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| author | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-02-05 07:54:26 -0800 |
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| committer | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-02-05 07:54:26 -0800 |
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diff --git a/old/51142-h/51142-h.htm b/old/51142-h/51142-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 97bf9fa..0000000 --- a/old/51142-h/51142-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,11399 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> - <title>Red Cross Story Book by Famous Novelists serving in His Majesty’s Forces, a Project Gutenberg eBook.</title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - <style type="text/css"> - body { margin-left: 8%; margin-right: 10%; } - h1 { text-align: center; font-weight: normal; font-size: 1.4em; } - h2 { text-align: center; font-weight: normal; font-size: 1.2em; } - h3 { text-align: center; font-weight: normal; font-size: 1.2em; } - .pageno { right: 1%; font-size: x-small; background-color: inherit; color: gray; - text-indent: 0em; text-align: right; position: absolute; - border: thin solid gray; padding: .1em .2em; font-style: normal; - font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; } - p { text-indent: 0; margin-top: 0.5em; margin-bottom: 0.5em; text-align: justify; } - .sc { font-variant: small-caps; } - .large { font-size: large; } - .xlarge { font-size: x-large; } - .xxlarge { font-size: xx-large; } - .lg-container-l { text-align: left; } - @media handheld { .lg-container-l { clear: both; }} - .linegroup { display: inline-block; text-align: left; } - @media handheld { .linegroup { display: block; margin-left: 1.5em; }} - .linegroup .group { margin: 1em auto; } - .linegroup .line { text-indent: -3em; padding-left: 3em; } - div.linegroup > :first-child { margin-top: 0; } - em.gesperrt { font-style: normal; letter-spacing: 0.2em; margin-right: -0.2em; } - @media handheld { em.gesperrt { font-style: italic; letter-spacing: 0; - margin-right: 0;}} - div.pbb { page-break-before: always; } - hr.pb { border: none; border-bottom: thin solid; margin-bottom:1em; } - @media handheld { hr.pb { display: none; }} - .chapter { clear: both; page-break-before: always;} - .figcenter { clear: both; max-width: 100%; margin: 2em auto; text-align: center; } - div.figcenter p { text-align: center; text-indent: 0; } - .figcenter img { max-width: 100%; height: auto; } - .id001 { width:600px; } - @media handheld { .id001 { margin-left:12%; width:75%; }} - .ic002 { width:100%; } - .ig001 { width:100%; } - .table0 { margin: auto; margin-top: 2em; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 0%; - width: 100%; } - .nf-center { text-align: center; } - .nf-center-c1 { text-align: left; margin: 1em 0; } - .c000 { margin-top: 1em; } - .c001 { page-break-before: always; margin-top: 4em; } - .c002 { margin-bottom: 1em; } - .c003 { page-break-before:auto; margin-top: 4em; } - .c004 { vertical-align: top; text-align: left; padding-right: 1em; } - .c005 { vertical-align: top; text-align: right; padding-right: 1em; } - .c006 { vertical-align: top; text-align: right; } - .c007 { margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 0.5em; } - .c008 { margin-top: 0.5em; margin-bottom: 0.5em; } - .c009 { page-break-before: always; margin-top: 2em; } - .c010 { margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 0.5em; } - .c011 { text-align: right; } - .c012 { margin-left: 5.56%; margin-top: 0.5em; margin-bottom: 0.5em; } - .c013 { margin-left: 5.56%; text-align: right; } - .c014 { border: none; border-bottom: thin solid; margin-top: 0.8em; - margin-bottom: 0.8em; margin-left: 35%; margin-right: 35%; width: 30%; } - .c015 { margin-left: 5.56%; text-indent: -5.56%; margin-top: 1em; - margin-bottom: 0.5em; } - .c016 { margin-left: 5.56%; margin-right: 5.56%; margin-top: 0.5em; - margin-bottom: 0.5em; } - .c017 { margin-left: 5.56%; margin-right: 5.56%; text-indent: 11.11%; - margin-top: 0.5em; margin-bottom: 0.5em; } - .c018 { margin-left: 8.33%; margin-right: 5.56%; margin-top: 0.5em; - margin-bottom: 0.5em; } - .c019 { margin-left: 8.33%; margin-right: 5.56%; text-align: right; } - .c020 { margin-top: 4em; font-size: 80%; } - .c021 { margin-left: 5.56%; } - .it {font-style:italic; font-size:1.1em; } - </style> - </head> - <body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Times Red Cross Story Book, by Various - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: The Times Red Cross Story Book - by Famous Novelists Serving in His Majesty's Forces - -Author: Various - -Release Date: February 7, 2016 [EBook #51142] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TIMES RED CROSS STORY BOOK *** - - - - -Produced by Malcolm Farmer, Elizabeth Oscanyan and the -Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c000' /> -</div> - -<div class='figcenter id001'> -<img src='images/title.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> - -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c000' /> -</div> -<div> - <h1 class='c001'><span class='xlarge'><b>The Times’</b></span><br /><span class='xxlarge'><em class='gesperrt'>RED CROSS</em><br /><em class='gesperrt'>STORY BOOK</em></span></h1> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c1'> -<div class='nf-center c000'> - <div>BY</div> - <div><span class='xlarge'>FAMOUS NOVELISTS SERVING</span></div> - <div><span class='xlarge'>IN HIS MAJESTY’S FORCES</span></div> - <div class='c000'><span class='xlarge'>ILLUSTRATED</span></div> - <div class='c000'>PUBLISHED FOR</div> - <div><span class='xlarge'><b>The Times’</b></span></div> - <div><span class='xlarge'>FUND FOR THE</span></div> - <div><span class='xlarge'>SICK & WOUNDED</span></div> - <div class='c000'>BY HODDER AND STOUGHTON</div> - <div class='c002'>LONDON NEW YORK TORONTO</div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c000' /> -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_2'>2</span> - <h2 class='c003'><span class='xlarge'>CONTENTS</span></h2> -</div> -<table class='table0' summary=''> -<colgroup> -<col width='43%' /> -<col width='50%' /> -<col width='5%' /> -</colgroup> - <tr> - <td class='c004'></td> - <td class='c005'></td> - <td class='c006'>Page</td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c004'>DIMOUSSI AND THE PISTOL</td> - <td class='c005'>A. E. W. Mason,<br /> <i>Manchester Regiment</i></td> - <td class='c006'><a href='#Page_3'>3</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c004'>THE WOMAN</td> - <td