of Johnnie, who had been lost to my ken for +years. Johnnie had been in India, and was now doing splendidly +with his battery somewhere near La Bassee. I pointed to the sling. +Badly hurt? No, a bit of flesh torn by shrapnel. Bone, thank God, +not touched. It was only horny-headed idiots like the British R. +A. M. C. that would send a man home for such a trifle. It was +devilish hard lines to be hoofed away from the regiment +practically just after he had got his command. However, he would +be back in a week or two. He laughed. + +"Lucky to be alive at all." + +"Or not done in for ever like myself," said I. + +"I didn't like to ask--" he said. Men would rather die than commit +the indelicacy of appearing to notice my infirmity. + +"You haven't been out there?" + +"No such luck," said I. "I got this little lot about a fortnight +after I saw you. Johnnie was still on sick leave and so was out of +that scrap." + +He commiserated with me on my ill-fortune, and handed me his +cigarette case. We smoked. + +"You've been on my mind for months," he said abruptly. + +"I?" + +He nodded. "I thought I recognised you. I asked the General who +you were. He said 'Meredyth of the Gunners.' So I knew I was right +and made a bee line for you. Do you remember the story of that man +in the hospital?" + +"Perfectly," said I. + +"About Boyce of the King's Watch?" + +"Yes," said I. "I saw Boyce, home on leave, about a fortnight ago. +I suppose you saw his D.S.O. gazetted?" + +"I did. And he deserves a jolly sight more," he exclaimed +heartily. "I've come to the conclusion that that fellow in the +hospital--I forget the brute's name--" + +"Somers," said I. + +"Yes, Somers. I've come to the conclusion that he was the +damn'dest, filthiest, lyingest hound that ever was pupped." + +"I'm glad to hear it," said I. "It was a horrible story. I +remember making your brother and yourself vow eternal secrecy." + +"You can take it from me that we haven't breathed a word to +anybody. As a matter of fact, the whole damn thing had gone out of +my head for years. Then I begin to hear of a fellow called Boyce +of the Rifles doing the most crazy magnificent things. I make +enquiries and find it's the same Leonard Boyce of the Vilboek Farm +story. We're in the same Brigade. + +"You don't often hear of individual men out there--your mind's too +jolly well concentrated on your own tiny show. But Boyce has sort +of burst out beyond his own regiment and, with just one or two +others, is beginning to be legendary. He has done the maddest +things and won the V.C. twenty times over. So that blighter +Somers, accusing him of cowardice, was a ghastly liar. And then I +remembered taking you up to hear that damnable slander, and I felt +that I had a share in it, as far as you were concerned, and I +longed to get at you somehow and tell you about it. I wanted to +get it off my chest. And now," said he with a breath of relief, +"thank God, I've been able to do so." + +"I wish you would tell me of an incident or two," said I. + +"He has got a life-preserver that looks like an ordinary cane--had +it specially made. It's quite famous. Men tell me that the knob is +a rich, deep, polished vermilion. He'll take on any number of +Boches with it single-handed. If there's any sign of wire-cutting, +he'll not let the men fire, but will take it on himself, and creep +like a Gurkha and do the devils in. One night he got a whole +listening post like that. He does a lot of things a second in +command hasn't any business to do, but his men would follow him +anywhere. He bears a charmed life. I could tell you lots of +things--but I see my old General's getting restive." He rose, +stretched out his hand. "At any rate, take my word for it--if +there's a man in the British Army who doesn't know what fear is, +that man is Leonard Boyce." + +He nodded in his frank way and rejoined his old General. As I had +had enough exciting information for one visit to town, I motored +back to Wellingsford. + + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +My house, as I have already mentioned, is situated at the extreme +end of the town on the main road, already called the Rowdon Road, +which is an extension of the High Street. It stands a little way +back to allow room for a semicircular drive, at each end of which +is a broad gate. The semicircle encloses a smooth-shaven lawn of +which I am vastly proud. In the spandrels by the side of the house +are laburnums and lilacs and laurels. From gate to gate stretch +iron railings, planted in a low stone parapet and unencumbered +with vegetation, so that the view from road to lawn and from lawn +to road is unrestricted. Thus I can take up my position on my lawn +near the railings and greet all passers-by. + +It was a lovely May morning. My laburnums and lilacs were in +flower. On the other side of the way the hedge of white-thorn +screening the grounds of a large preparatory school was in flower +also, and deliciously scented the air. I sat in my accustomed +spot, a table with writing materials, tobacco, and books by my +side, and a mass of newspapers at my feet. There was going to be a +coalition Government. Great statesmen were going to forget that +there was such a thing as party politics, except in the +distribution of minor offices, when the claims of good and +faithful jackals on either side would have to be considered. And +my heart grew sick within me, and I longed for a Man to arise who, +with a snap of his strong fingers, would snuff out the Little +Parish-Pump Folk who have misruled England this many a year with +their limited vision and sordid aspirations, and would take the +great, unshakable, triumphant command of a mighty Empire +passionately yearning to do his bidding... I could read no more +newspapers. They disgusted me. One faction seemed doggedly opposed +to any proposition for the amelioration of the present disastrous +state of affairs. The salvation of wrecked political theories +loomed far more important in their darkened minds than the +salvation, by hook or crook, of the British Empire. The other +faction, more patriotic in theory, cried aloud stinking fish, and +by scurrilous over-statement defeated their own ends. In the +general ignoble screech the pronouncements of the one or two +dignified and thoughtful London newspapers passed unheeded.... + +I drew what comfort I could from the sight of the continually +passing troops; a platoon off to musketry training; a battalion, +brown and dusty, on a route march with full equipment, whistling +"Tipperary"; sections of an Army Service train cursing good- +humouredly at their mules; a battery of artillery thundering along +at a clean, rhythmical trot which, considering what they were like +in their slovenly jogging and bumping three months ago, afforded +me prodigious pleasure. On the passing of these last-mentioned I +felt inclined to clap my hands and generally proclaim my +appreciation. Indeed, I did arrest a fresh-faced subaltern +bringing up the rear of the battery who, having acquaintance with +me, saluted, and I shouted: + +"They're magnificent!" + +He reared up his horse and flushed with pleasure. + +"We've done our best, sir," said he. "We had news last week that +we should be sent out quite soon, and that has bucked them up +enormously." + +He saluted again and rode off, and my heart went with him. What a +joy it would be to clatter down a road once again with the guns! + +And other people passed. Townsfolk who gave me a kindly "Morning, +Major!" and went on, and others who paused awhile and gave me the +gossip of the day. And presently young Randall Holmes went by on a +motor bicycle. He caught sight of me, disappeared, and then +suddenly reappeared, wheeling his machine. He rested it by the +kerb of the sidewalk and approached the railings. He was within a +yard of me. + +"Would you let me speak to you for half a minute, Major?" + +"Certainly," said I. "Come in." + +He swung through the gate and crossed the lawn. + +"You said very hard things to me some time ago." + +"I did," said I, "and I don't think they were undeserved." + +"Up to a certain point I agree with you," he replied. + +He looked extraordinarily robust and athletic in his canvas kit. +Why should he be tearing about aimlessly on a motor bicycle this +May morning when he ought to be in France? + +"I wish you agreed with me all along the line," said I. + +He found a little iron garden seat and sat down by my side. + +"I don't want to enter into controversial questions," he said. + +Confound him! He might have been fifty instead of four-and-twenty. +Controversial questions! His assured young Oxford voice irritated +me. + +"What do you want to enter into?" I asked. + +"A question of honour," he answered calmly. "I have been wanting +to speak to you, but I didn't like to. Passing you by, just now, I +made a sudden resolution. You have thought badly of me on account +of my attitude towards Phyllis Gedge. I want to tell you that you +were quite right. My attitude was illogical and absurd." + +"You have discovered," said I, "that she is not the inspiration +you thought she was, and like an honest man have decided to let +her alone." + +"On the contrary," said he. "I'd give the eyes out of my head to +marry her." + +"Why?" + +He met my gaze very frankly. "For the simple reason, Major +Meredyth, that I love her." + +All this natural, matter-of-fact simplicity coming from so +artificial a product of Balliol as Randall Holmes, was a bit +upsetting. After a pause, I said: + +"If that is so, why don't you marry her?" + +"She'll have nothing to do with me." + +"Have you asked her?" + +"I have, in writing. There's no mistake about it. I'm in earnest." + +"I'm exceedingly glad to hear it," said I. + +And I was. An honest lover I can understand, and a Don Juan I can +understand. But the tepid philanderer has always made my toes +tingle. And I was glad, too, to hear that little Phyllis Gedge had +so much dignity and commonsense. Not many small builders' +daughters would have sent packing a brilliant young gentleman like +Randall Holmes, especially if they happened to be in love with +him. As I did not particularly wish to be the confidant of this +love-lorn shepherd, I said nothing more. Randall lit a cigarette. + +"I hope I'm not boring you," he said. + +"Not a bit." + +"Well--what complicates the matter is that her father's the most +infernal swine unhung." I started, remembering what Betty had told +me. + +"I thought," said I, "that you were fast friends." + +"Who told you so?" he asked. + +"All the birds of Wellingsford." + +"I did go to see him now and then," he admitted. "I thought he was +much maligned. A man with sincere opinions, even though they're +wrong, is deserving of some respect, especially when the +expression of them involves considerable courage and sacrifice. I +wanted to get to the bottom of his point of view." + +"If you used such a metaphor in the Albemarle," I interrupted, +"I'm afraid you would be sacrificed by your friends." + +He had the grace to laugh. "You know what I mean." + +"And did you get to the bottom of it?" + +"I think so." + +"And what did you find?" + +"Crass ignorance and malevolent hatred of everyone better born, +better educated, better off, better dressed, better spoken than +himself." + +"Still," said I, "a human being can have those disabilities and +yet not deserve to be qualified as the most infernal swine +unhung." + +"That's a different matter," said he, unbuttoning his canvas +jacket, for the morning was warm. "I can talk patiently to a fool +--to be able to do so is an elementary equipment for a life among +men and women--" Why the deuce, thought I, wasn't he expending +this precious acquirement on a platoon of agricultural recruits? +The officer who suffers such gladly has his name inscribed on the +Golden Legend (unfortunately unpublished) of the British Army-- +"but when it comes," he went on, "to low-down lying knavery, then +I'm done. I don't know how to tackle it. All I can do is to get +out of the knave's way. I've found Gedge to be a beast, and I'm +very honourably in love with Gedge's daughter, and I've asked her +to marry me. I attach some value, Major, to your opinion of me, +and I want you, to know these two facts." + +I again expressed my gratification at learning his honourable +intentions towards Phyllis, and I commended his discovery of +Gedge's fundamental turpitude. I cannot say that I was cordial. At +this period, the unmilitary youth of England were not +affectionately coddled by their friends. Still, I was curious to +see whether Gedge's depravity extended beyond a purely political +scope. I questioned my young visitor. + +"Oh, it's nothing to do with abstract opinions," said he, thinning +away the butt-end of his cigarette. "And nothing to do with +treason, or anything of that kind. He has got hold of a horrible +story--told me all about it when he was foully drunk--that in +itself would have made me break with him, for I loathe drunken +men--and gloats over the fact that he is holding it over +somebody's head. Oh, a ghastly story!" + +I bent my brows on him. "Anything to do with South Africa?" + +"South Africa--? No. Why?" + +The puzzled look on his face showed that I was entirely on the +wrong track. I was disappointed at the faultiness of my acumen. +You see, I argued thus: Gedge goes off on a mysterious jaunt with +Boyce. Boyce retreats precipitately to London. Gedge in his cups +tells a horrible scandal with a suggestion of blackmail to Randall +Holmes. What else could he have divulged save the Vilboek Farm +affair? My nimble wit had led me a Jack o' Lantern dance to +nowhere. + +"Why South Africa?" he repeated. + +I replied with Macchiavellian astuteness, so as to put him on a +false scent: "A stupid slander about illicit diamond buying in +connection with a man, now dead, who used to live here some years +ago." + +"Oh, no," said Randall, with a superior smile "Nothing of that +sort." + +"Well, what is it?" I asked. + +He helped himself to another cigarette. "That," said he, "I can't +tell you. In the first place I gave my word of honour as to +secrecy before he told me, and, in the next, even if I hadn't +given my word, I would not be a party to such a slander by +repeating it to any living man." He bent forward and looked me +straight in the eyes. "Even to you, Major, who have been a second +father to me." + +"A man," said I, "has a priceless possession that he should always +keep--his own counsel." + +"I've only told you as much as I have done," said Randall, +"because I want to make clear to you my position with regard both +to Phyllis and her father." + +"May I ask," said I, "what is Phyllis's attitude towards her +father?" I knew well enough from Betty; but I wanted to see how +much Randall knew about it. + +"She is so much out of sympathy with his opinions that she has +gone to live at the hospital." + +"Perhaps she thinks you share those opinions, and for that reason +won't marry you?" + +"That may have something to do with it, although I have done my +best to convince her that I hold diametrically opposite views, But +you can't expect a woman to reason." + +"The unexpected sometimes happens," I remarked. "And then comes +catastrophe; in this case not to the woman." I cannot say that my +tone was sympathetic. I had cause for interest in his artless +tale, but it was cold and dispassionate. "Tell me," I continued, +"when did you discover the diabolical nature of the man Gedge?" + +"Last night." + +"And when did you ask Phyllis to marry you?" + +"A week ago." + +"What's going to happen now?" I asked. + +"I'm hanged if I know," said he, gloomily. + +I was in no mood to offer the young man any advice. The poor +little wretch at the hospital--so Betty had told me--was crying +her eyes out for him; but it was not for his soul's good that he +should know it. + +"In heroic days," said I, "a hopeless lover always found a +sovereign remedy against an obdurate mistress." + +He rose and buttoned up his canvas jacket. + +"I know what you mean," he said. "And I didn't come to discuss it +--if you'll excuse my apparent rudeness in saying so." + +"Then things are as they were between us." + +"Not quite, I hope," he replied in a dignified way. "When last you +spoke to me about Phyllis Gedge, I really didn't know my own mind. +I am not a cad and the thought of--of anything wrong never entered +my head. On the other hand, marriage seemed out of the question." + +"I remember," said I, "you talked some blithering rot about her +being a symbol." + +"I am quite willing to confess I was a fool," he admitted +gracefully. "And I merited your strictures." + +His reversion to artificiality annoyed me. I'm far from being of +an angelic disposition. + +"My dear boy," I cried. "Do, for God's sake, talk human English, +and not the New Oxford Dictionary." + +He flushed angrily, snapped an impatient finger and thumb, and +marched away to the gravel path. I sang out sharply: + +"Randall!" + +He turned. I cried: + +"Come here at once." + +He came with sullen reluctance. Afterwards I was rather tickled at +realizing that the lame old war-dog had so much authority left. If +he had gone defiantly off, I should have felt rather a fool. + +"My dear boy," I said, "I didn't mean to insult you. But can't a +clever fellow like you understand that all the pretty frills and +preciousness of a year ago are as dead as last year's Brussels +sprouts? We're up against elemental things and can only get at +them with elemental ideas expressed in elemental language." + +"I'd have you to know," said Randall, "that I spoke classical +English." + +"Quite so," said I. "But the men of to-day speak Saxon English, +Cockney English, slang English, any damned sort of English that is +virile and spontaneous. As I say, you're a clever fellow. Can't +you see my point? Speech is an index of mental attitude. I bet you +what you like Phyllis Gedge would see it at once. Just imagine a +subaltern at the front after a bad quarter of an hour with his +Colonel--'I've merited your strictures, sir!' If there was a bomb +handy, the Colonel would catch it up and slay him on the spot." + +"But I don't happen to be at the front, Major," said Randall. + +"Then you damned well ought to be," said I, in sudden wrath. + +I couldn't help it. He asked for it. He got it. + +He went away, mounted his motor bicycle, and rode off. + +I was sorry. The boy evidently was in a chastened mood. If I had +handled him gently and diplomatically, I might have done something +with him. I suppose I'm an irritable, nasty-tempered beast. It is +easy to lay the blame on my helpless legs. It isn't my legs. I've +conquered my damned legs. It isn't my legs. Its ME. + +I was ashamed of myself. And when, later, Marigold enquired +whether the doors were still shut against Mr. Holmes, I asked him +what the blazes he meant by not minding his own business. And +Marigold said: "Very good, sir." + + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +For a week or two the sluggish stream of Wellingsfordian life +flowed on undisturbed. The chief incident was a recruiting meeting +held on the Common. Sir Anthony Fenimore in his civic capacity, a +staff-officer with red tabs, a wounded soldier, an elderly, +eloquent gentleman from recruiting headquarters in London, and one +or two nondescripts, including myself, were on the platform. A +company of a County Territorial Battalion and the O.T.C. of the +Godbury Grammar School gave a semblance of military display. The +Town Band, in a sort of Hungarian uniform, discoursed martial +music. Old men and maidens, mothers and children, and contented +young fellows in khaki belonging to all kinds of arms, formed a +most respectable crowd. The flower of Wellingsfordian youth was +noticeably absent. They were having too excellent a time to be +drawn into the temptation of a recruiting meeting, in spite of the +band and the fine afternoon and the promiscuity of attractive +damsels. They were making unheard-of money at the circumjacent +factories; their mothers were waxing fat on billeting-money. They +never had so much money to spend on moving-picture-palaces and +cheap jewellery for their inamoratas in their lives. As our +beautiful Educational system had most scrupulously excluded from +their school curriculum any reference to patriotism, any +rudimentary conception of England as their sacred heritage, and as +they had been afforded no opportunity since they left school of +thinking of anything save their material welfare and grosser +material appetites, the vague talk of peril to the British Empire +left them unmoved. They were quite content to let others go and +fight. They had their own comfortable theories about it. Some +fellows liked that sort of thing. They themselves didn't. In +ordinary times, it amused that kind of fellow to belong to a +Harriers Club, and clad in shorts and zephyrs, go on Sundays for +twenty-mile runs. It didn't amuse them. A cigarette, a girl, and a +stile formed their ideal of Sunday enjoyment. They had no quarrel +with the harrier fellow or the soldier fellow for following his +bent. They were most broad-minded. But they flattered themselves +that they were fellows of a superior and more intelligent breed. +They were making money and living warm, the only ideal of +existence of which they had ever heard, and what did anything else +matter? + +If a man has never been taught that he has a country, how the +deuce do you expect him to love her--still less to defend her with +his blood? Our more than damnable governments for the last thirty +years have done everything in their power to crush in English +hearts the national spirit of England. God knows I have no quarrel +with Scotland, Ireland, and Wales. I speak in no disparagement of +them. Quite the reverse. In this war they have given freely of +their blood. I only speak as an Englishman of England, the great +Mother of the Empire. Scot, Irishman, Welshman, Canadian, +Australian are filled with the pride of their nationality. It is +part of their being. Wisely they have been trained to it from +infancy. England, who is far bigger, far more powerful than the +whole lot of them put together--it's a statistical fact--has +deliberately sunk herself in her own esteem, in her own pride. +Only one great man has stood for England, as England, the great +Mother, for the last thirty years. And that man is Rudyard +Kipling. And the Little Folk in authority in England have spent +their souls in rendering nugatory his inspired message. + +This criminal self-effacement of England is at the root of the +peril of the British Empire during this war. + +I told you at the beginning that I did not know how to write a +story. You must forgive me for being led away into divagations +which seem to be irrelevant to the dramatic sequence. But when I +remember that the result of all the pomp and circumstance of that +meeting was seven recruits, of whom three were rejected as being +physically unfit, my pen runs away with my discretion, and my +conjecturing as to artistic fitness. + +Yes, the Major spoke. Sir Anthony is a peppery little person and +the audience enjoyed the cayenne piquancy of his remarks. The red- +tabbed Lieutenant-Colonel spoke. He was a bit dull. The elderly +orator from London roused enthusiastic cheers. The wounded +sergeant, on crutches, displaying a foot like a bandaged mop, +brought tears into the eyes of many women and evoked hoarse cheers +from the old men. I spoke from my infernal chair, and I think I +was quite a success with the good fellows in khaki. But the only +men we wanted to appeal to had studiously refrained from being +present. The whole affair was a fiasco. + +When we got home, Marigold, who had stood behind my chair during +the proceedings, said to me: + +"I think I know personally about thirty slackers in this town, +sir, and I'm more than a match for any three of them put together. +Suppose I was to go the rounds, so to speak, and say to each of +them, 'You young blighter, if you don't come with me and enlist, I +'ll knock hell out of you!'--and, if he didn't come, I did knock +hell out of him--what exactly would happen, sir?" + +"You would be summoned," said I, "for thirty separate cases of +assault and battery. Reckoning the penalty at six months each, you +would have to go to prison for fifteen years." + +Marigold's one eye grew pensive and sad. + +"And they call this," said he, "a free country!" + +I began this chapter by remarking that for a week or two after my +second interview with Randall Holmes, nothing particular happened. +Then one afternoon came Sir Anthony Fenimore to see me, and with a +view to obtaining either my advice or my sympathy, reopened the +story of his daughter Althea found drowned in the canal eleven +months before. + +What he considered a most disconcerting light had just been cast +on the tragedy by Maria Beccles. This lady was Lady Fenimore's +sister. A deadly feud, entirely of Miss Beccles' initiating and +nourishing, had existed between them for years. They had been +neither on speaking nor on writing terms. Miss Beccles, ten years +Lady Fenimore's senior, was, from all I had heard, a most +disagreeable and ill-conditioned person, as different from my +charming friend Edith Fenimore as the ugly old sisters were from +Cinderella. Although she belonged to a good old South of England +family, she had joined, for reasons known only to herself, the old +Free Kirk of Scotland, found a congenial Calvinistic centre in +Galloway, and after insulting her English relations and friends in +the most unconscionable way, cut herself adrift from them for +ever. "Mad as a hatter," Sir Anthony used to say, and, never +having met the lady, I agreed with him. She loathed her sister, +she detested Anthony, and she appeared to be coldly indifferent to +the fact of the existence of her nephew Oswald. But for Althea, +and for Althea alone, she entertained a curious, indulgent +affection, and every now and then Althea went to spend a week or +so in Galloway, where she contrived to obtain considerable +amusement. Aunt Maria did both herself and her visitors very well, +said Althea, who had an appreciative eye for the material +blessings of life. Althea walked over the moors and fished and +took Aunt Maria's cars out for exercise and, except whistle on the +Sabbath, seemed to do exactly what she liked. + +Now, in January 1914, Althea announced to her parents that Aunt +Maria had summoned her for a week to Galloway. Sir Anthony stuffed +her handbag with five-pound notes, and at an early hour of the +morning sent her up in the car to London in charge of the +chauffeur. The chauffeur returned saying that he had bought Miss +Althea's ticket at Euston and seen her start off comfortably on +her journey. A letter or two had been received by the Fenimores +from Galloway, and letters they had written to Galloway had been +acknowledged by Althea. She returned to Wellingsford in due +course, with bonny cheeks and wind-swept eyes, and told us all +funny little stories about Aunt Maria. No one thought anything +more about it until one fine afternoon in May, 1915, when Maria +Beccles walked unexpectedly into the drawing-room of Wellings +Park, while Sir Anthony and Lady Fenimore were at tea. + +"My dear Edith," she said to her astounded hostess, who had not +seen her for fifteen years. "In this orgy of hatred and strife +that is going on in the world, it seems ridiculous to go on hating +and fighting one's own family. We must combine against the Germans +and hate them. Let us be friends." + +"Mad as Crazy Jane," said Sir Anthony, telling me the story. But +I, who had never heard Aunt Maria's side of the dispute, thought +it very high-spirited of the old lady to come and hold out the +olive-branch in so uncompromising a fashion. + +Lady Fenimore then said that she had never wished to quarrel with +Maria, and Sir Anthony declared that her patriotic sentiments did +her credit, and that he was proud to receive her under his roof, +and in a few minutes Maria was drinking tea and discussing the war +in the most contented way in the world. + +"I didn't write to you on the occasion of the death of your two +children because you knew I didn't like you," said this outspoken +lady. "I hate hypocrisy. Also I thought that tribulation might +chasten you in the eyes of the Lord. I've discussed it with our +Minister, a poor body, but a courageous man. He told me I was +unchristian. Now, what with all this universal massacre going on +and my unregenerate longing, old woman as I am, to wade knee-deep +in German blood, I don't know what the devil I am." + +The more Anthony told me of Aunt Maria, the more I liked her. + +"Can't I come round and make her acquaintance?" I cried. "She's +the sort of knotty, solid human thing that I should love. No +wonder Althea was fond of her." + +"This happened a week ago. She only stayed a night," replied Sir +Anthony. "I wish to God we had never seen her or heard of her." + +And then the good, heart-wrung little man, who had been beating +about the bush for half an hour, came straight to the point. + +"You remember Althea's visit to Scotland in January last year?" + +"Perfectly," said I. + +He rose from his chair and looked at me in wrinkled anguish. + +"She never went there," he said. + +That was what he had come to tell me. A natural reference to the +last visit of Althea to her aunt had established the stupefying +fact. + +"Althea's last visit was in October, 1913," said Miss Beccles. + +"But we have letters from your house to prove she was with you in +January," said Sir Anthony. + +Most methodical and correspondence-docketing of men, he went to +his library and returned with a couple of letters. + +The old lady looked them through grimly. + +"Pretty vague. No details. Read 'em again, Anthony." + +When he had done so, she said: "Well?" + +Lady Fenimore objected: "But Althea did stay with you. She must +have stayed with you." + +"All right, Edith," said Maria, sitting bolt upright. "Call me a +liar, and have done with it. I've come here at considerable +dislocation of myself and my principles, to bury the hatchet for +the sake of unity against the enemy, and this is how I'm treated. +I can only go back to Scotland at once." + +Sir Anthony succeeded in pacifying her. The letters were evidence +that Edith and himself believed that Althea was in Galloway at the +time. Maria's denial had come upon them like a thunderclap, +bewildering, stunning. If Althea was not in Galloway, where was +she? + +Maria Beccles did not reply for some time to the question. Then +she took the pins out of her hat and threw it on a chair, thus +symbolising the renunciation of her intention of returning +forthwith to Scotland. + +"Yes, Maria," said Lady Fenimore, with fear in her dark eyes, "we +don't doubt your word--but, as Anthony has said, if she wasn't +with you, where was she?" + +"How do I know?" + +Maria Beccles pointed a lean finger--she was a dark and +shrivelled, gipsy-like creature. "You might as well ask the canal +in which she drowned herself." + +"But, my God, Anthony!" I cried, when he had got thus far, "What +did you think? What did you say?" + +I realised that the old lady had her social disqualifications. +Plain-dealing is undoubtedly a virtue. But there are several +virtues which the better class of angel keeps chained up in a dog- +kennel. Of course she was acute. A mind trained in the acrobatics +of Calvinistic Theology is, within a narrow compass, surprisingly +agile. It jumped at one bound from the missing week in Althea's +life into the black water of the canal. It was incapable, however, +of appreciating the awful horror in the minds of the beholders. + +"I don't know what I said," replied Sir Anthony, walking +restlessly about my library. "We were struck all of a heap. As you +know, we never had reason to think that the poor dear child's +death was anything but an accident. We were not narrow-minded old +idiots. She was a dear good girl. In a modern way she claimed her +little independence. We let her have it. We trusted her. We took +it for granted--you know it, Duncan, as well as I do--that, a hot +night in June--not able to sleep--she had stuck on a hat and +wandered about the grounds, as she had often done before, and a +spirit of childish adventure had tempted her, that night, to walk +round the back of the town and--and--well, until in the dark, she +stepped off the tow-path by the lock gates, into nothing--and +found the canal. It was an accident," he continued, with a hand on +my shoulder, looking down on me in my chair. "The inquest proved +that. I accepted it, as you know, as a visitation of God. Edith +and I sorrowed for her like cowards. It took the war to bring us +to our senses. But, now, this damned old woman comes and upsets +the whole thing." + +"But," said I, "after all, it was only a bow at a venture on the +part of the old lady." + +"I wish it were," said he, and he handed me a letter which Maria +had written to him the day after her return to Scotland. + +The letter contained a pretty piece of information. She had +summarily discharged Elspeth Macrae, her confidential maid of +five-and-twenty years' standing. Elspeth Macrae, on her own +confession, had, out of love for Althea, performed the time- +honoured jugglery with correspondence. She had posted in Galloway +letters which she had received, under cover, from Althea, and had +forwarded letters that had arrived addressed to Althea to an +accommodation address in Carlisle. So have sentimental serving- +maids done since the world began. + +"What do you make of it?" asked Sir Anthony. + +What else could I make of it but the one sorry theory? What woman +employs all this subterfuge in order to obtain a weeks liberty for +any other purpose than the one elementary purpose of young +humanity? + +We read the inevitable conclusion in each other's eyes. + +"Who is the man, Duncan?" + +"I suppose you have searched her desk and things?" + +"Last year. Everything most carefully. It was awful--but we had +to. Not a scrap of paper that wasn't innocence itself." + +"It can't be anyone here," said I. "You know what the place is. +The slightest spark sends gossip aflame like the fumes of petrol." + +He sat down by my side and rubbed his close-cropped grey head. + +"It couldn't have been young Holmes?" + +The little man had a brave directness that sometimes disconcerted +me. I knew the ghastly stab that every word cost him. + +"She used to make mock of Randall," said I. "Don't you remember +she used to call him 'the gilded poet'? Once she said he was the +most lady-like young man of her acquaintance. I don't admire our +young friend, but I think you're on the wrong track, Anthony." + +"I don't see it," said he. "That sort of flippancy goes for +nothing. Women use it as a sort of quickset hedge of protection." +He bent forward and tapped me on my senseless knee. "Young Holmes +always used to be in and out of the house. They had known each +other from childhood. He had a distinguished Oxford career. When +he won the Newdigate, she came running to me with the news, as +pleased as Punch. I gave him a dinner in honour of it, if you +remember." + +"I remember," said I. + +I did not remind him that he had made a speech which sent cold +shivers down the spine of our young Apollo; that, in a fine +rhetorical flourish--dear old fox-hunting ignoramus--he declared +that the winner of the Newdigate carried the bays of the Laureate +in his knapsack; that Randall, white-lipped with horror, murmured +to Betty Fairfax, his neighbour at the table: "My God! The Poet- +Laureate's unhallowed grave! I must burn the knapsack and take to +a hod!" It was too tragical a conversation for light allusion. + +"The poor dear child--Edith and I have sized it up--was all over +him that evening." + +"What more youthfully natural," said I, "than that she should +carry off the hero of the occasion--her childhood's playfellow?" + +"All sorts of apparently insignificant details, Duncan, taken +together--especially if they fit in--very often make up a whole +case for prosecution." + +"You're a Chairman of Quarter Sessions," I admitted, "and so you +ought to know." + +"I know this," said he, "that Holmes only spent part of that +Christmas vacation with his mother, and went off somewhere or the +other early in January." I cudgelled back my memory into +confirmation of his statement. To remember trivial incidents +before the war takes a lot of cudgelling. Yes. I distinctly +recollected the young man's telling me that Oxford being an +intellectual hothouse and Wellingsford an intellectual Arabia +Petrea, he was compelled, for the sake of his mental health, to +find a period of repose in the intellectual Nature of London. I +mentioned this to Sir Anthony. + +"Yet," I said, "I don't think he had anything to do with it." + +"Why?" + +"It would have been far too much moral exertion--" + +"You call it moral?" Sir Anthony burst out angrily. + +I pacified him with an analysis, from my point of view, of +Randall's character. Centripetal forces were too strong for the +young man. I dissertated on his amours with Phyllis Gedge. + +"No, my dear old friend," said I, in conclusion, "I don't think it +was Randall Holmes." + +Sir Anthony rose and shook his fist in my face. As I knew he meant +me no bodily harm, I did not blench. + +"Who was it, then?" + +"Althea," said I, "often used to stay in town with your sister. +Lady Greatorex has a wide circle of acquaintances. Do you know +anything of the men Althea used to meet at her house?" + +"Of course I don't," replied Sir Anthony. Then he sat down again +with a gesture of despair. "After all, what does it matter? +Perhaps it's as well I don't know who the man was, for if I did, +I'd kill him!" + +He set his teeth and glowered at nothing and smote his left palm +with his right fist, and there was a long silence. Presently he +repeated: + +"I'd kill him!" + +We fell to discussing the whole matter over again. Why, I asked, +should we assume that the poor child was led astray by a villain? +Might there not have been a romantic marriage which, for some +reason we could not guess, she desired to keep secret for a tune? +Had she not been bright and happy from January to June? And that +night of tragedy... What more likely than that she had gone forth +to keep tryst with her husband and accidentally met her death? "He +arrives," said I, "waits for her. She never comes. He goes away. +The next day he learns from local gossip or from newspapers what +has happened. He thinks it best to keep silent and let her fair +name be untouched...What have you to say against that theory?" + +"Possible," he replied. "Anything conceivable within the limits of +physical possibility is possible. But it isn't probable. I have an +intuitive feeling that there was villainy about--and if ever I get +hold of that man--God help him!" + +So there was nothing more to be said. + + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +I haven't that universal sympathy which is the most irritating +attribute of saints and other pacifists. When, for instance, +anyone of the fraternity arguing from the Sermon on the Mount +tells me that I ought to love Germans, either I admit the +obligation and declare that, as I am a miserable sinner, I have no +compunction in breaking it, or, if he is a very sanctimonious +saint, I remind him that, such creatures as modern Germans not +having been invented on or about the year A.D. 30, the rule about +loving your enemies could not possibly apply. At least I imagine I +do one of these two things (sometimes, indeed, I dream gloatfully +over acts of physical violence) when I read the pronouncements of +such a person; for I have to my great good fortune never met him +in the flesh. If there are any saintly pacifists in Wellingsford, +they keep sedulously out of my way, and they certainly do not +haunt my Service Club. And these are the only two places in which +I have my being. Even Gedge doesn't talk of loving Germans. He +just lumps all the belligerents together in one conglomerate +hatred, for upsetting his comfortable social scheme. + +As I say, I lack the universal sympathy of the saint. I can't like +people I don't like. Some people I love very deeply; others, being +of a kindly disposition, I tolerate; others again I simply detest. +Now Wellingsford, like every little country town in England, is +drab with elderly gentlewomen. As I am a funny old tabby myself, I +have to mix with them. If I refuse invitations to take tea with +them, they invite themselves to tea with me. "The poor Major," +they say, "is so lonely." And they bait their little hooks and +angle for gossip of which I am supposed--Heaven knows why--to be a +sort of stocked pond. They don't carry home much of a catch, I +assure you.... Well, of some of them I am quite fond. Mrs. Boyce, +for all her shortcomings, is an old crony for whom I entertain a +sincere affection. Towards Betty's aunt, Miss Fairfax, a harmless +lady with a passion for ecclesiastical embroidery, I maintain an +attitude of benevolent neutrality. But Mrs. Holmes, Randall's +mother, and her sisters, the daughters of an eminent publicist who +seems to have reared his eminence on bones of talk flung at him by +Carlisle, George Eliot, Lewes, Monckton Milnes, and is now, +doubtless, recording their toe-prints on the banks of Acheron, I +never could and never can abide. My angel of a wife saw good in +them, and she loved the tiny Randall, of whom I too was fond; so, +for her sake, I always treated them with courtesy and kindness. +Also for Randall's father's sake. He was a bluff, honest, stock- +broking Briton who fancied pigeons and bred greyhounds for +coursing, and cared less for literature and art than does the +equally honest Mrs. Marigold in my kitchen. But his wife and her +sisters led what they called the intellectual life. They regarded +it as a heritage from their pompous ass of a father. Of course +they were not eighteen-sixty, or even eighteen-eighty. They prided +themselves on developing the hereditary tradition of culture to +its extreme modern expression. They were of the semi-intellectual +type of idiot--and, if it destroys it, the great war will have +some justification--which professes to find in the dull analysis +of the drab adultery and suicide of a German or Scandinavian +rabbit-picker a supreme expression of human existence. All their +talk was of Hauptmann and Sudermann (they dropped them +patriotically, I must say, as outrageous fellows, on the outbreak +of war), Strindberg, Dostoievsky--though I found they had never +read either "Crime and Punishment" or "The Brothers Karamazaroff" +--Tolstoi, whom they didn't understand; and in art--God save the +mark!--the Cubist school. That is how my poor young friend, +Randall, was trained to get the worst of the frothy scum of +intelligent Oxford. But even he sometimes winced at the +pretentiousness of his mother and his aunts. He was a clever +fellow and his knowledge was based on sound foundations. I need +not say that the ladies were rather feared than loved in +Wellingsford. + +All this to explain why it was that when Marigold woke me from an +afternoon nap with the information that Mrs. Holmes desired to see +me, I scowled on him. + +"Why didn't you say I was dead?" + +"I told Mrs. Holmes you were asleep, sir, and she said: 'Will you +be so kind as to wake him?' So what could I do, sir?" + +I have never met with an idiot so helpless in the presence of a +woman. He would have defended my slumbers before a charge of +cavalry; but one elderly lady shoo'd him aside like a chicken. + +Mrs. Holmes was shewn in, a tall, dark, thin, nervous woman +wearing pince-nez and an austere sad-coloured garment. + +She apologised for disturbing me. + +"But," she said, sitting down on the couch, "I am in such great +trouble and I could think of no one but you to advise me." "What's +the matter?" I asked. + +"It's Randall. He left the house the day before yesterday, without +telling any of us good-bye, and he hasn't written, and I don't +know what on earth has become of him." + +"Did he take any luggage?" + +"Just a small suit-case. He even packed it himself, a thing he has +never done at home in his life before." + +This was news. The proceedings were unlike Randall, who in his +goings and comings loved the domestic brass-band. To leave his +home without valedictory music and vanish into the unknown, +betokened some unusual perturbation of mind. + +I asked whether she knew of any reason for such perturbation. + +"He was greatly upset," she replied, "by the stoppage of The +Albemarle Review for which he did such fine work." + +I strove politely to hide my inability to condole and wagged my +head sadly: + +"I'm afraid there was no room for it in a be-bombed and be- +shrapnelled world." + +"I suppose the still small voice of reason would not be heard amid +the din," she sighed. "And no other papers--except the impossible +ones--would print Randall's poems and articles." + +More news. This time excellent news. A publicist denied publicity +is as useful as a German Field Marshal on a desert island. I asked +what The Albemarle died of. + +"Practically all the staff deserted what Randall called the Cause +and dribbled away into the army," she replied mournfully. + +As to what this precious Cause meant I did not enquire, having no +wish to enter into an argument with the good lady which might have +become exacerbated. Besides, she would only have parroted Randall. +I had never yet detected her in the expression of an original +idea. + +"Perhaps he has dribbled away too?" I suggested grimly. She was +silent. I bent forward. "Wouldn't you like him to dribble into the +great flood?" + +She lifted her lean shoulders despairingly. + +"He's the only son of a widow. Even in France and Germany they're +not expected to fight. But if he were different I would let him go +gladly--I'm not selfish and unpatriotic, Major," she said with an +unaccustomed little catch in her throat--and for the very first +time I found in her something sympathetic--"but," she continued, +"it seems so foolish to sacrifice all his intellectual brilliance +to such crudities as fighting, when it might be employed so much +more advantageously elsewhere." + +"But, good God, my dear lady!" I cried. "Where are your wits? +Where's your education? Where's your intelligent understanding of +the daily papers? Where's your commonsense?"--I'm afraid I was +brutally rude. "Can't you give a minute's thought to the +situation? If there's one institution on earth that's shrieking +aloud for intellectual brilliance, it's the British Army! Do you +think it's a refuge for fools? Do you think any born imbecile is +good enough to outwit the German Headquarters Staff? Do you think +the lives of hundreds of his men--and perhaps the fate of +thousands--can be entrusted to any brainless ass? An officer can't +have too much brains. We're clamouring for brains. It's the +healthy, brilliant-brained men like Randall that the Army's +yelling for--simply yelling for," I repeated, bringing my hand +down on the arm of my chair. + +Two little red spots showed on each side of her thin face. + +"I've never looked at it in that light before," she admitted. + +"Of course I agree with you," I said diplomatically, "that Randall +would be more or less wasted as a private soldier. The heroic +stuff of which Thomas Atkins is made is, thank God, illimitable. +But intellect is rare--especially in the ranks of God's own +chosen, the British officer. And Randall is of the kind we want as +officers. As for a commission, he could get one any day. I could +get one for him myself. I still have a few friends. He's a good- +looking chap and would carry off a uniform. Wouldn't you be proud +to see him?" + +A tear rolled down her cheek. I patted myself on the back for an +artful fellow. But I had underrated her wit. To my chagrin she did +not fall into my trap. + +"It's the uncertainty that's killing me," she said. And then she +burst out disconcertingly: "Do you think he has gone off with that +dreadful little Gedge girl?" + +Phyllis! I was a myriad miles from Phyllis. I was talking about +real things. The mother, however, from her point of view, was +talking of real things also. But how did she come to know about +her son's amours? I thought it useless to enquire. Randall must +have advertised his passion pretty widely. I replied: + +"It's extremely improbable. In the first place Phyllis Gedge isn't +dreadful, but a remarkably sweet and modest young woman, and in +the second place she won't have anything to do with him." + +"That's nonsense," she said, bridling. + +"Why?" + +"Because--" + +A gesture and a smile completed the sentence. That a common young +person should decline to have dealings with her paragon was +incredible. + +"I can find out in a minute," I smiled, "whether she is still in +Wellingsford." + +I wheeled myself to the telephone on my writing-table and rang up +Betty at the hospital. + +"Do you know where Phyllis Gedge is?" + +Betty's voice came. "Yes. She's here. I've just left her to come +to speak to you. Why do you want to know?" + +"Never mind so long as she is safe and sound. There's no +likelihood of her running away or eloping?" + +Betty's laughter rang over the wires. "What lunacy are you +talking? You might as well ask me whether I'm going to elope with +you." + +"I don't think you're respectful, Betty," I replied. "Good-bye." + +I rang off and reported Betty's side of the conversation to my +visitor. + +"On that score," said I, "you can make your mind quite easy." + +"But where can the boy have gone?" she cried. + +"Into the world somewhere to learn wisdom," I said, and in order +to show that I did not speak ironically, I wheeled myself to her +side and touched her hand. "I think his swift brain has realised +at last that all his smart knowledge hasn't brought him a little +bit of wisdom worth a cent. I shouldn't worry. He's working out +his salvation somehow, although he may not know it." + +"Do you really think so?" + +"I do," said I. "And if he finds that the path of wisdom leads to +the German trenches--will you be glad or sorry?" + +She grappled with the question in silence for a moment or two. +Then she broke down and, to my dismay, began to cry. + +"Do you suppose there's a woman in England that, in her heart of +hearts, doesn't want her men folk to fight?" + +I only allow the earlier part of this chapter to stand in order to +show how a man quite well-meaning, although a trifle irascible, +may be wanting in Christian charity and ordinary understanding; +and of how many tangled knots of human motive, impulse, and +emotion this war is a solvent. You see, she defended her son to +the last, adopting his own specious line of argument; but at the +last came the breaking-point. ... + +The rest of our interview was of no great matter. I did my best to +reassure and comfort her; and when I next saw Marigold, I said +affably: + +"You did quite well to wake me." + +"I thought I was acting rightly, sir. Mr. Randall having bolted, +so to speak, it seemed only natural that Mrs. Holmes should come +to see you." + +"You knew that Mr. Randall had bolted and you never told me?" + +I glared indignantly. Marigold stiffened himself--the degree of +stiffness beyond his ordinary inflexibility of attitude could only +have been ascertained by a vernier, but that degree imparted an +appreciable dignity to his demeanour. + +"I beg pardon, sir, but lately I've noticed that my little bits of +local news haven't seemed to be welcome." + +"Marigold," said I, "don't be an ass." + +"Very good, sir." + +"My mind," said I, "is in an awful muddle about all sorts of +things that are going on in this town. So I should esteem it a +favour if you would tell me at once any odds and ends of gossip +you may pick up. They may possibly be important." + +"And if I have any inferences to draw from what I hear," said he +gravely, fixing me with his clear eye, "may I take the liberty of +acquainting you with them?" + +"Certainly." + +"Very good, sir," said Marigold. + +Now what was Marigold going to draw inferences about? That was +another puzzle. I felt myself being drawn into a fog-filled +labyrinth of intrigue in which already groping were most of the +people I knew. What with the mysterious relations between Betty +and Boyce and Gedge, what with young Dacre's full exoneration of +Boyce, what with young Randall's split with Gedge and his +impeccable attitude towards Phyllis, things were complicated +enough; Sir Anthony's revelations regarding poor Althea and his +dark surmises concerning Randall complicated them still more; and +now comes Mrs. Holmes to tell me of Randall's mysterious +disappearance. + +"A plague on the whole lot!" I exclaimed wrathfully. + +I dined that evening with the Fenimores. My dear Betty was there +too, the only other guest, looking very proud and radiant. A +letter that morning from Willie Connor informed her that the +regiment, by holding a trench against an overwhelming German +attack, had achieved glorious renown. The Brigadier-General had +specially congratulated the Colonel, and the Colonel had specially +complimented Willie on the magnificent work of his company. Of +course there was a heavy price in casualties--poor young +Etherington, whom we all knew, for instance, blown to atoms--but +Willie, thank God! was safe. + +"I wonder what would happen to me, if Willie were to get the V.C. +I think I should go mad with pride!" she exclaimed with flushed +cheeks, forgetful of poor young Etherington, a laughter-loving boy +of twenty, who had been blown to atoms. It is strange how +apparently callous this universal carnage has made the noblest and +the tenderest of men and women. We cling passionately to the lives +of those near and dear to us. But as to those near and dear to +others, who are killed--well--we pay them the passing tribute not +even of a tear, but only of a sign. They died gloriously for their +country. What can we say more? If we--we survivors, not only +invalids and women and other stay-at-homes, but also comrades on +the field--were riven to our souls by the piteous tragedy of +splendid youth destroyed in its flower, we could not stand the +strain, we should weep hysterically, we should be broken folk. But +a merciful Providence steps in and steels our hearts. The loyal +hearts are there beating truly; and in order that they should beat +truly and stoutly, they are given this God-sent armour. + +So, when we raised our glasses and drank gladly to the success of +Willie Connor the living, and put from our thoughts Frank +Etherington the dead, you must not account it to us as lack of +human pity. You must be lenient in your judgment of those who are +thrown into the furnace of a great war. + +Lady Fenimore smiled on Betty. "We should all be proud, my dear, +if Captain Connor won the Victoria Cross. But you mustn't set your +heart on it. That would be foolish. Hundreds of thousands of men +deserve the V.C. ten times a day, and they can't all be rewarded." + +Betty laughed gaily at good Lady Fenimore's somewhat didactic +reproof. "You know I'm not an absolute idiot. Fancy the poor dear +coming home all over bandages and sticking-plaster. 