class='c005'>A. A. Milne,<br /> <i>Royal Warwick Regiment</i></td> - <td class='c006'><a href='#Page_16'>16</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c004'>THE CHERUB</td> - <td class='c005'>Oliver Onions, <i>Army Service Corps</i></td> - <td class='c006'><a href='#Page_31'>31</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c004'>AN IMPOSSIBLE PERSON</td> - <td class='c005'>W. B. Maxwell, <i>Royal Fusiliers</i></td> - <td class='c006'><a href='#Page_37'>37</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c004'>THE VEIL OF FLYING WATER</td> - <td class='c005'>Theodore Goodridge Roberts,<br /> <i>Canadian Expeditionary Force</i></td> - <td class='c006'><a href='#Page_51'>51</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c004'>“BILL BAILEY”</td> - <td class='c005'>Ian Hay,<br /> <i>Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders</i></td> - <td class='c006'><a href='#Page_62'>62</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c004'>LIFE-LIKE</td> - <td class='c005'>Martin Swayne,<br /> <i>Royal Army Medical Corps</i></td> - <td class='c006'><a href='#Page_74'>74</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c004'>LAME DOGS</td> - <td class='c005'>Cosmo Hamilton, <i>Royal Naval Air Service</i></td> - <td class='c006'><a href='#Page_83'>83</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c004'>THE SILVER THAW</td> - <td class='c005'>R. E. Vernede, <i>Rifle Brigade</i></td> - <td class='c006'><a href='#Page_97'>97</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c004'>CARNAGE</td> - <td class='c005'>Compton Mackenzie, <i>Royal Navy</i></td> - <td class='c006'><a href='#Page_104'>104</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c004'>THE BRONZE PARROT</td> - <td class='c005'>R. Austin Freeman,<br /> <i>Royal Army Medical Corps</i></td> - <td class='c006'><a href='#Page_115'>115</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c004'>THE FORBIDDEN WOMAN</td> - <td class='c005'>Warwick Deeping,<br /> <i>Royal Army Medical Corps</i></td> - <td class='c006'><a href='#Page_125'>125</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c004'>ELIZA AND THE SPECIAL</td> - <td class='c005'>Barry Pain,<br /> <i>Royal Naval Air Service</i></td> - <td class='c006'><a href='#Page_136'>136</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c004'>THE PROBATION OF JIMMY BAKER</td> - <td class='c005'>Albert Kinross,<br /> <i>Army Service Corps</i></td> - <td class='c006'><a href='#Page_140'>140</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c004'>THE GHOST THAT FAILED</td> - <td class='c005'>Desmond Coke,<br /> <i>Loyal North Lancashire Regiment</i></td> - <td class='c006'><a href='#Page_149'>149</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c004'>THE MIRACLE</td> - <td class='c005'>Ralph Stock, <i>Artists’ Rifles</i></td> - <td class='c006'><a href='#Page_157'>157</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c004'>THE FIGHT FOR THE GARDEN</td> - <td class='c005'>Sir Arthur T. Quiller-Couch,<br /> <i>Duke of Cornwall’s Light Infantry</i></td> - <td class='c006'><a href='#Page_162'>162</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c004'>THE FACE IN THE HOP VINES</td> - <td class='c005'>Charles G. D. Roberts,<br /> <i>King’s (Liverpool) Regiment</i></td> - <td class='c006'><a href='#Page_178'>178</a></td> - </tr> -</table> - -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c000' /> -</div> - -<div class='figcenter id001'> -<img src='images/front.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic002'> -<p>Dimoussi.</p> -</div> -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_3'>3</span> - <h2 class='c003'><span class='xxlarge'>Dimoussi <i>and the</i> Pistol</span><br /> <br /><span class='xlarge'><i>By</i> A. E. W. Mason</span><br /> <br /><i>Manchester Regiment</i></h2> -</div> - -<p class='c007'>In the maps of Morocco you will see, stretching southwards of the city of -Mequinez, a great tract of uncharted country. It is lawless and forbidden -land. Even the Sultan Mulai el Hassen, that great fighter, omitted it from -his expeditions.</p> - -<p class='c008'>But certain tribes are known to inhabit it, such as the Beni M’tir, and -certain villages can be assigned a locality, such as Agurai, which lies one long -day’s journey from the Renegade’s Gate of Mequinez.</p> - -<p class='c008'>At Agurai Dimoussi was born, and lived for the first fifteen years of his -life—Dimoussi the Englishman, as he was called, though in features and colour -he had the look of an Arab with just a strain of Negro blood.</p> - -<p class='c008'>At the age of fifteen a desire to see the world laid hold upon Dimoussi. -As far as the eye could see from any mound about the village, there stretched -on every side a rolling plain, silent and empty. Hardly a bird sang in the air -above it; and everywhere it was dark with bushes wherein the flowers of -asphodel gleamed pale and small.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Dimoussi wearied of the plain. One thin, reddish line meandered uncertainly -from north to south, a stone’s throw from the village, where the feet -of men and mules passing at rare intervals through many centuries had beaten -down a path. Along this path Dimoussi allowed his fancies to carry him -into a world of enchantment; and one spring morning his feet carried him -along it, too.</p> - -<p class='c008'>For half a dozen men of the Beni M’tir carrying almonds and walnuts into -Mequinez happened to pass Agurai at a moment when Dimoussi was watching, -and his mother was at work on a patch of tilled ground out of sight. -Dimoussi had no other parent than his mother.</p> - -<p class='c008'>He ran into the hut, with its tent roof of sacking and its sides of rough -hurdles, which was his home, searched in a corner for a big brass-barrelled pistol -which had long been the pride of the establishment, and, hiding it under -his ragged jellaba, he ran down the track and joined himself on to the tiny -caravan. The next morning he came to Mequinez, where he parted company -with the tribesmen.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Dimoussi had not so much as a copper flouss upon him, but, on the other -hand, he had a pistol and the whole world in front of him. And what reasonable -<span class='pageno' id='Page_4'>4</span>boy could want more? All that day he wandered about the streets, -gaping at the houses, at the towers of the mosques, and at the stalls in the -markets, but as the afternoon declined, hunger got hold of him. His friends -of yesterday had vanished. Somehow he must get food.</p> - -<p class='c008'>He fingered the pistol under his jellaba irresolutely. He walked along -a street which he came to know afterwards as the Sôk Kubba. In the middle -was built a square tent of stone with an open arch at each side and a pointed -roof of fluted tiles trailed over by a vine. Just beyond this stone tent the -street narrowed, and on the left-hand side a man who sold weapons squatted -upon the floor of a dark booth.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“How much?” asked Dimoussi, producing his pistol, but loth to let it go.</p> - -<p class='c008'>The shopman looked at Dimoussi, and looked at the pistol. Then he -tossed it carelessly behind him into the litter of his booth.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“It is no good. As sure as my name is Mustapha, it would not kill a rabbit. -But see! My heart is kind. I will give you three dollars.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>He counted them out. Dimoussi stolidly shook his head. “Seven,” -said he.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Mustapha reached behind him for the pistol, and flung it down at Dimoussi’s -feet.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Take it away!” said he. “I will not haggle with foolish boys who -have stolen a thing of no value, and wish to sell it at a great price. Take it -away! Yet, out of my charity, I will give you four dollars.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Five,” said Dimoussi.</p> - -<p class='c008'>And five he received.</p> - -<p class='c008'>He bought rice and eggs in the market, and turned under an old archway -of green tiles into the Fondak Henna. There he cooked his food at a fire, ate, -and proposed to sleep.</p> - -<p class='c008'>But Fate had laid her hand upon Dimoussi. He slept not at all that night. -He sat with his back propped against the filigree plaster of one of the pillars, -and listened to a Moor of the Sherarda tribe, who smoked keef and talked -until morning.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Yes,” said the Sherarda man, “I have travelled far and wide. Now -I go to my own village of Sigota, on Jebel Zarhon.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Have you been to Fez?” asked Dimoussi eagerly.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I have lived in Fez. I served in the army of my lord the Sultan until -I was bored with it. It is a fine town and a large one. The river flows in a -hundred streams underneath the houses. In every house there is running -water. But it is nothing to the town of Mulai Idris.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Dimoussi clasped his hands about his knees.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Oh, tell me! Tell me!” he cried so loudly that in the shadows of the -Fondak men stirred upon their straw and cursed him.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I have also travelled to Rabat, a great town upon the sea, whither many -consools come in fireships. A great town draped with flowers and cactus. But -it is nothing to Mulai Idris. There are no consools in Mulai Idris.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>All through his talk the name of Mulai Idris, the sacred city on the slope -of Jebel Zarhon, came and went like a shuttle of a loom.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_5'>5</span>The Sherarda Moor thought highly of the life in Mulai Idris, since it was -possible to live there without work.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Pilgrims came to visit the shrine of the founder of the Moorish Empire, -with offerings in their hands; and the whole township lived, and lived well, -upon those offerings. Moreover, there were no Europeans, or “consools,” -as he termed them.</p> - -<p class='c008'>The Moor spoke at length, and with hatred, of the Europeans—pale, ungainly -creatures in ridiculous clothes, given over to the devil, people with -a clever knack of invention, no doubt, in the matter of firearms and cameras -and spy-glasses, but, man for man, no match for any Moor.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Only three cities are safe from them now in all Morocco: Sheshawan -in the north, Tafilat in the south, and Mulai Idris. But Mulai Idris is safest. -Once a party of them—Englishmen—came rising up the steep road to the gate -even there, but from the walls we stoned them back. God’s curse on them! -Let them stay at home! But they must always be pushing somewhere.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Dimoussi, recognising in himself a point of kinship with the “consools,” -said gravely:</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I am an Englishman.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>The Sherarda man laughed, as though he had heard an excellent joke, -and continued to discourse upon the splendours of Mulai Idris until the sleepers -waked in their corners, and the keeper flung open the door, and the grey -daylight crept into the Fondak.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Oh, tell me!” said Dimoussi. “The city is far from here?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Set out now. You will be in Mulai Idris before sunset.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Dimoussi rose to his feet.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I will go to Mulai Idris,” said he, and he went out into the cool, clear air. -The Sherarda Moor accompanied Dimoussi to the Bordain Gate, and there -they parted company, the boy going northward, the Moor following the eastward -track towards Fez. He had done his work, though what he had done he -did not know.</p> - -<p class='c008'>At noon Dimoussi came out upon a high tableland, as empty as the plains -which stretched about his native Agurai. Far away upon his left the dark, -serrated ridge of Jebel Gerouan stood out against the sky. Nearer to him upon -his right rose the high rock of Jebel Zarhon. In some fold of that mountain -lay this fabulous city of Mulai Idris.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Dimoussi walked forward, a tiny figure in that vast solitude. There were -no villages, there were no trees anywhere. The plateau extended ahead of -him like a softly heaving sea, as far as the eye could reach. It was covered -with bushes in flower; and here and there an acre of marigolds or a field of -blue lupins decked it out, as though someone had chosen to make a garden -there.