'Where's your +V. C?' 'I haven't got it.' 'Then go back at once and get it or I +shan't love you.' Poor darling!" Suddenly the laughter in her eyes +quickened into something very bright and beautiful. "There's not a +woman in England prouder of her husband than I am. No V.C. could +possibly reward him for what he has done. But I want it for +myself. I'd like my babies to cut their teeth on it. + +When I went out to the Boer War, the most wonderful woman on earth +said to me on parting: + +"Wherever you are, dear, remember that I am always with you in +spirit and soul and heart and almost in body." + +And God knows she was. And when I returned a helpless cripple she +gathered me in her brave arms on the open quay at Southampton, and +after a moment or two of foolishness, she said: + +"Do you know, when I die, what you'll find engraven on my heart?" + +"No," said I. + +"Your D.S.O. ribbon." + +So when Betty talked about her babies and the little bronze cross, +my eyes grew moist and I felt ridiculously sentimental. + +Not a word, of course, was spoken before Betty of the new light, +or the new darkness, whichsoever you will, that had been cast on +the tragedy of Althea. I could not do otherwise than agree with +the direct-spoken old lady who had at once correlated the +adventure in Carlisle with the plunge into the Wellingsford Canal. +And so did Sir Anthony. They were very brave, however, the little +man and Edith, in their dinner-talk with Betty. But I saw that the +past fortnight had aged them both by a year or more. They had been +stabbed in their honour, their trust, and their faith. It was a +secret terror that stalked at their side by day and lay stark at +their side by night. It was only when the ladies had left us that +Sir Anthony referred to the subject. + +"I suppose you know that young Randall Holmes has bolted." + +"So his mother informed me to-day." + +He pricked his ears. "Does she know where he has gone to?" + +"No," said I. + +"What did I tell you?" said Sir Anthony. + +I held up my glass of port to the light and looked through it. + +"A lot of damfoolishness, my dear old friend," said I. + +He grew angry. A man doesn't like to be coldly called a damfool at +his own table. He rose on his spurs, in his little red bantam way. +Was I too much of an idiot to see the connection? As soon as the +Carlisle business became known, this young scoundrel flies the +country. Couldn't I see an inch before my blind nose? Forbearing +to question this remarkable figure of speech, I asked him how so +confidential a matter could have become known. + +"Everything gets known in this infernal little town," he retorted. + +"That's where you're mistaken," said I. "Half everything gets +known--the unimportant half. The rest is supplied by malicious or +prejudiced invention." + +We discussed the question after the futile way of men until we +went into the drawing-room, where Betty played and sang to us +until it was time to go home. + +Marigold was about to lift me into the two-seater when Betty, who +had been lurking in her car a little way off, ran forward. + +"Would it bore you if I came in for a quarter of an hour?" + +"Bore me, my dear?" said I. "Of course not." + +So a short while afterwards we were comfortably established in my +library. + +"You rang me up to-day about Phyllis Gedge." + +"I did," said I. + +She lit a cigarette and seated herself on the fender-stool. She +has an unconscious knack of getting into easy, loose-limbed +attitudes. I said admiringly: + +"Do you know you're a remarkably well-favoured young person?" + +And as soon as I said it, I realised what a tremendous factor +Betty was in my circumscribed life. What could I do without her +sweet intimacy? If Willie Connor's Territorial regiment, like so +many others, had been ordered out to India, and she had gone with +him, how blank would be the days and weeks and months! I thanked +God for granting me her graciousness. + +She smiled and blew me a kiss. "That's very gratifying to know," +she said. "But it has nothing to do with Phyllis." + +"Well, what about Phyllis?" + +"I'll tell you," she replied. + +And she told me. Her story was not of world-shaking moment, but it +interested me. I have since learned its substantial correctness +and am able to add some supplementary details. + +You see, things were like this.... In order to start I must go +back some years.... I have always had a warm corner in my heart +for little Phyllis Gedge, ever since she was a blue-eyed child. My +wife had a great deal to do with it. She was a woman of dauntless +courage and clear vision into the heart of things. I find many a +reflection of her in Betty. Perhaps that is why I love Betty so +dearly. + +Some strange, sweet fool feminine of gentle birth and deplorable +upbringing fell in love with a vehemently socialistic young +artisan by the name of Gedge and married him. Her casual but +proud-minded family wiped her off the proud family slate. She +brought Phyllis into the world and five years afterwards found +herself be-Gedged out of existence. They were struggling people in +those days, and before her death my wife used to employ her, when +she could, for household sewing and whatnot. And tiny Phyllis, in +a childless home, became a petted darling. When my great +loneliness came upon me, it was a solace to have the little dainty +prattling thing to spend an occasional hour in my company. Gedge, +an excellent workman, set up as a contractor. He took my modest +home under his charge. A leaky tap, a broken pane, a new set of +bookshelves, a faulty drainpipe--all were matters for Gedge. I +abhorred his politics but I admired his work, and I continued, +with Mrs. Marigold's motherly aid, to make much of Phyllis. + +Gedge, for queer motives of his own, sent her to as good a school +as he could afford, as a matter of fact an excellent school, one +where she met girls of a superior social class and learned +educated speech and graceful manners. Her holidays, poor child, +were somewhat dreary, for her father, an anti-social creature, had +scarce a friend in the town. Save for here and there an invitation +to tea from Betty or myself, she did not cross the threshold of a +house in Wellingsford. But to my house, all through her schooldays +and afterwards, Phyllis came, and on such occasions Mrs. Marigold +prepared teas of the organic lusciousness dear to the heart of a +healthy girl. + +Now, here comes the point of all this palaver. Young Master +Randall used also to come to my house. Now and then by chance they +met there. They were good boy and girl friends. + +I want to make it absolutely clear that her acquaintance with +Randall was not any vulgar picking-up-in-the-street affair. + +When she left school, her father made her his book-keeper, +secretary, confidential clerk. Anybody turning into the office to +summon Gedge to repair a roof or a burst boiler had a preliminary +interview with Phyllis. Young Randall, taking over the business of +the upkeep of his mother's house, gradually acquired the habit of +such preliminary interviews. The whole imbroglio was very simple, +very natural. They had first met at my own rich cake and jam-puff +bespread tea-table. When Randall went into the office to speak, +presumably, about a defective draught in the kitchen range, and +really about things quite different, the ethics of the matter +depended entirely on Randall's point of view. Their meetings had +been contrived by no unmaidenly subterfuge on the part of Phyllis. +She knew him to be above her in social station. She kept him off +as long as she could. But que voulez-vous? Randall was a very +good-looking, brilliant, and fascinating fellow; Phyllis was a +dear little human girl. And it is the human way of such girls to +fall in love with such fascinating, brilliant fellows. I not only +hold a brief for Phyllis, but I am the judge, too, and having +heard all the evidence, I deliver a verdict overwhelmingly in her +favour. Given the circumstances as I have stated them, she was +bound to fall in love with Randall, and in doing so committed not +the little tiniest speck of a peccadillo. + +My first intimation of tender relations between them came from my +sight of them in February in Wellings Park. Since then, of course, +I have much which I will tell you as best I may. + +So now for Betty's story, confirmed and supplemented by what I +have learned later. But before plunging into the matter, I must +say that when Betty had ended I took up my little parable and told +her of all that Randall had told me concerning his repudiation of +Gedge. And Betty listened with a curiously stony face and said +nothing. + +When Betty puts on that face of granite I am quite unhappy. That +is why I have always hated the statues of Egypt. There is +something beneath their cold faces that you can't get at. + + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +Gedge bitterly upbraided his daughter, both for her desertion of +his business and her criminal folly in abandoning it so as to help +mend the shattered bodies of fools and knaves who, by joining the +forces of militarism, had betrayed the Sacred Cause of the +International Solidarity of Labour. His first ground for complaint +was scarcely tenable; with his dwindling business the post of +clerk had dwindled into a sinecure. To sit all day at the receipt +of imaginary custom is not a part fitted for a sane and healthy +young human being. Still, from Gedge's point of view her defection +was a grievance; but that she could throw in her lot openly with +the powers of darkness was nothing less than an outrage. + +I suppose, in a kind of crabbed way, the crabbed fellow was fond +of Phyllis. She was pretty. She had dainty tricks of dress. She +flitted, an agreeable vision, about his house. He liked to hear +her play the piano, not because he had any ear for music, but +because it tickled his vanity to reflect that he, the agricultural +labourer's son and apprentice to a village carpenter, was the +possessor both of a Broadway Grand and of a daughter who, entirely +through his efforts, had learned to play on it. Like most of his +political type, he wallowed in his own peculiar snobbery. But of +anything like companionship between father and daughter there had +existed very little. While railing, wherever he found ears into +which to rail, against the vicious luxury and sordid shallowness +of the upper middle classes, his instinctive desire to shine above +his poorer associates had sent Phyllis to an upper middle class +school. Now Gedge had a certain amount of bookish and political +intelligence. Phyllis inheriting the intellectual equipment of her +sentimental fool of a mother, had none, Oh! she had a vast fund of +ordinary commonsense. Of that I can assure you. A bit of hard +brain fibre from her father had counteracted any over-sentimental +folly in the maternal heritage. And she came back from school a +very ladylike little person. If pressed, she could reel off all +kinds of artificial scraps of knowledge, like a dear little +parrot. But she had never heard of Karl Marx and didn't want to +hear. She had a vague notion that International Socialism was a +movement in favour of throwing bombs at monarchs and of seizing +the wealth of the rich in order to divide it among the poor--and +she regarded it as abominable. When her father gave her Fabian +Society tracts to read, he might just as well, for all her +understanding of the argument, set her down to a Treatise on the +Infinitesimal Calculus. Her brain stood blank before such abstract +disquisitions. She loved easily comprehended poetry and novels +that made her laugh or cry and set her mind dancing round the +glowing possibilities of life; all disastrous stuff abhorred by +the International Socialist, to whom the essential problems of +existence are of no interest whatever. So, after a few futile +attempts to darken her mind, Gedge put her down as a mere fool +woman, and ceased to bother his head about her intellectual +development. That came to him quite naturally. There is no Turk +more contemptuous of his womankind's political ideas than the +Gedges of our enlightened England. But on other counts she was a +distinct asset. He regarded her with immense pride, as a more +ornamental adjunct to his house than any other county builder and +contractor could display, and, recognising that she was possessed +of some low feminine cunning in the way of adding up figures and +writing letters, made use of her in his office as general clerical +factotum. + +When the war broke out, he discovered, to his horror, that Phyllis +actually had political ideas--unshakable, obstinate ideas opposed +to his own--and that he had been nourishing in his bosom a +viperous patriot. Phyllis, for her part, realised with equal +horror the practical significance of her father's windy theories. +When Randall, who had stolen her heart, took to visiting the +house, in order, as far as she could make out, to talk treason +with her father, the strain of the situation grew more than she +could bear. She fled to Betty for advice. Betty promptly stepped +in and whisked her off to the hospital. + +It was on the morning on which Randall interviewed me in the +garden, the morning after he had broken with Gedge that Phyllis, +having a little off-time, went home. She found her father in the +office making out a few bills. He thrust forward his long chin and +aggressive beard and scowled at her. + +"Oh, it's you, is it? Come at last where your duty calls you, eh?" + +"I always come when I can, father," she replied. + +She bent down and kissed his cheek. He caught her roughly round +the waist and, leaning back in his chair, looked up at her sourly. + +"How long are you going on defying me like this?" + +She tried to disengage herself, but his arm was too strong. "Oh, +father," she said, rather wearily, "don't let us go over this old +argument again." + +"But suppose I find some new argument? Suppose I send you packing +altogether, refuse to contribute further to your support. What +then?" + +She started at the threat but replied valiantly: "I should have to +earn my own living." + +"How are you going to do it?" + +"There are heaps of ways." + +He laughed. "There ain't; as you'd soon find out. They don't even +pay you for being scullery-maid to a lot of common soldiers." + +She protested against that view of her avocation. In the perfectly +appointed Wellingsford Hospital she had no scullery work. She was +a probationer, in training as a nurse. He still gripped her. + +"The particular kind of tomfoolery you are up to doesn't matter. +We needn't quarrel. I've another proposition to put before you-- +much more to your fancy, I think. You like this Mr. Randall +Holmes, don't you?" + +She shivered a little and flushed deep red. Her father had never +touched on the matter before. She said, straining away: + +"I don't want to talk about Mr. Holmes." + +"But I do. Come, my dear. In this life there must be always a +certain amount of give and take. I'm not the man to drive a one- +sided bargain. I'll make you a fair offer--as between father and +daughter. I'll wipe out all that's past. In leaving me like this, +when misfortune has come upon me, you've been guilty of unfilial +conduct--no one can deny it But I'll overlook everything, forgive +you fully and take you to my heart again and leave you free to do +whatever you like without interfering with your opinions, if +you'll promise me one thing--" + +"I know what you're going to say." She twisted round on him +swiftly. "I 'll promise at once. I'll never marry Mr. Holmes. I've +already told him I won't marry him." + +Surprise relaxed his grip. She took swift advantage and sheered +away to the other side of the table. He rose and brought down his +hand with a thump. + +"You refused him? Why, you silly little baggage, my condition is +that you should marry him. You're sweet on him aren't you?" + +"I detest him," cried Phyllis. "Why should I marry him?" + +Her eyes, young and pure, divined some sordid horror behind eyes +crafty and ignoble. Once before she had had such a fleeting, +uncomprehended vision into the murky depths of the man's soul. +This was some time ago. In the routine of her secretarial duties +she had, one morning, opened and read a letter, not marked +"Private" or "Personal," whose tenor she could scarcely +understand. When she handed it to her father, he smiled, +vouchsafed a specious explanation, and looked at her in just the +same crafty and ignoble fashion, and she shrank away frightened. +The matter kept her awake for a couple of nights. Then, for sheer +easing of her heart, she went to her adored Betty Fairfax, her +Lady Patroness and Mother Confessor, who, being wise and strong, +and possessing the power of making her kind eyes unfathomable, +laughed, bade her believe her father's explanation, and sent her +away comforted. The incident passed out of her mind. But now +memory smote her, as she shrank from her father's gaze and the +insincere smile on his thin lips. + +"For one thing," he replied after a pause, pulling his straggly +beard, "your poor dear mother was a lady, and if she had lived she +would have wanted you to marry a gentleman. It's for her sake I've +given you an education that fits you to consort with gentlefolk-- +just for her sake--don't make any mistake about it, for I've +always hated the breed. If I've violated my principles in order to +meet her wishes, I think you ought to meet them too. You wouldn't +like to marry a small tradesman or a working man, would you?" + +"I'm not going to marry anybody," cried Phyllis. She was only a +pink and white, very ordinary little girl. I have no idealisations +or illusions concerning Phyllis. But she had a little fine steel +of character running through her. It flashed on Gedge. + +"I don't want to marry anybody," she declared. "But I'd sooner +marry a bricklayer who was fighting for his country than a fine +gentleman like Mr. Holmes who wasn't. I'd sooner die," she cried +passionately. + +"Then go and die and be damned to you!" snarled Gedge, planting +himself noisily in his chair. "I've no use for khaki-struck +drivelling idiots. I've no use for patriots. Bah! Damn patriots! +The upper classes are out for all they can get, and they befool +the poor imbecile working man with all their highfalutin phrases +to get it for them at the cost of his blood. I've no use for them, +I tell you. And I've no use either for undutiful daughters. I've +no use for young women who blow hot and cold. Haven't I seen you +with the fellow? Do you think I'm a blind dodderer? Do you think I +haven't kept an eye on you? Haven't I seen you blowing as hot as +you please? And now because he refuses to be a blinking idiot and +have his guts blown out in this war of fools and knaves and +capitalists, you blast him like a three-farthing iceberg." + +Everything in her that was tender, maidenly, English, shrank +lacerated. But the steel held her. She put both her hands on the +table and bent over towards him. + +"But, father, except that he's a gentleman, you haven't told me +why you want me to marry Mr. Holmes." + +He fidgeted with his fingers. "Haven't you a spark of affection +for me left?" + +She said dutifully, "Yes, father." + +"I want you to marry him. I've set my heart on it. It has been the +one bright hope in my life for months. Can't you marry him because +you love me?" + +"One generally marries because one loves the man one's going to +marry," said Phyllis. + +"But you do love him," cried Gedge. "Either you're just a wanton +little hussy or you must care for the fellow." + +"I don't. I hate him. And I don't want to have anything more to do +with him." The tears came. "He's a pro-German and I won't have +anything to do with pro-Germans." + +She fled precipitately from the office into the street and made a +blind course to the hospital; feeling, in dumb misery, that she +had committed the unforgivable sin of casting off her father and, +at the same time, that she had made stalwart proclamation of her +faith. If ever a good, loyal little heart was torn into piteous +shreds, that little heart was Phyllis's. + +In the bare X-ray room of the hospital, which happened to be +vacant, Betty sat on the one straight-backed wooden chair, while +a weeping damsel on the uncarpeted floor sobbed in her lap and +confessed her sins and sought absolution. + +Of course Gedge was a fool. If I, or any wise, diplomatic, tactful +person like myself, had found it necessary to tackle a young woman +on the subject of a matrimonial alliance, we should have gone +about the business in quite a different way. But what could you +expect from an anarchical Turk like Gedge? + +Phyllis, not knowing whether she were outcast and disinherited or +not, found, of course, a champion in Betty, who, in her spacious +manner, guaranteed her freedom from pecuniary worries for the rest +of her life. But Phyllis was none the less profoundly unhappy, and +it took a whole convoy of wounded to restore her to cheerfulness. +You can't attend to a poor brave devil grinning with pain, while a +surgeon pokes a six-inch probe down a sinus in search of bits of +bone or shrapnel, and be acutely conscious of your own two-penny- +half-penny little miseries. Many a heartache, in this wise, has +been cured in the Houses of Pain. + +Now, nothing much would have happened, I suppose, if Phyllis, +driven from the hospital by superior decree that she should take +fresh air and exercise, had not been walking some days afterwards +across the common by the canal. Bordering the latter, Wellingsford +has an avenue of secular chestnuts of which it is inordinately +proud. Dispersed here and there are wooden benches sanctified by +generations of lovers. Carven thereon are the presentments, often +interlaced, of hearts that have long since ceased to beat; lonely +hearts transfixed by arrows, which in all probability survived the +wound and inspired the owner to the parentage of a dozen children; +initials once, individually, the record of many a romance, but +now, collectively, merely an alphabet run mad. + +Phyllis entered the avenue, practically deserted at midday, and +rested, a pathetically lonely little grey-uniformed figure on one +of the benches. On the common, some distance behind her, stretched +the lines of an Army Service train, with mules and waggons, and +here and there a tent. In front of her, beyond the row of trees, +was the towing-path; an old horse in charge of a boy jogged by, +pulling something of which only a moving stove pipe like a +periscope was visible above the bank. Overhead the chestnuts +rioted in broad leaf and pink and white blossom, showing starry +bits of blue sky and admitting arrow shafts of spring sunshine. A +dirty white mongrel dog belonging to the barge came up to her, +sniffed, and made friends; then, at last obeying a series of +whistles from the boy, looked at her apologetically and trotted +off. Her gaze followed him wistfully, for he was a very human dear +dog, and with a sympathetic understanding of all her difficulties +in his deep topaz eyes. After that she had as companions a couple +of butterflies and a bumble-bee and a perky, portly robin who +hopped within an inch of her feet and looked up at her sideways +out of his hard little eye (so different from the dog's) with the +expression of one who would say: "The most beauteous and +delectable worm I have ever encountered. If I were a bit bigger, +say the size of the roc of the Arabian Nights, what a dainty +morsel you would make! In the meantime can't you shed something of +yourself for my entertainment like others, though grosser, of your +species?" She laughed at the cold impudence of the creature, just +as she had smiled at the butterflies and the bumble-bee. She +surrendered herself to the light happiness of the moment. It was +good to escape for an hour from the rigid lines of beds and the +pale suffering faces and the eternal faint odour of disinfectants, +into all this greenery and the fellowship of birds and beasts +unconscious of war. She remembered that once, in the pocket of her +cloak, there had been a biscuit or two. Very slowly and carefully, +her mind fixed on the robin, she fished for crumbs and very +carefully and gently she fed the impudent, stomach-centred fellow. +She had attracted him to the end of the seat, when, whizz and +clatter, came a motor cycle down the avenue, and off in a terrible +scare flew the robin; the idyll of tree and beast and birds +suffered instant disruption and Randall Holmes, in his canvas +suit, stood before her. + +He said: + +"Good morning, Phyllis." + +She said, with cold politeness: "Good morning." But she asked the +spring morning in dumb piteousness, "Oh, why has he come? Why has +he come to spoil it all?" + +He sat down by her side. "This is the luckiest chance I've ever +had--finding you here," he said. "You've had all my letters, +haven't you?" + +"Yes," she answered, "and I've torn them all up." + +"Why?" + +"Because I didn't want them," she flashed on him: "I've destroyed +them without reading them." + +He flushed angrily. Apart from the personal affront, the fact that +the literary products of a poet, precious and, in this case, +sincere, should have been destroyed, unread, was an anti-social +outrage. + +"If it didn't please a woman to believe in God," he said, "and God +came in Person and stood in front of her, she would run out of the +room and call upon somebody to come and shoot Him for a burglar, +just to prove she was right." + +Phyllis was shocked. Her feminine mind pounced on the gross +literalness of his rhetorical figure. + +"I've never heard anything more blasphemous and horrible," she +exclaimed, moving to her end of the bench. "Putting yourself in +the position of the Almighty! Oh!" she flung out her hand. "Don't +speak to me." + +In spite of the atheistical Gedge, Phyllis believed in God and +Jesus Christ and the Ten Commandments. She also believed in a host +of other simple things, such as Goodness and Truth, Virtue and +Patriotism. The arguments and theories and glosses that her father +and Randall wove about them appeared to her candid mind as +meaningless arabesques. She could not see how all the +complications concerning the elementary canons of faith and +conduct could arise. She appreciated Randall's intellectual gifts; +his power of weaving magical words into rhyme fascinated her; she +was childlike in her wonder at his command of the printed page; +when he revealed to her the beauty of things, as the rogue had a +pretty knack of doing, her nature thrilled responsive. He gave her +a thousand glimpses into a new world, and she loved him for it. +But when he talked lightly of sacred matters, such as God and +Duty, he ran daggers into her heart. She almost hated him. + +He had to expend much eloquence and persuasion to induce her to +listen to him. He had no wish to break any of the Commandments, +especially the Third. He professed penitence. But didn't she see +that her treatment of him was driving him into a desperate +unbelief in God and man? When a woman accepted a man's love she +accepted many responsibilities. + +Phyllis stonily denied acceptance. + +"I've refused it. You've asked me to marry you and I told you I +wouldn't. And I won't." + +"You're mixing up two things," he said, with a smile. "Love and +marriage. Many people love and don't marry, just as many marry and +don't love. Now once you did tell me that you loved me, and so you +accepted my love. There's no getting out of it. I've given you +everything I've got, and you can't throw it away. The question is +--what are you going to do with it? What are you going to do with +me?" + +His sophistries frightened her; but she cut through them. + +"Isn't it rather a question of what you're going to do with +yourself?" + +"If you give me up I don't care a hang what becomes of me." He +came very near and his voice was dangerously soft. "Phyllis dear, +I do love you with all my heart. Why won't you marry me?" + +But a hateful scene rushed to her memory. She drew herself up. + +"Why are my father and you persecuting me to marry you?" + +"Your father?" he interrupted, in astonishment. "When?" + +She named the day, Wednesday of last week. In desperation she told +him what had happened. The poor child was fighting for her soul +against great odds. + +"It's a conspiracy to get me round to your way of thinking. You +want me to be a pro-German like yourselves, and I won't be a pro- +German, and I think it wicked even to talk to pro-Germans!" + +She rose, all sobs, fluster, and heroism, and walked away. He +strode a step or two and stood in front of her with his hands on +her shoulders. + +"I've never spoken to your father in that way about you. Never. +Not a word has passed my lips about my caring for you. On my word +of honour. On Tuesday night I left your father's house never to go +there again. I told him so." + +She writhed out of his grasp and spread the palms of her hands +against him. "Please don't," she said, and seeing that she stood +her ground, he made no further attempt to touch her. The austerity +of her grey nurse's uniform gave a touch of pathos to her +childish, blue-eyed comeliness and her pretty attitude of +defiance. + +"I suppose," she said, "he was too pro-German even for you." + +He looked at her for a long time disconcertingly: so +disconcertingly and with so much pain and mysterious hesitation in +his eyes as to set even Phyllis's simple mind a-wondering and to +make her emphasize it, in her report of the matter to Betty, as +extraordinary and frightening. It seemed, so she explained, in her +innocent way, that he had discovered something horrible about her +father which he shrank from telling her. But if they had +quarrelled so bitterly, why had her father the very next day urged +her to marry him? The answer came in a ghastly flash. She recoiled +as though in the presence of defilement. If she married Randall, +his lips would be closed against her father. That is what her +father had meant. The vague, disquieting suspicions of years that +he might not have the same standards of uprightness as other men, +attained an awful certainty. She remembered the incident of the +private letter and the look in her father's eyes. ... Finally she +revolted. Her soul grew sick. She took no heed of Randall's +protest. She only saw that she was to be the cloak to cover up +something unclean between them. At a moment like this no woman +pretends to have a sense of justice. Randall had equal share with +her father in an unknown baseness. She hated him as he stood there +so strong and handsome. And she hated herself for having loved +him. + +At last he said with a smile: + +"Yes, That's just it." + +"What?" + +She had forgotten the purport of her last remark. + +"He was a bit too--well, not too pro-German--but too anti-English +for me. You have got hold of the wrong end of the stick all the +time, Phyllis dear. I'm no more pro-German than you are. Perhaps I +see things more clearly than you do. I've been trained to an +intellectual view of human phenomena." + +Her little pink and white face hardened until it looked almost +ugly. The unpercipient young man continued: + +"And so I take my stand on a position that you must accept on +trust. I am English to the backbone. You can't possibly dream that +I'm not. Come, dear, let me try to explain." + +His arm curved as if to encircle her waist. She sprang away. + +"Don't touch me. I couldn't bear it. There's something about you I +can't understand." + +In her attitude, too, he found a touch of the incomprehensible. He +said, however, with a sneer: + +"If I were swaggering about in a cheap uniform, you'd find me +simplicity itself." + +She caught at his opening, desperately. + +"Yes. At any rate I'd find a man. A man who wasn't afraid to fight +for his country." + +"Afraid!" + +"Yes," she cried, and her blue eyes blazed. "Afraid. That's why I +can't marry you. I'd rather die than marry you. I've never told +you. I thought you'd guess. I'm an English girl and I can't marry +a coward--a coward--a coward--a coward." + +Her voice ended on a foolish high note, for Randall, very white, +had seized her by the wrist. + +"You little fool," he cried. "You'll live to repent what you've +said." + +He released her, mounted his motor bicycle, and rode away. Phyllis +watched him disappear up the avenue; then she walked rather +blindly back to the bench and sat down among the ruins of a black +and abominable world. After a while the friendly robin, seeing her +so still, perched first on the back of the bench and then hopped +on the seat by her side, and cocking his head, looked at her +enquiringly out of his little hard eye, as though he would say: + +"My dear child, what are you making all this fuss about? Isn't it +early June? Isn't the sun shining? Aren't the chestnuts in flower? +Don't you see that bank of dark blue cloud over there which means +a nice softening rain in the night and a jolly good breakfast of +worms in the morning? What's wrong with this exquisitely perfect +universe?" + +And Phyllis--on her own confession--with an angry gesture sent him +scattering up among the cool broad leaves and cried: + +"Get away, you hateful little beast!" + +And having no use for robins and trees and spring and sunshine and +such like intolerable ironies, a white little wisp of a nurse left +them all to their complacent riot and went back to the hospital. + + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +A few days after this, Mrs. Holmes sent me under cover a telegram +which she had received from her son. It was dispatched from +Aberdeen and ran: "Perfectly well. Don't worry about me. Love. +Randall." And that was all I heard of him for some considerable +time. What he was doing in Aberdeen, a city remote from his sphere +of intellectual, political, and social activities, Heaven and +himself alone knew. I must confess that I cared very little. He +was alive, he was well, and his mother had no cause for anxiety. +Phyllis had definitely sent him packing. There was no reason for +me to allow speculation concerning him to keep me awake of nights. + +I had plenty to think about besides Randall. They made me Honorary +Treasurer of the local Volunteer Training Corps which had just +been formed. The members not in uniform wore a red brassard with +"G.R." in black. The facetious all over the country called them +"Gorgeous Wrecks." I must confess that on their first few parades +they did not look very military. Their composite paunchiness, +beardedness, scragginess, spectacledness, impressed me +unfavourably when, from my Hosea-carriage, I first beheld them. +Marigold, who was one of the first to join and to leap into the +grey uniform, tried to swagger about as an instructor. But as the +little infantry drill he had ever learned had all been changed +since the Boer War, I gathered an unholy joy from seeing him hang +like a little child on the lips of the official Sergeant +Instructor of the corps. In the evenings he and I mugged up the +text-books together; and with the aid of the books I put him +through all the new physical exercises. I was a privileged person. +I could take my own malicious pleasure out of Marigold's enforced +humility, but I would be hanged if anybody else should. Sergeant +Marigold should instruct those volunteers as he once instructed +the recruits of his own battery. So I worked with him like a +nigger until there was nothing in the various drills of a modern +platoon that he didn't know, and nothing that he could not do with +the mathematical precision of his splendid old training. + +One night during the thick of it Betty came in. I waved her into a +corner of the library out of the way, and she smoked cigarettes +and looked on at the performance. Now I come to think of it, we +must have afforded an interesting spectacle. There was the gaunt, +one-eyed, preposterously wigged image clad in undervest and +shrunken yellow flannel trousers which must have dated from his +gym-instructor days in the nineties, violently darting down on +his heels, springing up, kicking out his legs, shooting out his +arms, like an inspired marionette, all at the words of command +shouted in fervent earnest by a shrivelled up little cripple in a +wheel-chair. + +When it was over--the weather was warm--he passed a curved +forefinger over his dripping forehead, cut himself short in an +instinctive action and politely dried his hand on the seat of his +trousers. Then his one eye gleamed homage at Betty and he drew +himself up to attention. + +"Do you mind, sir, if I send in Ellen with the drinks?" + +I nodded. "You'll do very well with a drink yourself, Marigold." + +"It's thirsty work and weather, sir." + +He made a queer movement of his hand--it would have been idiotic +of him to salute--but he had just been dismissed from military +drill, so his hand went up to the level of his breast and--right +about turn--he marched out of the room. Betty rose from her corner +and threw herself in her usual impetuous way on the ground by my +chair. + +"Do you know," she cried, "you two dear old things were too funny +for words." + +But as I saw that her eyes were foolishly moist, I was not as +offended as I might have been by her perception of the ludicrous. + +When I said that I had plenty to think about besides Randall, I +meant to string off a list. My prolixity over the Volunteer +Training Corps came upon me unawares. I wanted to show you that my +time was fairly well occupied. I was Chairman of our town Belgian +Relief Committee. I was a member of our County Territorial +Association and took over a good deal of special work connected +with one of our battalions that was covering itself with glory and +little mounds topped with white crosses at the front. If you think +I lived a Tom-tabby, tea-party sort of life, you are quite +mistaken, if the War Office could have its way, it would have +lashed me in red tape, gagged me with Regulations, and sealing- +waxed me up in my bed-room. And there are thousands of us who have +shaken our fists under the nose of the War Office and shouted, +"All your blighting, Man-with-the-Mudrake officialdom shan't +prevent us from serving our country." And it hasn't! The very +Government itself, in spite of its monumental efforts, has not +been able to shackle us into inertia or drug us into apathy. Such +non-combatant francs-tireurs in England have done a power of good +work. + +And then, of course, there was the hospital which, in one way or +another, took up a good deal of my time. + +I was reposing in the front garden one late afternoon in mid-June, +after a well-filled day, when a car pulled up at the gate, in +which were Betty (at the wheel) and a wounded soldier, in khaki, +his cap perched on top of a bandaged head. I don't know whether it +is usual for young women in nurse's uniform to career about the +country driving wounded men in motor cars, but Betty did it. She +cared very little for the usual. She came in, leaving the man in +the car, and crossed the lawn, flushed and bright-eyed, a +refreshing picture for a tired man. + +"We're in a fix up at the hospital," she announced as soon as she +was in reasonable speaking distance, "and I want you to get us out +of it." + +Sitting on the grass, she told me the difficulty. A wounded +soldier, discharged from some distant hospital, and home now on +sick furlough before rejoining his depot, had been brought into +the hospital with a broken head. The modern improvements on +vinegar and brown paper having been applied, the man was now ready +to leave. I interrupted with the obvious question. Why couldn't he +go to his own home? It appeared that the prospect terrified him. +On his arrival, at midday, after eight months' absence in France, +he found that his wife had sold or pawned practically everything +in the place, and that the lady herself was in the violent phase +of intoxication. His natural remonstrances not being received with +due meekness, a quarrel arose from which the lady emerged +victorious. She laid her poor husband out with a poker. They could +not keep him in hospital. He shied at an immediate renewal of +conjugal life. He had no relations or intimate friends in +Wellingsford. Where was the poor devil to go? + +"I thought I might bring him along here and let the Marigolds look +after him for a week or two." + +"Indeed," said I. "I admire your airy ways." + +"I know you do," she replied, "and that's why I've brought him." + +"Is that the fellow?" + +She laughed. "You're right first time. How did you guess?" She +scrambled to her feet. "I'll fetch him in." + +She fetched him in, a haggard, broad-shouldered man with a back +like a sloping plank of wood. He wore corporal's stripes. He +saluted and stood at rigid attention. + +"This is Tufton," said Betty. + +I despatched her in search of Marigold. To Tufton I said, +regarding him with what, without vanity, I may term an expert eye: + +"You're an old soldier." + +"Yes, sir." + +"Guards?" + +His eyes brightened. "Yes, sir. Seven years in the Grenadiers. +Then two years out. Rejoined on outbreak of war, sir." + +I rubbed my hands together in satisfaction. "I'm an old soldier +too," said I + +"So Sister told me, sir." + +A delicate shade in the man's tone and manner caught at my heart. +Perhaps it was the remotest fraction of a glance at my rug-covered +legs, the pleased recognition of my recognition, ... perhaps some +queer freemasonry of the old Army. + +"You seem to be in trouble, boy," said I. "Tell me all about it +and I'll do what I can to help you." + +So he told his story. After his discharge from the Army he had +looked about for a job and found one at the mills in Wellingsford, +where he had met the woman, a mill-hand, older than himself, whom +he had married. She had been a bit extravagant and fond of her +glass, but when he left her to rejoin the regiment, he had had no +anxieties. She did not write often, not being very well educated +and finding difficult the composition of letters. A machine gun +bullet had gone through his chest, just missing his lung. He had +been two months in hospital. He had written to her announcing his +arrival. She had not met him at the station. He had tramped home +with his kit-bag on his back--and the cracked head was his +reception. He supposed she had had a lot of easy money and had +given way to temptation--and + +"And what's a man to do, sir?" + +"I'm sure I don't know, Corporal," said I. "It's damned hard lines +on you. But, at any rate, you can look upon this as your home for +as long as you like to stay." + +"Thank you kindly, sir," said he. + +I turned and beckoned to Betty and Marigold, who had been hovering +out of earshot by the house door. They approached. + +"I want to have a word with Marigold," I said. + +Tufton saluted and went off with Betty. Sergeant Marigold stood +stiff as a ramrod on the spot which Tufton had occupied. + +"I suppose Mrs. Connor," said I, "has told you all about this poor +chap?" + +"Yes, sir," said Marigold. + +"We must put him up comfortably. That's quite simple. The only +thing that worries me is this--supposing his wife comes around +here raising Cain--?" + +Marigold held me with his one glittering eye--an eye glittering +with the pride of the gunner and the pride (more chastened) of the +husband. + +"You can leave all that, sir, to Mrs. Marigold. If she isn't more +than a match for any Grenadier Guardsman's wife, then I haven't +been married to her for the last twenty years." + +Nothing more was to be said. Marigold marched the man off, leaving +me alone with Betty. + +"I'm going to get in before Mrs. Marigold," she remarked, with a +smile. "I'm off now to interview Madam Tufton and bring back her +husband's kit." + +In some ways it is a pity Betty isn't a man. She would make a +splendid soldier. I don't think such a thing as fear, physical, +moral, or spiritual, lurks in any recess of Betty's nature. Not +every young woman would brave, without trepidation, a virago who +had cracked a hard-bitten warrior's head with a poker. + +"Marigold and I will come with you," I said. + +She protested. It was nonsense. Suppose Mrs. Tufton went for +Marigold and spoiled his beauty? No. It was too dangerous. No +place for men. We argued. At last I blew the police-whistle which +I wear on the end of my watch-chain. Marigold came hurrying out of +the house. + +"Mrs. Connor is going to take us for a run," said I. + +"Very good, sir." + +"Your blood be on your own heads," said Betty. + +We talked a while of what had happened. Vague stories of the +demoralization of wives left alone with a far greater weekly +income than they had ever handled before had reached our ears. We +had read them in the newspapers. But till now we had never come +across an example. The woman in question belonged to a bad type. +Various dregs from large cities drift into the mills around little +country towns and are the despair of Mayors, curates, and other +local authorities. We genteel folk regarded them as a plague-spot +in the midst of us. + +I remember the scandal when the troops first came in August, 1914, +to Wellingsford--a scandal put a summary end to, after a +fortnight's grinning amazement at our country morals, by the +troops themselves. Tufton had married into an undesirable +community. + +"We're wasting time," said Betty. + +So Marigold put me into the back of the car and mounted into the +front seat by Betty, and we started. + +Flowery End was the poetic name of the mean little row of red- +brick houses inhabited exclusively by Mrs. Tufton and her +colleagues at the mills. To get to it you turn off the High Street +by the Post Office, turn to the right down Avonmore Avenue, and +then to the left. There you find Flowery End, and, fifty yards +further on, the main road to Godbury crosses it at right angles. +Betty, who lived on the Godbury Road, was quite familiar with +Flowery End. Mid-June did its best to justify the name. Here and +there, in the tiny patches of front garden, a tenant tried to help +mid-June by cultivating wall-flowers and geraniums and snapdragon +and a rose or two; but the majority cared as much for the beauty +of mid-June as for the cleanliness of their children,--an +unsightly brood, with any slovenly rags about their bodies, and +the circular crust of last week's treacle on their cheeks. In his +abominable speeches before the war Gedge used to point out these +children to unsympathetic Wellingsfordians as the Infant Martyrs +of an Accursed Capitalism. + +Betty pulled up the car at Number Seven. Marigold sprang out, +helped her down, and would have walked up the narrow flagged path +to knock at the door. But she declined his aid, and he stood +sentry by the gap where the wicket gate of the garden should have +been. I saw the door open on Betty's summons, and a brawny, +tousled, red-faced woman appear--a most horrible and forbidding +female, although bearing traces of a once blowsy beauty. As in +most cottages hereabouts, you entered straight from garden-plot +into the principal livingroom. On each side of the two figures I +obtained a glimpse of stark emptiness. + +Betty said: "Are you Mrs. Tufton? I've come to talk to you about +your husband. Let me come in." + +The attack was so debonair, so unquestioning, that the woman +withdrew a pace or two and Betty, following up her advantage, +entered and shut the door behind her. I could not have done what +Betty did if I had had as many legs as a centipede. Marigold +turned to me anxiously. + +"You do think she's safe, sir?" + +I nodded. "Anyway, stand by." + +The neighbours came out of adjoining houses; slatternly women with +babies, more unwashed children, an elderly, vacant male or two-- +the young men and maidens had not yet been released from the +mills. As far as I could gather, there was amused discussion among +the gossips concerning the salient features of Sergeant Marigold's +physical appearance. I heard one lady bid another to look at his +wicked old eye, and receive the humorous rejoinder: "Which one?" I +should have liked to burn them as witches; but Marigold stood his +ground, imperturbable. + +Presently the door opened, and Betty came sailing down the path +with a red spot on each cheek, followed by Mrs. Tufton, +vociferous. + +"Sergeant Marigold," cried Betty. "Will you kindly go into that +house and fetch out Corporal Tufton's kit-bag?" + +"Very good, madam," said Marigold. + +"Sergeant or no sergeant," cried Mrs. Tufton, squaring her elbows +and barring his way, "nobody's coming into my house to touch any +of my husband's property...." Really what she said I cannot +record. The British Tommy I know upside-down, inside-out. I could +talk to you about him for the week together. The ordinary +soldier's wife, good, straight, heroic soul, I know as well and +and profoundly admire as I do the ordinary wife of a brother- +officer, and I could tell you what she thinks and feels in her own +language. But the class whence Mrs. Tufton proceeded is out of my +social ken. She was stale-drunk; she had, doubtless, a vile +headache; probably she felt twinges of remorse and apprehension of +possible police interference. As a counter-irritant to this, she +had worked herself into an astounding temper. She would give up +none of her husband's belongings. She would have the law on them +if they tried. Bad enough it was for her husband to come home +after a year's desertion, leaving her penniless, and the moment he +set eyes on her begin to knock her about; but for sergeants +suffering under a blight and characterless females masquerading as +hospital nurses to come and ride rough-shod over an honest working +woman was past endurance. Thus I paraphrase my memory of the +lady's torrential speech. "Lay your hand on me," she cried, "and +I'll summons you for assault." + +As Marigold could not pass her without laying hands on her, and as +the laying of hands on her, no matter how lightly, would +indubitably have constituted an assault in the eyes of the law, +Marigold stiffly confronted her and tried to argue. + +The neighbours listened in sardonic amusement. Betty stood by, +with the spots burning on her cheek, clenching her slender capable +fingers, furious at defeat. I was condemned to sit in the car a +few yards off, an anxious spectator. In a moment's lull of the +argument, Betty interposed: + +"Every woman here knows what you have done. You ought to be +ashamed of yourself." + +"And you ought to be ashamed of yourself," Mrs. Tufton retorted-- +"taking an honest woman's husband away from her." + +It was time to interfere. I called out: + +"Betty, let us get back. I'll fix the man up with everything he +wants." + +At the moment of her turning to me a telegraph boy hopped from his +bicycle on the off-side of the ear and touched his cap. + +"I've a telegram for Mrs. Connor, sir. I recognised the car and I +think that's the lady. So instead of going on to the house--" + +I cut him short. Yes. That was Mrs. Connor of Telford Lodge. He +dodged round the car and, entering the garden path, handed the +orange-coloured envelope to Betty. She took it from him absent- +mindedly, her heart and soul engaged in the battle with Mrs. +Tufton. The boy stood patient for a second or two. + +"Any answer, ma'am?" + +She turned so that I could see her face in profile, and +impatiently opened the envelope and glanced at the message. Then +she stiffened, seeming in a curious way to become many inches +taller, and grew deadly white. The paper dropped from her hand. +Marigold picked it up. + +The diversion of the telegraph boy had checked Mrs. Tufton's +eloquence and compelled the idle interest of the neighbours. I +cried out from the car: + +"What's the matter?" + +But I don't think Betty heard me. She recovered herself, took the +telegram from Marigold, and showed it to the woman. + +"Read it," said Betty, in a strange, hard voice. "This is to tell +me that my husband was killed yesterday in France. Go on your +knees and thank God that you have a brave husband still alive and +pray that you may be worthy of him." + +She went into the house and in a moment reappeared like a ghost of +steel, carrying the disputed canvas kit-bag over her shoulder. The +woman stared open-mouthed and said nothing. Marigold came forward +to relieve Betty of her burden, but she waved him imperiously +away, passed him and, opening the car-door, threw the bag at my +feet. Not one of the rough crowd moved a foot or uttered a sound, +save a baby in arms two doors off, who cut the silence with a +sickly wail and was immediately hushed by its mother. Betty turned +to the attendant Marigold. + +"You can drive me home." + +She sat by my side. Marigold took the wheel in front and drove on. +She sought for my hand, held it in an iron grip, and said not a +word. It was but a five minutes' run at the pace to which +Marigold, time-worn master of crises of life and death, put the +car. Betty held herself rigid, staring straight in front of her, +and striving in vain to stifle horrible little sounds that would +break through her tightly closed lips. + +When we pulled up at her door she said queerly: "Forgive me. I'm a +damned little coward." + +And she bolted from the car into the house. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +Thus over the sequestered vale of Wellingsford, far away from the +sound of shells, even off the track of marauding Zeppelins, rode +the fiery planet. Mars. There is not a homestead in Great Britain +that in one form or another has not caught a reflection of its +blood-red ray. No matter how we may seek distraction in work or +amusement, the angry glow is ever before our eyes, colouring our +vision, colouring our thoughts, colouring our emotions for good or +for ill. We cannot escape it. Our personal destinies are +inextricably interwoven with the fate directing the death grapple +of the thousand miles or so of battle line, and arbitrating on the +doom of colossal battleships. + +Our local newspaper prints week by week its ever-lengthening Roll +of Honour. The shells that burst and slew these brave fellows +spread their devastation into our little sheltered town; in a +thundering crash tearing off from the very trunk of life here a +friend, there a son, there a father, there a husband. And I +repeat, at the risk of wearisome insistence, that our sheltered +homeland shares the calm, awful fatalism of the battlefield; we +have to share it because every rood of our country is, +spiritually, as much a battlefield as the narrow, blood-sodden +wastes of Flanders and France. + +Willie Connor, fine brave gentleman, was dead. My beloved Betty +was a widow. No Victoria Cross for Betty. Even if there had been +one, no children to be bred from birth on its glorious legend. The +German shell left Betty stripped and maimed. With her passionate +generosity she had given her all; even as his all had been nobly +given by her husband. And then all of both had been swept +ruthlessly away down the gory draught of sacrifice. + +Poor Betty! "I'm a damned little coward," she said, as she bolted +into the house. The brave, foolish words rang in my ears all that +night. In the early morning I wondered what I should do. A +commonplace message, written or telephoned, would be inept. I +shrank from touching her, although I knew she would feel my touch +to be gentle. You have seen, I hope, that Betty was dearer to me +than anyone else in the world, and I knew that, apart from the +stirring emotions in her own young life, Betty held me in the +closest affection. When she needed me, she would fly the signal. +Of that I felt assured. Still... + +While I was in this state of perplexity, Marigold came in to rouse +me and get me ready for the day. + +"I've taken the liberty, sir," said he, "to telephone to Telford +Lodge to enquire after Mrs. Connor. The maid said she had Mrs. +Connor's instructions to reply that she was quite well." + +The good, admirable fellow! I thanked him. While I was shaving, he +said in his usual wooden way: + +"Begging your pardon, sir, I thought you might like to send Mrs. +Connor a few flowers, so I took upon myself to cut some roses, +first thing this morning, with the dew on them." + +Of course I cut myself and the blood flowed profusely. + +"Why the dickens do you spring things like that on people while +they're shaving?" I cried. + +"Very sorry, sir," said he, solicitous with sponge and towel. + +"All the same, Marigold," said I, "you've solved a puzzle that has +kept me awake since early dawn. We'll go out as soon as I'm +dressed and we'll send her every rose in the garden." + +I have an acre or so of garden behind the house of which I have +not yet spoken, save incidentally--for it was there that just a +year ago poor Althea Fenimore ate her giant strawberries on the +last afternoon of her young life; and a cross-grained old +misanthropist, called Timbs, attends to it and lavishes on the +flowers the love which, owing, I suspect, to blighted early +affection, he denies to mankind. I am very fond of my garden and +am especially interested in my roses. Do you know an exquisitely +pink rose--the only true pink--named Mrs. George Norwood? ... I +bring myself up with a jerk. I am not writing a book on roses. +When the war is over perhaps I shall devote my old age to telling +you what I feel and know and think about them.... + +I had a battle with Timbs. Timbs was about sixty. He had shaggy, +bushy eyebrows over hard little eyes, a shaggy grey beard, and a +long, clean-shaven, obstinate upper lip. Stick him in an ill- +fitting frock coat and an antiquated silk hat, and he would be the +stage model of a Scottish Elder. As a matter of fact he was +Hampshire born and a devout Roman Catholic. But he was as crabbed +an old wretch as you can please. He flatly refused to execute my +order. I dismissed him on the spot. He countered with the +statement that he was an old man who had served me faithfully for +many years. I bade him go on serving me faithfully and not be a +damned fool. The roses were to be cut. If he didn't cut them, +Marigold would. + +"He's been a-cutting them already," he growled. "Before I came." + +Timbs loathed Marigold--why, I could never discover--and Marigold +had the lowest opinion of Timbs. It was an offence for Marigold to +desecrate the garden by his mere footsteps; to touch a plant or a +flower constituted a damnable outrage. On the other side, Timbs +could not approach my person for the purpose of rendering me any +necessary physical assistance, without incurring Marigold's +violent resentment. + +"He'll go on cutting them," said I, "unless you start in at once." + +He began. I sent off Marigold in search of a wheelbarrow. Then, +having Timbs to myself, I summoned him to my side. + +"Do you hold with a man sacrificing his life for his country?" + +He looked at me for a moment or two, in his dour, crabbed way. + +"I've got a couple of sons in France, trying their best to do it," +he replied. + +That was the first I had ever heard of it. I had always regarded +him as a gnarled old bachelor without human ties. Where he had +kept the sons and the necessary mother I had not the remotest +notion. + +"You're proud of them?" + +"I am." + +"And if one was killed, would you grudge his grave a few roses? +For the sake of him wouldn't you sacrifice a world of roses?" + +His manner changed. "I don't understand, sir. Is anybody killed?" + +"Didn't I say that all these roses were for Mrs. Connor?" + +He dropped his secateur. "Good God, sir! Is it Captain Connor?" + +The block-headed idiot of a Marigold had not told him! Marigold is +a very fine fellow, but occasionally he manifests human frailties +that are truly abominable. + +"We are going to sacrifice all our roses, Timbs," said I, "for the +sake of a very gallant Englishman. It's about all we can do." + +Of course I ought to have entered upon all this explanation when I +first came on the scene; but I took it for granted that Timbs knew +of the tragedy. + +"Need we cut those blooms of the Rayon d'Or?" asked Timbs, +alluding to certain roses under conical paper shades which he had +been breathlessly tending for our local flower show. "We'll cut +them first," said I. + +Looking back through the correcting prism of time, I fancy this +slaughter of the innocents may have been foolishly sentimental. +But I had a great desire to lay all that I could by way of tribute +of consolation at Betty's feet, and this little sacrifice of all +my roses seemed as symbolical an expression of my feelings as +anything that my unimaginative brain could devise. + +During the forenoon I superintended the packing of the baskets of +roses in Pawling the florist's cart, which I was successful in +engaging for the occasion,--neither wheelbarrow nor donkey +carriage nor two-seater, the only vehicles at my disposal, being +adequate; and when I saw it start for its destination, I wheeled +myself, by way of discipline, through my bereaved garden. It +looked mighty desolate. But though all the blooms had gone, there +were a myriad buds which next week would burst into happy flower. +And the sacrifice seemed trivial, almost ironical; for in Betty's +heart there were no buds left. + +After lunch I went to the hospital for the weekly committee +meeting. To my amazement the first person I met in the corridor +was Betty--Betty, white as wax, with black rings round unnaturally +shining eyes. She waited for me to wheel myself up to her. I said +severely: + +"What on earth are you doing here? Go home to bed at once." + +She put her hand on the back of my chair and bent down. + +"I'm better here. And so are the dear roses. Come and see them." + +I followed her into one of the military wards on the ground floor, +and the place was a feast of roses. I had no idea so many could +have come from my little garden. And the ward upstairs, she told +me, was similarly beflowered. By the side of each man's bed stood +bowl or vase, and the tables and the window sills were bright with +blooms. It was the ward for serious cases--men with faces livid +from gas-poisoning, men with the accursed trench nephritis, men +with faces swathed in bandages hiding God knows what distortions, +men with cradles over them betokening mangled limbs, men +recovering from operations, chiefly the picking of bits of +shrapnel and splinters of bone from shattered arms and legs; men +with pale faces, patient eyes, and with cheery smiles round their +lips when we passed by. A gramophone at the end of the room was +grinding out a sentimental tune to which all were listening with +rapt enjoyment. I asked one man, among others, how he was faring. +He was getting on fine. With the death-rattle in his throat the +wounded British soldier invariably tells you that he is getting on +fine. + +"And ain't these roses lovely? Makes the place look like a garden. +And that music--seems appropriate, don't it, sir?" + +I asked what the gramophone was playing. He looked respectfully +shocked. + +"Why, it's 'The Rosary,' sir." + +After we had left him, Betty said: + +"That's the third time they've asked for it to-day. They've got +mixed up with the name, you see. They're beautiful children, +aren't they?" + +I should have called them sentimental idiots, but Betty saw much +clearer than I did. She accompanied me back to the corridor and to +the Committee Room door. I was a quarter of an hour late. + +"I've kept the precious Rayon d'Ors for myself," she said. "How +could you have the heart to cut them?" + +"I would have cut out my heart itself, for the matter of that," +said I, "if it would have done any good." + +She smiled in a forlorn kind of way. + +"Don't do that, for I shall want it inside you more than ever now. +Tell me, how is Tufton?" + +"Tufton--?" + +"Yes--Tufton." + +I must confess that my mind being so full of Betty, I had clean +forgotten Tufton. But Betty remembered. + +I smiled. "He's getting on fine," said I. I reached out my hand +and held her cold, slim fingers. "Promise me one thing, my dear." + +"All right," she said. + +"Don't overdo things. There's a limit to the power of bearing +strain. As soon as you feel you're likely to go FUT, throw it all +up and come and see me and let us lay our heads together." + +"I despise people who go FUT," said Betty. + +"I don't," said I. + +We nodded a mutual farewell. She opened the Committee Room door +for me and walked down the corridor with a swinging step, as +though she would show me how fully she had made herself mistress +of circumstance. + +Some evenings later she came in, as usual, unheralded, and +established herself by my chair. + +The scents of midsummer came in through the open windows, and +there was a great full moon staring in at us from a cloudless sky. +Letters from the War Office, from brother-officers, from the +Colonel, from the Brigadier General himself, had broken her down. +She gave me the letters to read. Everyone loved him, admired him, +trusted him. "As brave as a lion," wrote one. "Perhaps the most +brilliant company officer in my brigade," wrote the General. And +his death--the tragic common story. A trench; a high-explosive +shell; the fate of young Etherington; and no possible little +wooden cross to mark his grave. + +And Betty, on the floor by my side, gave way. + +The proud will bent. She surrendered herself to a paroxysm of +sorrow. + +She was not in a fit state to return to the hospital, where, I +learned, she shared a bedroom with Phyllis Gedge. I shrank from +sending her home to the tactless comforting of her aunts. They +were excellent, God-fearing ladies, but they had never understood +Betty. All her life they had worried her with genteel admonitions. +They had regarded her marriage with disfavour, as an act of +foolhardiness--I even think they looked on her attitude as +unmaidenly; and now in her frozen widowhood they fretted her past +endurance. On the night when the news came they sent for the vicar +of their parish--not my good friend who christened Hosea--a very +worthy, very serious, very evangelistically religious fellow, to +administer spiritual consolation. If Betty had sat devoutly under +him on Sundays, there might have been some reason in the summons. +But Betty, holding her own religious views, had only once been +inside the church--on the occasion of her wedding--and had but the +most formal acquaintance with the good man.... No, I could not +send Betty home, unexpectedly, to have her wounds mauled about by +unskilful fingers. Nothing remained but to telephone to the +hospital and put her in Mrs. Marigold's charge for the night. So +broken was my dear Betty, that she allowed herself to be carried +off without a word. ... Once before, years ago, she had behaved +with the same piteous docility; and that was when, a short-frocked +hoiden, she had fallen from an apple tree and badly hurt herself, +and Marigold had carried her into the house and Mrs. Marigold had +put her to bed. ... + +In the morning I found her calm and sedate at the breakfast table. + +"You've been and gone and done for both of us, Majy dear," she +remarked, pouring out tea. + +"What do you mean?" + +"Our reputations. What a scandal in Wellingsford!" + +She looked me clearly in the eyes and smiled, and her hand did not +shake as she held my cup. And by these signs I knew that she had +taken herself again in grip and forbade reference to the agony +through which she had passed. + +Quickly she turned the conversation to the Tuftons. What had +happened? I told her meagrely. She insisted on fuller details. So, +flogged by her, I related what I had gleaned from Marigold's +wooden reports. He always conveyed personal information as though +he were giving evidence against a defaulter. I had to start all +over again. Apparently this had happened: Mrs. Tufton had arrayed +herself, not in sackcloth and ashes, for that was apparently her +normal attire, but in an equivalent, as far as a symbol of +humility was concerned; namely, in decent raiment, and had sought +her husband's forgiveness. There had been a touching scene in the +scullery which Mrs. Marigold had given up to them for the sake of +privacy, in which the lady had made tearful promises of reform and +the corporal had magnanimously passed the sponge over the terrible +reckoning on her slate. Would he then go home to his penitent +wife? But the gallant fellow, with the sturdy common-sense for +which the British soldier is renowned, contrasted the clover in +which he was living here with the aridness of Flowery End, and +declined to budge. High sentiment was one thing, snug lying was +another. Next time he came back, if she had re-established the +home in its former comfort, he didn't say as how he wouldn't-- + +"But," she cried--and this bit I didn't tell Betty--"the next time +you may come home dead!" + +"Then," replied Tufton, "let me see what a nice respectable +coffin, with brass handles and lots of slap-up brass nails and a +brass plate, you can get ready for me." + +Since the first interview, I informed Betty, there had been others +daily--most decorous. They were excellent friends. Neither seemed +to perceive anything absurd in the situation. Even Marigold looked +on it as a matter of course. + +"I have an idea," said Betty. "You know we want some help in the +servant staff of the hospital?" + +I did. The matron had informed the Committee, who had empowered +her to act. + +"Why not let me tackle Mrs. Tufton while she is in this +beautifully chastened and devotional mood? In this way we can get +her out of the mills, out of Flowery End, fill her up with noble +and patriotic emotions instead of whisky, and when Tufton returns, +present her to him as a model wife, sanctified by suffering and +ennobled by the consciousness of duty done. It would be splendid!" + +For the first time since the black day there came a gleam of fun +into Betty's eyes and a touch of colour into her cheeks. + +"It would indeed," said I. "The only question is whether Tufton +would really like this Red Cross Saint you'll have provided for +him." + +"In case he does not," said Betty, "you can provide him with a +refuge as you are doing now." + +She rose from the table, announcing her intention of going +straight to the hospital. I realised with a pang that breakfast +was over; that I had enjoyed a delectable meal; that, by some sort +of dainty miracle, she had bemused me into eating and drinking +twice my ordinary ration; that she had inveigled me into talking-- +a thing I have never done during breakfast for years--it is as +much as Marigold's ugly head is worth to address a remark to me +during the unsympathetic duty--why, if my poached egg regards me +with too aggressive a pinkiness, I want to slap it--and into +talking about those confounded Tuftons with a gusto only provoked +by a glass or two of impeccable port after a good dinner. One +would have thought, considering the anguished scene of the night +before, that it would have been one of the most miserably +impossible tete-a-tete breakfasts in the whole range of such +notoriously ghastly meals. But here was Betty, serene and smiling, +as though she had been accustomed to breakfast with me every +morning of her life, off to the hospital, with a hard little idea +in her humorous head concerning Mrs. Tufton's conversion. + +The only sign she gave of last night's storm was when, by way of +good-bye, she bent down and kissed my cheek. + +"You know," she said, "I love you too much to thank you." + +And she went off with her brave little head in the air. + +In the afternoon I went to Wellings Park. Sir Anthony was away, +but Lady Fenimore was in. She showed me a letter she had received +from Betty in reply to her letter of condolence: + +"My dears, + +"It is good to realise one has such rocks to lean on. You long to +help and comfort me. Well, I'll tell you how to do it. You just +forget. Leave it to me to do all the remembering. + +"Yours, Betty." + + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +On the first of July there was forwarded to me from the club a +letter in an unknown handwriting. I had to turn to the signature +to discover the identity of my correspondent. It was Reggie Dacre, +Colonel Dacre, whom I had met in London a couple of months before. +As it tells its own little story, I transcribe it. + +"Dear Major Meredyth: + +"I should like to confirm by the following anecdote, which is +going the round of the Brigade, what I recently told you about our +friend Boyce. I shouldn't worry you, but I feel that if one has +cast an unjustifiable slur on a brother-officer's honour--and I +can't tell you how the thing has lain on my conscience--one +shouldn't leave a stone unturned to rehabilitate him, even in the +eyes of one person. + +"There has been a good deal of scrapping around Ypres lately--that +given away by the communiques; but for reasons which both the +Censor and yourself will appreciate, I can't be more explicit as +to locality. Enough to say that somewhere in this region--or +sector, as we call it nowadays--there was a certain bit of ground +that had been taken and retaken over and over again. B.'s Regiment +was in this fighting, and at one particular time we were holding a +German front trench section. A short distance further on the enemy +held a little farm building, forming a sort of redoubt. They +sniped all day long. They also had a machine gun. I can't give you +accurate details, for I can only tell you what I've heard; but the +essentials are true. Well, we got that farmhouse. We got it +single-handed. Boyce put up the most amazing bluff that has ever +happened in this war. He crawls out by himself, without anybody +knowing--it was a pitch-black night--gets through the barbed +wire, heaven knows how, up to the house; lays a sentry out with +his life-preserver; gives a few commands to an imaginary company; +and summons the occupants--two officers and fifteen men--to +surrender. Thinking they are surrounded, they obey like lambs, +come out unarmed, with their hands up, officers and all, and are +comfortably marched off in the dark, as prisoners into our +trenches. They say that when the German officers discovered how +they had been done, they foamed so hard that we had to use empty +sandbags as strait waistcoats. + +"Now, it's picturesque, of course, and being picturesque, it has +flown from mouth to mouth. But it's true. Verb. sap. + +"Hoping some time or other to see you again, +"Yours sincerely, +"R. DACRE, +"Lt. Col." + +I quote this letter here for the sake of chronological sequence. +It gave me a curious bit of news. No man could have performed such +a feat without a cold brain, soundly beating heart, and nerves of +steel. It was not an act of red-hot heroism. It was done in cold +blood, a deliberate gamble with death on a thousand to one chance. +It was staggeringly brave. + +I told the story to Mrs. Boyce. Her comment was characteristic: + +"But surely they would have to surrender if called upon by a +British Officer." + +To the Day of Judgment I don't think she will understand what +Leonard did. Leonard himself, coming home slightly wounded two or +three weeks afterwards, pooh-poohed the story as one of no account +and only further confused the dear lady's ill-conceived notions. + +In the meanwhile life at Wellingsford flowed uneventfully. Now and +again a regiment or a brigade, having finished its training, +disappeared in a night, and the next day fresh troops arrived to +fill its place. And this great, silent movement of men went on all +over the country. Sometimes our hearts sank. A reserve Howitzer +Territorial Brigade turned up in Wellings Park with dummy wooden +guns. The officers told us that they had been expecting proper +guns daily for the past two months. Marigold shook a sad head. But +all things, even six-inch howitzers, come to him who waits. + +Little more was heard of Randall Holmes. He corresponded with his +mother through a firm of London solicitors, and his address and +his doings remained a mystery. He was alive, he professed robust +health, and in reply to Mrs. Holmes's frantically expressed hope +that he was adopting no course that might discredit his father's +name, he twitted her with intellectual volte-face to the views of +Philistia, but at the same time assured her that he was doing +nothing which the most self-righteous bourgeois would consider +discreditable. + +"But it IS discreditable for him to go away like this and not let +his own mother know where he is," cried the poor woman. + +And of course I agreed with her. I find it best always to agree +with mothers; also with wives. + +After her own lapse from what Mrs. Boyce would have called +"Spartianism," Betty kept up her brave face. When Willie Connor's +kit came home she told me tearlessly about the heartrending +consignment. Now and then she spoke of him--with a proud look in +her eyes. She was one of the women of England who had the +privilege of being the wife of a hero. In this world one must pay +for everything worth having. Her widowhood was the price. All the +tears of a lifetime could not bring him back. All the storms of +fate could not destroy the glory of those few wonderful months. He +was laughing, so she heard, when he met his death. So would she, +in honour of him, go on laughing till she met hers. + +"And that silly little fool, Phyllis, is still crying her eyes out +over Randall," she said. "Don't I think she was wrong in sending +him away? If she had married him she might have influenced him, +made him get a commission in the army. I've threatened to beat her +if she talks such nonsense. Why can't people take a line and stick +to it?" + +"This isn't a world of Bettys, my dear," said I. + +"Rubbish! The outrageous Mrs. Tufton's doing it." + +Apparently she was. She followed Betty about as the lamb followed +Mary. Tufton, after a week or two at Wellington Barracks, had been +given sergeant's stripes and sent off with a draft to the front. +Betty's dramatic announcement of her widowhood seemed to have put +the fear of death into the woman's soul. As soon as her husband +landed in France she went scrupulously through the closely printed +casualty lists of non-commissioned officers and men in The Daily +Mail, in awful dread lest she should see her husband's name. Betty +vainly assured her that, in the first place, she would hear from +the War Office weeks before anything could appear in the papers, +and that, in the second, his name would occur under the heading +"Grenadier Guards," and not under "Royal Field Artillery," "Royal +Engineers," "Duke of Cornwall's Light Infantry," "R.A.M.C.," or +Australian and Canadian contingents. Mrs. Tufton went through the +lot from start to finish. Once, indeed, she came across the name, +in big print, and made a bee-line through the wards for Betty--an +offence for which the Matron nearly threw her, there and then, +into the street. It was that of the gallant Colonel of a New +Zealand Regiment at Gallipoli. Betty had to point to the brief +biographical note to prove to the distracted woman that the late +Colonel Tufton of New Zealand could not be identical with Sergeant +Tufton of the Grenadiers. She regarded Mrs. Tufton as a brand she +had plucked from the burning and took a great deal of trouble with +her. On the other hand, I imagine Mrs. Tufton looked upon herself +as a very important person, a sergeant's wife, and the +confidential intimate of a leading sister at the Wellingsford +Hospital. In fact, Marigold mentioned her notorious vanity. + +"What does it matter," cried Betty, when I put this view before +her, "how swelled her head may be, so long as it isn't swollen +with drink?" + +And I could find no adequate reply. + +Towards the end of the month comes Boyce to Wellingsford, this +time not secretly; for the day after his arrival he drove his +mother through the town and incidentally called on me. A neglected +bullet graze on the neck had turned septic. An ugly temperature +had sent him to hospital. The authorities, as soon as the fever +had abated and left him on the high road to recovery, had sent him +home. A khaki bandage around his bull-throat alone betokened +anything amiss. He would be back, he said, as soon as the Medical +Board at the War Office would let him. + +On this occasion, for the first time since South African days, I +met him without any mistrust. What had passed between Betty and +himself, I did not know. Relations between man and woman are so +subtle and complicated, that unless you have the full pleadings on +both sides in front of you, you cannot arbitrate; and, as often as +not, if you deliver the most soul-satisfying of judgments, you are +hopelessly wrong, because there are all important, elusive factors +of personality, temperament, sex, and what not which all the legal +acumen in the world could not set down in black and white. So half +unconsciously I ruled out Betty from my contemplation of the man. +I had been obsessed by the Vilboek Farm story, and by that alone. +Reggie Dacre--to say nothing of personages in high command--had +proved it to be a horrible lie. He had Marshal Ney's deserved +reputation--le brave des braves--and there is no more coldly +critical conferrer of such repute than the British Army in the +field. To win it a man not only has to do something heroic once or +twice--that is what he is there for--but he has to be doing it all +the time. Boyce had piled up for himself an amazing record, one +that overwhelmed the possibility of truth in old slanders. When I +gripped him by the hand, I felt immeasurable relief at being able +to do so without the old haunting suspicion and reservation. + +He spoke, like thousands of others of his type--the type of the +fine professional English soldier--with diffident modesty of such +personal experiences as he deigned to recount. The anecdotes +mostly had a humorous side, and were evoked by allusion. Like all +of us stay-at-homes, I cursed the censorship for leaving us so +much in the dark. He laughed and cursed the censorship for the +opposite reason. + +"The damned fools--I beg your pardon, Mother, but when a fool is +too big a fool even for this world, he must be damned--the damned +fools allow all sorts of things to be given away. They were nearly +the death of me and were the death of half a dozen of my men." + +And he told the story. In a deserted brewery behind the lines the +vats were fitted up as baths for men from the trenches, and the +furnaces heated ovens in which horrible clothing was baked. This +brewery had been immune from attack until an officially sanctioned +newspaper article specified its exact position. A few days after +the article appeared, in fact, as soon as a copy of the paper +reached Germany, a thunderstorm of shells broke on the brewery. +Out of it poured a helter-skelter stream of stark-naked men, who +ran wherever they could for cover. From one point of view it was +vastly comic. In the meanwhile the building containing all their +clothes, and all the spare clothing for a brigade, was being +scientifically destroyed. That was more comic still. The bather +cut off from his garments is a world-wide joke. The German +battery, having got the exact range, were having a systematic, +Teutonic afternoon's enjoyment. But from another point of view the +situation was desperate. There were these poor fellows, hordes of +them, in nature's inadequate protection against the weather, +shivering in the cold, with the nearest spare rag of clothing some +miles away. Boyce got them together, paraded them instantly under +the shell fire, and led them at a rush into the blazing building +to salve stores. Six never came out alive. Many were burned and +wounded. But it had to be done, or the whole crowd would have +perished from exposure. Tommy is fairly tough; but he cannot live +mother-naked through a March night of driving sleet. + +"No," said Boyce, "if you suffered daily from the low cunning of +Brother Bosch, you wouldn't cry for things to be published in the +newspapers." + +At the end of their visit I accompanied my guests to the hall. +Marigold escorted Mrs. Boyce to the car. Leonard picked up his cap +and cane and turned to shake hands. I noticed that the knob of the +cane was neatly cased in wash-leather. Idly I enquired the reason. +He smiled grimly as he slipped off the cover and exposed the +polished deep vermilion butt of the life-preserver which Reggie +Dacre had described. + +"It's a sort of fetish I feel I must carry around with me," he +explained. "When I've got it in my hand, I don't seem to care a +damn what I do. When I haven't, I miss it. Remember the story of +Sir Walter Scott's boy with the butter? Something like that, you +know. But in its bare state it's not a pretty sight for the +mother." + +"It ought to have a name," said I. "The poilu calls his bayonet +Rosalie." + +He looked at it darkly for a moment, before refitting the wash- +leather. + +"I might call it The Reminder," said he. "Good-bye." And he +turned quickly and strode out of the door. + +The Reminder of what? He puzzled me. Why, in spite of all my open- +heartedness, did he still contrive to leave me with a sense of the +enigmatic? + +Although he showed himself openly about the town, he held himself +aloof from social intercourse with the inhabitants. He called, I +know, on Mrs. Holmes, and on one or two others who have no place +in this chronicle. But he refused all proposals of entertainment, +notably an invitation to dinner from the Fenimores. Sir Anthony +met him in the street, upbraided him in his genial manner for +neglect of his old friends, and pressingly asked him to dine at +Wellings Park. Just a few old friends. The duties of a +distinguished soldier, said he, did not begin and end on the +field. He must uplift the hearts of those who had to stay at home. +Sir Anthony had a nervous trick of rattling off many sentences +before his interlocutor could get in a word. When he had finished, +Boyce politely declined the invitation. + +"And with a damned chilly, stand-offish politeness," cried Sir +Anthony furiously, when telling me about it. "Just as if I had +been Perkins, the fish-monger, asking him to meet the Prettiloves +at high tea. It's swelled head, my dear chap; that's what it is. +Just swelled head. None of us are good enough for him and his +laurels. He's going to remain the modest mossy violet of a hero +blushing unseen. Oh, damn the fellow!" + +I did my best to soothe my touchy and choleric friend. No soldier, +said I, likes to be made a show of. Why had he suggested a dinner +party? A few friends. Anyone in Boyce's position knew what that +meant. It meant about thirty gawking, gaping people for whom he +didn't care a hang. Why hadn't Anthony asked the Boyces to dine +quietly with Edith and himself--with me thrown in, for instance, +if they wanted exotic assistance? Let me try, I said, to fix +matters up. + +So the next day I called on Boyce and told him, with such tact as +I have at command, of Sir Anthony's wounded feelings. + +"My dear Meredyth," said he. "I can only say to you what I tried +to explain to the irascible little man. If I accepted one +invitation, I should have to accept all invitations or give +terrible offence all over the place. I'm here a sick man and my +mother's an invalid. And I merely want to be saved from my friends +and have a quiet time with the old lady. Of course if Sir Anthony +is offended, I'm only too sorry, and I beg you to assure him that +I never intended the slightest discourtesy. The mere idea of it +distresses me." + +The explanation was reasonable, the apology frank. Sir Anthony +received them both grumpily. He had his foibles. He set his +invitations to dinner in a separate category from those of the +rag-tag and bobtail of Wellingsford society. So for the sake of +principle he continued to damn the fellow. + +On the other hand, for the sake of principle, reparation for +injustice, I continued to like the fellow and found pleasure in +his company. For one thing, I hankered after the smoke and smell +and din of the front, and Boyce succeeded more than anyone else in +satisfying my appetite. While he talked, as he did freely with me +alone, I got near to the grim essence of things. Also, with the +aid of rough military maps, he made actions and strategical +movements of which newspaper accounts had given me but a confused +notion, as clear as if I had been a chief of staff. Often he went +to considerable trouble in obtaining special information. He +appeared to set himself out to win my esteem. Now a cripple is +very sensitive to kindness. I could not reject his overtures. What +interested motive could he have in seeking out a useless hulk like +me? On the first opportunity I told Betty of the new friendship, +having a twinge or two of conscience lest it might appear to her +disloyal. + +"But why in the world shouldn't you see him, dear?" she said, +open-eyed. "He brings the breath of battle to you and gives you +fresh life. You're looking ever so much better the last few days. +The only thing is," she added, turning her head away, "that I +don't want to run the risk of meeting him again." + +Naturally I took precautions against such an occurrence. The +circumstances of their last meeting at my house lingered +unpleasantly in my mind. Perhaps, for Betty's sake, I ought to +have turned a cold shoulder on Boyce. But when you have done a man +a foul injustice for years, you must make him some kind of secret +reparation. So, by making him welcome, I did what I could. + +Now I don't know whether I ought to set down a trivial incident +mentioned in my diary under the date of the 15th August, the day +before Boyce left Wellingsford to join his regiment in France. In +writing an account of other people's lives it is difficult to know +what to put in and what to leave out. If you bring in your own +predilections or prejudices or speculations concerning them, you +must convey a distorted impression. You lie about them +unconsciously. A fact is a fact, and, if it is important, ought to +be recorded. But when you are not sure whether it is a fact or +not, what are you to do? + +Perhaps I had better narrate what happened and tell you afterwards +why I hesitate. + +Marigold had driven me over to Godbury, where I had business +connected with a County Territorial Association, and we were +returning home. It was a moist, horrible, depressing August day. A +slimy, sticky day. Clouds hung low over the reeking earth. The +honest rain had ceased, but wet drops dribbled from the leaves of +the trees and the branches and trunks exuded moisture. The +thatched roofs of cottages were dank. In front gardens roses and +hollyhocks drooped sodden. The very droves of steers coming from +market sweated in the muggy air. The good slush of the once dusty +road, broken to bits by military traffic, had stiffened into black +grease. Round a bend of the road we skidded alarmingly. Marigold +has a theory that in summer time a shirt next the skin is the only +wear for humans and square-tread tyres the only wear for motor- +cars. With some acerbity I pointed out the futility of his +proposition. With the blandness of superior wisdom he assured me +that we were perfectly safe. You can't knock into the head of an +artilleryman who has been trained to hang on to a limber by the +friction of his trousers, that there can be any danger in the +luxurious seat of a motor-car. + +There is a good straight half mile of the Godbury Road which is +known in the locality as "The Gut." It is sunken and very narrow, +being flanked on one side by the railway embankment, and on the +other by the grounds of Godbury Chase. A most desolate bit of +road, half overhung by trees and oozing with all the moisture of +the country-side. On this day it was the wettest, slimiest bit of +road in England. We had almost reached the end of it, when it +entered the head of a stray puppy dog to pause in the act of +crossing and sit down in the middle and hunt for fleas. To spare +the abominable mongrel, Marigold made a sudden swerve. Of course +the car skidded. It skidded all over the place, as if it were +drunk, and, aided by Marigold, described a series of ghastly half- +circles. At last he performed various convulsive feats of +jugglery, with the result that the car, which was nosing steadily +for the ditch, came to a stand-still. Then Marigold informed me +in unemotional tones that the steering gear had gone. + +"It's all the fault of that there dog," said he, twisting his head +so as to glare at the little beast, who, after a yelp and a bound, +had calmly recaptured his position and resumed his interrupted +occupation. + +"It's all the fault of that there Marigold," I retorted, "who +can't see the sense of using studded tyres on a greasy surface. +What's to be done now?" + +Marigold thrust his hand beneath his wig and scratched his head. +He didn't exactly know. He got out and stared intently at the car. +If mind could have triumphed over matter, the steering gear would +have become disfractured. But the good Marigold's mind was not +powerful enough. He gave up the contest and looked at me and the +situation. There we were, broadside on to the narrow road, and +only manhandling could bring us round to a position of safety by +the side. He was for trying it there and then; but I objected, +having no desire to be slithered into the ditch. + +"I would just as soon," said I, "ride a giraffe shod with roller +skates." + +He didn't even smile. He turned his one reproachful eye on me. +What was to be done? I told him. We must wait for assistance. When +I had been transferred into the vehicle of a passing Samaritan, it +was time enough for the manhandling. + +Fate brought the Samaritan very quickly. A car coming from Godbury +tooted violently, then slowed down, stopped, and from it jumped +Leonard Boyce. As he was to rescue me from a position of peculiar +helplessness, I regarded his great khaki-clad figure as that of a +ministering angel. I beamed on him. + +"Hallo! What's the matter?" he asked cheerily. + +I explained. Being merciful, I spared Marigold and threw the blame +on the dog and on the County Council for allowing the roads to get +into such a filthy condition. + +"That's all right," said Boyce. "We'll soon fix you up. First +we'll get you into my car. Then Marigold and I will slue this one +round, and then we'll send him a tow." + +Marigold nodded and approached to lift me out. + +Then, what happened next, happened in the flash of a few +breathless seconds. There was the dull thud of hoofs. A scared bay +thoroughbred, coming from Godbury, galloping hell for leather, +with a dishevelled boy in khaki on his back. The boy had lost his +stirrups; he had lost his reins; he had lost his head. He hung +half over the saddle and had a death grip on the horse's mane. And +the uncontrolled brute was thundering down on us. There was my +infernal car barring the narrow road. I remember bracing myself to +meet the shock. An end, thought I, of Duncan Meredyth. I saw Boyce +leap aside like a flash and appear to stand stock-still. The next +second I saw Marigold semaphore a few yards in front of the car +and then swing sickeningly at the horse's bit; and then the whole +lot of them, Marigold, horse and rider, come down in a convulsive +heap on the greasy road. To my intense relief I saw Marigold pick +himself up and go to the head of the plunging, prostrate horse. In +a moment or two he had got the beast on his feet, where he stood +quivering. It was a fine, smart piece of work on the part of the +old artilleryman. I was so intent on his danger that I forgot all +about Boyce: but as soon as the three crashed down, I saw him run +to assist the young subaltern who had rolled himself clear. + +"By Jove, that was a narrow shave!" he cried cordially, giving him +a hand. + +"It was indeed, sir," said the young man, scraping the mud off his +face. "That's the second time the brute has done it. He shies and +bucks and kicks like a regular devil. This time he shied at a +steam lorry and bucked my feet out of the stirrups. Everybody in +the squadron has turned him down, and I'm the junior, I've had to +take him." He eyed the animal resentfully. "I'd just like to get +him on some grass and knock hell out of him!" + +"I'm glad to see you're not hurt," said Boyce with a smile. + +"Oh, not a bit, sir," said the boy. He turned to Marigold. "I +don't know how to thank you. It was a jolly plucky thing to do. +You've saved my life and that of the gentleman in the car. If we +had busted into it, there would have been pie." He came to the +side of the car. "I think you're Major Meredyth, sir. I must have +given you an awful fright. I'm so sorry. My name is Brown. I'm in +the South Scottish Horse." + +He had a courteous charm of manner in spite of his boyish desire +to appear unshaken by the accident. A little bravado is an +excellent thing. I laughed and held out my hand. + +"I'm glad to meet you--although our meeting might have been +contrived less precipitously. This is Sergeant Marigold, late +R.F.A., who does me the honour of looking after me. And this is +Major Boyce." + +Observe the little devil of malice that made me put Marigold +first. + +"Of the Rifles?" + +A quick gleam of admiration showed in the boy's eyes as he +saluted. No soldier could be stationed at Wellingsford without +hearing of the hero of the neighbourhood. A great hay waggon came +lumbering down the road and pulled up, there being no room for it +to pass. This put an end to social amenities. Brown mounted his +detested charger and trotted off. Marigold transferred me to +Boyce's car. Several pairs of brawny arms righted the two-seater +and Boyce and I drove off, leaving Marigold waiting with his usual +stony patience for the promised tow. On the way Boyce talked gaily +of Marigold's gallantry, of the boy's spirit, of the idiotic way +in which impossible horses were being foisted on newly formed +cavalry units. When we drew up at my front door, it occurred to me +that there was no Marigold in attendance. + +"How the deuce," said I, "am I going to get out?" + +Boyce laughed. "I don't think I'll drop you." + +His great arms picked me up with ease. But while he was carrying +me I experienced a singular physical revolt. I loathed his grip. I +loathed the enforced personal contact. Even after he had deposited +me--very skilfully and gently--in my wheel-chair in the hall, I +hated the lingering sense of his touch. He owed his whisky and +soda to the most elementary instinct of hospitality. Besides, he +was off the next day, back to the trenches and the hell of battle, +and I had to bid him good-bye and God-speed. But when he went, I +felt glad, very glad, as though relieved of some dreadful +presence. My old distrust and dislike returned increased a +thousandfold. + +It was only when he got my frail body in his arms, which I +realized were twice as strong as my good Marigold's, that I felt +the ghastly and irrational revulsion. The only thing to which I +can liken it, although it seems ludicrous, is what I imagine to be +the instinctive recoil of a woman who feels on her body the touch +of antipathetic hands. I know that my malady has made me a bit +supersensitive. But my vanity has prided itself on keeping up a +rugged spirit in a fool of a body, so I hated myself for giving +way to morbid sensations. All the same, I felt that if I were +alone in a burning house, and there were no one but Leonard Boyce +to save me, I should prefer incineration to rescue. + +And now I will tell you why I have hesitated to give a place in +this chronicle to the incident of the broken-down car and the +runaway horse. + +It all happened so quickly, my mind was so taken up with the +sudden peril, that for the life of me I cannot swear to the part +played by Leonard Boyce. I saw him leap aside, and had the +fragment of an impression of him standing motionless between the +radiator of his car and the tail of mine which was at right +angles. The next time he thrust himself on my consciouness was +when he was lugging young Brown out of reach of the convulsive +hoofs. In the meanwhile Marigold, single-handed, had rushed into +the jaws of death and stopped the horse. But as it was a matter of +seconds, I had no reason for believing that, but for adventitious +relative positions on the road, Boyce would not have done the +same. ... And yet out of the corner of my eye I got an +instantaneous photograph of him standing bolt upright between the +two cars, while the abominable bay brute, with distended red +nostrils and wild eyes, was thundering down on us. + +On the other hand, the swift pleasure in the boy's eyes when he +realised that he was in the presence of the popular hero, proved +him free of doubts such as mine. And when Marigold, having put the +car in hospital, came to make his report, and lingered in order to +discuss the whole affair, he said, in wooden deprecation of my +eulogy: + +"If Major Boyce hadn't jumped in, sir, young Mr. Brown's head +would have been kicked into pumpkin-squash." + +Well, I have known from long experience that there are no more +untrustworthy witnesses than a man's own eyes; especially in the +lightning dramas of life. + +I was kept awake all night, and towards the dawn I came into +thorough agreement with Sir Anthony and I heartily damned the +fellow. + +What had I to do with him that he should rob me of my sleep? + + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +The next morning he strode in while I was at breakfast, handsome, +erect, deep-chested, the incarnation of physical strength, with a +glad light in his eyes. + +"Congratulate me, old man," he cried, gripping my frail shoulder. +"I've three days' extra leave. And more than that, I go out in +command of the regiment. No temporary business but permanent rank. +Gazetted in due course. Bannatyne--that's our colonel--damned good +soldier!