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Then suddenly upon Dimoussi’s right the hillside opened, and in the recess -he saw Mulai Idris, a city high-placed and dazzlingly white, which tumbled -down the hillside like a cascade divided at its apex by a great white mosque.</p> - -<p class='c008'>The mosque was the tomb of Mulai Idris, the founder of the empire. -Dimoussi dropped upon his knees and bowed his forehead to the ground. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_6'>6</span>“Mulai Idris,” he whispered, in a voice of exaltation. Yesterday he had -never even heard the name of the town. To-day the mere sight of it lifted -him into a passion of fervour.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Those white walls masked a crowded city of filth and noisome smells. -But Dimoussi walked on air; and his desire to see more of the world died -away altogether.</p> - -<p class='c008'>He was in the most sacred place in all Morocco; and there he stayed. -There was no need for him to work. He had the livelong day wherein to -store away in his heart the sayings of his elders. And amongst those sayings -there was not one that he heard more frequently than this:</p> - -<p class='c008'>“There are too many Europeans in Morocco.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Fanaticism was in the very stones of the town. Dimoussi saw it shining -sombrely in the eyes of the men who paced and rode about the streets; he felt -it behind the impassivity of their faces. It came to him as an echo of their -constant prayers. Dimoussi began to understand it.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Once or twice he saw the Europeans during that spring. For close by -in the plain a great stone arch and some broken pillars showed where the -Roman city of Volubilis had stood. And by those ruins once or twice a party -of Europeans encamped.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Dimoussi visited each encampment, begged money of the “consools,” and -watched with curiosity the queer mechanical things they carried with them—their -cameras, their weapons, their folding mirrors, their brushes and combs. -But on each visit he became more certain that there were too many Europeans -in Morocco.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“A djehad is needed,” said one of the old men sitting outside the gate—“a -holy war—to exterminate them.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“It is not easy to start a djehad,” replied Dimoussi.</p> - -<p class='c008'>The elders stroked their beards and laughed superciliously.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“You are young and foolish, Dimoussi. A single shot from a gun, and -all Moghrebbin is in flame.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Yes; and he that fired the shot certain of Paradise.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Not one of them had thought to fire the shot. They were chatterers of -vain words. But the words sank into Dimoussi’s mind; for Dimoussi was -different. He began to think, as he put it; as a matter of fact, he began to -feel.</p> - -<p class='c008'>He went up to the tomb of Mulai Idris, bribed the guardian, who sat with -a wand in the court outside the shrine, to let him pass, and for the first time -in his life stood within the sacred place. The shrine was dark, and the ticking -of the clocks in the gloom filled Dimoussi’s soul with awe and wonderment.</p> - -<p class='c008'>For the shrine was crowded with clocks: grandfather clocks with white -faces, and gold faces, and enamelled faces, stood side by side along the walls, -marking every kind of hour. Eight-day clocks stood upon pedestals and -niches; and the whole room whirred, and ticked, and chimed; never had -Dimoussi dreamed of anything so marvellous. There were glass balls, too, -dangling from the roof on silver strings, and red baize hanging from the tomb.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Dimoussi bowed his head and prayed for the djehad. And as he prayed -<span class='pageno' id='Page_7'>7</span>in that dark and solitary place there came to him an inspiration. It seemed -that Mulai Idris himself laid his hand upon the boy’s head. It needed only -one man, only one shot to start the djehad. He raised his head and all the -ticking clocks cried out to him: “Thou art the man.” Dimoussi left the -shrine with his head high in the air and a proudness in his gait. For he had -his mission.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Thereafter he lay in wait upon the track over the plain to Mequinez, watching -the north and the south for the coming of the traveller.</p> - -<p class='c008'>During the third week of his watching he saw advancing along the track -mules carrying the baggage of Europeans. Dimoussi crouched in the bushes -and let them pass with the muleteers. A good way behind them the Europeans -rode slowly upon horses. As they came opposite to Dimoussi, one, a dark, -thin man, stretched out his arm and, turning to his companion, said:</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Challoner, there is Mulai Idris.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>At once Dimoussi sprang to his feet. He did not mean to be robbed of -his great privilege. He shook his head.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Lar, lar!” he cried. “Bad men in Mulai Idris. They will stone you. -You go to Mequinez.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>The man who had already spoken laughed.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“We are not going to Mulai Idris,” he replied. He was a man named -Arden who had spent the greater part of many years in Morocco, going up -and down that country in the guise of a Moor, and so counterfeiting accent, -and tongue, and manners, that he had even prayed in their mosques and -escaped detection.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“You are English?” asked Dimoussi.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Yes. Come on, Challoner!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>And then, to his astonishment, as his horse stepped on, Dimoussi cried -out actually in English:</p> - -<p class='c008'>“One, two, three, and away!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Arden stopped his horse.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Where did you learn that?” he asked; and he asked in English.</p> - -<p class='c008'>But Dimoussi had spoken the only five words of English he knew, and -even those he did not understand.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Arden repeated the question in Arabic; and Dimoussi answered with a smile:</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I, too, am English.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Oh! are you?” said Arden, with a laugh; and he rode on. “These -Moors love a joke. He learned the words over there, no doubt, from the -tourists at Volubilis. Do you see those blocks of stone along the track?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Yes,” answered Challoner. “How do they come there?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Old Mulai Ismail, the sultan, built the great palace at Mequinez two -hundred years ago from the ruins of Volubilis. These stones were dragged -down by the captives of the Salee pirates.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“And by the English prisoners from Tangier?” said Challoner suddenly.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Yes,” replied Arden with some surprise, for there was a certain excitement -in his companion’s voice and manner. “The English were prisoners -until the siege ended, and we gave up Tangier and they were released. When -<span class='pageno' id='Page_8'>8</span>Mulai Ismail died, all these men dragging stones just dropped them and -left them where they lay by the track. There they have remained ever since. -It’s strange, isn’t it?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Yes,” said Challoner thoughtfully. He was a young man with the look -of a student rather than a traveller. He rode slowly on, looking about him, -as though at each turn of the road he expected to see some Englishman in -a tattered uniform of the Tangier Foot leaning upon a block of masonry and -wiping the sweat from his brow.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Two of my ancestors were prisoners here in Mequinez,” he said. “They -were captured together at the fall of the Henrietta Fort in 1680, and brought -up here to work on Mulai Ismail’s palace. It’s strange to think that they -dragged these stones down this very track. I don’t suppose that the country -has changed at all. They must have come up from the coast by the same -road we followed, passed the same villages, and heard the pariah dogs bark -at night just as we have done.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Arden glanced in surprise at his companion.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I did not know that. I suppose that is the reason why you wish to -visit Mequinez?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Challoner’s sudden desire to travel inland to this town had been a mystery -to Arden. He knew Challoner well, and knew him for a dilettante, an amiable -amateur of the arts, a man always upon the threshold of a new interest, but -never by any chance on the other side of the door, and, above all, a stay-at-home. -Now the reason was explained.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Yes,” Challoner admitted. “I was anxious to see Mequinez.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Both men came home when peace was declared, I suppose?” said Arden.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“No. Only one came home, James Challoner. The other, Luke, turned -renegade to escape the sufferings of slavery, and was never allowed to come -back. The two men were brothers.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I discovered the story by chance. I was looking over the papers in the -library one morning, in order to classify them, and I came across a manuscript -play written by a Challoner after the Restoration. Between the leaves of -the play an old, faded letter was lying. It had been written by James, on -his return, to Luke’s wife, telling her she would never see Luke again. I will -show you the letter this evening.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“That’s a strange story,” said Arden. “Was nothing heard of Luke -afterwards?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Nothing. No doubt he lived and died in Mequinez.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Challoner looked back as he spoke. Dimoussi was still standing amongst -the bushes watching the travellers recede from him. His plan was completely -formed. There would be a djehad to-morrow, and the honour of it would -belong to Dimoussi of Agurai.</p> - -<p class='c008'>He felt in the leathern wallet which swung at his side upon a silk orange-coloured -cord. He had ten dollars in that wallet. He walked in the rear -of the travellers to Mequinez, and reached the town just before sunset. He -went at once to the great square by the Renegade’s Gate, where the horses -are brought to roll in the dust on their way to the watering fountain.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_9'>9</span>There were many there at the moment; and the square was thick with -dust like a mist.</p> - -<p class='c008'>But, through the mist, in a corner, Dimoussi saw the tents of the travellers, -and, in front of the tents, from wall to wall, a guard of soldiers sitting upon -the ground in a semicircle.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Dimoussi was in no hurry. He loitered there until darkness followed upon -the sunset, and the stars came out.</p> - -<p class='c008'>He saw lights burning in the tents, and, through the open doorway one, -the man who had spoken to him, Arden, stretched upon a lounge-chair, -reading a paper which he held in his hand.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Dimoussi went once more to the Fondak Henna, and made up for the -wakeful night he had passed here with a Moor of the Sherarda tribe by sleeping -until morning with a particular soundness.</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>II</h3> - -<p class='c010'>The paper which Arden was reading was the faded letter written at “Berry -Street, St. James’s” on April 14, 1684, by the James Challoner who had returned -to the wife of Luke Challoner who had turned renegade.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Arden took a literal copy of that letter; and it is printed here from that copy:</p> - -<div class='c011'>“<span class='sc'>Berry Street, St. James’s</span>, </div> -<div class='c011'>“<i>April 14, 1684</i>.