--has got a staff appointment. I take his place. I promise +you the Fourth King's Rifles are going to make history. Either +history or manure. History for choice. As I say, Bannatyne's a +damned good soldier, and personally as brave as a lion, but when +it comes to the regiment, he's too much on the cautious side. The +regiment's only longing to make things hum, and I'm going to let +'em do it." + +I congratulated him in politely appropriate terms and went on with +my bacon and eggs. He sat on the window-seat and tapped his +gaiters with his cane life-preserver. He wore his cap. + +"I thought you'd like to know," said he. "You've been so good to +the old mother while I've been away and been so charitable, +listening to my yarns, while I've been here, that I couldn't +resist coming round and telling you." + +"I suppose your mother's delighted," said I. + +He threw back his head and laughed, as though he had never a black +thought or memory in the world. + +"Dear old mater! She has the impression that I'm going out to take +charge of the blessed campaign. So if she talks about 'my dear +son's army,' don't let her down, like a good chap--for she'll +think either me a fraud or you a liar." + +He rose suddenly, with a change of expression. + +"You're the only man in the world I could talk to like this about +my mother. You know the sterling goodness and loyalty that lies +beneath her funny little ways." + +He strode to the window which looks out on to the garden, his back +turned on me. And there he stood silent for a considerable time. I +helped myself to marmalade and poured out a second cup of tea. +There was no call for me to speak. I had long realized that, +whatever may have been the man's sins and weaknesses, he had a +very deep and tender love for the Dresden china old lady that was +his mother. There was London of the clubs and the theatres and the +restaurants and the night-clubs, a war London full and alive, not +dead as in Augusts of far-off tradition, all ready to give him +talk and gaiety and the things that matter to the man who escapes +for a brief season from the never-ending hell of the battlefield; +ready, too, to pour flattery into his ear, to touch his scars with +the softest of its lingers. Yet he chose to stay, a recluse, in +our dull little town, avoiding even the kindly folk round about, +in order to devote himself to one dear but entirely uninteresting +old woman. It is not that he despised London, preferring the life +of the country gentleman. On the contrary, before the war Leonard +Boyce was very much the man about town. He loved the glitter and +the chatter of it. From chance words during this spell of leave, I +had divined hankering after its various fleshpots. For the sake of +one old woman he made reckless and gallant sacrifice. When he was +bored to misery he came round to me. I learned later that in +visiting Wellingsford he faced more than boredom. All of this you +must put to the credit side of his ledger. + +There he stood, his great broad shoulders and bull-neck +silhouetted against the window. That broad expanse, a bit fleshy, +below the base of the skull indicates brutality. Never before, to +my eyes, had the sign asserted itself with so much aggression. I +had often wondered why, apart from the Vilboek Farm legend, I had +always disliked and distrusted him. Now I seemed to know. It was +the neck not of a man, but of a brute. The curious repulsion of +the previous evening, when he had carried me into the house, came +over me again. From junction of arm and body protruded six inches +of the steel-covered life-preserver, the washleather that hid its +ghastly knob staring at me blankly. I hated the thing. The gallant +English officer--and in my time I have known and loved a many of +the most gallant--does not go about in private life fondling a +trophy reeking with the blood of his enemies. It is the trait of a +savage. That truculent knob and that truculent bull-neck +correlated themselves most horribly in my mind. And again, with a +shiver, I had the haunting flash of a vision of him, out of the +tail of my eye, standing rigid and gaping between the two cars, +while my rugged old Marigold, in a businesslike, old-soldier sort +of way, without thought of danger or death, was swaying at the +head of the runaway horse. + +Presently he turned, and his brows were set above unfathomable +hard eyes. The short-cropped moustache could not hide the curious +twitch of the lips which I had seen once before. It was obvious +that these few minutes of silence had been spent in deep thought +and had resulted in a decision. A different being from the gay, +successful soldier who had come in to announce his honours +confronted me. He threw down cap and stick and passed his hand +over his crisp brown hair. + +"I don't know whether you're a friend of mine or not," he said, +hands on hips and gaitered legs slightly apart. "I've never been +able to make out. All through our intercourse, in spite of your +courtesy and hospitality, there has been some sort of reservation +on your part." + +"If that is so," said I, diplomatically, "it is because of the +defects of my national quality." + +"That's possibly what I've felt," said he. "But it doesn't matter +a damn with regard to what I want to say. It's a question not of +your feelings towards me, but my feelings towards you. I don't +want to make polite speeches--but you're a man whom I have every +reason to honour and trust. And unlike all my other brother- +officers, you have no reason to be jealous--" + +"My dear fellow," I interrupted, "what's all this about? Why +jealousy?" + +"You know what a pot-hunter is in athletics? A chap that is simply +out for prizes? Well, that's what a lot of them think of me. That +I'm just out to get orders and medals and distinctions and so +forth." + +"That's nonsense," said I. "I happen to know. Your reputation in +the brigade is unassailable." + +"In the way of my having done what I'm credited with, it is," he +answered. "But all the same, they're right." + +"What do you mean?" I asked. + +"What I say. They're right. I'm out for everything I can get. Now +I'm out for a V.C. I see you think it abominable. That's because +you don't understand. No one but I myself could understand. I feel +I owe it to myself." He looked at me for a second or two and then +broke into a sardonic sort of laugh. "I suppose you think me a +conceited ass," he continued. "Why should Leonard Boyce be such a +vastly important person? It isn't that, I assure you." + +I lit a cigarette, having waved an invitation to join me, which +with a nod he refused. + +"What is it, then?" + +"Has it ever struck you that often a man's most merciless creditor +is himself?" + +Here was a casuistical proposition thrown at my head by the last +person I should have suspected of doing so. It was immensely +interesting, in view of my long puzzledom. I spoke warily. + +"That depends on the man--on the nice balance of his dual nature. +On the one side is the power to demand mercilessly; on the other, +the instinct to respond. Of course, the criminal--" + +"What are you dragging in criminals for?" he said sharply. "I'm +talking about honourable men with consciences. Criminals haven't +consciences. The devil who has just been hung for murdering three +women in their baths hadn't any dual nature, as you call it. Those +murders didn't represent to him a mountain of debt to God which +his soul was summoned to discharge. He went to his death thinking +himself a most unlucky and hardly used fellow." + +His fingers went instinctively into the cigarette-box. I passed +him the matches. + +"Precisely," said I. "That was the point I was about to make." + +He puffed at his cigarette and looked rather foolish, as though +regretting his outburst. + +"We've got away," he said, after a pause, "from what I was meaning +to tell you. And I want to tell you because I mayn't have another +chance." He turned to the window-seat and picked up his life- +preserver. "I'm out for two things. One is to kill Germans--" He +patted the covered knob--and there flashed across my mind a +boyhood's memory of Martin--wasn't it Martin?--in "Hereward the +Wake," who had a deliciously blood-curdling habit of patting his +revengeful axe.--"I've done in eighty-five with this and my +revolver. That, I consider, is my duty to my country. The other is +to get the V.C. That's for payment to my creditor self." + +"In full, or on account?" said I. + +"There's only one payment in full," he answered grimly, "and that +I've been offering for the past twelve months. And it's a thousand +chances to one it will be accepted before the end of this year. +And that, after all this palaver, is what I've just made up my +mind to talk to you about." + +"You mean your death?" + +"Just that," said he. "A man pot-hunting for Victoria Crosses +takes a thousand to one chance." He paused abruptly and shot an +eager and curiously wavering glance at me. "Am I boring you with +all this?" + +"Good Heavens, no." And then as the insistence of his great figure +towering over me had begun to fret my nerves--"Sit down, man," +said I, with an impatient gesture, "and put that sickening toy +away and come to the point." + +He tossed the cane on the window-seat and sat near me on a +straight-backed chair. + +"All right," he said. "I'll come to the point. I shan't see you +again. I'm going out in command. Thank God we're in the thick of +it. Round about Loos. It's a thousand to one I'll be killed. Life +doesn't matter much to me, in spite of what you may think. There +are only two people on God's earth I care for. One, of course, is +my old mother. The other is Betty Fairfax--I mean Betty Connor. I +spoke to you once about her--after I had met her here--and I gave +you to understand that I had broken off our engagement from +conscientious motives. It was an awkward position and I had to say +something. As a matter of fact I acted abominably. But I couldn't +help it." The corners of his lips suddenly worked in the odd +little twitch. "Sometimes circumstances, especially if a man's own +damn foolishness has contrived them, tie him hand and foot. +Sometimes physical instincts that he can't control." He narrowed +his eyes and bent forward, looking at me intently, and he repeated +the phrase slowly--"Physical instincts that he can't control-" + +Was he referring to the incident of yesterday? I thought so. I +also believed it was the motive power of this strangely intimate +conversation. + +He rose again as though restless, and once more went to the window +and seemed to seek inspiration or decision from the sight of my +roses. After a short while he turned and dragged up from his neck +a slim chain at the end of which hung a round object in a talc +case. This he unfastened and threw on the table in front of me. + +"Do you know what that is?" + +"Yes," said I. "Your identification disc." + +"Look on the other side." + +I took it up and found that the reverse contained the head cut out +from some photograph of Betty. After I had handed back the locket, +he slipped it on the chain and dropped it beneath his collar. + +"I'm not a damned fool," said he. + +I nodded understandingly. No one would have accused him of mawkish +sentiment. The woman whose portrait he wore night and day next his +skin was the woman he loved. He had no other way of proving his +sincerity than by exhibiting the token. + +"I see," said I. "What do you propose to do?" + +"I've told you. The V.C. or--" He snapped his fingers. + +"But if it's the V.C. and a Brigade, and perhaps a Division--if +it's everything else imaginable except--"I snapped my fingers in +imitation--"What then?" + +Again the hateful twitch of the lips, which he quickly +dissimulated in a smile. + +"I'll begin to try to be a brave man." He lit another cigarette. +"But all that, my dear Meredyth," he continued, "is away from the +point. If I live, I'll ask you to forget this rotten palaver. But +I have a feeling that I shan't come back. Something tells me that +my particular form of extermination will be a head knocked into +slush. I'm absolutely certain that I shall never see you again. +Oh, I'm not morbid," he said, as I raised a protesting hand. +"You're an old soldier and know what these premonitions are. When +I came in--before I had finally made up my mind to pan out to you +like this--I felt like a boy who has been made captain of the +school. But all the same, I know I shan't see you again. So I want +you to promise me two things--quite honourable and easy." + +"Of course, my dear fellow," said I rather tartly, for I did not +like the wind-up of his sentence. It was unthinkable that an +officer and a gentleman should inveigle a brother-officer into a +solemn promise to do anything dishonourable. "Of course. Anything +you like." + +"One is to look after the old mother--" + +"That goes without promising," said I. + +"The other is to--what shall I say?--to rehabilitate my memory in +the eyes of Betty Connor. She may hear all kinds of things about +me--some true, others false--I have my enemies. She has heard +things already. I didn't know it till our last meeting here. +There's no one else on God's earth can do what I want but you. Do +you think I'm putting you into an impossible position?" + +"I don't think so," said I. "Go on." + +"Well--there's not much more to be said. Try to make her realise +that, whatever may be my faults--my crimes, if it comes to that-- +I've done my damndest out there to make reparation. By God! I +have," he cried, in a sudden flash of passion. "See that she +realises it. And--" he thumped the hidden identification disc, +"tell her that she is the only woman that has ever really mattered +in the whole of my blasted life." + +He threw his half-smoked cigarette into the fire-place and walked +over to the sideboard, where stood decanters and syphon. + +"May I help myself to a drink?" + +"Certainly," said I. + +He gulped down half a whisky and soda and turned on me. + +"You promise?" + +"Of course," said I. + +"She may have reasons to think the worst of me. But whatever I am +there is some good in me. I'm not altogether a worthless hound. If +you promise to make her think the best of me, I'll go away happy. +I don't care a damn whether I die or live. That's the truth. As +long as I'm alive I can take care of myself. I'm not dreaming of +asking you to say a word to win her favour. That would be +outrageous impudence. You clearly understand. I don't want you +ever to mention my name unless I'm dead. If I feel that I've an +advocate in you--advocatus diaboli, if you like--I'll go away +happy. You've got your brief. You know my life at home. You know +my record." + +"My dear fellow," said I, "I promise to do everything in my power +to carry out your wishes. But as to your record--are you quite +certain that I know it?" + +You must realise that there was a curious tension in the +situation, at any rate as far as it affected myself. Here was a +man with whom, for reasons you know, I had studiously cultivated +the most formal social relations, claiming my active participation +in the secret motives of his heart. Since his first return from +the front a bluff friendliness had been the keynote of our +intercourse. Nothing more. Now he came and without warning +enmeshed me in this intimate net of love and death. I promised to +do his bidding--I could not do otherwise. I was in the position of +an executor according to the terms of a last will and testament. +Our comradeship in arms--those of our old Army who survive will +understand--forbade refusal. Besides, his intensity of purpose won +my sympathy and admiration. But I loved him none the more. To my +cripple's detested sensitiveness, as he stood over me, he loomed +more than ever the hulking brute. His semi-confessions and +innuendoes exacerbated my feelings of distrust and repulsion. And +yet, at the same tune, I could not--nor did I try to--repress an +immense pity for the man; perhaps less for the man than for the +soul in pain. At the back of his words some torment burned at red +heat, remorselessly. He sought relief. Perhaps he sought it from +me because I was as apart as a woman from his physical splendour, +a kind of bodiless creature with just a brain and a human heart, +the ghost of an old soldier, far away from the sphere of poor +passions and little jealousies. + +I felt the tentacles of the man's nature blindly and convulsively +groping after something within me that eluded them. That is the +best way in which I can describe the psychology of these strange +moments. The morning sun streamed into my little oak-panelled +dining-room and caught the silver and fruit on the breakfast table +and made my frieze of old Delft glow blue like the responsive +western sky. With his back to the vivid window, Leonard Boyce +stood cut out black like a silhouette. That he, too, felt the +tension, I know; for a wasp crawled over his face, from cheek- +bone, across his temples, to his hair, and he did not notice it. + +Instinctively I said the words: "Your record. Are you quite +certain that I know it?" + +With what intensity, with what significance in my eyes, I may have +said them, I know not. I repeat that I had a subconsciousness, +almost uncanny, that we were souls rather than men, talking to +each other. He sat down once more, drawing the chair to the table +and resting his elbow on it. + +"My record," said he. "What about it?" + +Again please understand that I felt I had the man's soul naked +before me. An imponderable hand plucked away my garments of +convention. + +"Some time ago," said I, "you spoke of my attitude towards you +being marked by a certain reserve. That is quite true. It dates +back many years. It dates back from the South African War. From an +affair at Vilboek's Farm." + +Again his lips twitched; but otherwise he did not move. + +"I remember," he answered. "My men saw me run away. I came out of +it quite clean." + +I said: "I saw the man afterwards in hospital at Cape Town. His +name was Somers. He told me quite a different story." + +His face grew grey. He glanced at me for a fraction of a second. +"What did he tell you?" he asked quietly. + +In the fewest possible words I repeated what I have set down +already in this book. When I had ended, he said in the same +toneless way: + +"You have believed that all these years?" + +"I have done my best not to believe it. The last twelve months +have disproved it." + +He shook his head. "They haven't. Nothing I can do in this world +can disprove it. What that man said was true." + +"True?" + +I drew a deep breath and stared at him hard. His eyes met mine. +They were very sad and behind them lay great pain. Although I +expressed astonishment, it proceeded rather from some reflex +action than from any realised shock to my consciousness. I say the +whole thing was uncanny. I knew, as soon as he sat down by the +table, that he would confess to the Vilboek story. And yet, at +last, when he did confess and there were no doubts lingering in my +mind, I gasped and stared at him. + +"I was a bloody coward," he said. "That's frank enough. When they +rode away and left me, I tried to shoot myself--and I couldn't. If +the man Somers hadn't returned, I think I should have waited until +they sent to arrest me. But he did come back and the instinct of +self-preservation was too strong. I know my story about the men's +desertion and my forcing him to back me up was vile and +despicable. But I clung to life and it was my only chance. +Afterwards, with the horror of the thing hanging over me, I didn't +care so much about life. In the little fighting that was left for +me I deliberately tried to throw it away. I ask you to believe +that." + +"I do," I said. "You were mentioned in dispatches for gallantry in +action." + +He passed his hand over his eyes. Looking up, he said: + +"It is strange that you of all men, my neighbour here, should have +heard of this. Not a whisper of its being known has ever reached +me. How many people do you think have any idea of it?" + +I told him all that I knew and concluded by showing him Reggie +Dacre's letter, which I had kept in the letter-case in my pocket. +He returned it to me without a word. Presently he broke a spell of +silence. All this time he had sat fixed in the one attitude--only +shifted once, when Marigold entered to clear away the breakfast +things and was dismissed by me with a glance and a gesture. + +"Do you remember," he said, "a talk we had about fear, in April, +the first time I was over? I described what I knew. The paralysis +of fear. Since we are talking as I never thought to talk with a +human being, I may as well make my confession. I'm a man of strong +animal passions. When I see red, I daresay I'm just a brute beast. +But I'm a physical coward. Owing to this paralysis of fear, this +ghastly inhibition of muscular or nervous action, I have gone +through things even worse than that South-African business. I go +about like a man under a curse. Even out there, when I don't care +a damn whether I live or die, the blasted thing gets hold of me." +He swung himself away from the table and shook his great clenched +firsts. "By the grace of God, no one yet has seemed to notice it. +I suppose I have a swift brain and as soon as the thing is over I +can cover it up. It's my awful terror that one day I shall be +found out and everything I've gained shall be stripped away from +me." + +"But what about a thing like this?" said I, tapping Colonel +Dacre's letter. + +"That's all right," he answered grimly. "That's when I know what +I'm facing. That's deliberate pot-hunting. It's saving face as the +Chinese say. It's doing any damned thing that will put me right +with myself." + +He got up and swung about the room. I envied him, I would have +given a thousand pounds to do the same just for a few moments. But +I was stuck in my confounded chair, deprived of physical outlet. +Suddenly he came to a halt and stood once more over me. + +"Now you know what kind of a fellow I am, what do you think of +me?" + +It was a brutal question to fling at my head. It gave me no time +to co-ordinate my ideas. What was one to make of a man avowedly +subject to fits of the most despicable cowardice from the +consequences of which he used any unscrupulous craftiness to +extricate himself, and yet was notorious in his achievement of +deeds of the most reckless courage? It is a problem to which I +have devoted all the months occupied in waiting this book. How the +dickens could I solve it at a minute's notice? The situation was +too blatant, too raw, too near bedrock, too naked and unashamed, +for me to take refuge in platitudinous generalities of excuse. The +bravest of men know Fear. They know him pretty intimately. But +they manage to kick him to Hades by the very reason of their being +brave men. I had to take Leonard Boyce as I found him. And I must +admit that I found him a tragically miserable man. That is how I +answered his question--in so many words. + +"You're not far wrong," said he. + +He picked up cap and stick. + +"When I get up to town I shall make my will. I've never worried +about it before. Can I appoint you my executor?" + +"Certainly," said I. + +"I'm very grateful. I'll assure you a fireworks sort of finish, so +that you shan't be ashamed. And--I don't ask impossibilities--I +can't hold you to your previous promise--but what about Betty +Connor?" + +"You may count," said I, "on my acting like an officer and a +gentleman, and, if I may say so, like a Christian." + +He said: "Thank you, Meredyth. Good-bye." Then he stuck on his +cap, brought his fingers to the peak in salute and marched to the +door. + +"Boyce!" I cried sharply. + +He turned. "Yes?" + +"Aren't you going to shake hands with me?" + +He retraced the few steps to my chair. + +"I didn't know whether it would be--" he paused, seeking for a +word--"whether it would be agreeable." + +Then I broke down. The strain had been too great for my sick man's +nerves. I forgot all about the brutality of his bull-neck, for he +faced me in all his gallant manhood and there was a damnable +expression in his eyes like that of a rated dog. I stretched out +my hand. + +"My dear good fellow," I cried, "what the hell are you talking +about?" + + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +Boyce left Wellingsford that afternoon, and for many months I +heard little about him. His astonishing avowal had once more +turned topsy-turvy my conception of his real nature. I had to +reconstruct the man, a very complicated task. I had to reconcile +in him all kinds of opposites--the lusty brute and the sentimental +lover; the physical coward and the baresark hero; the man with +hell in his soul and the debonair gentleman. After a vast deal of +pondering, I arrived not very much nearer a solution of the +problem. The fact remained, however, that I found myself in far +closer sympathy with him than ever before. After all that he had +said, I should have had a heart of stone if it had not been +stirred to profound pity. I had seen an instance both of his +spell-bound cowardice and of his almost degrading craft in +extrication. That in itself repelled me. But it lost its value in +the light that he had cast on the never-ceasing torment that +consumed him. At any rate he was at death-grips with himself, +strangling the devils of fear and dishonour with a hand +relentlessly certain. He appeared to me a tragic figure warring +against a doom. + +At first I expected every day to receive an agonised message from +Mrs. Boyce announcing his death. Then, as is the way of humans, +the keenness of my apprehension grew blunted, until, at last, I +took his continued existence as a matter of course. I wrote him a +few friendly letters, to which he replied in the same strain. And +so the months went on. + +Looking over my diary I find that these months were singularly +uneventful as far as the lives of those dealt with in this +chronicle were concerned. In the depths of our souls we felt the +long-drawn-out agony of the war, with its bitter humiliations, its +heartrending disappointments. In our daily meetings one with +another we cried aloud for a great voice to awaken the little folk +in Great Britain from their selfish lethargy--the little folk in +high office, in smug burgessdom, in seditious factory and +shipyard. They were months of sordid bargaining between all +sections of our national life, in the murk of which the glow of +patriotism seemed to be eclipsed. And in the meantime, the heroic +millions from all corners of our far-flung Empire were giving +their lives on land and sea, gaily and gallantly, too often in +tragic futility, for the ideals to which the damnable little folk +at home were blind. The little traitorous folk who gambled for +their own hands in politics, the little traitorous folk who put +the outworn shibboleths of a party before the war-cry of an +Empire, the little traitorous folk who strove with all their power +to starve our navy of ships, our ships of coal, our men in the +trenches of munitions, our armies of men, our country of honour-- +all these will one day be mercilessly arraigned at the bar of +history. The plains of France, the steeps of Gallipoli, the swamps +of Mesopotamia, the Seven Seas will give up their dead as +witnesses. + +We spoke bitterly of all these things and thought of them with +raging impotence; but the even tenor of our life went on. We +continued to do our obscure and undistinguished work for the +country. It became a habit, part of the day's routine. We almost +forgot why we were doing it. The war seemed to make little real +difference in our social life. The small town was pitch black at +night. Prices rose. Small economies were practised. Labour was +scarce. Fewer young men out of uniform were seen in the streets +and neighbouring roads and lanes. Groups of wounded from the +hospital in their uniform of deep blue jean with red ties and +khaki caps gave a note of actuality to the streets. Otherwise, +there were few signs of war. Even the troops who hitherto swarmed +about the town had gradually been removed from billets to a vast +camp of huts some miles away, and appeared only sporadically about +the place. I missed them and the stimulus of their presence. They +brought me into closer touch with things. Marigold, too, pined for +more occupation for his one critical eye than was afforded by the +local volunteers. He grew morose, sick of a surfeit of newspapers. +If he could have gone to France and got through to the firing- +line, I am sure he would have dug a little trench all to himself +and defied the Germans on his own account. + +In November Colonel Dacre was brought home gravely wounded, to a +hospital for officers in London. A nurse gave me the news in a +letter in which she said that he had asked to see me before an +impending hazardous operation. I went up to town and found him +wrecked almost beyond recognition. As we were the merest of +acquaintances with nothing between us save our common link with +Boyce, I feared lest he should desire to tell me of some shameful +discovery. But his gay greeting and the brave smile, pathetically +grotesque through the bandages in which his head was wrapped, +reassured me. Only his eyes and mouth were visible. + +"It's worth while being done in," said he. "It makes one feel like +a Sultan. You have just to clap your hands and say 'I want this,' +and you've got it. I've a good mind to say to this dear lady, +'Fetch their gracious Majesties from Buckingham Palace,' and I'm +sure they'd be here in a tick. It's awfully good of you to come, +Meredyth." + +I signed to Marigold, who had carried me into the ward and set me +down on a chair, and to the Sister, the "dear lady" of Dacre's +reference, to withdraw, and after a few sympathetic words I asked +him why he had sent for me. + +"I'm broken to bits all over," he replied. "The doctors here say +they never saw such a blooming mess-up of flesh pretending to be +alive. And as for talking, they'd just as soon expect speech from +a jellyfish squashed by a steam-roller. If I do get through, I'll +be a helpless crock all my days. I funked it till I thought of +you. I thought the sight of another fellow who has gone through it +and stuck it out might give me courage. I've had my wife here. +We're rather fond of one another, you know ... My God! what brave +things women are! If she had broken down all over me I could have +risen to the occasion. But she didn't, and I felt a cowardly +worm." + +"I had a brave wife, too," said I, and for a few moments we talked +shyly about the women who had played sacred parts in our lives. +Whether he was comforted by what I said I don't know. Probably he +only listened politely. But I think he found comfort in a +sympathetic ear. + +Presently he turned on to Boyce, the real motive of his summons. +He repented much that he had told and written to me. His long +defamation of the character of a brother-officer had lain on his +conscience. And lately he had, at last, met Boyce personally, and +his generous heart had gone out to the man's soldierly charm. + +"I never felt such a slanderous brute in my life as when I shook +him by the hand. You know the feeling--how one wants to get behind +a hedge and kick oneself. Kick oneself," he repeated faintly. Then +he closed his eyes and his lips contracted in pain. + +The Sister, who had been watching him from a distance, came up. He +had talked enough. It was time to go. But at the announcement he +opened his eyes again and with an effort recovered his gaiety. + +"The whole gist of the matter lies in the postscript. Like a +woman's letter. I must have my postscript." + +"Very well. Two more minutes." + +"Merciless dragon," said he. + +She smiled and left us. + +"The dearest angel, bar one, in the world." said he. "What were we +talking about?" + +"Colonel Boyce." + +"Oh, yes. Forgive me. My head goes FUT now and then. It's idiotic +not to be able to control one's brain.... The point is this. I may +peg out. I know this operation they're going to perform is just +touch and go. I want to face things with a clear conscience. I've +convinced you, haven't I, that there wasn't a word of truth in +that South-African story? If ever it crops up you'll scotch it +like a venomous snake?" + +The ethics of my answer I leave to the casuist. I am an old- +fashioned Church of England person. As I am so mentally +constituted that I am unable to believe cheerfully in nothing. I +believe in God and Jesus Christ, and accept the details of +doctrine as laid down in the Thirty-nine Articles. For liars I +have the Apocryphal condemnation. Yet I lied without the faintest +rippling qualm of conscience. + +"My dear fellow," said I, stoutly, "there's not the remotest speck +of truth in it. You haven't a second's occasion to worry." + +"That's all right," he said. + +The Sister approached again. Instinctively I stretched out my +hand. He laughed. + +"No good. You must take it as gripped. Goodbye, old chap." + +I bade him good-bye and Marigold wheeled me away. + +A few days afterwards they told me that this gay, gallant, +honourable, sensitive gentleman was dead. Although I had known him +so little, it seemed that I knew him very intimately, and I deeply +mourned his loss. + +I think this episode was the most striking of what I may term +personal events during those autumn months. + +Of Randall Holmes we continued to hear in the same mysterious +manner. His mother visited the firm of solicitors in London +through whom his correspondence passed. They pleaded ignorance of +his doings and professional secrecy as to the disclosure of his +whereabouts. In December he ceased writing altogether, and twice a +week Mrs. Holmes received a formal communication from the lawyers +to the effect that they had been instructed by her son to inform +her that he was in perfect health and sent her his affectionate +greetings. Such news of this kind as I received I gave to Betty, +who passed it on to Phyllis Gedge. + +Of course my intimacy with my dear Betty continued unbroken. If +the unmarried Betty had a fault, it was a certain sweet +truculence, a pretty self-assertiveness which sometimes betrayed +intolerance of human foibles. Her widowhood had, in a subtle way, +softened these little angularities of her spiritual contour. And +bodily, the curves of her slim figure had become more rounded. She +was no longer the young Diana of a year ago. The change into the +gracious woman who had passed through the joy and the sorrow of +life was obvious even to me, to whom it had been all but +imperceptibly gradual. After a while she rarely spoke of her +husband. The name of Leonard Boyce was never mentioned between us. +With her as with me, the weeks ate up the uneventful days and the +months the uneventful weeks. In her humdrum life the falling away +of Mrs. Tufton loomed catastrophic. + +For four months Mrs. Tufton shone splendid as the wife of the +British warrior. The Wellingsford Hospital rang with her praises +and glistened with her scrubbing brush. She was the Admirable +Crichton of the institution. What with men going off to the war +and women going off to make munitions, there were never-ending +temporary gaps in the staff. And there was never a gap that Mrs. +Tufton did not triumphantly fill. The pride of Betty, who had +wrought this reformation, was simply monstrous. If she had created +a real live angel, wings and all, out of the dust-bin, she could +not have boasted more arrogantly. Being a member of the Hospital +Committee, I must confess to a bemused share in the popular +enthusiasm. And was I not one of the original discoverers of Mrs. +Tufton? When Marigold, inspired doubtless by his wife, from time +to time suggested disparagement of the incomparable woman, I +rebuked him for an arrant scandal-monger. There had been a case or +two of drunkenness at the hospital. Wounded soldiers had returned +the worse for liquor, an almost unforgivable offence.... Not that +the poor fellows desired to get drunk. A couple of pints of ale or +a couple of glasses of whisky will set swimming the head of any +man who has not tasted alcohol for months. But to a man with a +septic wound or trench nephritis or smashed up skull, alcohol is +poison and poison is death, and so it is sternly forbidden to our +wounded soldiers. They cannot be served in public houses. Where, +then, did the hospital defaulters get their drink? + +"If I was you, sir," said Marigold, "I'd keep an eye on that there +Mrs. Tufton." + +I instantly annihilated him--or should have done so had his +expressionless face not been made of non-inflammable timber. He +said: "Very good, sir." But there was a damnably ironical and +insubordinate look in his one eye. + +Gradually the lady lapsed from grace. She got up late and +complained of spasms. She left dustpan and brush on a patient's +bed. She wrongfully interfered with the cook, insisting, until she +was forcibly ejected from the kitchen, on throwing lettuces into +the Irish stew. Finally, one Sunday afternoon, a policeman +wandering through some waste ground, a deserted brickfield behind +Flowery End, came upon an unedifying spectacle. There were madam +and an elderly Irish soldier sprawling blissfully comatose with an +empty flask of gin and an empty bottle of whisky lying between +them. They were taken to the hospital and put to bed. The next +morning, the lady, being sober, was skummarily dismissed by the +matron. Late at night she rang and battered at the door, +clamouring for admittance, which was refused. Then she went away, +apparently composed herself to slumber in the roadway of the +pitch-black High Street, and was killed by a motor-car. And that, +bar the funeral, was the end of Mrs. Tufton. + +From her bereaved husband, with whom I at once communicated, I +received the following reply: + +"Dear Sir, + +"Yours to hand announcing the accidental death of my wife, which I +need not say I deeply regret. You will be interested to hear that +I have been offered a commission in the Royal Fusiliers, which I +am now able to accept. In view of the same, any expense to which +you may be put to give my late wife honourable burial, I shall be +most ready to defray. + +"With many thanks for your kindness in informing me of this +unfortunate circumstance, + +"I am, + +"Yours faithfully, + +"JOHN P. TUFTON." + +"I think he's a horrid, callous, cold-blooded fellow!" cried Betty +when I showed her this epistle. + +"After all," said I, "she wasn't a model wife. If the fatal motor- +car hadn't come along, the probability is that she would have +received poor Tufton on his next leave with something even more +deadly than a poker. Now and again the Fates have brilliant +inspirations. This was one of them. Now, you see the virago- +clogged Tufton is a free man, able to accept a commission and +start a new life as an officer and a gentleman." + +"I think you're perfectly odious. Odious and cynical," she +exclaimed wrathfully. + +"I think," said I, "that a living warrior is better than a dead-- +Disappointment." + +"You don't understand," she stormed. "If I didn't love you, I +could rend you to pieces." + +"It is because I do understand, my dear," said I, enjoying the +flashing beauty of her return to Artemisian attitudes, "that I +particularly characterised the dear lady as a disappointment." + +"I think," she said, in dejected generalisation, "the working out +of the whole scheme of the universe is a disappointment." + +"The High Originators of the scheme seem to bear it pretty +philosophically," I rejoined; "so why shouldn't we?" + +"They're gods and we're human," said Betty. + +"Precisely," said I. "And oughtn't it to be our ideal to +approximate to the divine attitude?" + +Again Betty declared that I was odious. From her point of view-- +No. That is an abuse of language. There are mental states in which +a woman has no point of view at all. She wanders over an ill- +defined circular area of vision. That is why, in such conditions, +you can never pin a woman down with a shaft of logic and compel +her surrender, as you can compel that of a mere man. We went on +arguing, and after a time I really did not know what I was arguing +about. I advanced and tried to support the theory that on the +whole the progress of humanity as represented by the British +Empire in general and the about-to-be Lieutenant Tufton in +particular, was advanced by the opportune demise of an +unfortunately balanced lady. From her point--or rather her +circular area of vision--perhaps my dear Betty was right in +declaring me odious. She hated to be reminded of the intolerable +goosiness of her swan. She longed for comforting, corroborative +evidence of essential swaniness for her own justification. In a +word, the poor dear girl was sore all over with mortification, and +wherever one touched her, no matter with how gentle a finger, one +hurt. + +"I would have trusted that woman," she cried tragically, "with a +gold-mine or a distillery." + +"We trusted her with something more valuable, my dear," said I. +"Our guileless faith in human nature. Anyhow we'll keep the faith +undamaged." + +She smiled. "That's considerably less odious." + +Nothing more could be said. We let the unfortunate subject rest in +peace for ever after. + +These two episodes, the death of poor Reggie Dacre and the Tufton +catastrophe, are the only incidents in my diary that are worth +recording here. Christmas came and went and we entered on the new +year of 1916. It was only at a date in the middle of February, a +year since I had driven to Wellings Park to hear the tragic news +of Oswald Fenimore's death, that I find an important entry in my +diary. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +Mrs. Boyce was shown into my study, her comely Dresden china face +very white and her hands shaking. She held a telegram. I had seen +faces like that before. Every day in England there are hundreds +thus stricken. I feared the worst. It was a relief to read the +telegram and find that Boyce was only wounded. The message said +seriously wounded, but gave consolation by adding that his life +was not in immediate danger. Mrs. Boyce was for setting out for +France forthwith. I dissuaded her from a project so embarrassing +to the hospital authorities and so fatiguing to herself. In spite +of the chivalry and humanity of our medical staff, old ladies of +seventy are not welcome at a busy base hospital. As soon as he was +fit to be moved, I assured her, he would be sent home, before she +could even obtain her permits and passes and passport and make +other general arrangements for her journey. There was nothing for +it but her Englishwoman's courage. She held up her hand at that, +and went away to live, like many another, patiently through the +long hours of suspense. + +For two or three days no news came. I spent as much time as I +could with my old friend, seeking to comfort her. + +On the third morning it was announced in the papers that the King +had been graciously pleased to confer the Victoria Cross on Lt. +Colonel Leonard Boyce for conspicuous gallantry in action. It did +not occur in a list of honours. It had a special paragraph all to +itself. Such isolated announcements generally indicate immediate +recognition of some splendid feat. I was thrilled by the news. It +was a grand achievement to win through death to the greatest of +all military rewards deliberately coveted. Here, as I had strange +reason for knowing, was no sudden act of sublime valour. The final +achievement was the result of months of heroic, almost suicidal +daring. And it was repayment of a terrible debt, the whole extent +of which I knew not, owed by the man to his tormented soul. + +I rang up Mrs. Boyce, who replied tremulously to my +congratulations. Would I come over and lunch? + +I found a very proud and tearful old lady. She may not have known +the difference between a platoon and a howitzer, and have +conceived the woolliest notions of the nature of her son's +command, but the Victoria Cross was a matter on which her ideas +were both definite and correct. She had spent the morning at the +telephone receiving calls of congratulation. A great sheaf of +telegrams had arrived. Two or three of them were from the High and +Mighty of the Military Hierarchy. She was in such a twitter of joy +that she almost forgot her anxiety as to his wounds. + +"Do you think he knows? I telegraphed to him at once." + +"So did I." + +She glanced at the ormolu clock on the mantelpiece. + +"How long would it take for a telegram to reach him?" + +"You may be sure he has it by now," said I, "and it has given him +a prodigious appetite for lunch." + +Her face clouded over. "That horrid tinned stuff. It's so +dangerous. I remember once Mary's aunt--or was it Cook's aunt-- +one of them any way--nearly died of eating tinned lobster-- +ptomaine poisoning. I've always told Leonard not to touch it. + +"They don't give Colonels and V.C.s tinned lobster at Boulogne," I +answered cheerfully. "He's living now on the fat of the land." + +"Let us hope so," she sighed dubiously. "It's no use my sending +out things for him, as they always go wrong. Some time ago I sent +him three brace of grouse and three brace of partridges. He didn't +acknowledge them for weeks, and then he said they were most handy +things to kill Germans with, but were an expensive form of +ammunition. I don't quite know what he meant--but at any rate they +were not eatable when they arrived. Poor fellow!" She sighed +again. "If only I knew what was the matter with him." + +"It can't be much," I reassured her, "or you would have heard +again. And this news will act like a sovereign remedy." + +She patted the back of my hand with her plump palm. "You're always +so sympathetic and comforting." + +"I'm an old soldier, like Leonard," said I, "and never meet +trouble halfway." + +At lunch, the old lady insisted on opening a bottle of champagne, +a Veuve Clicquot which Leonard loved, in honour of the glorious +occasion. We could not drink to the hero's health in any meaner +vintage, although she swore that a teaspoonful meant death to her, +and I protested that a confession of champagne to my medical +adviser meant a dog's rating. We each, conscience-bound, put up +the tips of our fingers to the glasses as soon as Mary had filled +them with froth, and solemnly drank the toast in the eighth of an +inch residuum. But by some freakish chance or the other, there was +nothing left in that quart bottle by the time Mary cleared the +table for dessert. And to tell the honest truth, I don't think the +health of either my hostess or myself was a penny the worse. Let +no man despise generous wine. Treated with due reverence it is a +great loosener of human sympathy. + +Generous ale similarly treated produces the same effect. Marigold, +driving me home, cocked a luminous eye on me and said: + +"Begging your pardon, sir, would you mind very much if I broke the +neck of that there Gedge?" + +"You would be aiding the good cause," said I, "but I should +deplore the hanging of an old friend. What has Gedge been doing?" + +Marigold sounded his horn and slowed down round a bend, and, as +soon as he got into a straight road, he replied. + +"I m not going to say, sir, if I may take the liberty, that I was +ever sweet on Colonel Boyce. People affect you in different ways. +You either like 'em or you don't like 'em. You can't tell why. And +a Sergeant, being, as you may say, a human being, has as much +right to his private feelings regarding a Colonel as any officer." + +"Undoubtedly," said I. + +"Well, sir, I never thought Colonel Boyce was true metal. But I +take it all back--every bit of it." + +"For God's sake," I cried, stretching out a foolish but +instinctive hand to the wheel, "for God's sake, control your +emotions, or you'll be landing us in the ditch." + +"That's all right, sir," he replied, steering a straight course. +"She's a bit skittish at times. I was saying as how I did the +Colonel an injustice. I'm very sorry. No man who wasn't steel all +through ever got the V.C. They don't chuck it around on +blighters." + +"That's all very interesting and commendable," said I, "but what +has it to do with Gedge?" + +"He has been slandering the Colonel something dreadful the last +few months, sneering at him, saying nothing definite, but +insinuatingly taking away his character." + +"In what way?" I asked. + +"Well, he tells one man that the Colonel's a drunkard, another +that it's women, another that he gambles and doesn't pay, another +that he pays the newspapers to put in all these things about him, +while all the time in France he's in a blue funk hiding in his +dugout." + +"That's moonshine," said I. And as regards the drinking, drabbing, +and gaming of course it was. But the suggestion of cowardice gave +me a sharp stab of surprise and dismay. + +"I know it is," said Marigold. "But the people hereabouts are so +ignorant, you can make them believe anything." Marigold was a man +of Kent and had a poor opinion of those born and bred in other +counties. "I met Gedge this morning," he continued, and thereupon +gave me the substance of the conversation. I hardly think the +adjectives of the report were those that were really used. + +"So your precious Colonel has got the V.C.," sneered Gedge. + +"He has," said Marigold. "And it's too great an honour for your +inconsiderable town." + +"If this inconsiderable town knew as much about him as I do, it +would give him the order of the precious boot." + +"And what do you know?" asked Marigold. + +"That's what all you downtrodden slaves of militarism would like +to find out," replied Gedge. "The time will come when I, and such +as I, will tear the veils away and expose them, and say 'These be +thy gods, O Israel.'" + +"The time will come," retorted Marigold, "when if you don't hold +your precious jaw, I and such as I will smash it into a thousand +pieces. For twopence I'd knock your ugly head off this present +minute." + +Whereupon Gedge apparently wilted before the indignant eye of +Sergeant Marigold and faded away down the High Street. + +All this in itself seemed very trivial, but for the past year the +attitude of Gedge had been mysterious. Could it be possible that +Gedge thought himself the sole repository of the secret which +Boyce had so desperately confided to me? But when had the life of +Gedge and the military life of Leonard Boyce crossed? It was +puzzling. + +Well, to tell the truth, I thought no more about the matter. The +glow of Mrs. Boyce's happiness remained with me all the evening. +Rarely had I seen her so animated, so forgetful of her own +ailments. She had taken the rosiest view of Leonard's physical +condition and sunned herself in the honour conferred on him by the +King. I had never spent a pleasanter afternoon at her house. We +had comfortably criticised our neighbours, and, laudatores +temporis acti, had extolled the days of our youth. I went to bed +as well pleased with life as a man can be in this convulsion of +the world. + +The next morning she sent me a letter to read. It was written at +Boyce's dictation. It ran: + +"Dear Mother: + +"I'm sorry to say I am knocked out pro tem. I was fooling about +where a C.O. didn't ought to, and a Bosch bullet got me so that I +can't write. But don't worry at all about me. I'm too tough for +anything the Bosches can do. To show how little serious it is, +they tell me that I'll be conveyed to England in a day or two. So +get hot-water bottles and bath salts ready. + +"Your ever loving Leonard." + +This was good news. Over the telephone wire we agreed that the +letter was a justification of our yesterday's little merrymaking. +Obviously, I told her, he would live to fight another day. She was +of opinion that he had done enough fighting already. If he went on +much longer, the poor boy would get quite tired out, to say +nothing of the danger of being wounded again. The King ought to +let him rest on his laurels and make others who hadn't worked a +quarter as hard do the remainder of the war. + +"Perhaps," I said light-heartedly, "Leonard will drop the hint +when he writes to thank the King for the nice cross." + +She said that I was laughing at her, and rang off in the best of +spirits. + +In the evening came Betty, inviting herself to dinner. She had +been on night duty at the hospital, and I had not seen her for +some days. The sight of her, bright-eyed and brave, fresh and +young, always filled me with happiness. I felt her presence like +wine and the sea wind and the sunshine. So greatly did her +vitality enrich me, that sometimes I called myself a horrid old +vampire. + +As soon as she had greeted me, she said in her downright way: + +"So Leonard Boyce has got his V.C." + +"Yes," said I. "What do you think of it?" + +A spot of colour rose to her cheek. "I'm very glad. It's no use, +Majy, pretending that I ignore his existence. I don't and I can't. +Because I loved and married someone else doesn't alter the fact +that I once cared for him, does it?" + +"Many people," said I, judicially, "find out that they have been +mistaken as to the extent and nature of their own sentiments." + +"I wasn't mistaken," she replied, sitting down on the piano stool, +her hands on the leathern seat, her neatly shod feet stretched out +in front of her, just as she had sat on her wedding eve talking +nonsense to Willie Connor. "I wasn't mistaken. I was never +addicted to silly school-girl fancies. I know my own mind. I cared +a lot for Leonard Boyce." + +"Eh bien?" said I. + +"Well, don't you see what I'm driving at?" + +"I don't a bit." + +She sighed. "Oh, dear! How dull some people are! Don't you see +that, when an affair like that is over, a woman likes to get some +evidence of the man's fine qualities, in order to justify her for +having once cared for him?" + +"Quite so. Yet--" I felt argumentative. The breach, as you know, +between Betty and Boyce was wrapped in exasperating obscurity. +"Yet, on the other hand," said I, "she might welcome evidence of +his worthlessness, so as to justify her for having thrown him +over." + +"If a woman isn't a dam-fool already," said Betty, "and I don't +think I'm one, she doesn't like to feel that she ever made a dam- +fool of herself. She is proud of her instincts and her judgments +and the sensitive, emotional intelligence that is hers. When all +these seem to have gone wrong, it's pleasing to realise that +originally they went right. It soothes one's self-respect, one's +pride. I know now that all these blind perceptions in me went +straight to certain magnificent essentials--those that make the +great, strong, fearless fighting man. That's attractive to a +woman, you know. At any rate, to an independent barbarian like +myself--" + +"My dear Betty," I interrupted with a laugh. "You a barbarian? You +whom I regard as the last word, the last charming and delightful +word, in modern womanhood?" + +"Of course I'm the child of my century," she cried, flushing. "I +want votes, freedom, opportunity for expansion, power--everything +that can develop Betty Connor into a human product worthy of the +God who made her. But how she could fulfil herself without the +collaboration of a man, has baffled her ever since she was a girl +of sixteen, when she began to awake to the modern movement. On one +side I saw women perfectly happy in the mere savage state of +wifehood and motherhood, and not caring a hang for anything else, +and on the other side women who threw babies back into limbo and +preached of nothing but intellectual and political and economic +independence. Oh, I worried terribly about it, Majy, when I was a +girl. Each side seemed to have such a lot to say for itself. Then +it dawned upon me that the only way out of the dilemma was to +combine both ideals--that of the savage woman in skins and the +lady professor in spectacles. That is what, allowing for the +difference of sex, a man does. Why shouldn't a woman? The woman, +of course, has to droop a bit more to the savage, because she has +to produce the babies and suckle them, and so forth, and a man +hasn't. That was my philosophy of life when I entered the world as +a young woman. Love came into it, of course. It was a +sanctification of the savagery. I've gone on like this," she +laughed, "because I don't want you to protest in your dear old- +fashioned way against my calling myself an independent barbarian. +I am, and I glory in it. That's why, as I was saying, I'm deeply +glad that Leonard Boyce has made good. His honour means a good +deal to me--to my self-esteem. I hope," she added, rising and +coming to me with a caressing touch. "I hope you've got the hang +of the thing now." + +Within myself I sincerely hoped I had. If her sentiments were just +as she analysed them, all was well. If, on the other hand, the +little demon of love for Boyce still lurked in her heart, in spite +of the marriage and widowhood, there might be trouble ahead. I +remembered how once she had called him a devil. I remembered, too, +uncomfortably, the scrap of conversation I had overheard between +Boyce and herself in the hall. She had lashed him with her scorn, +and he had taken his whipping without much show of fight. Still, a +woman's love, especially that of a lady barbarian, was a curiously +complex affair, and had been known to impel her to trample on a +man one minute and the next to fall at his feet. Now the worm she +had trampled on had turned; stood erect as a properly +authenticated hero. I felt dubious as to the ensuing situation. + +"I wrote to old Mrs. Boyce," she added after a while. "I thought +it only decent. I wrote yesterday, but only posted the letter to- +day, so as to be sure I wasn't acting on impulse." + +The latter part of the remark was by way of apology. The breach of +the engagement had occasioned a cessation of social relations +between Betty and Mrs. Boyce. Betty's aunts had ceased calling on +Mrs. Boyce and Mrs. Boyce had ceased calling on Betty's aunts. +Whenever the estranged parties met, which now and then was +inevitable in a little town, they bowed with distant politeness, +but exchanged no words. Everything was conducted with complete +propriety. The old lady, knowing how beloved an intimate of mine +was Betty, alluded but once to the broken engagement. That was +when Betty got married. + +"It has been a great unhappiness to me, Major," she said. "In +spite of her daring ways, which an old woman like myself can't +quite understand, I was very fond of her. She was just the girl +for Leonard. They made such a handsome couple. I have never known +why it was broken off. Leonard won't tell me. It's out of the +question that it could be his fault, and I can't believe it is all +Betty Fairfax's. She's a girl of too much character to be a mere +jilt." + +I remember that I couldn't help smiling at the application of the +old-fashioned word to my Betty. + +"You may be quite certain she isn't that," said I. + +"Then what was the reason? Do you know?" + +I didn't. I was as mystified as herself. I told her so. I didn't +mention that a few days before she had implied that Leonard was a +devil and she wished that he was dead, thereby proving to me, who +knew Betty's uprightness, that Boyce and Boyce only was to blame +in the matter. It would have been a breach of confidence, and it +would not have made my old friend any the happier. It would have +fired her with flaming indignation against Betty. + +"Young people," said I, "must arrange their own lives." And we +left it at that. Now and then, afterwards, she enquired politely +after Betty's health, and when Willie Connor was killed, she spoke +to me very feelingly and begged me to convey to Betty the +expression of her deep sympathy. In the unhappy circumstances, she +explained, she was naturally precluded from writing. + +So Betty's letter was the first direct communication that had +passed between them for nearly two years. That is why to my +meddlesome-minded self it appeared to have some significance. + +"You did, did you?" said I. Then I looked at her quickly, with an +idea in my head. "What did Mrs. Boyce say in reply?" + +"She has had no time to answer. Didn't I tell you I only posted +the letter to-day?" + +"Then you've heard nothing more about Leonard Boyce except that he +has got the V.C.?" + +"No. What more is there to hear?" + +Even Bettys are sly folk. It behooved me to counter with equal +slyness. I wondered whether she had known all along of Boyce's +mishap, or had been informed of it by his mother. Knowledge might +explain her unwonted outburst. I looked at her fixedly. + +"What's the matter?" she asked, bending slightly down to me. + +"You haven't heard that he is wounded?" + +She straightened herself. "No. When?" + +"Five days ago." + +"Why didn't you tell me?" + +"I haven't seen you." + +"I mean--this evening." + +I reached for her hand. "Will you forgive me, my dear Betty, for +remarking that for the last twenty minutes you have done all the +talking?" + +"Is he badly hurt?" + +She ignored my playful rejoinder. I noted the fact. Usually she +was quick to play Beatrice to my Benedick. Had I caught her off +her guard? + +I told her all that I knew. She seated herself again on the piano- +stool. + +"I hope Mrs. Boyce did not think me unfeeling for not referring to +it," she said calmly. "You will explain, won't you?" + +Marigold entered, announcing dinner. We went into the dining-room. +All through the meal Bella, my parlour-maid, flitted about with +dishes and plates, and Marigold, when he was not solemnly pouring +claret, stood grim behind my chair, roasting, as usual, his +posterior before a blazing fire, with soldierly devotion to duty. +Conversation fell a little flat. The arrival of the evening +newspapers, half an hour belated, created a diversion. The war is +sometimes subversive of nice table decorum. I read out the cream +of the news. Discussion thereon lasted us until coffee and +cigarettes were brought in and the servants left us to ourselves. + +One of the curious little phenomena of human intercourse is the +fact that now and again the outer personality of one with whom you +are daily familiar suddenly strikes you afresh, thus printing, as +it were, a new portrait on your mind. At varying intervals I had +received such portrait impressions of Betty, and I had stored them +in my memory. Another I received at this moment, and it is among +the most delectable. She was sitting with both elbows on the +table, her palms clasped and her cheek resting on the back of the +left hand. Her face was turned towards me. She wore a low-cut +black chiffon evening dress--the thing had mere straps over the +shoulders--an all but discarded vanity of pre-war days. I had +never before noticed what beautiful arms she had. Perhaps in her +girlhood, when I had often seen her in such exiguous finery, they +had not been so shapely. I have told you already of the softening +touch of her womanhood. An exquisite curve from arm to neck faded +into the shadow of her hair. She had a single string of pearls +round her neck. The fatigue of last week's night duty had cast an +added spirituality over her frank, sensitive face. + +We had not spoken for a while. She smiled at me. + +"What are you thinking of?" + +"I wasn't thinking at all," said I. "I was only gratefully +admiring you." + +"Why gratefully?" + +"Oughtn't one to be grateful to God for the beautiful things He +gives us?" + +She flushed and averted her eyes. "You are very good to me, Majy." + +"What made you attire yourself in all this splendour?" I asked, +laughing. The wise man does not carry sentiment too far. He keeps +it like a little precious nugget of pure gold; the less wise beats +it out into a flabby film. + +"I don't know," she said, shifting her position and casting a +critical glance at her bodice. "All kinds of funny little feminine +vanities. Perhaps I wanted to see whether I hadn't gone off. +Perhaps I wanted to try to feel good-looking even if I wasn't. +Perhaps I thought my dear old Majy was sick to death of the +hospital uniform perfumed with disinfectant. Perhaps it was just a +catlike longing for comfort. Anyhow, I'm glad you like me." + +"My dear Betty," said I, "I adore you." + +"And I you," she laughed. "So there's a pair of us." + +She lit a cigarette and sipped her coffee. Then, breaking a short +silence: + +"I hope you quite understand, dear, what I said about Leonard +Boyce. I shouldn't like to leave you with the smallest little bit +of a wrong impression." + +"What wrong impression could I possibly have?" I asked +disingenuously. + +"You might think that I was still in love with him." + +"That would be absurd," said I. + +"Utterly absurd. I should feel it to be almost an insult if you +thought anything of the kind. Long before my marriage things that +had happened had killed all such feelings outright." She paused +for a few seconds and her brow darkened, just as it had done when +she had spoken of him in the days immediately preceding her +marriage with Willie Connor. Presently it cleared. "The whole +beginning and end of my present feelings," she continued, "is that +I'm glad the man I once cared for has won such high distinction, +and I'm sorry that such a brave soldier should be wounded." + +I could do nothing else than assure her of my perfect +understanding. I upbraided myself as a monster of indelicacy for +my touch of doubt before dinner; also for a devilish and malicious +suspicion that flitted through my brain while she was cataloguing +her possible reasons for putting on the old evening dress. The +thought of Betty's beautiful arm and the man's bull-neck was a +shivering offence. I craved purification. + +"If you've finished your coffee," I said, "let us go into the +drawing-room and have some music." + +She rose with the impulsiveness of a child told that it can be +excused, and responded startlingly to my thought. + +"I think we need it," she said. + +In the drawing-room I swung my chair so that I could watch her +hands on the keys. She was a good musician and had the well-taught +executant's certainty and grace of movement. It may be the fancy +of an outer Philistine, but I love to forget the existence of the +instrument and to feel the music coming from the human finger- +tips. She found a volume of Chopin's Nocturnes on the rest. In +fact she had left it there a fortnight before, the last time she +had played for me. I am very fond of Chopin. I am an uneducated +fellow and the lyrical mostly appeals to me both in poetry and in +music. Besides, I have understood him better since I have been a +crock. And I loved Betty's sympathetic interpretation. So I sat +there, listening and watching, and I knew that she was playing for +the ease of both our souls. Once more I thanked God for the great +gift of Betty to my crippled life. Peace gathered round my heart +as Betty played. + +The raucous buzz of the telephone in the corner of the room +knocked the music to shatters. I cried out impatiently. It was the +fault of that giant of ineptitude Marigold and his incompetent +satellites, whose duty it was to keep all upstairs extensions +turned off and receive calls below. Only two months before I had +been the victim of their culpable neglect, when I was forced to +have an altercation with a man at Harrod's Stores, who seemed +pained because I declined to take an interest in some idiotic +remark he was making about fish. + +"I'll strangle Marigold with my own hands," I cried. + +Betty, unmoved by my ferocity, laughed and rose from the piano. + +"Shall I take the call?" + +To Betty I was all urbanity. "If you'll be so kind, dear," said I. + +She crossed the room and stopped the abominable buzzing. + +"Yes. Hold on for a minute. It's the post-office"--she turned to +me--"telephoning a telegram that has just come in. Shall I take it +down for you?" + +More urbanity on my part. She found pencil and paper on an +escritoire near by, and went back to the instrument. For a while +she listened and wrote. At last she said: + +"Are you sure there's no signature?" + +She got the reply, waited until the message had been read over, +and hung up the receiver. When she came round to me--my back had +been half turned to her all the time--I was astonished to see her +looking rather shaken. She handed me the paper without a word. + +The message ran: + +"Thanks yesterday's telegram. Just got home. Queen Victoria +Hospital, Belton Square. Must have talk with you before I +communicate with my mother. Rely absolutely on your discretion. +Come to-morrow. Forgive inconvenience caused, but most urgent." + +"It's from Boyce," I said, looking up at her. + +"Naturally." + +"I suppose he omitted the signature to avoid any possible leakage +through the post-office here." + +She nodded. "What do you think is the matter?" + +"God knows," said I. "Evidently something very serious." + +She went back to the piano seat. "It's odd that I should have +taken down that message," she said, after a while. + +"I'll sack Marigold for putting you in that abominable position," +I exclaimed wrathfully. + +"No, you won't, dear. What does it signify? I'm not a silly child. +I suppose you're going to-morrow?" + +"Of course--for Mrs. Boyce's sake alone I should have no +alternative." + +She turned round and began to take up the thread of the Nocturne +from the point where she had left off; but she only played half a +page and quitted the piano abruptly. + +"The pretty little spell is broken, Majy. No matter how we try to +escape from the war, it is always shrieking in upon us. We're up +against naked facts all the time. If we can't face them we go +under either physically or spiritually. Anyhow--" she smiled with +just a little touch of weariness,--"we may as well face them in +comfort." + +She pushed my chair gently nearer to the fire and sat down by my +side. And there we remained in intimate silence until Marigold +announced the arrival of her car. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +I shrink morbidly from visiting strange houses. I shrink from the +unknown discomforts and trivial humiliations they may hold for me. +I hate, for instance, not to know what kind of a chair may be +provided for me to sit on. I hate to be carried up many stairs +even by my steel-crane of a Marigold. Just try doing without your +legs for a couple of days, and you will see what I mean. Of course +I despise myself for such nervous apprehensions, and do not allow +them to influence my actions--just as one, under heavy fire, does +not satisfy one's simple yearning to run away. I would have given +a year's income to be able to refuse Boyce's request with a clear +conscience; but I could not. I shrank all the more because my +visit in the autumn to Reggie Dacre had shaken me more than I +cared to confess. It had been the only occasion for years when I +had entered a London building other than my club. To the club, +where I was as much at home as in my own house, all those in town +with whom I now and then had to transact business were good enough +to come. This penetration of strange hospitals was an agitating +adventure. Apart, however, from the mere physical nervousness +against which, as I say, I fought, there was another element in my +feelings with regard to Boyce's summons. If I talk about the Iron +Hand of Fate you may think I am using a cliche of melodrama. +Perhaps I am. But it expresses what I mean. Something unregenerate +in me, some lingering atavistic savage instinct towards freedom, +rebelled against this same Iron Hand of Fate that, first clapping +me on the shoulder long ago in Cape Town, was now dragging me, +against my will, into ever thickening entanglement with the dark +and crooked destiny of Leonard Boyce. + +I tell you all this because I don't want to pose as a kind of +apodal angel of mercy. + +I was also deadly anxious as to the nature of the communication +Boyce would make to me, before his mother should be informed of +his arrival in London. In spite of his frank confession, there was +still such a cloud of mystery over the man's soul as to render any +revelation possible. Had his hurt declared itself to be a mortal +one? Had he summoned me to unburden his conscience while yet there +was time? Was it going to be a repetition, with a difference, of +my last interview with Reggie Dacre? I worried myself with +unnecessary conjecture. + +After a miserable drive through February rain and slush, I reached +my destination in Belton Square, a large mansion, presumably +equipped by its owner as a hospital for officers, and given over +to the nation. A telephone message had prepared the authorities +for my arrival. Marigold, preceded by the Sister in charge, +carried me across a tesselated hall and began to ascend the broad +staircase. + +I uttered a little gasp and looked around me, for in a flash I +realised where I was. Twenty years ago I had danced in this house. +I had danced here with my wife before we were married. On the half +landing we had sat out together. It was the town house of the late +Lord Madelow, with whose wife I shared the acquaintance of a +couple of hundred young dancing men inscribed on her party list. +Both were dead long since. To whom the house belonged now I did +not know. But I recognised pictures and statuary and a +conservatory with palms. And the place shimmered with brilliant +ghosts and was haunted by hot perfumes and by the echo of human +voices and by elfin music. And the cripple forgot that he was +being carried up the stairs in the grip of the old soldier. He was +mounting them with heart beating high and the presence of a +beloved hand on his arm. ... You see, it was all so sudden. It +took my breath away and sent my mind whirling back over twenty +years. + +It was like awaking from a dream to find a door flung open in +front of me and to hear the Sister announce my name. I was on the +threshold not of a ward, but of a well-appointed private room +fairly high up and facing the square, for the first thing I saw +was the tops of the leafless trees through the windows. Then I was +conscious of a cheery fire. The last thing I took in was the bed +running at right angles to door and window, and Leonard Boyce +lying in it with bandages about his face. For the dazed second or +two he seemed to be Reggie Dacre over again. But he had thrown +back the bedclothes and his broad chest and great arms were free. +His pleasant voice rang out at once. + +"Hallo! Hallo! You are a good Samaritan. Is that you, Marigold? +There's a comfortable chair by the bedside for Major Meredyth." + +He seemed remarkably strong and hearty; far from any danger of +death. Stubs of cigarettes were lying in an ash-tray on the bed. +In a moment or two they settled me down and left me alone with +him. + +As soon as he heard the click of the door he said: + +"I've done more than I set out to do. You remember our +conversation. I said I should either get the V.C. or never see you +again. I've managed both." + +"What do you mean?" I asked. + +"I shall never see you or anybody else again, or a dog or a cat, +or a tree or a flower." + +Then, for the first time the dreadful truth broke upon me. + +"Good Heavens!" I cried. "Your eyes--?" + +"Done in. Blind. It's a bit ironical, isn't it?" He laughed +bitterly. + +What I said by way of sympathy and consolation is neither here nor +there. I spoke sincerely from my heart, for I felt overwhelmed by +the tragedy of it all. He stretched out his hand and grasped mine. + +"I knew you wouldn't fail me. Your sort never does. You understand +now why I wanted you to come?--To prepare the old mother for the +shock. You've seen for yourself that I'm sound of wind and limb-- +as fit as a fiddle. You can make it quite clear to her that I'm +not going to die yet awhile. And you can let her down easy on the +real matter. Tell her I'm as merry as possible and looking forward +to going about Wellingsford with a dog and string." + +"You're a brave chap, Boyce," I said. + +He laughed again. "You're anticipating. Do you remember what I +said when you asked me what I should do if I won all the pots I +set my heart on and came through alive? I said I should begin to +try to be a brave man. God! It's a tough proposition. But it's +something to live for, anyway." + +I asked him how it happened. + +"I got sick," he replied, "of bearing a charmed life and nothing +happening. The Bosch shell or bullet that could hit me wasn't +made. I could stroll about freely where it was death for anyone +else to show the top of his head. I didn't care. Then suddenly one +day things went wrong. You know what I mean. I nearly let my +regiment down. It was touch and go. And it was touch and go with +my career. I just pulled through, however. I'll tell you all about +it one of these days--if you'll put up with me." + +Again the familiar twitch of the lips which looked ghastly below +the bandaged eyes. "No one ever dreamed of the hell I went +through. Then I found I was losing the nerve I had built up all +these months. I nearly went off my head. At last I thought I would +put an end to it. It was a small attack of ours that had failed. +The men poured back over the parapet into the trench, leaving +heaven knows how many dead and wounded outside. I'm not +superstitious and I don't believe in premonitions and warnings, +and so forth; but in cases of waiting like mine a man suddenly +gets to know that his hour has come. ... I got in six wounded. Two +men were shot while I was carrying them. How I lived God knows. It +was cold hell. My clothes were torn to rags. As I was going for +the seventh, the knob of my life-preserver was shot away and my +wrist nearly broken. I wore it with a strap, you know. The +infernal thing had been a kind of mascot. When I realised it was +gone I just stood still and shivered in a sudden, helpless funk. +The seventh man was crawling up to me. He had a bloody face and +one dragging leg. That's my last picture of God's earth. Before I +could do anything--I must have been standing sideways on--a +bullet got me across the bridge of the nose and night came down +like a black curtain. Then I ran like a hare. Sometimes I tripped +over a man, dead or wounded, and fell on my head. I don't remember +much about this part of it. They told me afterwards. At last I +stumbled on to the parapet and some plucky fellow got me into the +trench. It was the regulation V.C. business," he added, "and so +they gave it to me." + +"Specially," said I. + +"Consolation prize, I suppose, for losing my sight. They had just +time to get me away behind when the Germans counter attacked. If I +hadn't brought the six men in, they wouldn't have had a dog's +chance. I did save their lives. That's something to the credit +side of the infernal balance." + +"There can be no balance now, my dear chap," said I. "God knows +you've paid in full." + +He lifted his hand and dropped it with a despairing gesture. + +"There's only one payment in full. That was denied me. God, or +whoever was responsible, had my eyes knocked out, and made it +impossible for ever. He or somebody must be enjoying the farce." + +"That's all very well," said I. "A man can do no more than his +utmost--as you've done. He must be content to leave the rest in +the hands of the Almighty." + +"The Almighty has got a down on me," he replied. "And I don't +blame Him. Of course, from your point of view, you're right. +You're a normal, honourable soldier and gentleman. Anything you've +got to reproach yourself with is of very little importance. But +I'm an accursed freak. I told you all about it when you held me up +over the South African affair. There were other affairs after +that. Others again in this war. Haven't I just told you I let my +regiment down?" + +"Don't, my dear man, don't!" I cried, in great pain, for it was +horrible to hear a man talk like this. "Can't you see you've wiped +out everything?" + +"There's one thing at any rate I can't ever wipe out," he said in +a low voice. Then he laughed. "I've got to stick it. It may be +amusing to see how it all pans out. I suppose the very last +passion left us is curiosity." + +"There's also the unconquerable soul," said I. + +"You're very comforting," said he. "If I were in your place, I'd +leave a chap like me to the worms." He drew a long breath. "I +suppose I'll pull through all right." + +"Of course you will," said I. + +"I feel tons better, thanks to you, already." + +"That's right," said I. + +He fumbled for the box of cigarettes on the bed. Instinctively I +tried to help him, but I was tied to my fixed chair. It was a +trivial occasion; but I have never been so terrified by the sense +of helplessness. Just think of it. Two men of clear brain and, to +all intents and purposes, of sound bodily health, unable to reach +an object a few feet away. Boyce uttered an impatient exclamation. + +"Get hold of that box for me, like a good chap," he said, his +fingers groping wide of the mark. + +"I can't move," said I. + +"Good Lord! I forgot." + +He began to laugh. I laughed, too. We laughed like fools and the +tears ran down my cheeks. I suppose we were on the verge of +hysterics. + +I pulled myself together and gave him a cigarette from my case. +And then, stretch as I would, I could not reach far enough to +apply the match to the end of the cigarette between his lips. He +was unable to lift his head. I lit another match and, like an +idiot, put it between his fingers. He nearly burned his moustache +and his bandage, and would have burned his fingers had not the +match--a wooden one--providentially gone out. Then I lit a +cigarette myself and handed it to him. + +The incident, as I say, was trivial, but it had deep symbolic +significance. All symbols in their literal objectivity are +trivial. What more trivial than the eating of a bit of bread and +the sipping from a cup of wine? This trumpery business with the +cigarette revolutionised my whole feelings towards Boyce. It +initiated us into a sacred brotherhood. Hitherto, it had been his +nature which had reached out towards me tentacles of despair. My +inner self, as I have tried to show you, had never responded. It +was restrained by all kinds of doubts, suspicions, and repulsions. +Now, suddenly, it broke through all those barriers and rushed +forth to meet him. My death in life against which I had fought, I +hope like a brave man (it takes a bit of fighting) for many years, +would henceforth be his death in life, at whose terrors he too +would have to snap a disdainful finger. I had felt deep pity for +him; but if pity is indeed akin to love, it is a very poor +relation. Now I had cast pity and such like superior sentiment +aside and accepted him as a sworn brother. The sins, whatever they +were, that lay on the man's conscience mattered nothing. He had +paid in splendid penance and in terrible penalty. + +I should have liked to express to him something of this surge of +emotion. But I could find no words. As a race, our emotions are +not facile, and therefore we lack the necessary practice in +expressing them. When they do come, they come all of a heap and +scare us out of our wits and leave us speechless. So the immediate +outcome of all this psychological upheaval was that we went on +smoking and said nothing more about it. As far as I remember we +started talking about the recruiting muddle, as to which our views +most vigorously coincided. + +We parted cheerily. It was only when I got outside the room that +the ghastly irony of the situation again made my heart as lead. We +passed by the conservatory and the statuary and down the great +staircase, but the ghosts had gone. Yet I cast a wistful glance at +the spot--it was just under that Cuyp with the flashing white +horse--where we had sat twenty years ago. But the new tragedy had +rendered the memory less poignant. + +"It's a dreadful thing about the Colonel, sir," said Marigold as +we drove off. + +"More dreadful than anyone can imagine," said I. + +"What he's going to do with himself is what I'm wondering," said +Marigold. + +What indeed? The question went infinitely deeper than the +practical dreams of Marigold's philosophy. My honest fellow saw +but the outside--the full-blooded man of action cabined in his +lifelong darkness. I, to whom chance had revealed more, trembled +at the contemplation of his future. The man, goaded by the Furies, +had rushed into the jaws of death. Those jaws, by some divine +ordinance, had ruthlessly closed against him. The Furies meanwhile +attended him unrelenting. Whither now would they goad him? Into +madness? I doubted it. In spite of his contradictory nature, he +did not seem to be the sort of man who would go mad. He could +exercise over himself too reasoned a control. Yet here were +passions and despairs seething without an outlet. What would be +the end? It is true that he had achieved glory. To the end of his +life, wherever he went, he would command the honour and admiration +of men. Greater achievement is granted to few mortals. In our +little town he would be the Great Hero. But would all that human +sympathy and veneration could contrive keep the Furies at bay and +soothe the tormented spirit? + +I tried to eat a meal at the club, but the food choked me. I got +into the car as soon as possible and reached Wellingsford with +head and heart racked with pain. But before I could go home I had +to execute Boyce's mission. + +If I accomplished it successfully, my heart and not my wearied +mind deserves the credit. At first Mrs. Boyce broke down under the +shock of the news, for all the preparation in the world can do +little to soften a deadly blow; but breed and pride soon asserted +themselves, and she faced things bravely. With charming dignity +she received Marigold's few respectful words of condolence. And +she thanked me for what I had done, beyond my deserts. To show how +brave she was, she insisted on accompanying us downstairs and on +standing in the bleak evening air while Marigold put me in the +car. + +"After all, I have my son alive and in good strong health. I must +realise how merciful God has been to me." She put her hand into +mine. "I shan't see you again till I bring him home with me. I +shall go up to London early to-morrow morning and stay with my old +friend Lady Fanshawe--I think you have met her here--the widow of +the late Admiral Fanshawe. She has a house in Eccleston Street, +which is, I think, in the neighbourhood of Belton Square. If I +haven't thanked you enough, dear Major Meredyth, it is that, when +one's heart is full, one can't do everything all at once." + +She waved to me very graciously as the car drove off--a true +"Spartian" mother, dear lady, of our modern England. + +Oh! the humiliation of possessing a frail body and a lot of +disorganized nerves! When I got home Marigold, seeing that I was +overtired, was all for putting me to bed then and there. I spurned +the insulting proposal in language plain enough even to his wooden +understanding. Sometimes his imperturbability exasperated me. I +might just as well try to taunt a poker or sting a fire-shovel +into resentment of personal abuse. + +"I'll see you hanged, drawn, and quartered before I'll go to bed," +I declared. + +"Very good, sir." The gaunt wretch was carrying me. "But I think +you might lie down for half an hour before dinner." + +He deposited me ignominiously on the bed and left the room. In +about ten minutes Dr. Cliffe, my inveterate adversary who has kept +life in me for many a year, came in with his confounded pink +smiling face. + +"What's this I hear? Been overdoing it?" + +"What the deuce are you doing here?" I cried. "Go away. How dare +you come when you're not wanted?" + +He grinned. "I'm wanted right enough, old man. The good Marigold's +never at fault. He rang me up and I slipped round at once." + +"One of these days," said I, "I'll murder that fellow." + +He replied by gagging me with his beastly thermometer. Then he +felt my pulse and listened to my heart and stuck his fingers into +the corners of my eyes, so as to look at the whites; and when he +was quite satisfied with himself--there is only one animal more +self-complacent than your medical man in such circumstances, and +that is a dog who has gorged himself with surreptitious meat--he +ordained that I should forthwith go properly to bed and stay there +and be perfectly quiet until he came again, and in the meanwhile +swallow some filthy medicine which he would send round. + +"One of these days," said he, rebukingly, "instead of murdering +your devoted Sergeant, you'll be murdering yourself, if you go on +such lunatic excursions. Of course I'm shocked at hearing about +Colonel Boyce, and I'm sorry for the poor lady, but why you should +have been made to half kill yourself over the matter is more than +I can understand." + +"I happen," said I, "to be his only intimate friend in the place." + +"You happen," he retorted, "to be a chronic invalid and the most +infernal worry of my life." + +"You're nothing but an overbearing bully," said I. + +He grinned again. That is what I have to put up with. If I curse +Marigold, he takes no notice. If I curse Cliffe, he grins. Yet +what I should do without them, Heaven only knows. + +"God bless 'em both," said I, when my aching body was between the +cool sheets. + +Although it was none of his duties, Marigold brought me in a light +supper, fish and a glass of champagne. Never a parlour-maid would +he allow to approach me when I was unwell. I often wondered what +would happen if I were really ill and required the attendance of a +nurse. I swear no nurse's touch could be so gentle as when he +raised me on the pillows. He bent over the tray on the table by +the bed and began to dissect out the back-bone of the sole. + +"I can do that," said I, fretfully. + +He cocked a solitary reproachful eye on me. I burst out laughing. +He looked so dear and ridiculous with his preposterous curly wig +and his battered face. He went on with his task. + +"I wonder, Marigold," said I, "how you put up with me." + +He did not reply until he had placed the neatly arranged tray +across my body. + +"I've never heard, sir," said he, "as how a man couldn't put up +with his blessings." + +A bit of sole was on my fork and I was about to convey it to my +mouth, but there came a sudden lump in my throat and I put the +fork down. + +"But what about the curses?" + +A horrible contortion of the face and a guttural rumble indicated +amusement on the part of Marigold. I stared, very serious, having +been profoundly touched. + +"What are you laughing at?" I asked. + +The idiot's merriment increased in vehemence. He said: "You're too +funny, sir," and just bolted, in a manner unbecoming not only to a +sergeant, but even to a butler. + +As I mused on this unprecedented occurrence, I made a discovery,-- +that of Sergeant Marigold's sense of humour. To that sense of +humour my upbraidings, often, I must confess, couched in +picturesque and figurative terms so as not too greatly to hurt his +feelings, had made constant appeal for the past fifteen years. +Hitherto he had hidden all signs of humorous titillation behind +his impassive mask. To-night, a spark of sentiment had been the +match to explode the mine of his mirth. It was a serious position. +Here had I been wasting on him half a lifetime's choicest +objurgations. What was I to do in the future to consolidate my +authority? + +I never enjoyed a fried sole and a glass of champagne more in my +life. + +He came in later to remove the tray, as wooden as ever. + +"Mrs. Connor called a little while ago, sir." + +"Why didn't you ask her to come in to see me?" + +"Doctor's orders, sir." + +After the sole and champagne, I felt much better. I should have +welcomed my dear Betty with delight. That, at any rate, was my +first impulsive thought. + +"Confound the doctor!" I cried. And I was going to confound +Marigold, too, but I caught his steady luminous eye. What was the +use of any anathema when he would only take it away, as a dog does +a bone, and enjoy it in a solitary corner? I recovered myself. + +"Well?" said I, with dignity. "Did Mrs. Connor leave any message?" + +"I was to give you her compliments, sir, and say she was sorry you +were so unwell and she was shocked to hear of Colonel Boyce's sad +affliction." + +This was sheer orderly room. Such an expression as "sad +affliction" never passed Betty's lips. I, however, had nothing to +say. Marigold settled me for the night and left me. + +When I was alone and able to consider the point, I felt a cowardly +gratitude towards the doctor who had put me to bed like a sick man +and forbidden access to my room. I had been spared breaking the +news to Betty. How she received it, I did not know. It had been +impossible to question Marigold. After all, it was a matter of no +essential moment. I consoled myself with the reflection and tried +to go to sleep. But I passed a wretched night, my head whirling +with the day's happenings. + +The morning papers showed me that Boyce, wishing to spare his +mother, had been wise to summon me at once. They all published an +official paragraph describing the act for which he had received +his distinction, and announcing the fact of his blindness. They +also gave a brief and flattering sketch of his career. One paper +devoted to him a short leading article. The illustrated papers +published his photograph. Boyce was on the road to becoming a +popular hero. + +Cliffe kept me in bed all that day, to my great irritation. I had +no converse with the outside world, save vicariously with Betty, +who rang up to enquire after my health. On the following morning, +when I drove abroad with Hosea, I found the whole town ringing +with Boyce. It was a Friday, the day of publication of the local +newspaper. It had run to extravagant bills all over the place: + +"Wellingsford Hero honoured by the King. Tragic End to Glorious +Deeds." + +The word--Marigold's, I suppose--had gone round that I had visited +the hero in London. I was stopped half a dozen times on my way up +the High Street by folks eager for personal details. Outside +Prettilove the hairdresser's I held quite a little reception, and +instead of moving me on for blocking the traffic, as any of his +London colleagues would have done, the local police sergeant sank +his authority and by the side of a butcher's boy formed part of +the assembly. + +When I got to the Market Square, I saw Sir Anthony Fenimore's car +standing outside the Town Hall. The chauffeur stopped me. + +"Sir Anthony was going to call on you, sir, as soon as he had +finished his business inside." + +"I'll wait for him," said I. It was one of the few mild days of a +wretched month and I enjoyed the air. Springfield, the house +agent, passed and engaged me in conversation on the absorbing +topic, and then the manager of the gasworks joined us. Everyone +listened so reverently to my utterances that I began to feel as if +I had won the Victoria Cross myself. + +Presently Sir Anthony bustled out of the Town Hall, pink, brisk, +full of business. At the august appearance of the Mayor my less +civically distinguished friends departed. His eyes brightened as +they fell on me and he shook hands vigorously. + +"My dear Duncan, I was just on my way to you. Only heard this +morning that you've been seedy. Knocked up, I suppose, by your +journey to town. Just heard of that, too. Must have thought me a +brute not to enquire. But Edith and I didn't know. I was away all +yesterday. These infernal tribunals. With the example of men like +Leonard Boyce before their eyes, it makes one sick to look at +able-bodied young Englishmen trying to wriggle out of their duty +to the country. Well, dear old chap, how are you?" + +I assured him that I had recovered from Cliffe and was in my usual +state of health. He rubbed his hands. + +"That's good. Now give me all the news. What is Boyce's condition? +When will he be able to be moved? When do you think he'll come +back to Wellingsford?" + +At this series of questions I pricked a curious ear. + +"Am I speaking to the man or the Mayor?" + +"The Mayor," said he. "I wish to goodness I could get you inside, +so that you and I and Winterbotham could talk things over." + +Winterbotham was the Town Clerk. Sir Anthony cast an instinctive +glance at his chauffeur, a little withered elderly man. I laughed +and made a sign of dissent. When you have to be carried about, you +shy at the prospect of little withered, elderly men as carriers. +Besides-- + +"Unless it would lower Winterbotham's dignity or give him a cold +in the head," said I, "why shouldn't he come out here?" + +Sir Anthony crossed the pavement briskly, gave a message to the +doorkeeper of the Town Hall, and returned to Hosea and myself. + +"It's a dreadful thing. Dreadful. I never realised till yesterday, +when I read his record, what a distinguished soldier he was. A +modern Bayard. For the last year or so he seemed to put my back +up. Behaved in rather a curious way, never came near the house +where once he was always welcome, and when I asked him to dinner +he turned me down flat. But that's all over. Sometimes one has +these pettifogging personal vanities. The best thing is to be +heartily ashamed of 'em like an honest man, and throw 'em out in +the dung-heap where they belong. That's what I told Edith last +night, and she agreed with me. Don't you?" + +I smiled. Here was another typical English gentleman ridding his +conscience of an injustice done to Leonard Boyce. + +"Of course I do," said I. "Boyce is a queer fellow. A man with his +exceptional qualities has to be judged in an exceptional way." + +"And then," said Sir Anthony, "it's that poor dear old lady that +I've been thinking of. Edith went to see her yesterday afternoon, +but found she had gone up to London. In her frail health it's +enough to kill her." + +"It won't," said I. "A woman doesn't give birth to a lion without +having something of the lion in her nature." + +"I've never thought of that," said Sir Anthony. + +"Haven't you?" + +His face turned grave and he looked far away over the red-brick +post-office on the opposite side of the square. Then he sighed, +looked at me with a smile, and nodded. + +"You're right, Duncan." + +"I know I am," said I. "I broke the news to Mrs. Boyce. That's why +he asked me to go up and see him." + +Winterbotham appeared--a tall, cadaverous man in a fur coat and a +soft felt hat. He shook hands with me in a melancholy way. In a +humbler walk of life, I am sure he would have been an undertaker. + +"Now," said Sir Anthony, "tell us all about your interview with +Boyce." + +"Before I commit myself," said I, "with the Civic Authorities, +will you kindly inform me what this conference coram publico is +all about?" + +"Why, my dear chap, haven't I told you?" cried Sir Anthony. "We're +going to give Colonel Boyce a Civic Reception." + + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +Thenceforward nothing was talked of but the home-coming of Colonel +Boyce. He touched the public imagination. All kinds of stories, +some apocryphal, some having a basis of truth, some authentic, +went the round of the little place. It simmered with martial +fervour. Elderly laggards enrolled themselves in the Volunteer +Training Corps. Young married men who had not attested under the +Derby Scheme rushed out to enlist. The Tribunal languished in +idleness for lack of claimants for exemption. Exempted men, with +the enthusiastic backing of employers, lost the sense of their +indispensability and joined the colours. An energetic lady who had +met the Serbian Minister in London conceived the happy idea of +organising a Serbian Flag Day in Wellingsford, and reaped a +prodigious harvest. We were all tremendously patriotic, living +under Boyce's reflected glory. + +At first I had deprecated the proposal, fearing lest Boyce might +not find it acceptable. The reputation he had sought at the +cannon's mouth was a bubble of a different kind from that which +the good townsfolk were eager to celebrate. Vanity had no part in +it. For what the outer world thought of his exploits he did not +care a penny. He was past caring. His soul alone, for its own sore +needs, had driven him to the search. Before his own soul and not +before his fellow countrymen, had he craved to parade as a +recipient of the Victoria Cross. His own soul, as I knew, not +being satisfied, he would shrink from obtaining popular applause +under false pretences. No unhappy man ever took sterner measure of +himself. Of all this no one but myself had the faintest idea. In +explaining my opinion I had to leave out all essentials. I could +only hint that a sensitive man like Colonel Boyce might be averse +from exhibiting in public his physical disabilities; that he had +always shown himself a modest soldier with a dislike of self- +advertisement; that he would prefer to seek immediate refuge in +the quietude of his home. But they would not listen to me. Colonel +Boyce, they said, would be too patriotic to refuse the town's +recognition. It was part of the game which he, as a brave soldier, +no matter how modest, could not fail to play. He would recognise +that such public honourings of valour had widespread effect among +the population. In face of such arguments I had to withdraw my +opposition; otherwise it might have appeared that I was actuated +by petty personal motives. God knows I only desired to save Boyce +from undergoing a difficult ordeal. For the same reasons I could +not refuse to serve on the Reception Committee which was +immediately formed under the chairmanship of the Mayor. + +Preliminaries having been discussed, the Mayor and the Town Clerk +waited on Boyce in Belton Square, and returned with the triumphant +tidings that they had succeeded in their mission. + +"I can't make out what you were running your head against, +Duncan," said Sir Anthony. "Of course, as you say, he's a modest +chap and dislikes publicity. So do we all. But I quickly talked +him out of that objection. I talked him out of all sorts of +objections before he could raise them. At last what do you think +he said?" + +"I should have told you to go to blazes and not worry me." + +"He didn't. He said--now I like the chap for it, it was so simple +and honest--he said: 'If I were alone in the world I wouldn't have +it, for I don't like it. But I'll accept on one condition. My poor +old mother has had rather a thin time and she's going to have a +thinner. She never gets a look in. Make it as far as possible her +show, and I'll do what you like.' What do you think of that?" + +"I think it's very characteristic," said I. + +And it was. In my mental survey of the situation from Boyce's +point of view I had not taken into account the best and finest in +the man. His reason rang true against my exceptional knowledge of +him. I had worked myself into so sympathetic a comprehension that +I KNEW he would be facing something unknown and terrible in the +proposed ceremony; I KNEW that for his own sake he would have +unequivocably declined. But, ad najorem matris gloriam, he +assented. + +The main question, at any rate, was settled. The hero would accept +the honour. It was for the Committee to make the necessary +arrangements. We corresponded far and wide in order to obtain +municipal precedents. We had interviews with the military and +railway authorities. We were in constant communication with the +local Volunteer Training Corps; with the Godbury Volunteers and +the Godbury School O.T.C., who both desired to take a part in the +great event. In compliance with the conditions imposed, we gave as +much publicity as we could to Mrs. Boyce. Lieutenant Colonel +Boyce, V.C., and Mrs. Boyce were officially associated in the +programme of the reception. How to disentangle them afterwards, +when the presentation of the address, engrossed on velluni and +enclosed in a casket, should be made to the Colonel, was the +subject of heated and confused discussion. Then the feminine +elements in town and county desired to rally to the side of Mrs. +Boyce. The Red Cross and Volunteer Aid Detachment Nurses claimed +representation. So did the munitions workers of Godbury. The +Countess of Laleham, the wife of the Lord Lieutenant of the +County, a most imposing and masterful woman, signified (in genteel +though incisive language) her intention to take a leading part in +the proceedings and to bring along her husband, apparently as an +unofficial ornament. This, of course, upset our plans, which had +all to be reconsidered from the beginning. + +"Who is giving the reception?" cried Lady Fenimore, who could +stand upon her dignity as well as anybody. "The County or +Wellingsford? I presume it's Wellingsford, and, so long as I am +Mayoress, that dreadful Laleham woman will have to take a back +seat." + +So, you see, we had our hands full. + +All this time I found Betty curiously elusive. Now and then I met +her for a few fugitive moments at the hospital. Twice she ran in +for dinner, in uniform, desperately busy, arriving on the stroke +of the dinner hour and rushing away five minutes after her coffee +and cigarette, alleging as excuse the epidemic of influenza, +consequent on the vile weather, which had woefully reduced the +hospital staff. She seemed to be feverish and ill at ease, and +tried to cover the symptoms by a reversion to her old offhand +manner. As I was so seldom alone with her I could find scant +opportunity for intimate conversation. I thought that she might +have regretted the frank exposition of her feelings regarding +Leonard Boyce. But she showed no sign of it. She spoke in the most +detached way of his blindness and the coming ceremony. Never once, +even on the first occasion when I met her--in the hospital +corridor--after my return from London, did her attitude vary from +that of any kind-hearted Englishwoman who deplores the mutilation +of a gallant social acquaintance. Sometimes I wanted to shake her, +though I could scarcely tell why. I certainly would not have had +her weep on my shoulder over Boyce's misfortune; nor would I have +cared for her to exhibit a vindictive callousness. She behaved +with perfect propriety. Perhaps that is what disturbed me. I was +not accustomed to associate perfect propriety with my dear Betty. + +The days went on. The reception arrangements were perfected. We +only waited for the date of Boyce's arrival to be fixed. That +depended on the date of the particular Investiture by the King +which Boyce's convalescence should allow him to attend. At last +the date was fixed. + +A few days before the Investiture I went to London and called at +Lady Fanshawe's in Eccleston Street, whither he had been removed +after leaving the hospital. I was received in the dining-room on +the ground floor by Boyce and his mother. He wore black glasses to +hide terrible disfigurement--he lifted them to show me. One eye +had been extracted. The other was seared and sightless. He greeted +me as heartily as ever, made little jests over his infirmity, +treating it lightly for his mother's sake. She, on her side, +deemed it her duty to exhibit equal cheerfulness. She boasted of +his progress in self-reliance and in the accomplishment of various +little blind man's tricks. At her bidding he lit a cigarette for +my benefit, by means of a patent fuse. He said, when he had +succeeded: + +"Better than the last time you saw me, eh, Meredyth?" + +"What was that?" asked Mrs. Boyce. + +"He nearly burned his fingers," said I, shortly. I had no desire +to relate the incident. + +We talked of the coming ceremony and I gave them the details of +the programme. Boyce had been right in accepting on the score of +his mother. Only once had she been the central figure in any +public ceremony--on her wedding day, in the years long ago. Here +was a new kind of wedding day in her old age. The prospect filled +her with a tremulous joy which was to both of them a compensation. +She bubbled over with pride and excitement at her inclusion in the +homage that was to be paid to the valour of her only son. + +"After all," she said, "I did bring him into the world. So I can +claim some credit. I only hope I shan't cry and make a fool of +myself. They won't expect me to keep on bowing, will they? I once +saw Queen Victoria driving through the streets, and I thought how +dreadfully her poor old neck must have ached." + +On the latter point I reassured her. On the drive from the station +Boyce would take the salute of the troops on the line of route. If +she smiled charmingly on them, their hearts would be satisfied, +and if she just nodded at them occasionally in a motherly sort of +way, they would be enchanted. She informed me that she was having +a new dress made for the occasion. She had also bought a new hat, +which I must see. A servant was summoned and dispatched for it. +She tried it on girlishly before the mirror over the mantelpiece, +and received my compliments. + +"Tell me what it looks like," said Boyce. + +You might as well ask a savage in Central Africa to describe the +interior of a submarine as the ordinary man to describe a woman's +hat. My artless endeavours caused considerable merriment. To hear +Boyce's gay laughter one would have thought he had never a care in +the world ... + +When I took my leave, Mrs. Boyce accompanied Marigold and myself +to the front door. + +"Did you ever hear of anything so dreadful?" she whispered, and I +saw her lips quivering and the tears rolling down her cheeks. "If +he weren't so brave and wonderful, I should break my heart." + +"What do you suppose you are yourself, my dear old friend," said I +over Marigold's shoulder. + +I went away greatly comforted. Both of them were as brave as could +be. For the first time I took a more cheerful view of Boyce's +future. + +On the evening before the Reception Betty was shown into the +library. It was late, getting on towards my bedtime, and I was +nodding in front of the fire. + +"I'm just in and out, Majy dear," she said. "I had to come. I +didn't want to give you too many shocks." At my expression of +alarm, she laughed. "I've only run in to tell you that I've made +up my mind to come to the Town Hall tomorrow." + +I looked at her, and I suppose my hands moved in a slight gesture. + +"By that," she said, "I suppose you mean you can never tell what +I'm going to do next." + +"You've guessed it, my dear," said I. + +"Do you disapprove?" + +"I couldn't be so presumptuous." + +She bent over me and caught the lapels of my jacket. + +"Oh, don't be so dreadfully dignified. I want you to understand. +Everybody is going to pay honour to-morrow to a man who has given +everything he could to his country. Don't you think it would be +petty of me if I stood out? What have the dead things that have +passed between us to do with my tribute as an Englishwoman?" + +What indeed? I asked her whether she was attending in her private +capacity or as one of the representatives of the V.A.D. nurses. I +learned for the thousandth time that Betty Connor did not deal in +half measures. If she went at all, it was as Betty Connor that she +would go. Her aunts would accompany her. It was part of the +municipal ordering of things that the Town Clerk should have sent +them the special cards of invitation. + +"I think it my duty to go," said Betty. + +"If you think so, my dear," said I, "then it is your duty. So +there's nothing more to be said about it." + +Betty kissed the top of my head and went off. + +We come now to the morning of the great day. Everything had been +finally settled. The Mayor and Aldermen, Lady Fenimore and the +Aldermen's wives, the Lord Lieutenant (in unofficial mufti) and +Lady Laleham (great though officially obscure lady), the General +of the Division quartered in the neighbourhood and officers of his +staff, and a few other magnates to meet the three o'clock train by +which the Boyces were due to arrive. The station hung with flags +and inscriptions. A guard of honour and a band in the station- +yard, with a fleet of motor cars in waiting. Troops lining the +route from station to Town Hall. More troops in the decorated +Market Square, including the Godbury School O.T.C. and the +Wellingsford and Godbury Volunteers. I heard that the latter were +very anxious to fire off a feu de joie, but were restrained owing +to lack of precedent. The local fire-brigade in freshly burnished +helmets were to follow the procession of motor cars, and behind +them motor omnibuses with the nurses. + +Marigold, although his attendance on me precluded him from taking +part in the parade of Volunteers, appeared in full grey uniform +with all his medals and the black patch of ceremony over his +eyeless socket. I must confess to regarding him with some +jealousy. I too should have liked to wear my decorations. If a man +swears to you that he is free from such little vanities, he is +more often than not a mere liar. But a broken-down old soldier, +although still drawing pay from the Government, is not allowed to +wear uniform (which I think is outrageous), and he can't go and +plaster himself with medals when he is wearing on his head a hard +felt hat. My envy of the martial looking Marigold is a proof that +my mind was not busied with sterner preoccupations. I ate my +breakfast with the serene conscience not only of a man who knows +he has done his duty, but of an organiser confident in the success +of his schemes. The abominable weather of snows and tempests from +which we had suffered for weeks had undergone a change. It was a +mild morning brightened by a pale convalescent sort of sun, and +there was just a little hope of spring in the air. I felt content +with everything and everybody. + +About eleven o'clock the buzz of the library telephone disturbed +my comfortable perusal of the newspaper. I wheeled towards the +instrument. Sir Anthony was speaking. + +"Can you come round at once? Very urgent. The car is on its way to +you." + +"What's the matter?" I asked. + +He could not tell me over the wires. I was to take it that my +presence was urgently needed. + +"I'll come along at once," said I. + +Some hitch doubtless had occurred. Perhaps the War Office (whose +ways were ever weird and unaccountable) had forbidden the General +to take part in such a village-pump demonstration. Perhaps Lady +Laleham had insisted on her husband coming down like a uniformed +Lord Lieutenant on the fold. Perhaps the hero himself was laid up +with measles. + +With the lightest heart I drove to Wellings Park. Marigold, +straight as a ramrod, sitting in front by the chauffeur. As soon +as Pardoe, the butler, had brought out my chair and Marigold had +settled me in it, Sir Anthony, very red and flustered, appeared +and, shaking me nervously by the hand, said without preliminary +greeting: + +"Come into the library." + +He, I think, had come from the morning room on the right of the +hall. The library was on the left. He flung open the door. I +steered myself into the room; and there, standing on the white +bearskin hearthrug, his back to the fire, his hands in his +pockets, his six inches of stiff white beard stuck aggressively +outward, I saw Daniel Gedge. + +While I gaped in astonishment, Sir Anthony shut the door behind +him, drew a straight-backed chair from the wall, planted it +roughly some distance away from the fire, and, pointing to it, +bade Gedge sit down. Gedge obeyed. Sir Anthony took the hearthrug +position, his hands behind his back, his legs apart. + +"This man," said he, "has come to me with a ridiculous, beastly +story. At first I was undecided whether I should listen to him or +kick him out. I thought it wiser to listen to him in the presence +of a reputable witness. That's why I've sent for you, Duncan. Now +you just begin all over again, my man," said he, turning to Gedge, +"and remember that anything you say here will be used against you +at your trial." + +Gedge laughed--I must admit, with some justification. + +"You forget, Sir Anthony, I'm not a criminal and you're not a +policeman." + +"I'm the Mayor to this town, sir," cried Sir Anthony. "I'm also a +Justice of the Peace." + +"And I'm a law-abiding citizen," retorted Gedge. + +"You're an infernal socialistic pro-German," exclaimed Sir +Anthony. + +"Prove it. I only ask you to prove it. No matter what my private +opinions may be, you just try to bring me up under the Defence of +the Realm Act, and you'll find you can't touch me." + +I held out a hand. "Forgive me for interrupting," said I, "but +what is all this discussion about?" + +Gedge crossed one leg over the other and drew his beard through +his fingers. Sir Anthony was about to burst into speech, but I +checked him with a gesture and turned to Gedge. + +"It has nothing to do with political opinions," said he. "It has +to do with the death, nearly two years ago, of Miss Althea +Fenimore, Sir Anthony's only daughter." + +Sir Anthony, his face congested, glared at him malevolently. I +started, with a gasp of surprise, and stared at the man who, +caressing his beard, looked from one to the other of us with an +air of satisfaction. + +"Get on," said Sir Anthony. + +"You are going to give a civic reception to-day to Colonel Boyce, +V.C., aren't you?" + +"Yes, I am," snapped Sir Anthony. + +"Do you think you ought to do it when I tell you that Colonel +Boyce, V.C., murdered Miss Althea Fenimore on the night of the +25th June, two years ago?" + +"Yes," said Sir Anthony. "And do you know why? Because I know you +to be a liar and a scoundrel." + +I can never describe the awful horror that numbed me to the heart. +For a few moments my body seemed as lifeless as my legs. The +charge, astounding almost to grotesqueness in the eyes of Sir +Anthony, and rousing him to mere wrath, deprived me of the power +of speech. For I knew, in that dreadful instant, that the man's +words contained some elements of truth. + +All the pieces of the puzzle that had worried me at odd times for +months fitted themselves together in a vivid flash. Boyce and +Althea! I had never dreamed of associating their names. That +association was the key of the puzzle. Out of the darkness +disturbing things shone clear. Boyce's abrupt retirement from +Wellingsford before the war; his cancellation by default of his +engagement; his morbid desire, a year ago, to keep secret his +presence in his own house; Gedge's veiled threat to me in the +street to use a way "that'll knock all you great people of +Wellingsford off your high horses;" his extraordinary interview +with Boyce; his generally expressed hatred of Boyce. Was this too +the secret which he let out in his cups to Randall Holmes and +which drove the young man from his society? And Betty? Boyce was a +devil. She wished he were dead. And her words: "You have behaved +worse to others. I don't wonder at your shrinking from showing +your face here." How much did Betty know? There was the lost week +--in Carlisle?--in poor Althea's life. And then there were Boyce's +half confessions, the glimpses he had afforded me into the +tormented soul. To me he had condemned himself out of his own +mouth. + +I repeat that, sitting there paralysed by the sudden shock of it, +I knew--not that the man was speaking the literal truth--God +forbid!--but that Boyce was, in some degree, responsible for +Althea's death. + + "Calling me names won't alter the facts, Sir Anthony," said +Gedge, with a touch of insolence. "I was there at the time. I saw +it." + +"If that's true," Sir Anthony retorted, "you're an accessory after +the fact, and in greater danger of being hanged than ever." He +turned to me in his abrupt way. "Now that we've heard this +blackguard, shall we hand him over to the police?" + +Being directly addressed, I recovered my nerve. + +"Before doing that," said I, "perhaps it would be best for us to +hear what kind of a story he has to tell us. We should also like +to know his motives in not denouncing the supposed murderer at +once, and in keeping his knowledge hidden all this time." + +"With regard to the last part of your remarks, I dare say you +would," said Gedge. "Only I don't know whether I'll go so far as +to oblige you. Anyhow you may have discovered that I don't +particularly care about your class. I've been preaching against +your idleness and vanity and vices, and the strangling grip you +have on the throats of the people, ever since I was a young man. +If one of your lot chose to do in another of your lot--a common +story of seduction and crime--" + +At this slur in his daughter's honour Sir Anthony broke out +fiercely, and, for a moment, I feared lest he would throw himself +on Gedge and wring his neck. I managed to check his outburst and +bring him to reason. He resumed his attitude on the hearthrug. + +"As I was saying," Gedge continued, rather frightened, "from my +sociological point of view I considered the affair no business of +mine. I speak of it now, because ever since war broke out your +class and the parasitical bourgeoisie have done your best to +reduce me to starvation. I thought it would be pleasant to get a +bit of my own back. Just a little bit," he added, rubbing his +hands. + +"If you think you've done it, you'll find yourself mistaken." + +Gedge shrugged his shoulders and pulled his beard. I hated the +light in his little crafty eyes. I feel sure he had been looking +forward for months to this moment of pure happiness. + +"Having given us an insight into your motives, which seem +consistent with what we know of your character," said I, +judicially, "will you now make your statement of facts?" + +"What's the good of listening further to his lies?" interrupted +Sir Anthony. "I'm a magistrate. I can give the police at once a +warrant for his arrest." + +Again I pacified him. "Let us hear what the man has to say." + +Gedge began. He spoke by the book, like one who repeats a +statement carefully prepared. + +"It was past ten o'clock on the night of the 25th June, 1914. I +had just finished supper when I was rung up by the landlord of The +Three Feathers on the Farfield road--it's the inn about a quarter +of a mile from the lock gates. He said that the District Secretary +of the Red Democratic Federation was staying there--his brother- +in-law, if you want to know--and he hadn't received my report. I +must explain that I am the local secretary, and as there was to be +an important conference of the Federation at Derby the next day, +the District Secretary ought to have been in possession of my +report on local affairs. I had drawn up the report. My daughter +Phyllis had typed it, and she ought to have posted it. On +questioning her, I found she had neglected to do so. I explained +this over the wires and said I would bring the report at once to +The Three Feathers. I only tell you all this, in which you can't +be interested, so that you can't say: 'What were you doing on a +lonely road at that time of night?' My daughter and the landlord +of The Three Feathers can corroborate this part of my story. I set +out on my bicycle. It was bright moonlight. You know that for +about two hundred yards before the lock gate, and for about twenty +after, the towing-path is raised above the level of the main road +which runs parallel with it a few yards away. There are strips of +market garden between. When I got to this open bit I saw two +persons up on the towing-path. One was a girl with a loose kind of +cloak and a hat. The other was a man wearing a soft felt hat and a +light overcoat. The overcoat was open and I saw that he was +wearing it over evening dress. That caught my attention. What was +this swell in evening dress doing there with a girl? I slowed down +and dismounted. They didn't see me. I got into the shadow of a +whitethorn. They turned their faces so that the moon beat full on +them. I saw them as plain as I see you. They were Colonel Boyce, +V.C.,--Major then--and your daughter, Mr. Mayor, Miss Althea +Fenimore." + +He paused as though to point the dramatic effect, and twisted +round, sticking out his horrible beard at Sir Anthony. Sir +Anthony, his hands thrust deep in his trouser-pockets and his +bullet head bent forward, glared at him balefully out of his old +blue eyes. But he said never a word. Gedge continued. + +"They didn't speak very loud, so I could only hear a scrap or two +of their conversation. They seemed to be quarrelling--she wanted +him to do something which he wouldn't do. I heard the words +'marriage' and 'disgrace.' They stood still for a moment. Then +they turned back. I had overtaken them, you know. I remounted my +bicycle and rode to The Three Feathers. I was there about a +quarter of an hour or twenty minutes. Then I rode back for home. +When I came in sight of the lock, there I saw a man standing +alone, sharp in the moonlight. As I came nearer I recognised the +same man, Major Boyce. There were no lights in the lock-keeper's +cottage. He and his wife had gone to bed long before. I was so +interested that I forgot what I was doing and ran into the hedge +so that I nearly came down. There was the noise of the scrape and +drag of the machine which must have sounded very loud in the +stillness. It startled him, for he looked all round, but he didn't +see me, for I was under the hedge. Then suddenly he started +running. He ran as if the devil was after him. I saw him squash +down his Trilby hat so that it was shapeless. Then he disappeared +along the path. I thought this a queer proceeding. Why should he +have taken to his heels? I thought I should like to see him again. +If he kept to the towing-path, his shortest way home, he was bound +to go along the Chestnut Avenue, where, as you know, the road and +the path again come together. On a bicycle it was easy to get +there before him. I sat down on a bench and waited. Presently he +comes, walking fast, his hat still squashed in all over his ears. +I walked my bicycle slap in front of him. + +"'Good-night, Major,' I said. + +"He stared at me as if he didn't know me. Then he seemed to pull +himself together and said: 'Good-night, Gedge. What are you doing +out at this time of night?' + +"'If it comes to that, sir,' said I, 'what are you?' + +"Then he says, very haughty, as if I was the dirt under his feet-- +I suppose, Sir Anthony Fenimore and Major Meredyth, you think that +me and my class are by divine prescription the dirt beneath your +feet, but you're damn well mistaken--then he says: 'What the devil +do you mean?' and catches hold of the front wheel of the bicycle +and swings it and me out of his way so that I had a nasty fall, +with the machine on top of me, and he marches off. I picked myself +up furious with anger. I am an elderly man and not accustomed to +that sort of treatment. I yelled out: 'What have you been doing +with the Squire's daughter on the towing-path?' It pulled him up +short. He made a step or two towards me, and again he asked me +what I meant. And this time I told him. He called me a liar, swore +he had never been on any tow-path or had seen any squire's +daughter, and threatened to murder me. As soon as I could mount my +bicycle I left him and made for home. The next afternoon, if you +remember, the unfortunate young lady's body was found at the +bottom of three fathoms of water by the lock gates." + +He had spoken so clearly, so unfalteringly, that Sir Anthony had +been surprised into listening without interruption. The bull-dog +expression on his face never changed. When Gedge had come to the +end, he said: + +"Will you again tell me your object in coming to me with this +disgusting story?" + +Gedge lifted his bushy eyebrows. "Don't you believe it even now?" + +"Not a word of it," replied Sir Anthony. + +"I ought to remind you of another point." said Gedge. "Was Major +Boyce ever seen in Wellingsford after that night? No. He went off +by the first train the next morning. Went abroad and stayed there +till the outbreak of war." + +"I happen to know he had made arrangements to start for Norway +that morning," said Sir Anthony. "He had called here a day or two +before to say good-bye." + +"Did he write you any letter of condolence?" Gedge asked +sneeringly. + +I saw a sudden spasm pass over Sir Anthony's features. But he said +in the same tone as before: + +"I am not going to answer insolent questions." + +Gedge turned to me with the air of a man giving up argument with a +child. + +"What do you think of it, Major Meredyth?" + +What could I say? I had kept a grim iron face all through the +proceedings. I could only reply: + +"I agree entirely with Sir Anthony." + +Gedge rose and thrust his hand into his jacket pocket. "You +gentlemen are hard to convince. If you want proof positive, just +read that." And he held a letter out to Sir Anthony. + +Sir Anthony glared at him and abruptly plucked the letter out of +his hand; for the fraction of a second he stood irresolute; then +he threw it behind him into the blazing fire. + +"Do you think I'm going to soil my mind with your dirty +forgeries?" + +Gedge laughed. "You think you've queered my pitch, I suppose. You +haven't. I've heaps more incriminating letters. That was only a +sample." + +"Publish one of them at your peril," said I. + +"Pray, Mister Major Meredyth," said he, "what is to prevent me?" + +"Penal servitude for malicious slander." + +"I should win my case." + +"In that event they would get you, on your own showing, for being +an accessory after the fact of murder, and for blackmail." + +"Suppose I risk it?" + +"You won't," said I. + +Sir Anthony turned to the bell-push by the side of the +mantelpiece. + +"What's the good of talking to this double-dyed scoundrel?" He +pointed to the door. "You infamous liar, get out. And if I ever +catch you prowling round this house, I'll set the dogs on you." + +Gedge marched to the door and turned on the threshold and shook +his fist. + +"You'll repent your folly till your dying day!" + +"To Hell with you," cried Sir Anthony. + +The door slammed. We were left alone. An avalanche of silence +overwhelmed us. Heaven knows how long we remained speechless and +motionless--I in my wheel-chair, he standing on the hearthrug +staring awfully in front of him. At last he drew a deep breath and +threw up his arms and flung himself down on a leather-covered +couch, where he sat, elbows on knees and his head in his hands. +After a while he lifted a drawn face. + +"It's true, Duncan," said he, "and you know it." + +"I don't know it," I replied stoutly, "any more than you do." + +He rose in his nervous way and came swiftly to me and clapped both +his hands on my frail shoulders and bent over me--he was a little +man, as I have told you--and put his face so close to mine that I +could feel his breath on my cheek. + +"Upon your soul as a Christian you know that man wasn't lying." + +I looked into his eyes--about six inches from mine. + +"Boyce never murdered Althea," I said. + +"But he is the man--the man I've been looking for." + +I pushed him away with both hands, using all my strength. It was +too horrible. + +"Suppose he is. What then?" + +He fell back a pace or two. "Once I remember saying: 'If ever I +get hold of that man--God help him!'" + +He clenched his fists and started to pace up and down the library, +passing and repassing my chair. At last my nerves could stand it +no longer and I called on him to halt. + +"Gedge's story is curiously incomplete," said I. "We ought to have +crossexamined him more closely. Is it likely that Boyce should +have gone off leaving behind him a witness of his crime whom he +had threatened to murder, and who he must have known would have +given information as soon as the death was discovered? And don't +you think Gedge's reason for holding his tongue very unconvincing? +His fool hatred of our class, instead of keeping him cynically +indifferent, would have made him lodge information at once and +gloat over our discomfiture." + +I could not choose but come to the defence of the unhappy man whom +I had learned to call my friend, although, for all my trying, I +could conjure up no doubt as to his intimate relation with the +tragedy. As Sir Anthony did not speak, I went on. + +"You can't judge a man with Leonard Boyce's record on the EX PARTE +statement of a malevolent beast like Gedge. Look back. If there +had been any affair between Althea and Boyce, the merest foolish +flirtation, even, do you think it would have passed unnoticed? +You, Edith, Betty--I myself--would have cast an uneasy eye. When +we were looking about, some months ago, at the time of your +sister-in-law's visit, for a possible man, the thought of Leonard +Boyce never entered our heads. The only man you could rush at was +young Randall Holmes, and I laughed you out of the idea. Just +throw your mind back, Anthony, and try to recall any suspicious +incident. You can't." + +I paused rhetorically, expecting a reply. None came. He just sat +looking at me in a dead way. I continued my special pleading; and +the more I said, the more was I baffled by his dead stare and the +more unconvincing platitudes did I find myself uttering. Some +people may be able to speak vividly to a deaf and dumb creature. +On this occasion I tried hard to do so, and failed. After a while +my words dribbled out with difficulty and eventually ceased. At +last he spoke, in the dull, toneless way of a dead man--presuming +that the dead could speak: + +"You may talk till you're black in the face, but you know as well +as I do that the man told the truth--or practically the truth. +What he said he saw, he saw. What motives have been at the back of +his miserable mind, I don't know. You say I can't recall +suspicious incidents. I can. I'll tell you one. I came across them +once--about a month before the thing happened--among the +greenhouses. I think we were having one of our tennis parties. I +heard her using angry words, and when I appeared her face was +flushed and there were tears in her eyes. She was taken aback for +a second and then she rushed up to me. 'I think he's perfectly +horrid. He says that Jingo--' pointing to the dog; you remember +Jingo the Sealingham--she was devoted to him--he died last year-- +'He says that Jingo is a mongrel--a throw back.' Boyce said he +was only teasing her and made pretty apologies. I left it at that. +Hit a dog or a horse belonging to Althea, and you hit Althea. That +was her way. The incident went out of my mind till this morning. +Other incidents, too. One thinks pretty quick at times. Again, +this scoundrel hit me on the raw. Boyce never wrote to us. Sent us +through his mother a conventional word of condolence. Edith and I +were hurt. That was one of the things that made me speak so +angrily of him when he wouldn't come and dine with us." + +Once more I pleaded. "Your Sealingham incident doesn't impress me. +Why not take it at its face value? As for the letter of +condolence, that may have twenty explanations." + +He passed his hand over his cropped iron-grey head. "What are you +driving at, Duncan? You know as well as I do--you know more than I +do. I saw it in your face ever since that man opened his mouth." + +"If you're so sure of everything," said I foolishly, relaxing grip +on my self-control, "why did you hound him out of the place for a +liar?" + +He leaped to his feet and spread himself into a fighting attitude, +for all the world like a half-dead bantam cock springing into a +new lease of combative life. + +"Do you think I'd let a dunghill beast like that crow over me? Do +you think I'd let him imagine for a minute that anything he said +could influence me in my public duty? By God, sir, what kind of a +worm do you think I am?" + +His sudden fury disconcerted me. All this time I had been +wondering what kind of catastrophe was going to happen during the +next few hours. I am afraid I haven't made clear to you the +ghastly racket in my brain. There was the town all beflagged, +everyone making holiday, all the pomp and circumstance at our +disposal awaiting the signal to be displayed. There was the blind +conquering hero almost on his way to local apotheosis. And here +were Sir Anthony and I with the revelation of the man Gedge. It +was a fantastic, baffling situation. I had been haunted by the +dread of discussing it. So in reply to his outburst I simply said: + +"What are you going to do?" + +He drew himself up, with his obstinate chin in the air, and looked +at me straight. + +"If God gives me strength, I am going to do what lies before me." + +At this moment Lady Fenimore came in. + +"Mr. Winterbotham would like to speak to you a minute, Anthony. +It's something about the school children." + +"All right, my dear. I'll go to him at once," said Sir Anthony. +"You'll stay and lunch with us, Duncan?" + +I declined on the plea that I should have to nurse myself for a +strenuous day. Sir Anthony might play the Roman father, but it was +beyond my power to play the Roman father's guest. + + + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +How he passed through the ordeal I don't know. If ever a man stood +captain of his soul, it was Anthony Fenimore that day. And his +soul was steel-armoured. Perhaps, if proof had come to him from an +untainted source, it might have modified his attitude. I cannot +tell. Without doubt the knavery of Gedge set aflame his +indignation--or rather the fierce pride of the great old Tory +gentleman. He would have walked through hell-fire sooner than +yielded an inch to Gedge. So much would scornful defiance have +done. But behind all this--and I am as certain of it as I am +certain that one day I shall die--burned even fiercer, steadier, +and clearer the unquenchable fire of patriotic duty. He was +dealing not with a man who had sinned terribly towards him, but +with a man who had offered his life over and over again to his +country, a man who had given to his country the sight of his eyes, +a man on whose breast the King himself had pinned the supreme +badge of honour in his gift. He was dealing, not with a private +individual, but with a national hero. In his small official +capacity as Mayor of Wellingsford, he was but the mouthpiece of a +national sentiment. And more than that. This ceremony was an +appeal to the unimaginative, the sluggish, the faint-hearted. In +its little way--and please remember that all tremendous +enthusiasms are fit by these little fires--it was a proclamation +of the undying glory of England. It was impersonal, it was +national, it was Imperial. In its little way it was of vast, far- +reaching importance. + +I want you to remember these things in order that you should +understand the mental processes, or soul processes, or whatever +you like, of Sir Anthony Fenimore. Picture him. The most unheroic +little man you can imagine. Clean-shaven, bullet-headed, close- +cropped, his face ruddy and wrinkled like a withered apple, his +eyes a misty blue, his big nose marked like a network of veins, +his hands glazed and reddened, like his face, by wind and weather; +standing, even under his mayoral robes, like a jockey. Of course +he had the undefinable air of breeding; no one could have mistaken +his class. But he was an undistinguished, very ordinary looking +little man; and indeed he had done nothing for the past half +century to distinguish himself above his fellows. There are +thousands of his type, masters of English country houses. And of +all the thousands, every one brought up against the stern issues +of life would have acted like Anthony Fenimore. I say "would have +acted," but anyone who has lived in England during the war knows +that they have so acted. These incarnations of the commonplace, +the object of the disdain, before the war, of the self-styled +"intellectuals"--if the war sweeps the insufferable term into +oblivion it will have done some good--these honest unassuming +gentlemen have responded heroically to the great appeal; and when +the intellectuals have thought of their intellects or their skins, +they have thought only of their duty. And it was only the heroical +sense of duty that sustained Sir Anthony Fenimore that day. + +I did not see the reception at the Railway Station or join the +triumphal procession; but went early to the Town Hall and took my +seat on the platform. I glibly say "took my seat." A wheel-chair, +sent there previously, was hoisted, with me inside, on to the +platform by Marigold and a porter. After all these years, I still +hate to be publicly paraded, like a grizzled baby, in Marigold's +arms. For convenience' sake I was posted at the front left-hand +corner. The hall soon filled. The first three rows of seats were +reserved for the recipients of the municipality's special +invitation; the remainder were occupied by the successful +applicants for tickets. From my almost solitary perch I watched +the fluttering and excited crowd. The town band in the organ +gallery at the further end discoursed martial music. From the main +door beneath them ran the central gangway to the platform. I +recognised many friends. In the front row with her two aunts sat +Betty, very demure in her widow's hat relieved by its little white +band of frilly stuff beneath the brim. She looked unusually pale. +I could not help watching her intently and trying to divine how +much she knew of the story of Boyce and Althea. She caught my eye, +nodded, and smiled wanly. + +My situation was uncanny. In this crowded assemblage in front of +me, whispering, talking, laughing beneath the blare of the band, +not one, save Betty, had a suspicion of the tragedy. At times they +seemed to melt into a shadow-mass of dreamland .... Time crawled +on very slowly. Anxious forebodings oppressed me. Had Sir +Anthony's valiancy stood the test? Had he been able to shake hands +with his daughter's betrayer? Had he broken down during the drive +side by side with him, amid the hooraying of the townsfolk? And +Gedge? Had he found some madman's means of proclaiming the scandal +aloud? Every nerve in my body was strained. Marigold, in his +uniform and medals and patch and grey service cap plugged over his +black wig, stood sentry by the side of the platform next my chair. +All of a sudden he pulled out of his side pocket a phial of red +liqueur in a medicine glass. He poured out the dose and handed it +to me. turned on him wrathfully. + +"What the dickens is that?" + +"Dr. Cliffe's orders, sir." + +"When did he order it?" + +"When I told him what you looked like after interviewing Mister +Daniel Gedge. And he said, if you was to look like that again I +was to give you this. So I'm giving it to you, sir." + +There was no arguing with Marigold in front of a thousand people. +I swallowed the stuff quickly. He put the phial and glass back in +his pocket and resumed his wooden sentry attitude by my chair. I +must own to feeling better for the draught. But, thought I, if the +strain of the situation is so great for me, what must it be for +Sir Anthony? + +Presently the muffled sounds of outside cheering penetrated the +hall. The band stopped abruptly, to begin again with "See the +Conquering Hero Comes" when the civic procession appeared through +the great doors. There was little Sir Anthony in his robes, grave +and imposing, and beside him Mrs. Boyce, flushed, bright-eyed, and +tearful. Then came Lady Fenimore with Boyce, black-spectacled, +soldierly, bull-necked, his little bronze cross conspicuous among +the medals on his breast, his elbow gripped by a weatherbeaten +young soldier, one of his captains, as I learned afterwards, home +on leave, who had claimed the privilege of guiding his blind +footsteps. And behind came the Aldermen and the Councillors, and +the General and his staff, and the Lord Lieutenant and Lady +Laleham and the other members of the Reception Committee. The +cheering drowned the strains of the "Conquering Hero." Places were +taken on the platform. To the right of the Mayor sat Boyce, to the +left his mother. On the table in front were set scrolls and +caskets. You see, we had arranged that Mrs. Boyce should have an +address and a casket all to herself. The gallery soon was +picturesquely filled with the nurses, and the fire-brigade, +bright-helmeted, was massed in the doorway. + +God gave the steel-hearted little man strength to go through the +ordeal. He delivered his carefully prepared oration in a voice +that never faltered. The passages referring to Boyce's blindness +he spoke with an accent of amazing sincerity. When he had ended +the responsive audience applauded tumultuously. From my seat by +the edge of the platform I watched Betty. Two red spots burned in +her cheeks. The addresses were read, the caskets presented. Boyce +remained standing, about to respond. He still held the casket in +both hands. His FIDUS ACHATES, guessing his difficulty, sprang up, +took it from him, and laid it on the table. Boyce turned to him +with his charming smile and said: "Thanks, old man." Again the +tumult broke out. Men cheered and women wept and waved wet +handkerchiefs. And he stood smiling at his unseen audience. When +he spoke, his deep, beautifully modulated voice held everyone +under its spell, and he spoke modestly and gaily like a brave +gentleman. I bent forward, as far as I was able, and scanned his +face. Never once, during the whole ceremony, did the tell-tale +twitch appear at the corners of his lips. He stood there the +incarnation of the modern knights sans fear and sans reproach. + +I cannot tell which of the two, he or Sir Anthony, the more moved +my wondering admiration. Each exhibited a glorious defiance. + +You may say that Boyce, receiving in his debonair fashion the +encomiums of the man whom he had wronged, was merely exhibiting +the familiar callousness of the criminal. If you do, I throw up my +brief. I shall have failed utterly to accomplish my object in +writing this book. I want no tears of sensibility shed over Boyce. +I want you to judge him by the evidence that I am trying to put +before you. If you judge him as a criminal, it is my poor +presentation of the evidence that is at fault. I claim for Boyce a +certain splendour of character, for all his grievous sins, a +splendour which no criminal in the world's history has ever +achieved. I beg you therefore to suspend your judgment, until I +have finished, as far as my poor powers allow, my unravelling of +his tangled skein. And pray remember too that I have sought all +through to present you with the facts PARI PASSU with my knowledge +of them. I have tried to tell the story through myself. I could +think of no other way of creating an essential verisimilitude. +Yet, even now, writing in the light of full knowledge, I cannot +admit that, when Boyce in that Town Hall faced the world--for, in +the deep tragic sense Wellingsford was his world--anyone knowing +as much as I did would have been justified in calling his +demeanour criminal callousness. + +I say that he exhibited a glorious defiance. He defied the +concrete Gedge. He defied the more abstract, but none the less +real, tormenting Furies. He defied remorse. In accepting Sir +Anthony's praise he defied the craven in his own soul. + +After a speech or two more, to which I did not listen, the +proceedings in the Town Hall ended. I drew a breath of relief. No +breakdown by Sir Anthony, no scandalous interruption by Gedge, had +marred the impressive ceremony. The band in the gallery played +"God Save the King." The crowd in the body of the hall, who had +stood for the anthem, sat down again, evidently waiting for Boyce +and the notables to pass out. The assemblage on the platform broke +up. Several members, among them the General, who paused to shake +hands with Boyce and his mother, left the hall by the private side +door. The Lord Lieutenant and Lady Laleham followed him soon +afterwards. Then the less magnificent crowded round Boyce, each +eager for a personal exchange of words with the hero. Sir Anthony +remained at his post, keeping on the outskirts of the throng, +bidding formal adieux to those who went away. Presently I saw that +Boyce was asking for me, for someone pointed me out to his officer +attendant, who led him down the steps of the platform and round +the edge to my seat. + +"Well, it has gone off all right," said he. "Let me introduce +Captain Winslow, more than ever my right-hand man--Major +Meredyth." + +We exchanged bows. + +"The old mother's as pleased as Punch. She didn't know she was +going to get a little box of her own. I should like to have seen +her face. I did hear her give one of her little squeals. Did you?" + +"No," said I, "but I saw her face. It was that of a saint in an +unexpected beatitude." + +He laughed. "Dear old mother," said he. "She has deserved a show." +He turned away unconsciously, and, thinking to address me, +addressed the first row of spectators. "I suppose there's a lot of +folks here that I know." + +By chance he seemed to be looking through his black glasses +straight at Betty a few feet away. She rose impulsively and, +before all Wellingsford, went up to him with hand outstretched. + +"There's one at any rate, Colonel Boyce. I'm Betty Connor--" + +"No need to tell me that," said he, bowing. + +Winslow, at his elbow, most scrupulous of prompters, whispered: + +"She wants to shake hands with you." + +So their hands met. He kept hers an appreciable second or two in +his grasp. + +"I hope you will accept my congratulations," said Betty. + +"I have already accepted them, very gratefully. My mother conveyed +them to me. She was deeply touched by your letter. And may I, too, +say how deeply touched I am by your coming here?" + +Betty looked swiftly round and her cheeks flushed, for there were +many of us within earshot. She laughed off her embarrassment. + +"You have developed from a man into a Wellingsford Institution, +and I had to come and see you inaugurated. My aunts, too, are +here." She beckoned to them. "They are shyer than I am." + +The elderly ladies came forward and spoke their pleasant words of +congratulation. Mrs. Holmes and others, encouraged, followed their +example. Mrs. Boyce suddenly swooped from the platform into the +middle of the group and kissed Betty, who emerged from the excited +lady's embrace blushing furiously. She shook hands with Betty's +aunts and thanked them for their presence; and in the old lady's +mind the reconciliation of the two houses was complete. Then, with +cheeks of a more delicate natural pink than any living +valetudinarian of her age could boast of, and with glistening +eyes, she made her way to me, and reaching up and drawing me down, +kissed me, too. + +While all this was going on, the body of the hall began to empty. +The programme had arranged for nothing more by way of ceremonial +to take place. But a public gathering always hopes for something +unexpected, and, when it does not happen, takes its disappointment +philosophically. I think Betty's action must have shown them that +the rest of the proceedings were to be purely private and +informal. + +The platform also gradually thinned, until at last, looking round, +I saw that only Sir Anthony and Lady Fenimore and Winterbotham, +the Town Clerk, remained. Then Lady Fenimore joined us. We were +about a score, myself perched on the edge and corner of the +platform, the rest standing on the floor of the hall in a sector +round me, Marigold, of course, in the middle of them by my side, +like an ill-graven image. As soon as she could Lady Fenimore came +up to me. + +"Don't you think it splendid of Betty Connor to bury the hatchet +so publicly?" she whispered. + +"The war," said I, "is a solvent of many human complications." + +"It is indeed." Then she added: "I am going to have a little +dinner party some time soon for the Boyces. I sounded him to-day +and he practically promised. I'll ask the Lalehams. Of course +you'll come. Now that things have shown themselves so topsy-turvy +I've been wondering whether I should ask Betty." + +"Does Anthony know of this dinner party?" I enquired. + +"What does it matter whether he does or not?" she laughed. "Dinner +parties come within my province and I'm mistress of it." + +Of course Boyce had half promised. What else could he do without +discourtesy? But the banquet which, in her unsuspecting innocence +she proposed, seemed to me a horrible meal. Doubtless it would +seem so to Sir Anthony. At the moment I did not know whether he +intended to tell Gedge's story to his wife. At any rate, hitherto, +he had not done so. + +"All the same, my dear Edith," I replied, "Anthony may have a word +to say. I happen to know he has no particular personal friendship +for Boyce, who, if you'll forgive my saying so, has treated you +rather cavalierly for the past two years. Anthony's welcome to-day +was purely public and official. It had nothing to do with his +private feelings." + +"But they have changed. He was referring to the matter only this +morning at breakfast and suggesting things we could do to lighten +the poor man's affliction." + +"I don't think a dinner party would lighten it," I said. "And if I +were you, I wouldn't suggest it to Anthony." + +"That's rather mysterious." She looked at me shrewdly. "And +there's another mysterious thing. Anthony's like a yapping sphinx +over it. What were you two talking to Gedge about this morning?" +"Nothing particular." + +"That's nonsense, Duncan. Gedge was making himself unpleasant. He +never does anything else." + +"If you want to know," said I, with a convulsive effort of +invention, "we heard that he was preparing some sort of +demonstration, going to bring down some of his precious anti-war- +league people." + +"He wouldn't have the pluck," she exclaimed. + +"Anyhow," said I, "we thought we had better have him in and read +him the Riot--or rather the Defence of the Realm--Act. That's +all." + +"Then why on earth couldn't Anthony tell me?" + +"You ought to know the mixture of sugar and pepper in your +husband's nature better than I do, my dear Edith," I replied. + +Her laugh reassured me. I had turned a difficult corner. No doubt +she would go to Sir Anthony with my explanation and either receive +his acquiescence or learn the real truth. + +She was bidding me farewell when Sir Anthony came along the +platform to the chair. I glanced up, but I saw that he did not +wish to speak to me. He was looking grim and tired. He called down +to his wife: + +"It's time to move, dear. The troops are still standing outside." + +She bustled about giving the signal for departure, first running +to Boyce and taking him by the sleeve. I had not noticed that he +had withdrawn with Betty a few feet away from the little group. +They were interrupted in an animated conversation. At the sight I +felt a keen pang of repulsion. Those two ought not to talk +together as old friends. It outraged decencies. It was all very +well for Betty to play the magnanimous and patriotic Englishwoman. +By her first word of welcome she had fulfilled the part. But this +flushed, eager talk lay far beyond the scope of patriotic duty. +How could they thus converse over the body of the dead Althea? +With both of them was I indignant. + +In my inmost heart I felt horribly and vulgarly jealous. I may as +well confess it. Deeply as I had sworn blood-brotherhood with +Boyce, regardless of the crimes he might or might not have +committed, I could not admit him into that inner brotherhood of +which Betty and I alone were members. And this is just a +roundabout, shame-faced way of saying that, at that moment, I +discovered that I was hopelessly, insanely in love with Betty. The +knowledge came to me in a great wave of dismay. + +"You'll let me see you again, won't you?" he asked. + +"If you like." + +I don't think I heard the words, but I traced them on their lips. +They parted. Sir Anthony descended from the platform and gave his +arm to Mrs. Boyce. Lady Fenimore still clung to Boyce. +Winterbotham came next, bearing the two caskets, which had been +lying neglected on the table. The sparse company followed down the +empty hall. Marigold signalled to the porter and they hoisted down +my chair. Betty, who had lingered during the operation, walked by +my side. Being able now to propel myself, I dismissed Marigold to +a discreet position in the rear. Betty, her face still slightly +flushed, said: + +"I'm waiting for congratulations which seem to be about as +overwhelming as snow in August. Don't you think I've been +extraordinarily good?" + +"Do you feel good?" + +"More than good," she laughed. "Christianlike. Aren't we told in +the New Testament to forgive our enemies?" + +"'And love those that despitefully use us?'" I misquoted +maliciously. A sudden gust of anger often causes us to do worse +things than trifle with the text of the Sermon on the Mount. + +She turned on me quickly, as though stung. "Why not? Isn't the +sight of him maimed like that enough to melt the heart of a +stone?" + +I replied soberly enough. "It is indeed." + +I had already betrayed my foolish jealousy. Further altercation +could only result in my betraying Boyce. I did not feel very +happy. Conscious of having spoken to me with unwonted sharpness, +she sought to make amends by laying her hand on my shoulder. + +"I think, dear," she said, "we're all on rather an emotional edge +to-day." + +We reached the front door of the hall. At the top of the shallow +flight of broad stairs the little group that had preceded us stood +behind Boyce, who was receiving the cheers of the troops--soldiers +and volunteers and the Godbury School Officers' Training Corps-- +drawn up in the Market Square. When the cheers died away the crowd +raised cries for a speech. + +Again Boyce spoke. + +"The reception you have given my mother and myself," he said, "we +refuse to take personally. It is a reception given to the +soldiers, and the mothers and wives of soldiers, of the Empire, of +whom we just happen to be the lucky representatives. Whole +regiments, to say nothing of whole armies, can't all, every jack +man, receive Victoria Crosses. But every regiment very jealously +counts up its honours. You'll hear men say: 'Our regiment has two +V.C.s, five D.S.O.s, and twenty Distinguished Conduct Medals.' and +the feeling is that all the honours are lumped together and shared +by everybody, from the Colonel to the drummer-boys. And each +individual is proud of his share because he knows that he deserves +it. And so it happens that those whom chance has set aside for +distinction, like the lucky winners in a sweepstake, are the most +embarrassed people you can imagine, because everybody is doing +everything that they did every day in the week. For instance, if I +began to tell you a thousandth part of the dare-devil deeds of my +friend here, Captain Winslow of my regiment, he would bolt like a +rabbit into the Town Hall and fall on his knees and pray for an +earthquake. And whether the earthquake came off or not, I'm sure +he would never speak to me again. And they're all like that. But +in honouring me you are honouring him, and you're honouring our +regiment, and you're honouring the army. And in honouring Mrs. +Boyce, you are honouring that wonderful womanhood of the Empire +that is standing heroically behind their men in the hell upon +God's good earth which is known as the front." + +It was a soldierlike little speech, delivered with the man's +gallant charm. Young Winslow gripped his arm affectionately and I +heard him say--"You are a brute, sir, dragging me into it." The +little party descended the steps of the Town Hall. The words of +command rang out. The Parade stood at the salute, which Boyce +acknowledged, guided by Winslow and his mother he reached his car, +to which he was attended by the Mayor and Mayoress. After formal +leave-taking the Boyces and Winslow drove off amid the plaudits of +the crowd. Then Sir Anthony and Lady Fenimore. Then Betty and her +aunts. Last of all, while the troops were preparing to march away +and the crowd was dispersing and all the excitement was over, +Marigold picked me out of my chair and carried me down to my +little grey two-seater. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +Of course, after this (in the words of my young friends) I crocked +up. The confounded shell that had played the fool with my legs had +also done something silly to my heart. Hence these collapses after +physical and emotional strain. I had to stay in bed for some days. +Cliffe told me that as soon as I was fit to travel I must go to +Bournemouth, where it would be warm. I told Cliffe to go to a +place where it would be warmer. As neither of us would obey the +other, we remained where we were. + +Cliffe informed me that Lady Fenimore had called him in to see Sir +Anthony, whom she described as being on the obstinate edge of a +nervous breakdown. I was sorry to hear it. + +"I suppose you've tried to send him, too, to Bournemouth?" + +"I haven't," Cliffe replied gravely. "He has got something on his +mind. I'm sure of it. So is his wife. What's the good of sending +him away?" + +"What do you think is on his mind?" I asked. + +"How do I know? His wife thinks it must be something to do with +Boyce's reception. He went home dead-beat, is very irritable, off +his food, can't sleep, and swears cantankerously that there's +nothing the matter with him,--the usual symptoms. Can you throw +any light on it?" + +"Certainly not," I replied rather sharply. + +Cliffe said "Umph!" in his exasperating professional way and +proceeded to feel my pulse. + +"I don't quite see how Friday's mild exertion could account for +YOUR breakdown, my friend," he remarked. + +"I'm so glad you confess, at last, not to seeing everything," said +I. + +I was fearing this physical reaction in Sir Anthony. It was only +the self-assertion of Nature. He had gone splendidly through his +ordeal, having braced himself up for it. He had not braced himself +up, however, sufficiently to go through the other and far longer +ordeal of hiding his secret from his wife. So of course he went to +pieces. + +After Cliffe had left me, with his desire for information +unsatisfied, I rang up Wellings Park. It was the Sunday morning +after the reception. To my surprise, Sir Anthony answered me; for +he was an old-fashioned country churchgoer and plague, pestilence, +famine, battle, murder and sudden death had never been known to +keep him out of his accustomed pew on Sunday morning. Edith, he +informed me, had gone to church; he himself, being as nervous as a +cat, had funked it; he was afraid lest he might get up in the +middle of the sermon and curse the Vicar. + +"If that's so," said I, "come round here and talk sense. I've +something important to say to you." + +He agreed and shortly afterwards he arrived. I was shocked to see +him. His ruddy face had yellowed and the firm flesh had loosened +and sagged. I had never noticed that his stubbly hair was so grey. +He could scarcely sit still on the chair by my bedside. + +I told him of Cliffe's suspicions. We were a pair of conspirators +with unavowable things on our minds which were driving us to +nervous catastrophe. Edith, said I, was more suspicious even than +Cliffe. I also told him of our talk about the projected dinner +party. + +"That," he declared, "would drive me stark, staring mad." + +"So will continuing to hide the truth from Edith," said I. "How do +you suppose you can carry on like this?" + +He grew angry. How could he tell Edith? How could he make her +understand his reason for welcoming Boyce? How could he prevent +her from blazing the truth abroad and crying aloud for vengeance? +What kind of a fool's counsel was I giving him? + +I let him talk, until, tired with reiteration, he had nothing more +to say. Then I made him listen to me while I expounded that which +was familiar to his obstinate mind--namely, the heroic qualities +of his own wife. + +"It comes to this," said I, by way of peroration, "that you're +afraid of Edith letting you down, and you ought to be ashamed of +yourself." + +At that he flared out again. How dared I, he asked, eating his +words, suggest that he did not trust the most splendid woman God +had ever made? Didn't I see that he was only trying to shield her +from knowledge that might kill her? I retorted by pointing out +that worry over his insane behaviour--please remember that above +our deep unchangeable mutual affection, a violent surface quarrel +was raging--would more surely and swiftly kill her than unhappy +knowledge. Her quick brain--had already connected Gedge, Boyce, +and his present condition as the main factors of some strange +problem. "Her quick brain!" I cried. "A half idiot child would +have put things together." + +Presently he collapsed, sitting hopelessly, nervelessly in his +chair. At last he lifted a piteously humble face. + +"What would you suggest my doing, Duncan?" + +There seemed to me to be only one thing he could do in order to +preserve, if not his reason, at any rate his moral equilibrium in +the position which he had contrived for himself. To tell him this +had been my object in seeking the interview, and the blessed +opportunity only came after an hour's hard wrangle--in current +metaphor after an hour's artillery preparation for attack. He +looked so battered, poor old Anthony, that I felt almost ashamed +of the success of my bombardment. + +"It's not a question of suggesting," said I. "It's a question of +things that have to be done. You need a holiday. You've been +working here at high pressure for nearly a couple of years. Go +away. Put yourself in the hands of Cliffe, and go to Bournemouth, +or Biarritz, or Bahia, or any beastly place you can fix up with +him to go to. Go frankly For three or four months. Go to-morrow. +As soon as you're well out of the place, tell Edith the whole +story. Then you can take counsel and comfort together." + +He was in the state of mind to be impressed by my argument. I +followed up my advantage. I undertook to send a ruthless flaming +angel of a Cliffe to pronounce the inexorable decree of exile. +After a few faint-hearted objections he acquiesced in the scheme. +I fancy he revolted against even this apparent surrender to Gedge, +although he was too proud to confess it. No man likes running +away. Sir Anthony also regarded as pusillanimous the proposal to +leave his wife in ignorance until he had led her into the trap of +holiday. Why not put her into his confidence before they started? + +"That," said I, "is a delicate question which only you yourself +can decide. By following my plan you get away at once, which is +the most important thing. Once comfortably away, you can choose +the opportune moment." + +"There's something in that," he replied; and, after thanking me +for my advice, he left me. + +I do not defend my plan. I admit it was Machiavellian. My one +desire was to remove these two dear people from Wellingsford for a +season. Just think of the horrible impossibility of their +maintaining social relations with the Boyces .... + +By publicly honouring Boyce, Sir Anthony had tied his own hands. +It was a pledge to Boyce, although the latter did not know it, of +condonation. Whatever stories Gedge might spread abroad, whatever +proofs he might display, Sir Anthony could take no action. But to +carry on a semblance of friendship with the man responsible for +his daughter's death--for the two of them, mind you, since Lady +Fenimore would sooner or later learn everything--was, as I say, +horribly impossible. + +Let them go, then, on their nominal holiday, during which the air +might clear. Boyce might take his mother away from Wellingsford. +She would do far more than uproot herself from her home in order +to gratify a wish of her adored and blinded son. He would employ +his time of darkness in learning to be brave, he had told me. It +took some courage to face the associations of dreadful memories +unflinchingly, for his mother's sake. Should he learn, however, +that the Fenimores had an inkling of the truth, he would recognise +his presence in the place to be an outrage. And such inkling--who +would give it him? Perhaps I, myself. The Boyces would go--the +Fenimores could return. Anything, anything rather than that the +Fenimores and the Boyces should continue to dwell in the same +little town. + +And there was Betty--with all the inexplicable feminine whirring +inside her--socially reconciled with Boyce. Where the deuce was +this reconciliation going to lead? I have told you how my lunatic +love for Betty had stood revealed to me. Had she chosen to love +and marry any ordinary gallant gentleman, God knows I should not +have had a word to say. The love that such as I can give a woman +can find its only true expression in desiring and contriving her +happiness. But that she should sway back to Leonard Boyce--no, no. +I could not bear it. All the shuddering pictures of him rose up +before me, the last, that of him standing by the lock gates and +suddenly running like a frightened rabbit, with his jaunty soft +felt hat squashed shapelessly over his ears. + +Gedge could not have invented that abominable touch of the +squashed hat. + +I have said that possibly I myself might give Boyce an inkling of +the truth. Thinking over the matter in my restless bed, I shrank +from doing so. Should I not be disingenuously serving my own ends? +Betty stepped in, whom I wanted for myself. Neither could I go to +Boyce and challenge him for a villain and summon him to quit the +town and leave those dear to me at peace. I could not condemn him. +I had unshaken faith in the man's noble qualities. That he drowned +Althea Fenimore I did not, could not, believe. After all that had +passed between us, I felt my loyalty to him irrevocably pledged. +More than ever was I enmeshed in the net of the man's destiny. + +As yet, however, I could not bear to see him. I could not bear to +see Betty, who called now and then. For the first time in my life +I took refuge in my invalidity, whereby I earned the commendation +of Cliffe. Betty sent me flowers. Mrs. Boyce sent me grapes and an +infallible prescription for heart attacks which, owing to the +hopeless mess she had made in trying to copy the wriggles +indicating the quantities of the various drugs, was of no +practical use. Phyllis Gedge sent me a few bunches of violets with +a shy little note. Lady Fenimore wrote me an affectionate letter +bidding me farewell. They were going to Bude in Cornwall, Anthony +having put himself under Dr. Cliffe's orders like a wonderful +lamb. When she came back, she hoped that her two sick men would be +restored to health and able to look more favourably upon her +projected dinner party. Marigold also brought into my bedroom a +precious old Waterford claret jug which I had loved and secretly +coveted for twenty years, with a card attached bearing the +inscription "With love from Anthony." That was his dumb, British +way of informing me that he was taking my advice. + +When my self-respect would allow me no longer to remain in bed, I +got up; but I still shrank from publishing the news of my +recovery, in which reluctance I met with the hearty encouragement +both of Cliffe and Marigold. The doctor then informed me that my +attack of illness had been very much more serious than I realised, +and that unless I made up my mind to lead the most unruffled of +cabbage-like existences, he would not answer for what might +befall me. If he could have his way, he would carry me off and put +me into solitary confinement for a couple of months on a sunny +island, where I should hold no communication with the outside +world. Marigold heard this announcement with smug satisfaction. +Nothing would please him more than to play gaoler over me. + +At last, one morning, I said to him: "I'm not going to submit to +tyranny any longer. I resume my normal life. I'm at home to +anybody who calls. I'm at home to the devil himself." + +"Very good, sir," said Marigold. + +An hour or two afterwards the door was thrown open and there stood +on the threshold the most amazing apparition that ever sought +admittance into a gentleman's library; an apparition, however, +very familiar during these days to English eyes. From the +shapeless Tam-o'-Shanter to the huge boots it was caked in mud. +Over a filthy sheepskin were slung all kinds of paraphernalia, +covered with dirty canvas which made it look a thing of mighty +bulges among which a rifle was poked away. It wore a kilt covered +by a khaki apron. It also had a dirty and unshaven face. A muddy +warrior fresh from the trenches, of course. But what was he doing +here? + +"I see, sir, you don't recognise me," he said with a smile. + +"Good Lord!" I cried, with a start, "it's Randall." + +"Yes, sir. May I come in?" + +"Come in? What infernal nonsense are you talking?" I held out my +hand, and, after greeting him, made him sit down. + +"Now," said I, "what the deuce are you doing in that kit?" + +"That's what I've been asking myself for the last ten months. +Anyhow I shan't wear it much longer." + +"How's that?" + +"Commission, sir," he answered. + +"Oh!" said I. + +His entrance had been so abrupt and unexpected that I hardly knew +as yet what to make of him. Speculation as to his doings had led +me to imagine him engaged in some elegant fancy occupation on the +fringe of the army, if indeed he were serving his country so +creditably. I found it hard to reconcile my conception of Master +Randall Holmes with this businesslike Tommy who called me "Sir" +every minute. + +"I'll tell you about it, sir, if you're interested. But first--how +is my mother?" + +"Your mother? You haven't seen her yet?" + +Here, at least, was a bit of the old casual Randall. He shook his +head. + +"I've only just this minute arrived. Left the trenches yesterday. +Walked from the station. Not a soul recognised me. I thought I had +better come here first and report, just as I was, and not wait +until I had washed and shaved and put on Christian clothes again. +"He looked at me and grinned. "Seeing is believing." + +"Your mother is quite well," said I. "Haven't you given her any +warning of your arrival?" + +"Oh, no!" he answered. "I didn't want any brass bands. Besides, as +I say, I wanted to see you first. Then to look in at the hospital. +I suppose Phyllis Gedge is still at the hospital?" + +"She is. But I think, my dear chap, your mother has the first call +on you." + +"She wouldn't enjoy my present abominable appearance as much as +Phyllis," he replied, coolly. "You see, Phyllis is responsible for +it. I told you she refused to marry me, didn't I, sir? After that, +she called me a coward. I had to show her that I wasn't one. It +was an awful nuisance, I admit, for I had intended to do something +quite different. Oh! not Gedging or anything of that sort--but--" +he dived beneath his sheepskin and brought out a tattered letter +case and from a mass of greasy documents (shades of superior +Oxford!) selected a dirty, ragged bit of newspaper--"but," said +he, handing me the fragment, "I think I've succeeded. I don't +suppose this caught your eye, but if you look closely into it, +you'll see that 11003 Private R. Holmes, 1st Gordon Highlanders, a +couple of months ago was awarded the Distinguished Conduct Medal. +I may be any kind of a fool or knave she likes to call me, but she +can't call me a coward." + +I congratulated him with all my heart, which, after the first +shock, was warming towards him rapidly. + +"But why," I asked, still somewhat bewildered, "didn't you apply +for a commission? A year ago you could have got one easily. Why +enlist? And the 1st Gordons--that's the regular army." + +He laughed and asked permission to help himself to a cigarette. +"By George, that's good," he exclaimed after a few puffs. "That's +good after months of Woodbines. I found I could stand everything +except Tommy's cigarettes. Everything about me has got as hard as +nails, except my palate for tobacco .... Why didn't I apply for a +commission? Any fool could get a commission. It's different now. +Men are picked and must have seen active service, and then they're +sent off to cadet training corps. But last year I could have got +one easily. And I might have been kicking my heels about England +now." + +"Yet, at the sight of a Sam Browne belt, Phyllis would have surely +recanted," said I. + +"I didn't want the girl I intended to marry and pass my life with +to have her head turned by such trappings as a Sam Browne belt. +She has had to be taught that she is going to marry a man. I'm not +such a fool as you may have thought me, Major," he said, forgetful +of his humble rank. "Suppose I had got a commission and married +her. Suppose I had been kept at home and never gone out and never +seen a shot fired, like heaps of other fellows, or suppose I had +taken the line I had marked out--do you think we should have been +assured a happy life? Not a bit of it. We might have been happy +for twenty years. And then--women are women and can't help +themselves--the old word--by George, sir, she spat it at me from +a festering sore in her very soul--the old word would have rankled +all the time, and some stupid quarrel having arisen, she would +have spat it at me again. I wasn't taking any chances of that +kind." + +"My dear boy," said I, subridently, "you seem to be very wise." +And he did. So far as I knew anything about humans, male and +female, his proposition was incontrovertible. "But where did you +gather your wisdom?" + +"I suppose," he replied seriously, "that my mind is not entirely +unaffected by a very expensive education." + +I looked at the extraordinary figure in sheepskin, bundles and +mud, and laughed out loud. The hands of Esau and the voice of +Jacob. The garb of Thomas Atkins and the voice of Balliol. Still, +as I say, the fellow was perfectly right. His highly trained +intelligence had led him to an exact conclusion. The festering +sore demanded drastic treatment,--the surgeon's knife. As we +talked I saw how coldly his brain had worked. And side by side +with that working I saw, to my amusement, the insistent claims of +his vanity. The quickest way to the front, where alone he could +re-establish his impugned honour was by enlistment in the regular +army. For the first time in his life he took a grip on essentials. +He knew that by going straight into the heart of the old army his +brains, provided they remained in his head, would enable him to +accomplish his purpose. As for his choice of regiment, there his +vanity guided. You may remember that after his disappearance we +first heard of him at Aberdeen. Now Aberdeen is the depot of the +Gordon Highlanders. + +"What on earth made you go there?" I asked. + +"I wanted to get among a crowd where I wasn't known, and wasn't +ever likely to be known," he replied. "And my instinct was right. +I was among farmers from Skye and butchers from Inverness and +drunken scallywags from the slums of Aberdeen, and a leaven of old +soldiers from all over Scotland. I had no idea that such people +existed. At first I thought I shouldn't be able to stick it. They +gave me a bad time for being an Englishman. But soon, I think, +they rather liked me. I set my brains to work and made 'em like +me. I knew there was everything to learn about these fellows and I +went scientifically to work to learn it. And, by Heaven, sir, when +once they accepted me, I found I had never been in such splendid +company in my life." + +"My dear boy," I cried in a burst of enthusiasm, "have you had +breakfast?" + +"Of course I have. At the Union Jack Club--the Tommies' place the +other side of the river--bacon and eggs and sausages. I thought +I'd never stop eating." + +"Have some more?" + +He laughed. "Couldn't think of it." + +"Then," said I, "get yourself a cigar." I pointed to a stack of +boxes. "You'll find the Corona--Coronas the best." + +As I am not a millionaire I don't offer these Coronas to +everybody. I myself can only afford to smoke one or two a week. + +When he had lit it he said: "I was led away from what I wanted to +tell you,--my going to Aberdeen and plunging into the obscurity of +a Scottish regiment. I was absolutely determined that none of my +friends, none of you good people, should know what an ass I had +made of myself. That's why I kept it from my mother. She would +have blabbed it all over the place." + +"But, my good fellow," said I, "why the dickens shouldn't we have +known?" + +"That I was making an ass of myself?" + +"No, you young idiot!" I cried. "That you were making a man of +yourself." + +"I preferred to wait," said he, coolly, "until I had a reasonable +certainty that I had achieved that consummation--or, rather, +something that might stand for it in the prejudiced eyes of my +dear friends. I knew that you all, ultimately, you and mother and +Phyllis, would judge by results. Well, here they are. I've lived +the life of a Tommy for ten months. I've been five in the thick of +it over there. I've refused stripes over and over again. I've got +my D.C.M. I've got my commission through the ranks, practically on +the field. And of the draft of two hundred who went out with me +only one other and myself remain." + +"It's a splendid record, my boy," said I. + +He rose. "Don't misunderstand me, Major. I'm not bragging. God +forbid. I'm only wanting to explain why I kept dark all the time, +and why I'm springing smugly and complacently on you now." + +"I quite understand," said I. + +"In that case," he laughed, "I can proceed on my rounds." But he +did not proceed. He lingered. "There's another matter I should +like to mention," he said. "In her last letter my mother told me +that the Mayor and Town Council were on the point of giving a +civic reception to Colonel Boyce. Has it taken place yet?" + +"Yes," said I. "And did it go off all right?" + +In spite of wisdom learned at Balliol and shell craters, he was +still an ingenuous youth. + +"Gedge was perfectly quiet," I answered. + +He started, as he had for months learned not to start, and into +his eyes sprang an alarm that was usually foreign to them. + +"Gedge? How do you know anything about Gedge and Colonel Boyce? +Good Lord! He hasn't been spreading that poisonous stuff over the +town?" + +"That's what you were afraid of when you asked about the +reception?" + +"Of course," said he. + +"And you wanted to have your mind clear on the point before +interviewing Phyllis." + +"You're quite right, sir," he replied, a bit shamefacedly. "But if +he hasn't been spreading it, how do you know? And," he looked at +me sharply, "what do you know?" + +"You gave your word of honour not to repeat what Gedge told you. I +think you may be absolved of your promise. Gedge came to Sir +Anthony and myself with a lying story about the death of Althea +Fenimore." + +"Yes," said he. "That was it." + +"Sit down for another minute or two," said I, "and let us compare +notes." + +He obeyed. We compared notes. I found that in most essentials the +two stories were identical, although Gedge had been maudlin drunk +when he admitted Randall into his confidence. + +"But in pitching you his yarn," cried Randall, "he left out the +blackmail. He bragged in his beastly way that Colonel Boyce was +worth a thousand a year to him. All he had to live upon now that +the blood-suckers had ruined his business. Then he began to weep +and slobber--he was a disgusting sight--and he said he would give +it all up and beg with his daughter in the streets as soon as he +had an opportunity of unmasking 'that shocking wicked fellow.'" + +"What did you say then?" I asked. + +"I told him if ever I heard of him spreading such infernal lies +abroad, I'd wring his neck." + +"Very good, my boy," said I. "That's practically what Sir Anthony +told him." + +"Sir Anthony doesn't believe there's any truth in it?" + +"Sir Anthony," said I, boldly, "knows there's not a particle of +truth in it. The man's malignancy has taken the form of a fixed +idea. He's crack-brained. Between us we put the fear of God into +him, and I don't think he'll give any more trouble." + +Randall got to his feet again. "I'm very much relieved to hear you +say so. I must confess I've been horribly uneasy about the whole +thing." He drew a deep breath. "Thank goodness I can go to +Phyllis, as you say, with a clear mind. The last time I saw her I +was half crazy." + +He held out his hand, a dirty, knubbly, ragged-nailed hand--the +hand that was once so irritatingly manicured. + +"Good-bye, Major. You won't shut the door on me now, will you?" + +I wrung his hand hard and bade him not be silly, and, looking up +at him, said: + +"What was the other thing quite different you were intending to do +before you, let us say, quarreled with Phyllis?" + +He hesitated, his forehead knit in a little web of perplexity. + +"Whatever it was," I continued, "let us have it. I'm your oldest +friend, a sort of father. Be frank with me and you won't regret +it. The splendid work you've done has wiped out everything." + +"I'm afraid it has," said he ruefully. "Wiped it out clean." With +a hitch of the shoulders he settled his pack more comfortably. +"Well, I'll tell you, Major. I thought I had brains. I still think +I have. I was on the point of getting a job in the Secret Service +--Intelligence Department. I had the whole thing cut and dried--to +get at the ramifications of German espionage in socialistic and +so-called intellectual circles in neutral and other countries. It +would have been ticklish work, for I should have been carrying my +life in my hands. I could have done it well. I started out by +being a sort of 'intellectual' myself. All along I wanted to put +my brains at the service of my country. I took some time to hit +upon the real way. I hit upon it. I learned lots of things from +Gedge. If he weren't an arrant coward, he might be dangerous. He +would be taking German money long ago, but that he's frightened to +death of it." He laughed. "It never occurred to you, I suppose, a +year ago," he continued, "that I spent most of my days in London +working like a horse." + +"But," I cried--I felt myself flushing purple--and, when I flush +purple, the unregenerate old soldier in me uses language of a +corresponding hue--"But," I cried--and in this language I asked +him why he had told me nothing about it. + +"The essence of the Secret Service, sir," replied this maddening +young man, "is--well--secrecy." + +"You had a billet offered to you, of the kind you describe?" + +"The offer reached me, very much belated, one day when I was half +dead, after having performed some humiliating fatigue duty. I +think I had persisted in trying to scratch an itching back on +parade. Military discipline, I need not tell you, Major, doesn't +take into account the sensitiveness of a recruit's back. It flatly +denies such a phenomenon. Now I think I can defy anything in God's +quaint universe to make me itch. But that's by the way. I tore the +letter up and never answered it. You do these things, sir, when +the whole universe seems to be a stumbling-block and an offence. +Phyllis was the stumbling-block and the rest of the cosmos was the +other thing. That's why I have reason on my side when I say that, +all through Phyllis Gedge, I made an ass of myself." + +He clutched his rude coat with both hands. "An ass in sheep's +clothing." + +He drew himself up, saluted, and marched out. + +He marched out, the young scoundrel, with all the honours of war. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + + +So, in drawing a bow at a venture, I had hit the mark. You may +remember that I had rapped out the word "blackmail" at Gedge; now +Randall justified the charge. Boyce was worth a thousand a year to +him. The more I speculated on the danger that might arise from +Gedge, the easier I grew in my mind. Your blackmailer is a +notorious saver of his skin. Gedge had no desire to bring Boyce to +justice and thereby incriminate himself. His visit to Sir Anthony +was actuated by sheer malignity. Without doubt, he counted on his +story being believed. But he knew enough of the hated and envied +aristocracy to feel assured that Sir Anthony would not subject his +beloved dead to such ghastly disinterment as a public denunciation +of Boyce would necessitate. He desired to throw an asphyxiating +bomb into the midst of our private circle. He reckoned on the +Mayor taking some action that would stop the reception and thereby +put a public affront on Boyce. Sir Anthony's violent indignation +and perhaps my appearance of cold incredulity upset his +calculations. He went out of the room a defeated man, with the +secret load (as I knew now) of blackmail on his shoulders. + +I snapped my fingers at Gedge. Randall seemed to do the same, +undesirable father-in-law IN PROSPECTU as he was. But that was +entirely Randall's affair. The stomach that he had for fighting +with Germans would stand him in good stead against Gedge, +especially as he had formed so contemptuous an estimate of the +latter's valour. + +I emerged again into my little world. I saw most of my friends. +Phyllis lay in wait for me at the hospital, radiant and blushing, +ostensibly to congratulate me on recovery from my illness, really +(little baggage!) to hear from my lips a word or two in praise of +Randall. Apparently he had come, in his warrior garb, seen, and +conquered on the spot. I saw Mrs. Holmes, who, gladdened by the +Distinguished Conduct Medallist's return, had wiped from her +memory his abominably unfilial behaviour. I saw Betty and I saw +Boyce. + +Now here I come to a point in this chronicle where I am faced by +an appalling difficulty. Hitherto I have striven to tell you no +more about myself and my motives and feelings than was demanded by +my purpose of unfolding to you the lives of others. Primarily I +wanted to explain Leonard Boyce. I could only do it by showing you +how he reacted on myself--myself being an unimportant and +uninteresting person. It was all very well when I could stand +aside and dispassionately analyse such reactions. The same with +regard to my dear Betty. But now if I adopted the same method of +telling you the story of Betty and the story of Boyce--the method +of reaction, so to speak--I should be merely whining into your +ears the dolorous tale of Duncan Meredyth, paralytic and idiot. + +The deuce of it is that, for a long time, nothing particular or +definite happened. So how can I describe to you a very important +period in the lives of Betty and Boyce and me? + +I had to resume my intimacy with Boyce. The blind and lonely man +craved it and claimed it. It would be an unmeaning pretence of +modesty to under-estimate the value to him of my friendship. He +was a man of intense feelings. Torture had closed his heart to the +troops of friends that so distinguished a soldier might have had. +He granted admittance but to three, his mother, Betty and--for +some unaccountable reason--myself. On us he concentrated all the +strength of his affection. Mind you, it was not a case of a maimed +creature clinging for support to those who cared for him. In his +intercourse with me, he never for a moment suggested that he was +seeking help or solace in his affliction. On the contrary, he +ruled it out of the conditions of social life. He was as brave as +you please. In his laughing scorn of blindness he was the bravest +man I have ever known. He learned the confidence of the blind with +marvellous facility. His path through darkness was a triumphant +march. + +Sometimes, when he re-fought old battles and planned new ones, +forecast the strategy of the Great Advance, word-painted scenes +and places, drew character sketches of great leaders and quaint +men, I forgot the tragedy of Althea Fenimore. And when the memory +came swiftly back, I wondered whether, after all, Gedge's story +from first to last had not been a malevolent invention. The man +seemed so happy. Of course you will say it was my duty to give a +hint of Gedge's revelation. It was. To my shame, I shirked it. I +could not find it in my heart suddenly to dash into his happiness. +I awaited an opportunity, a change of mood in him, an allusion to +confidences of which I alone of human beings had been the +recipient. + +Betty visited me as usual. We talked war and hospital and local +gossip for a while and then she seemed to take refuge at the +piano. We had one red-letter day, when a sailor cousin of hers, +fresh from the North Sea, came to luncheon and told us wonders of +the Navy which we had barely imagined and did not dare to hope +for. His tidings gave subject for many a talk. + +I knew that she was seeing Boyce constantly. The former +acquaintance of the elders of the two houses flamed into sudden +friendship. From a remark artlessly let fall by Mrs. Boyce, I +gathered that the old ladies were deliberately contriving such +meetings. Boyce and Betty referred to each other rarely and +casually, but enough to show me that the old feud was at an end. +And of what save one thing could the end of a feud between lovers +be the beginning? What did she know? Knowing all, how could she be +drawn back under the man's fascination? The question maddened me. +I suffered terribly. + +At last, one evening, I could bear it no longer. She was playing +Chopin. The music grated on me. I called out to her: + +"Betty!" + +She broke off and turned round, with a smile of surprise. Again +she was wearing the old black evening dress, in which I have told +you she looked so beautiful. + +"No more music, dear. Come and talk to me." + +She crossed the room with her free step and sat near my chair. + +"What shall I talk about?" she laughed. + +"Leonard Boyce." + +The laughter left her face and she gave me a swift glance. + +"Majy dear, I'd rather not," she said with a little air of +finality. + +"I know that," said I. "I also know that in your eyes I am +committing an unwarrantable impertinence." + +"Not at all," she replied politely. "You have the right to talk to +me for my good. It's impertinence in me not to wish to hear it." + +"Betty dear," said I, "will you tell me what was the cause of your +estrangement?" + +She stiffened. "No one has the right to ask me that." + +"A man who loves you very, very dearly," said I, "will claim it. +Was the cause Althea Fenimore?" + +She looked at me almost in frightened amazement. + +"Is that mere guesswork?" + +"No, dear," said I quietly. + +"I thought no one knew--except one person. I was not even sure +that Leonard Boyce was aware that I knew." + +Another bow at a venture. "That one person is Gedge." + +"You're right. I suppose he has been talking," she said, greatly +agitated. "He has been putting it about all over the place. I've +been dreading it." Then she sprang to her feet and drew herself up +and snapped her fingers in an heroical way. "And if he has said +that Althea Fenimore drowned herself for love of Leonard Boyce, +what is there in it? After all, what has Leonard Boyce done that +he can't be forgiven? Men are men and women are women. We've tried +for tens of thousands of years to lay down hard and fast lines for +the sexes to walk upon, and we've failed miserably. Suppose +Leonard Boyce did make love to Althea Fenimore--trifle with her +affections, in the old-fashioned phrase. What then? I'm greatly to +blame. It has only lately been brought home to me. Instead of +staying here while we were engaged, I would have my last fling as +an emancipated young woman in London. He consoled himself with +Althea. When she found he meant nothing, she threw herself into +the canal. It was dreadful. It was tragic. He went away and broke +with me. I didn't discover the reason till months afterwards. She +drowned herself for love of him, it's true. But what was his share +in it that he can't be forgiven for? Millions of men have been +forgiven by women for passing loves. Why not he? Why not a +tremendous man like him? A man who has paid every penalty for +wrong, if wrong there was? Blind!" + +She walked about and threw up her hands and halted in front of my +chair. "I'll own that until lately I accused him of unforgivable +sin--deceiving me and making love to another girl and driving her +to suicide. I tore him out of my heart and married Willie. We +won't speak of that .... But since he has come back, things seem +different. His mother has told me that one day when he was asleep +she found he was still wearing his identification disc ... there +was an old faded photograph of me on the other side ... it had +been there all through the war .... You see," she added, after a +pause during which her heaving bosom and quivering lip made her +maddeningly lovely, "I don't care a brass button for anything that +Gedge may say." + +And that was all my clean-souled Betty knew about it! She had no +idea of deeper faithlessness; no suspicion of Boyce's presence +with Althea on the bank of the canal. She stood pathetic in her +half knowledge. My heart ached. + +From her pure woman's point of view she had been justified in her +denunciation of Boyce. He had left her without a word. A wall of +silence came between them. Then she learned the reason. He had +trifled with a young girl's affections and out of despair she had +drowned herself .... But how had she learned? I had to question +her. And it was then that she told me the story of Phyllis and her +father to which I have made previous allusion: how Phyllis, as her +father's secretary, had opened a letter which had frightened her; +how her father's crafty face had frightened her still more; how +she had run to Betty for the easing of her heart. And this letter +was from Leonard Boyce. "I cannot afford one penny more," so the +letter ran, according to Betty's recollection of Phyllis's +recollection, "but if you remain loyal to our agreement, you will +not regret it. If ever I hear of your coupling my name with that +of Miss Fenimore, I'll kill you. I am a man of my word." I think +Betty crystallised Phyllis's looser statement. But the exact +wording was immaterial. Here was Boyce branding himself with +complicity in the tragedy of Althea, and paying Gedge to keep it +dark. Like Sir Anthony, Betty remembered trivial things that +assumed grave significance. There was no room for doubt. +Catastrophe following on his villainy had kept Boyce away from +Wellingsford, had terrified him out of his engagement. And so her +heart had grown bitter against him. You may ask why her knowledge +of the world had not led her to suspect blacker wrong; for a man +does not pay blackmail because he has led a romantic girl into a +wrong notion of the extent of his affection. My only answer is +that Betty was Betty, clean-hearted and clean-souled like the +young Artemis she resembled. + +And now she proclaimed that he had expiated his offence. She +proclaimed her renewed and passionate interest in the man. I saw +that deep down in her heart she had always loved him. + +After telling me about Phyllis, she returned to the point where +she had broken off. She supposed that Gedge had been talking all +over the place. + +"I don't think so, dear," said I. "So far as I know he has only +spoken, first to Randall Holmes--that was what made him break +away from Gedge, whose society he had been cultivating for other +reasons than those I imagined (you remember telling me Phyllis's +sorrowful little tale last year?)