</div> - -<p class='c008'>“<span class='sc'>My dear Pamela</span>,</p> -<p class='c012'>“I have just now come back from Whitehall, where I was most graciously -received by his Majestie, who asked many questions about our sufferings -among the Moors, and promised rewards with so fine a courtesy and -condescension that my four years of slavery were all forgotten. Indeed, -my joy would have been rare, but I knew that the time would come when -I must go back to my lodging and write to you news that will go near -to break your heart. Why did my brother not stay quietly at home -with his wife, at whose deare side his place was? But he must suddenlie -leave his house, and come out to his younger brother at Tangier, who was -never more sorry to see any man than I was to see Luke. For we were -hard pressed: the Moors had pushed their trenches close under our walls, -and any night the city might fall. And now I am come safely home, -though there is no deare heart to break for me, and Luke must for ever -stay behind. For that is the bitter truth. We shall see noe more of -Luke, and you, my deare, are widowed and yet no widow. Oh, why did -you let him goe, knowing how quick he is to take fire, and how quick to -cool? I, too, am to blame, for I kept him by me out of my love for -him, and that was his undoing.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“In May ... I commanded the Henrietta Fort, and Luke was a -volunteer with me. For five days we were attacked night and day, we -were cut off from the town, there was no hope that way, and all our -ammunition and water consumed, and most of us wounded or killed. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_10'>10</span>So late on the night of the 13th we were compelled to surrender upon -promise of our lives. Luke and I were carried up to Mequinez, and -there set to build a wall, which was to stretch from that town to -Morocco city, so that a blind man might travel all those many miles -safely without a guide. I will admit that our sufferings were beyond -endurance. We slept underground in close, earth dungeons, down to -which we must crawl on our hands and knees; and at day we laboured -in the sunlight, starved and thirsting, no man knowing when the whip -of the taskmaster would fall across his back, and yet sure that it -would fall. Luke was not to be blamed—to be pitied rather. He was -of a finer, more delicate nature. What was pain to us was anguish and -torture to him. One night I crept down into my earth alone, and the -next day he walked about Mequinez with the robes of a Moor. He had -turned renegade.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I was told that the Bashaw had taken him into his service, but I -never had the opportunity of speech with him again, although I once -heard his voice. That was six months afterwards, when peace had been -re-established between his Maj. and the Emperor. Part of the terms of -the peace was that the English captives should be released and sent down -to the coast, but the renegade must stay behind. I pleaded with the -Bashaw that Luke might be set free too, but could by no means -persuade him. We departed from Mequinez one early morning, and on -the city wall stood the Bashaw’s house; and as I came opposite to it -I saw a hand wave farewell from a narrow window-slit, and heard -Luke’s voice cry, ‘Farewell!’ bravely, Pamela, bravely!</p> - -<div class='c013'>“<span class='sc'>James Challoner.</span>” </div> - -<p class='c008'>When Arden had finished this letter he walked out of the tent, passed -through the semicircle of sentinels, and stood in front of the Renegade’s -Gate. There Challoner joined him, and both men looked at the great arch -for a while without speaking. It rose black against a violet and starlit sky. -The pattern of its coloured tiles could not be distinguished; but even in the -darkness something of its exquisite delicacy could be perceived.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Luke Challoner very likely worked upon that arch,” said Arden. “Yet, -as I read that letter, it seemed so very human, very near, as though it had -been written yesterday.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I wonder what became of him?” said Challoner. “From some house -on the city wall he waved his hand to his brother, and cried ’Farewell!’ bravely. -I wonder what became of him?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I will take a photograph of that gate to-morrow,” said Arden.</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>III</h3> - -<p class='c010'>The next morning Dimoussi came out of the Fondak Henna and walked -to the little booth in the Sôk Kubba. Mustapha was squatting upon the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_11'>11</span>floor, and with a throbbing heart Dimoussi noticed the familiar pistol shining -against the dark wall behind. It had not been sold.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Give it to me,” he said.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Mustapha took the pistol from the nail on which it hung.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“It is worth fourteen dollars,” said he. “But, see, to every man his -chance comes. I am in a good mind to-day. My health is excellent and -my heart is light. You shall have it for twelve.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Dimoussi took the pistol in his hand. It had a flint lock and was mounted -in polished brass, and a cover of brass was on the heel of the butt.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“It is not worth twelve. I will give you seven for it.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Mustapha raised his hands in a gesture of indignation.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Seven dollars!” he cried in a shrill, angry voice. “Hear him! Seven -dollars! Look, it comes from Agadhir in the Sus country where they make -the best weapons.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>He pointed out to Dimoussi certain letters upon the plate underneath -the lock. “There it is written.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Dimoussi could not read, but he nodded his head sagely.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Yes. It is worth seven,” said he.</p> - -<p class='c008'>The shopman snatched it away from the boy.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I will not be angry, for it is natural to boys to be foolish. But I will -tell you the truth. I gave eight dollars for it after much bargaining. But -it has hung in my shop for a year, and no one any more has money. Therefore, -I will sell it to you for ten.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>He felt behind his back and showed Dimoussi a tantalising glint of the -brass barrel. Dimoussi was unshaken.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“It has hung in your shop for four months,” said he.