." She nodded. "And secondly to +Sir Anthony and myself, a few hours before the Reception." + +She clenched her fists and broke out again. "The devil! The +incarnate devil! And Sir Anthony?" + +"Pretended to treat Gedge's story as a lie, threw into the fire +without reading it an incriminating letter--possibly the letter +that Phyllis saw, ordered Gedge out of the house and, like a great +gentleman, went through the ceremony." + +"Does Leonard know?" + +"Not that I'm aware of," said I. + +"He must be told. It's terrible to have an enemy waiting to stab +you in the dark--and you blind to boot. Why haven't you told him?" + +Why? Why? Why? + +It was so hard to keep to the lower key of her conception of +things. I made a little gesture signifying I know not what: that +it was not my business, that I was not on sufficient terms of +intimacy with Boyce, that it didn't seem important enough .... My +helpless shrug suggested, I suppose, all of these excuses. Why +hadn't I warned him? Cowardice, I suppose. + +"Either you or I must do it," she went on. "You're his friend. He +thinks more of you than of any other man in the world. And he's +right, dear--" she flashed me a proud glance, sweet and stabbing-- +"Don't I know it?" + +Then suddenly a new idea seemed to pass through her brain. She +bent forward and touched the light shawl covering my knees. + +"For the last month or two you've known what he has done. It +hasn't made any difference in your friendship. You must think with +me that the past is past, that he has purged his sins, or whatever +you like to call them; that he is a man greatly to be forgiven." + +"Yes, dear," said I, with a show of bravery, though I dreaded lest +my voice should break, "I think he is a man to be forgiven." + +Her logic was remorseless. + +With her frank grace she threw herself, in her old attitude, by +the side of my chair. + +"I'm so glad we have had this talk, Majy darling. It has made +everything between us so clear and beautiful. It is always such a +grief to me to think you may not understand. I shall always be the +little girl that looked upon you as a wonderful hero and divine +dispenser of chocolates. Only now the chocolates stand for love +and forbearance and sympathy, and all kinds of spiritual goodies." + +I passed my hand over her hair. "Silly child!" + +"I got it into my head," she continued, "that you were blaming me +for--for my reconciliation with Leonard. But, my dear, my dear, +what woman's heart wouldn't be turned to water at the sight of +him? It makes me so happy that you understand. I can't tell you +how happy." + +"Are you going to marry him?" I think my voice was steady and kind +enough. + +"Possibly. Some day. If he asks me." + +I still stroked her hair. "I wouldn't let it be too soon," said I. + +Her eyes were downcast. "On account of Willie?" she murmured. + +"No, dear. I don't dare touch on that side of things." + +Again a whisper. "Why, then?" + +How could I tell her why without betrayal of Boyce? I had to turn +the question playfully. I said, "What should I do without my +Betty?" + +"Do you really care about me so much?" + +I laughed. There are times when one has to laugh--or overwhelm +oneself in dishonour. + +"Now you see my nature in all its vile egotism," said I, and the +statement led to a pretty quarrel. + +But after it was over to our joint satisfaction, she had to return +to the distressful main theme of our talk. She harked back to Sir +Anthony, touched on his splendid behaviour, recalled, with a +little dismay, the hitherto unnoted fact that, after the ceremony +he had held himself aloof from those that thronged round Boyce. +Then, without hint from me, she perceived the significance of the +Fenimores' retirement from Wellingsford. + +"Leonard's ignorance," she said, "leaves him in. a frightful +position. More than ever he ought to know." + +"He ought, indeed, my dear," said I. "And I will tell him. I ought +to have done so before." + +I gave my undertaking. I went to bed upbraiding myself for +cowardice and resolved to go to Boyce the next day. Not only Fate, +but honour and decency forced me to the detested task. + +Alas! Next morning I was nailed to my bed by my abominable malady. +The attacks had become more frequent of late. Cliffe administered +restoratives and for the first time he lost his smile and looked +worried. You see until quite lately I had had a very tranquil +life, deeply interested in other folks' joys and sorrows, but +moved by very few of my own. And now there had swooped down on me +this ravening pack of emotions which were tearing me to pieces. I +lay for a couple of days tortured by physical pain, humiliation +and mental anguish. + +On the evening of the second day, Marigold came into the bedroom +with a puzzled look on his face. + +"Colonel Boyce is here, sir. I told him you were in bed and seeing +nobody, but he says he wants to see you on something important. I +asked him whether it couldn't wait till to-morrow, and he said +that if I would give you a password, Vilboek's Farm, you'd be sure +to see him." + +"Quite right, Marigold," said I. "Show him in." + +Vilboek's Farm! Fate had driven him to me, instead of me to him. I +would see him though it killed me, and get the horrible business +over for ever. + +Marigold led him in and drew up a chair for him by the bedside. +After pulling on the lights and drawing the curtains, for the warm +May evening was drawing to a close, + +"Anything more, sir, for the present?" he asked. + +"Could I have materials for a whisky and soda to hand?" said +Boyce. + +"Of course," said I. + +Marigold departed. Boyce said: + +"If you're too ill to stand me, send me away. But if you can stand +me, for God's sake let me talk to you." + +"Talk as much as you like," said I. "This is only one of my stupid +attacks which a man without legs has to put up with." + +"But Marigold--" + +"Marigold's an old hen," said I. + +"Are you sure you're well enough? That's the curse of not being +able to see. Tell me frankly." + +"I'm quite sure," said I. + +I have never been able to get over the curious embarrassment of +talking to a man whose eyes I cannot see. The black spectacles +seemed to be like a wall behind which the man hid his thoughts. I +watched his lips. Once or twice the odd little twitch had appeared +at the corners. + +Even with his baffling black spectacles he looked a gallant figure +of a man. He was precisely dressed in perfectly fitting dinner +jacket and neat black tie; well-groomed from the points of his +patent leather shoes to his trim crisp brown hair. And beneath +this scrupulousness of attire lay the suggestion of great +strength. + +Marigold brought in the tray with decanter, siphon and glasses, +and put them on a table, together with cigars and cigarettes, by +his side. After a few deft touches, so as to identify the objects, +Boyce smiled and nodded at Marigold. + +"Thanks very much, Sergeant," he said. + +If there is one thing Marigold loves, it is to be addressed as +"Sergeant." "Marigold" might--indicate a butler, but "Sergeant" +means a sergeant. + +"Perhaps I might fetch the Colonel a more comfortable chair, sir," +said he. + +But Boyce laughed, "No, no!" and Marigold left us. + +Boyce's ear listened for the click of the door. Then he turned to +me. + +"I was rather mean in sending you in that password. But I felt as +if I should go mad if I didn't see you. You're the only man living +who really knows about me. You're the only human being who can +give me a helping hand. It's strange, old man--the halt leading +the blind. But so it is. And Vilboek's Farm is the damned essence +of the matter. I've come to you to ask you, for the love of God, +to tell me what I am to do." + +I guessed what had happened. "Betty Connor has told you something +that I was to tell you." + +"Yes," said he. "This afternoon. And in her splendid way she +offered to marry me." + +"What did you say?" + +"I said that I would give her my answer to-morrow." + +"And what will that answer be?" + +"It is for you to tell me," said Boyce. + +"In order to undertake such a terrible responsibility," said I, "I +must know the whole truth concerning Althea Fenimore." + +"I've come here to tell it to you," said he. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + + +It was to a priest rather than to a man that he made full +confession of his grievous sin. He did not attempt to mitigate it +or to throw upon another a share of the blame. From that attitude +he did not vary a hair's breadth. Meea culpa; mea maxima culpa. +That was the burthen of his avowal. + +I, knowing the strange mingling in his nature of brutality and +sensitiveness, of animal and spiritual, and knowing something of +the unstable character of Althea Fenimore, may more justly, I +think, than he, sketch out the miserable prologue of the drama. +That she was madly, recklessly in love with him there can be no +doubt. Nor can there be doubt that unconsciously she fired the +passion in him. The deliberate, cold-blooded seducer of his +friend's daughter, such as Boyce, in his confession, made himself +out to be, is a rare phenomenon. Almost invariably it is the woman +who tempts--tempts innocently and unknowingly, without intent to +allure, still less with thought of wrong--but tempts all the same +by the attraction which she cannot conceal, by the soft promise +which she cannot keep out of her eyes. + +That was the beginning of it. Betty, whom he loved, and to whom he +was engaged, was away from Wellingsford. In those days she was +very much the young Diana, walking in search of chaste adventures, +quite contented with the love that lay serenely warm in her heart +and thinking little of a passionate man's needs--perhaps starting +away from too violent an expression of them--perhaps prohibiting +them altogether. The psychology of the pre-war young girl +absorbed, even though intellectually and for curiosity's sake, in +the feminist movement, is yet to be studied. Betty, then, was +away. Althea, beata possidens, made her artless, innocent appeal +for victory. Unconsciously she tempted. The man yielded. A touch +of the lips in a moment of folly, the man blazed, the woman +helpless was consumed. This happened in January, just before +Althea's supposed visit to Scotland. Boyce was due at a Country +House party near Carlisle. In the first flush of their madness +they agreed upon the wretched plan. She took rooms in the town and +he visited her there. Whether he or she conceived it, I do not +know. If I could judge coldly I should say that it was of feminine +inspiration. A man, particularly one of Boyce's temperament, who +was eager for the possession of a passionately loved woman, would +have carried her off to a little Eden of their own. A calm +consideration of the facts leads to the suggestion of a half- +hearted acquiescence on the part of an entangled man in the +romantic scheme of an inexperienced girl to whom he had suddenly +become all in all. + +Such is my plea in extenuation of Boyce's conduct (if plea there +can be), seeing that he raised not a shadow of one of his own. You +may say that my plea is no excuse for his betrayal; that no man, +even if he is tempted, can be pardoned for non-control of his +passions. But I am asking for no pardon; I am trying to obtain +your understanding. Remember what I have told you about Boyce, his +great bull-neck, his blood-sodden life-preserver, the physical +repulsion I felt when he carried me in his arms. In such men the +animal instinct is stronger at times than the trained will. +Whether you give him a measure of your sympathy or not, at any +rate do not believe that his short-lived liaison with Althea was a +matter of deliberate and dastardly seduction. Nor must you think +that I am setting down anything in disparagement of a child whom I +once loved. Long ago I touched lightly on the anomaly of Althea's +character--her mid-Victorian sentimentality and softness, combined +with her modern spirit of independence. A fatal anomaly; a +perilous balance of qualities. Once the soft sentimentality was +warmed into romantic passion, the modern spirit led it recklessly +to a modern conclusion. + +The liaison was short-lived. The man was remorseful. He loved +another woman. Very quickly did the poor girl awaken from her +dream. + +"I was cruel," said Boyce, fixing me with those awful black +spectacles, "I know it. I ought to have married her. But if I had +married her, I should have been more cruel. I should have hated +her. It would have been an impossible life for both of us. One day +I had to tell her so. Not brutally. In a normal state I think I am +as kind-hearted and gentle as most men. And I couldn't be brutal, +feeling an unutterable cur and craving her forgiveness. But I +wanted Betty and I swore that only one thing should keep me from +her." + +"One thing?" I asked. + +"The thing that didn't happen," said he. + +And so it seemed that Althea accepted the inevitable. The placid, +fatalistic side of her nature asserted itself. Pride, too, helped +her instinctive feminine secretiveness. She lived for months in +her father's house without giving those that were dear to her any +occasion for suspicion. In order to preserve the secrecy Boyce was +bound to continue his visits to Wellings Park. Now and then, when +they met alone, she upbraided him bitterly. On the whole, however, +he concluded that they had agreed to bury an ugly chapter in their +lives. + +Yes, it was an ugly chapter. From such you cannot get away, bury +it, as you will, never so deep. + +"And all the time remember," he said, "that I was mad for Betty. +The more shy she was, the madder I grew. I could not rest in +Wellingsford without her. When she came here, I came. When she +went to town, I went to town. She was as elusive as a dream. +Finally I pinned her down to a date for our marriage in August. It +was the last time I saw her. She went away to stay with friends. +That was the beginning of June. She was to be away two months. I +knew, if I had clamoured, she would have made it three. It was the +shyness of the exquisite bird in her that fascinated me. I could +never touch Betty in those days without dreading lest I might soil +her feathers. You may laugh at a hulking brute like me saying such +things, but that's the way I saw Betty, that's the way I felt +towards her. I could no more have taken her into my bear's hug and +kissed her roughly than I could have smashed a child down with my +fist. And yet--My God, man! how I ached for her!" + +Long as I had loved Betty in a fatherly way, deeply as I loved her +now, the man's unexpected picture of her was a revelation. You see +it was only after her marriage, when she had softened and grown a +woman and come so near me that I felt the great comfort of her +presence when she was by, the need of it when she was away. How +could I have known anything of the elusiveness in her maidenhood +before which he knelt so reverently? + +That he so knelt is the keynote of the man's soul untainted by the +flesh. + +It made clear to me the tenderness that lay beneath that which was +brutal; the reason of that personal charm which had captivated me +against my will; his defencelessness against the Furies. + +So far the narrative has reached the latter part of June. He had +spent the month with his mother. As Betty had ordained that July +should be blank, a month during which the moon should know no +changes but only the crescent of Diana should shine supreme in the +heavens, he had made his mundane arrangements for his fishing +excursion to Norway. On the afternoon of the 23rd he paid a +farewell call at Wellings Park. Althea, in the final settlement of +their relations, had laid it down as a definite condition that he +should maintain his usual social intercourse with the family. A +few young people were playing tennis. Tea was served on the lawn +near by the court. Althea gave no sign of agitation. She played +her game, laughed with her young men, and took casual leave of +Boyce, wishing him good sport. He drew her a pace aside and +murmured: "God bless you for forgiving me." + +She laughed a reply out loud: "Oh, that's all right." + +When he told me that, I recalled vividly the picture of her, in my +garden, on the last afternoon of her life, eating the strawberries +which she had brought me for tea. I remembered the little slangy +tone in her voice when she had asked me whether I didn't think +life was rather rotten. That was the tone in which she had said to +him, "Oh, that's all right." + +During the early afternoon on the 25th, she rang him up on the +telephone. Chance willed that he should receive the call at first +hand. She must see him before he left Wellingsford. She had +something of the utmost importance to tell him. A matter of life +and death. With one awful thought in his mind, he placed his time +at her disposal. For what romantic, desperate or tragic reason she +appointed the night meeting at the end of the chestnut avenue +where the towing-path turns into regions of desolate quietude, he +could not tell. He agreed without argument, dreading the possible +lack of privacy in their talk over the wires. + +On that afternoon she came to me, as I have told you, with her +strawberries and her declaration of the rottenness of life. + +They met and walked along the towing-path. It was bright +moonlight, but she could not have chosen a lonelier spot, more +free from curious eyes or ears. And then took place a scene which +it is beyond my power to describe. I can only picture it to myself +from Boyce's broken, self-accusing talk. He was going away. She +would never see him again until he returned to marry another +woman. She was making her last frantic bid for happiness. She wept +and sobbed and cajoled and upbraided--You know what women at the +end of their tether can do. He strove to pacify her by the old +arguments which hitherto she had accepted. Suddenly she cried: "If +you don't marry me I am disgraced for ever." And this brought them +to a dead halt. + +When he came to this point I remembered the diabolical accuracy of +Gedge's story. + +Boyce said: "There is one usual reason why a man should marry a +woman to save her from disgrace. Is that the reason?" + +She said "Yes." + +The light went out of the man's life. + +"In that case," said he, "there can be no question about it. I +will marry you. But why didn't you tell me before?" + +She said she did not know. She made the faltering excuses of the +driven girl. They walked on together and sat on the great bar of +the lock gates. + +"Till then," said he, "I had never known what it was to have death +in my heart. But I swear to God, Meredyth, I played my part like a +man. I had done a dastardly thing. There was nothing left for me +but to make reparation. In a few moments I tore my life asunder. +The girl I had wronged was to be the mother of my child. I +accepted the situation. I was as kind to her as I could be. She +laid her head on my shoulder and cried, and I put my arm around +her. I felt my heart going out to her in remorse and pity and +tenderness. A man must be a devil who could feel otherwise. ... +Our lives were bound up together. ... I kissed her and she clung +to me. Then we talked for a while--ways and means. ... It was time +to go back. We rose. And then--Meredyth--this is what she said: + +"'You swear to marry me?' + +"'I swear it,' said I. + +"'In spite of anything?' + +"I gave my promise. She put her arms round my neck. + +"'What I've told you is not wholly true. But the moral disgrace is +there all the time.' + +"I took her wrists and disengaged myself and held her and looked +at her. + +"'What do you mean--not wholly true?' I asked. + +"My God! I shall never forget it." He stuck both his elbows on the +bed and clutched his hair and turned his black glasses wide of me. +"The child crumpled up. She seemed to shrivel like a leaf in the +fire. She said: + +"'I've tried to lie to you, but I can't. I can't. Pity me and +forgive me.' + +"I started back from her in a sudden fury. I could not forgive +her. Think of the awful revulsion of feeling. Foolishly tricked! I +was mad with anger. I walked away and left her. I must have walked +ten or fifteen yards. Then I heard a splash in the water. I +turned. She was no longer on the bank. I ran up. I heard a cry. I +just saw her sinking. AND I COULDN'T MOVE. As God hears me, it is +true. I knew I must dive in and rescue her--I had run up with +every impulse to do so; BUT I COULD NOT MOVE. I stood shivering +with the paralysis of fear. Fear of the deep black water, the +steep brick sides of the canal that seemed to stretch away for +ever--fear of death, I suppose that was it. I don't know. Fear +irresistible, unconquerable, gripped me as it had gripped me +before, as it has gripped me since. And she drowned before my eyes +while I stood like a stone." + +There was an awful pause. He had told me the end of the tragedy so +swiftly and in a voice so keyed to the terror of the scene, that I +lay horror-stricken, unable to speak. He buried his face in his +hands, and between the fleshy part of the palms I saw the muscles +of his lips twitch horribly. I remembered, with a shiver, how I +had first seen them twitch, in his mother's house, when he had +made his strange, almost passionate apology for fear. And he had +all but described this very incident: the reckless, hare-brained +devil standing on the bank of a river and letting a wounded +comrade drown. I remember how he had defined it: "the sudden thing +that hits a man's heart and makes him stand stock-still like a +living corpse--unable to move a muscle--all his will-power out of +gear--just as a motor is out of gear. ... It is as much of a fit +as epilepsy." + +The span of stillness was unbearable. The watch on the little +table by my bedside ticked maddeningly. Marigold put his head in +at the door, apparently to warn me that it was getting late. I +waved him imperiously away. Boyce did not notice his entrance. +Presently he raised his head. + +"I don't know how long I stood there. But I know that when I moved +she was long since past help. Suddenly there was a sharp crashing +noise on the road below. I looked round and saw no one. But it +gave me a shock--and I ran. I ran like a madman. And I thought as +I ran that, if I were discovered, I should be hanged for murder. +For who would believe my story? Who would believe it now?" + +"I believe it, Boyce," I said. + +"Yes. You. You know something of the hell my life has been. But +who else? He had every motive for the crime, the lawyers would +say. They could prove it. But, my God! what motive had I for +sending all my gallant fellows to their deaths at Vilboek's Farm? +... The two things are on all fours--and many other things with +them. ... My one sane thought through the horror of it all was to +get home and into the house unobserved. Then I came upon the man +Gedge, who had spied on me." + +"I know about that," said I, wishing to spare him from saying more +than was necessary. "He told Fenimore and me about it." + +"What was his version?" he asked in a low tone. "I had better hear +it." + +When I had told him, he shook his head. "He lied. He was saving +his skin. I was not such a fool, mad as I was, as to leave him +like that. He had seen us together. He had seen me alone. To- +morrow there would be discovery. I offered him a thousand pounds +to say nothing. He haggled. Oh! the ghastly business! Eventually I +suggested that he should come up to London with me by the first +train in the morning and discuss the money. I was dreading lest +someone should come along the avenue and see me. He agreed. I +think I drank a bottle of whisky that night. It kept me alive. We +met in my chambers in London. I had sent my man up the day before +to do some odds and ends for me. I made a clear breast of it to +Gedge. He believed the worst. I don't blame him. I bought his +silence for a thousand a year. I made arrangements for payment +through my bankers. I went to Norway. But I went alone. I didn't +fish. I put off the two men I was to join. I spent over a month +all by myself. I don't think I could tell you a thing about the +place. I walked and walked all day until I was exhausted, and got +sleep that way. I'm sure I was going mad. I should have gone mad +if it hadn't been for the war. I suppose I'm the only Englishman +living or dead who whooped and danced with exultation when he +heard of it. I think my brain must have been a bit touched, for I +laughed and cried and jumped about in a pine-wood with a week old +newspaper in my hands. I came home. You know the rest." + +Yes, I knew the rest. The woman he had left to drown had been ever +before his eyes; the avenging Furies in pursuit. This was the +torture in his soul that had led him to many a mad challenge of +Death, who always scorned his defiance. Yes, I knew all that he +could tell me. + +But we went on talking. There were a few points I wanted cleared +up. Why should he have kept up a correspondence with Gedge? + +"I only wrote one foolish angry letter," he replied. + +And I told him how Sir Anthony had thrown it unread into the fire. +Gedge's nocturnal waylaying of him in my front garden was another +unsuccessful attempt to tighten the screw. Like Randall and +myself, he had no fear of Gedge. + +Of Sir Anthony he could not speak. He seemed to be crushed by the +heroic achievement. It was the only phase of our interview during +which, by voice and manner and attitude, he appeared to me like a +beaten man. His own bravery at the reception had gone for naught. +He was overwhelmed by the hideous insolence of it. + +"I shall never get that man's voice out of my ears as long as I +live," he said hoarsely. + +After a while he added: "I wonder whether there is any rest or +purification for me this side of the grave." + +I said tentatively, for we had never discussed matters of +religion: "If you believe in Christ, you must believe in the +promise regarding the sins that be as scarlet." + +But he turned it aside. "In the olden days, men like me turned +monk and found salvation in fasting and penance. The times in +which we live have changed and we with them, my friend. Nos +mulamur in illis, as the tag goes." + +We went on talking--or rather he talked and I listened. Now and +again he would help himself to a drink or a cigarette, and I +marvelled at the clear assurance with which he performed the +various little operations. I, lying in bed, lost all sense of +pain, almost of personality. My little ailments, my little selfish +love of Betty, my little humdrum life itself dwindled +insignificant before the tragic intensity of this strange, curse- +ridden being. + +And all the tune we had not spoken of Betty--except the Betty of +long ago. It was I, finally, who gave him the lead. + +"And Betty?" said I. + +He held out his hand in a gesture that was almost piteous. + +"I could tear her from my life. I had no alternative. In the +tearing I hurt her cruelly. To know it was not the least of the +burning hell I lit for myself. But I couldn't tear her from my +heart. When a brute beast like me does love a woman purely and +ideally, it's a desperate business. It means God's Heaven to him, +while it means only an earthly paradise to the ordinary man. It +clutches hold of the one bit of immortal soul he has left, and +nothing in this world can make it let go. That's why I say it's a +desperate business." + +"Yes, I can understand," said I. + +"I schooled myself to the loss of her. It was part of my +punishment. But now she has come back into my life. Fate has +willed it so. Does it mean that I am forgiven?" + +"By whom?" I asked. "By God?" + +"By whom else?" + +"How dare man," said I, "speak for the Almighty?" + +"How is man to know?" + +"That's a hard question," said I. "I can only think of answering +it by saying that a man knows of God's forgiveness by the measure +of the Peace of God in his soul." + +"There's none of it in mine, my dear chap, and never will be," +said Boyce. + +I strove to help him. For what other purpose had he come to me? + +"You think then that the sending of Betty is a sign and a promise? +Yes. Perhaps it is. What then?" + +"I must accept it as such," said he. "If there is a God, He would +not give me back the woman I love, only to take her away again. +What shall I do?" + +"In what way?" I asked. + +"She offered to marry me. I am to give her my answer to-morrow. If +I were the callous, murdering brute that everyone would have the +right to believe I am, I shouldn't have hesitated. If I hadn't +been a tortured, damned soul," he cried, bringing his great fist +down on the bed, "I shouldn't have come here to ask you what my +answer can be. My whole being is infected with horror." He rose +and stood over the bed and, with clenched hands, gesticulated to +the wall in front of him. "I'm incapable of judging. I only know +that I crave her with everything in me. I've got it in my brain +that she's my soul's salvation. Is my brain right? I don't know. I +come to you--a clean, sweet man who knows everything--I don't +think there's a crime on my conscience or a foulness in my nature +which I haven't confessed to you. You can judge straight as I +can't. What answer shall I give to-morrow?" + +Did ever man, in a case of conscience, have a greater +responsibility? God forgive me if I solved it wrongly. At any +rate, He knows that I was uninfluenced by mean personal +considerations. All my life I have tried to have an honourable +gentleman and a Christian man. According to my lights I saw only +one clear course. + +"Sit down, old man," said I. "You're a bit too big for me like +that." He felt for his chair, sat down and leaned back. "You've +done almost everything," I continued, "that a man can do in +expiation of offences. But there is one thing more that you must +do in order to find peace. You couldn't find peace if you married +Betty and left her in ignorance. You must tell Betty everything-- +everything that you have told me. Otherwise you would still be +hag-ridden. If she learned the horror of the thing afterwards, +what would be your position? Acquit your conscience now before God +and a splendid woman, and I stake my faith in each that neither +will fail you." + +After a few minutes, during which the man's face was like a mask, +he said: + +"That's what I wanted to know. That's what I wanted to be sure of. +Do you mind ringing your bell for Marigold to take me away? I've +kept you up abominably." He rose and held out his hand and I had +to direct him how it could reach mine. When it did, he gripped it +firmly. + +"It's impossible," said he, "for you to realise what you've done +for me to-night. You've made my way absolutely clear to me--for +the first time for two years. You're the truest comrade I've ever +had, Meredyth. God bless you." + +Marigold appeared, answering my summons, and led Boyce away. +Presently he returned. + +"Do you know what time it is, sir?" he asked serenely. + +"No," said I. + +"It's half-past one." + +He busied himself with my arrangements for the night, and +administered what I learned afterwards was a double dose of a +sleeping draught which Cliffe had prescribed for special +occasions. I just remember surprise at feeling so drowsy after the +intense excitement of the evening, and then I fell asleep. + +When I awoke in the morning I gathered my wits together and +recalled what had taken place. Marigold entered on tiptoe and +found me already aroused. + +"I'm sorry to tell you, sir," said he, "that an accident happened +to Colonel Boyce after he left last night." + +"An accident?" + +"I suppose so, sir," said Marigold. "That's what his chauffeur +says. He got out of the car in order to sit by the side of the +canal--by the lock gates. He fell in, sir. He's drowned." + + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + + +It is Christmas morning, 1916, the third Christmas of the war. The +tragedy of Boyce's death happened six months ago. Since then I +have been very ill. The shock, too great for my silly heart, +nearly killed me. By all the rules of the game I ought to have +died. But I suppose, like a brother officer long since defunct, +also a Major, one Joe Bagstock, I am devilish tough. Cliffe told +me this morning that, apart from a direct hit by a 42-centimetre +shell, he saw no reason, after what I had gone through, why I +should not live for another hundred years. "I wash my hands of +you," said he. Which indeed is pleasant hearing. + +I don't mind dying a bit, if it is my Maker's pleasure; if it +would serve any useful purpose; if it would help my country a +myriadth part of a millimetre on towards victory. But if it would +not matter to the world any more than the demise of a daddy-long- +legs, I prefer to live. In fact, I want to live. I have never +wanted to live more in all my life. I want to see this fight out. +I want to see the Light that is coming after the Darkness. For, by +God! it will come. + +And I want to live, too, for personal and private reasons. If I +could regard myself merely as a helpless incumbrance, a useless +jellyfish, absorbing for my maintenance human effort that should +be beneficially exerted elsewhere, I think I should be the first +to bid them take me out and bury me. But it is my wonderful +privilege to look around and see great and beautiful human souls +coming to me for guidance and consolation. Why this should be I do +not rightly know. Perhaps my very infirmity has taught me many +lessons. ... + +You see, in the years past, my life was not without its +lonelinesses. It was so natural for the lusty and joyous to +disregard, through mere thoughtlessness, the little weather-beaten +cripple in his wheelchair. But when one of these sacrificed an +hour's glad life in order to sit by the dull chair in a corner, +the cripple did not forget it. He learned in its terrible +intensity the meaning of human kindness. And, in his course +through the years, or as the years coursed by him, he realised +that a pair of gollywog legs was not the worst disability which a +human being might suffer. There were gollywog hearts, brains, +nerves, temperaments, destinies. + +Perhaps, in this way, he came to the knowledge that in every human +being lies the spark of immortal beauty, to be fanned into flame +by one little rightly directed breath. At any rate, he learned to +love his kind. + +It is Christmas day. I am as happy as a man has a right to be in +these fierce times in England. Love is all around me. I must tell +you little by little. Various things have happened during the last +six months. + +At the inquest on the body of Leonard Boyce, the jury gave a +verdict of death by misadventure. The story of the chauffeur, an +old soldier servant devoted to Boyce, received implicit belief. He +had faithfully carried out his master's orders: to conduct him +from the road, across the field, and seat him on the boom of the +lock gates, where he wanted to remain alone in order to enjoy the +quiet of the night and listen to the lap of the water; to return +and fetch him in a quarter of an hour. This he did, dreaming of no +danger. When he came back he realised what had happened. His +master had got up and fallen into the canal. What had really +happened only a few of us knew. + +Well, I have told you the man's story. I am not his judge. Whether +his act was the supreme amende, the supreme act of courage or the +supreme act of cowardice, it is not for me to say. I heard nothing +of the matter for many weeks, for they took me off to a nursing +home and kept me in the deathly stillness of a sepulchre. When I +resumed my life in Wellingsford I found smiling faces to welcome +me. My first public action was to give away Phyllis Gedge in +marriage to Randall Holmes--Randall Holmes in the decent kit of +an officer and a gentleman. He made this proposition to me on the +first evening of my return. "The bride's father," said I, somewhat +ironically, "is surely the proper person." + +"The bride's father," said he, "is miles away, and, like a wise +and hoary villain, is likely to remain there." + +This was news. "Gedge has left Wellingsford?" I cried. "How did +that come about?" + +He stuck his hands on his hips and looked down on me pityingly. + +"I'm afraid, sir," said he, "you'll never do adequate justice to +my intelligence and my capacity for affairs." + +Then he laughed and I guessed what had occurred. My young friend +must have paid a stiff price; but Phyllis and peace were worth it; +and I have said that Randall is a young man of fortune. + +"My dear boy," said I, "if you have exorcised this devil of a +father-in-law of yours out of Wellingsford, I'll do any mortal +thing you ask." + +I was almost ecstatic. For think what it meant to those whom I +held dear. The man's evil menace was removed from the midst of us. +The man's evil voice was silenced. The tragic secrets of the canal +would be kept. I looked up at my young friend. There was a grim +humour around the corners of his mouth and in his eyes the quiet +masterfulness of those who have looked scornfully at death. I +realised that he had reached a splendid manhood. I realised that +Gedge had realised it too; woe be to him if he played Randall +false. I stuck out my hand. + +"Any mortal thing," I repeated. + +He regarded me steadily. "Anything? Do you really mean it?" + +"You dashed young idiot," I cried, "do you think I'm in the habit +of talking through my hat?" + +"Well," said he, "will you look after Phyllis when I'm gone?" + +"Gone? Gone where? Eternity?" + +"No, no! I've only a fortnight's leave. Then I'm off. Wherever +they send me. Secret Service. You know. It's no use planking +Phyllis in a dug-out of her own"--shades of Oxford and the +Albemarle Review!--"she'd die of loneliness. And she'd die of +culture in the mater's highbrow establishment. Whereas, if you +would take her in--give her a shake-down here--she wouldn't give +much trouble--" + +He stammered as even the most audacious young warrior must do when +making so astounding a proposal. But I bade him not be an ass, but +send her along when he had to finish with her; with the result +that for some months my pretty little Phyllis has been an inmate +of my house. Marigold keeps a sort of non-commissioned parent's +eye on her. To him she seems to be still the child whom he fed +solicitously but unemotionally with Mrs. Marigold's cakes at tea +parties years ago. She gives me a daughter's dainty affection. +Thank God for it! + +There have been other little changes in Wellingsford. Mrs. Boyce +left the town soon after Leonard's death, and lives with her +sister in London. I had a letter from her this morning--a brave +woman's letter. She has no suspicion of the truth. God still +tempereth the wind. ... Out of the innocent generosity of her +heart she sent me also, as a keepsake, "a little heavy cane, of +which Leonard was extraordinarily fond." She will never know that +I put it into the fire, and with what strange and solemn thoughts +I watched it burn. + +It is Christmas Day. Dr. Cliffe, although he has washed his hands +of me, tyrannically keeps me indoors of winter nights, so that I +cannot, as usual, dine at Wellings Park. To counter the fellow's +machinations, however, I have prepared a modest feast to which I +have bidden Sir Anthony and Lady Fenimore and my dearest Betty. + +As to Betty-- + +Phyllis comes in radiant, her pretty face pink above an absurd +panoply of furs. She has had a long letter from Randall from the +Lord knows where. He will be home on leave in the middle of +January. In her excitement she drops prayer-books and hymn-books +all over me. Then, picking them up, reminds me it is time to go to +church. I am an old-fashioned fogey and I go to church on +Christmas Day. I hope our admirable and conscientious Vicar won't +feel it his duty to tell us to love Germans. I simply can't do it. + +New Year's Day, 1917. + +I must finish off this jumble of a chronicle. + +Before us lies the most eventful year in all the old world's +history. Thank God my beloved England is strong, and Great Britain +and our great Empire and immortal France. There is exhilaration in +the air; a consciousness of high ideals; an unwavering resolution +to attain them; a thrilling faith in their ultimate attainment. No +one has died or lost sight or limbs in vain. I look around my own +little circle. Oswald Fenimore, Willie Connor, Reggie Dacre, +Leonard Boyce--how many more could I not add to the list? All +those little burial grounds in France--which France, with her +exquisite sense of beauty, has assigned as British soil for all +time--all those burial grounds, each bearing its modest leaden +inscription--some, indeed, heart-rendingly inscribed "Sacred to +the memory of six unknown British soldiers killed in action"--are +monuments not to be bedewed with tears of lamentation. From the +young lives that have gone there springs imperishable love and +strength and wisdom--and the vast determination to use that love +and strength and wisdom for the great good of mankind. If there is +a God of Battles, guiding, in His inscrutable omniscience, the +hosts that fight for the eternal verities--for all that man in his +straining towards the Godhead has striven for since the world +began--the men who have died will come into their glory, and those +who have mourned will share exultant in the victory. From before +the beginning of Time Mithra has ever been triumphant and his foot +on the throat of Ahriman. + +It was in February, 1915, that I began to expand my diary into +this narrative,--nearly two years ago. We have passed through the +darkness. The Dawn is breaking. Sursum corda. + +I was going to tell you about Betty when Phyllis, with her furs +and happiness and hymn-books, interrupted me. I should like to +tell you now. But who am I to speak of the mysteries in the soul +of a great woman? But I must try. And I can tell you more now than +I could on Christmas Day. + +Last night she insisted on seeing the New Year in with me. If I +had told Marigold that I proposed to sit up after midnight, he +would have come in at ten o'clock, picked me up with finger and +thumb as any Brobdingnagian might have picked up Gulliver, and put +me straightway to bed. But Betty made the announcement in her +airily imperious way, and Marigold, craven before Betty and Mrs. +Marigold, said "Very good, madam," as if Dr. Cliffe and his orders +had never existed. At half past ten she packed off the happy and, +I must confess, the somewhat sleepy Phyllis, and sat down, in her +old attitude by the side of my chair, in front of the fire, and +opened her dear heart to me. + +I had guessed what her proud soul had suffered during the last six +months. One who loved her as I did could see it in her face, in +her eyes, in the little hardening of her voice, in odd little +betrayals of feverishness in her manner. But the outside world saw +nothing. The steel in her nature carried her through. She left no +duty unaccomplished. She gave her confidence to no human being. I, +to whom she might have come, was carried off to the sepulchre +above mentioned. Letters were forbidden. But every day, for all +her bleak despair, Betty sent me a box of fresh flowers. They +would not tell me it was Betty who sent them; but I knew. My +wonderful Betty. + +When they took off my cerecloths and sent me back to Wellingsford, +Betty was the first to smile her dear welcome. We resumed our old +relations. But Betty, treating me as an invalid, forbore to speak +of Leonard Boyce. Any approach on my part came up against that +iron wall of reserve of which I spoke to you long ago. + +But last night she told me all. What she said I cannot repeat. But +she had divined the essential secret of the double tragedy of the +canal. It had become obvious to her that he had made the final +reparation for a wrong far deeper than she had imagined. She was +very clear-eyed and clear-souled. During her long companionship +with pain and sorrow and death, she had learned many things. She +had been purged by the fire of the war of all resentments, +jealousies, harsh judgments, and came forth pure gold. ... Leonard +had been the great love of her life. If you cannot see now why she +married Willie Connor, gave him all that her generous heart could +give, and after his death was irresistibly drawn back to Boyce, I +have written these pages in vain. + +A few minutes before midnight Marigold entered with a tray bearing +a cake or two, a pint of champagne and a couple of glasses. While +he was preparing to uncork the bottle Betty slipped from the room +and returned with another glass. + +"For Sergeant Marigold," she said. + +She opened the French window behind the drawn curtains and +listened. It was a still clear night. Presently the clock of the +Parish Church struck twelve. She came down to the little table by +my side and filled the glasses, and the three of us drank the New +Year in. Then Betty kissed me and we both shook hands with +Marigold, who stood very stiff and determined and cleared his +throat and swallowed something as though he were expected to make +a speech. But Betty anticipated him. She put both her hands on his +gaunt shoulders and looked up into his ugly face. + +"You've just wished me a Happy New Year, Sergeant." + +"I have," said he, "and I mean it." + +"Then will you let me have great happiness in staying here and +helping you to look after the Major?" + +He gasped for a moment (as did I) and clutched her arms for an +instant in an iron grip. + +"Indeed I will, my dear," said he. + +Then he stepped back a pace and stood rigid, his one eye staring, +his weather-beaten face the colour of beetroot. He was blushing. +The beads of perspiration appeared below his awful wig. He +stammered out something about "Ma'am" and "Madam." He had never so +far forgotten himself in his life. + +But Betty sprang forward and gripped his hand. + +"It is you who are the dear," she said. "You, the greatest and +loyalest friend a man has ever known. And I'll be loyal to you, +never fear." + +By what process of enchantment she got an emotion-filled Marigold +to the door and shut it behind him, I shall never discover. On its +slam she laughed--a queer high note. In one swift movement she was +by my knees. And she broke into a passion of tears. For me, I was +the most mystified man under heaven. + +Soon she began to speak, her head bowed. + +"I've come to the end of the tether, Majy dear. They've driven me +from the hospital--I didn't know how to tell you before--I've been +doing all sorts of idiotic things. The doctors say it's a nervous +breakdown--I've had rather a bad time--but I thought it +contemptible to let one's own wretched little miseries interfere +with one's work for the country--so I fought as hard as I could. +Indeed I did, Majy dear. But it seems I've been playing the fool +without knowing it,--I haven't slept properly for months--and +they've sent me away. Oh, they've been all that's kind, of course +--I must have at least six months' rest, they say--they talk +about nursing homes--I've thought and thought and thought about it +until I'm certain. There's only one rest for me, Majy dear." She +raised a tear-stained, tense and beautiful face and drew herself +up so that one arm leaned on my chair, and the other on my +shoulder. "And that is to be with the one human being that is left +for me to love--oh, really love--you know what I mean--in the +world." + +I could only put my hand on her fair young head and say: + +"My dear, my dear, you know I love you." + +"That is why I'm not afraid to speak. Perfect love casteth out +fear--" + +I pushed back her hair. "What is it that you want me to do, +Betty?" I asked. "My life, such as it is, is at your command." + +She looked me full, unflinchingly in the eyes. + +"If you would give me the privilege of bearing your name, I should +be a proud and happy woman." + +We remained there, I don't know how long--she with her hand on my +shoulder, I caressing her dear hair. It was a tremendous +temptation. To have my beloved Betty in all her exquisite warm +loyalty bound to me for the rest of my crippled life. But I found +the courage to say: + +"My dear, you are young still, with the wonderful future that no +one alive can foretell before you, and I am old--" + +"You're not fifty." + +"Still I am old, I belong to the past--to a sort of affray behind +an ant-hill which they called a war. I'm dead, my dear, you are +gloriously alive. I'm of the past, as I say. You're of the future. +You, my dearest, are the embodiment of the woman of the Great War--" +I smiled--"The Woman of the Great War in capital letters. What +your destiny is, God knows. But it isn't to be tied to a +Prehistoric Man like me." + +She rose and stood, with her beautiful bare arms behind her, +sweet, magnificent. + +"I am a Woman of the Great War. You are quite right. But in a year +or so I shall be like other women of the war who have suffered and +spent their lives, a woman of the past--not of the future. All +sorts of things have been burned up in it." In a quick gesture she +stretched out her hands to me. "Oh, can't you understand?" + +I cannot set down the rest of the tender argument. If she had +loved me less, she could have lived in my house, like Phyllis, +without a thought of the conventions. But loving me dearly, she +had got it into her feminine head that the sacredness of the +marriage tie would crown with dignity and beauty the part she had +resolved to play for my happiness. + +Well, if I have yielded I pray it may not be set down to me for +selfish exploitation of a woman's exhausted hour. When I said +something of the sort, she laughed and cried: + +"Why, I'm bullying you into it!" + +The First of January, 1917--the dawn to me, a broken derelict, of +the annus mirabilis. Somehow, foolishly, illogically, I feel that +it will be the annus mirabilis for my beloved country. + +And come--after all--I am, in spite of my legs, a Man too of the +Great War. I have lived in it, and worked in it, and suffered in +it--and in it have I won a Great Thing. + +So long as one's soul is sound--that is the Great Matter. + +Just before we parted last night, I said to Betty: + +"The beginning and end of all this business is that you're afraid +of Marigold." + +She started back indignantly. + +"I'm not! I'm not!" + +I laughed. "The Lady protests too much," said I. + +The clock struck two. Marigold appeared at the door. He approached +Betty. + +"I think, Madam, we ought to let the Major go to bed." + +"I think, Marigold," said Betty serenely, "we ought to be ashamed +of ourselves for keeping him up so late." + +THE END + + +End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Red Planet +by William J. Locke + diff --git a/old/rplan10.zip b/old/rplan10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..bb0431c --- /dev/null +++ b/old/rplan10.zip |