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“A year. That is why I will sell it to you at the loss of a dollar.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Liar, and son of a liar,” replied the boy, without any heat, “and grandson -of a liar. I sold it to you for five dollars four months ago. I will give you -eight for it to-day.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>He counted out the eight dollars one by one on the raised floor of the booth, -and the shopman could not resist.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Very well,” he cried furiously. “Take it, and may your children starve -as mine surely will!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“You are a pig, and the son of a pig,” replied Dimoussi calmly. “Have -you any powder?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>He changed his ninth dollar and bought some powder.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“You will need bullets, too,” said Mustapha. “I will sell you them very -cheap. Oh, you are lucky! Do you see those signs upon the barrel? The -pistol is charmed and cannot miss.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Dimoussi looked at the signs engraved one above the other on the barrel. -There was a crown, and a strange letter, and a lion. He had long wondered -what those signs meant. He was very glad now that he understood.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“But I will not buy lead bullets,” said Dimoussi wisely. “The pistol -may be enchanted so that it cannot miss, but there are also enchantments -against lead bullets so that they cannot hurt.”</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_12'>12</span>So Dimoussi walked away, and begged a lump of rock salt from another -booth instead. He cut down the lump until it fitted roughly into the hexagonal -barrel of his pistol. Then he loaded the pistol, and hiding the weapon in -the wide sleeve of his jellaba, sauntered to the great square before the Renegade’s -Gate. There were groups of people standing about watching the tents, -and the inevitable ring of sentries. But while Dimoussi was still loitering—he -would have loitered for a fortnight if need be, for there were no limits -to Dimoussi’s patience—Arden came out of the tent with his camera, and -Challoner followed with a tripod stand.</p> - -<p class='c008'>The two consools passed the line of guards and set up the camera in front -of the Renegade’s Gate. Dimoussi was quite impartial which of the two -should be sacrificed to begin the djehad, but again an ironical fate laid its -hand upon him. It was Arden who was to work the camera. It was Arden, -therefore, who was surrounded by the idlers, and was safe. Challoner, on -the other hand, had to stand quite apart, so as to screen the lens from the -direct rays of the sun.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“A little more to the right, Challoner,” said Arden. “That’ll do.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>He put his head under the focussing cloth, and the next instant he heard -a loud report, followed by shouts and screams and the rush of feet; and when -he tore the focussing cloth away he saw Challoner lying upon the ground, -the sentries agitatedly rushing this way and that, and the bystanders to a -man in full flight.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Dimoussi had chosen his opportunity well. He stood between two men, -and rather behind them, and exactly opposite Challoner. All eyes were fixed -upon the camera, even Challoner’s. It was true that he did see the sun glitter -suddenly upon something bright, that he did turn, that he did realise that -the bright thing was the brass barrel of a big flintlock pistol. But before he -could move or shout, the pistol was fired, and a heavy blow like a blow from -a cudgel struck him full on the chest.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Challoner spoke no more than a few words afterwards. The lump of rock -salt had done the work of an explosive bullet. He was just able to answer -a question of Arden’s.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Did you see who fired?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“The boy who came from Mulai Idris,” whispered Challoner. “He shot -me with a brass-barrelled pistol.” That seemed to have made a most vivid -impression upon his mind, for more than once he repeated it.</p> - -<p class='c008'>But Dimoussi was by this time out of the Renegade’s Gate, and running -with all his might through the olive grove towards the open, lawless country -south of Mequinez. By the evening he was safe from capture, and lifted up -with pride.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Certainly no djehad had followed upon the murder, and that was disappointing. -But it was not Dimoussi’s fault. He had done his best according -to his lights. Meanwhile, it seemed prudent to him to settle down quietly -at Agurai. He was nearly sixteen now. Dimoussi thought that he would -settle down and marry.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Here the episode would have ended but for two circumstances. In the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_13'>13</span>first place Dimoussi carried back with him from Mequinez the brass-barrelled -pistol; and in the second place Arden, two years later, acted upon a -long-cherished desire to penetrate the unmapped country south of -Mequinez.</p> - -<p class='c008'>He travelled with a mule as a Jew pedlar, knowing that such a man, for -the sake of his wares, may go where a Moor may not. Of his troubles during -his six months’ wanderings now is not the time to speak. It is enough that -at the end of the six months he set up his canvas shelter one evening by the -village of Agurai.</p> - -<p class='c008'>The men came at once and squatted, chattering, about his shelter.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Is there a woman in the village,” asked Arden, “who will wash some -clothes for me?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>And the sheikh of the village rose up and replied:</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Yes; the Frenchwoman. I will send her to you.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Arden was perplexed. It seemed extraordinary that in a little village -in a remote and unusually lawless district of Morocco there should be a French -blanchisseuse. But he made no comment, and spread out his wares upon -the ground. In a few moments a woman appeared. She had the Arab face, -the Arab colour. But she stood unconcernedly before Arden, and said in -Arabic:</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I am the Frenchwoman. Give me the clothes you want washing.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Arden reached behind him for the bundle. He addressed her in French, -but she shook her head and carried the bundle away. Her place was taken -by another, a very old, dark woman, who was accompanied by a youth carrying -a closed basket.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Pigeons,” said the old woman. “Good, fat, live pigeons.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Arden was fairly tired of that national food by this time, and waved her -away.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Very well,” said she. She took the basket from the youth, placed it -on the ground, and opened the lid. Then she clapped her hands and the -pigeons flew out. As they rose into the air she laughed, and cried out in -English—“One, two, three, and away!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Arden was fairly startled.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“What words are those?” he exclaimed.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“English,” the old woman replied in Arabic. “I am the Englishwoman.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>And the men of the village who were clustered round the shelter agreed, -as though nothing could be more natural:</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Yes, she is the Englishwoman.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“And what do the words mean?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>The old woman shrugged her shoulders.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“My father used them just as I did,” she said. She spoke with a certain -pride in the possession of those five uncomprehended words. “He learned -them from his father. I do not know what they mean.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>It was mystifying enough to Arden that, in a country where hardly a Moor -of a foreign tribe, and certainly no Europeans, had ever been known to penetrate, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_14'>14</span>there should be a Frenchwoman who knew no French, and an Englishwoman -with five words of English she did not understand.</p> - -<p class='c008'>But there was more than this to startle Arden. He had heard those -same words spoken once before, by a Moorish boy who had declared -himself to be an Englishman, and that Moorish boy had murdered his -friend Challoner.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Arden glanced carelessly at the youth who stood by the old woman’s side.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“That is your son?” said he.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Yes. That is Dimoussi.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Dimoussi’s cheeks wore the shadow of a beard. He had grown.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Arden could not pretend to himself that he recognised the boy who had -sprung up from the asphodel-bushes a few miles from Mulai Idris.</p> - -<p class='c008'>He bethought himself of a way to test his suspicions. He took from his -wares an old rusty pistol and began to polish it. A firearm he knew to be -a lure to any Moor. Dimoussi drew nearer. Arden paid no attention, but -continued to polish his pistol. A keen excitement was gaining on him, but -he gave no sign. At last Dimoussi reached out his hand. Arden placed the -pistol in it. Dimoussi turned the pistol over, and gave it back.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“It is no good.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Arden laughed.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“There is no better pistol in Agurai,” said he contemptuously. In his -ears there was the sound of Challoner’s voice repeating and repeating: “He -shot me with a brass-barrelled pistol—a brass-barrelled pistol.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>The contempt in his tone stung Dimoussi.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I have a better,” said he, and at that the old woman touched him -warningly on the arm. Dimoussi stopped at once, and the couple moved -away.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Arden wondered whether this was the end. There was a chance that -it was not. Dimoussi might return to compare his pistol with Arden’s, and -to establish its superiority. Arden waited all the evening in a strong suspense; -and at ten o’clock, when he was alone, Dimoussi stepped noiselessly into the -shelter, and laid his brass-barrelled pistol on the ground in the light of the -lamp.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“It is better than yours. It comes from Agadhir, in the Sus country, -where the best pistols are made. See, those letters prove it.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Arden had no doubt that he had now Challoner’s murderer sitting at his -side. But he looked at the letters on the pistol-barrel to which Dimoussi -pointed. The letters were in English, and made up the name “Bennett.” -There was also engraved upon the brass of the barrel “London.” The pistol -was an old horse-pistol of English make. Even its period was clear to Arden. -For above the lion and the crown was the letter C. Arden pointed to those -marks.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“What do they mean?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“They are charms to prevent it missing.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Arden said nothing. His thoughts were busy on other matters. This -pistol was a pistol of the time of Charles II, of the time of the Tangier siege.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_15'>15</span>“How long have you had it?” he asked.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“My father owned it before me.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“And his father before him?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Very likely. I do not know.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Arden’s excitement was increasing. He began to see dim, strange possibilities. -Suppose, he reasoned, that this pistol had travelled up to Mequinez -in the possession of an English prisoner. Suppose that by some chance the -prisoner had escaped and wandered; and suddenly he saw something which -caught his breath away. He bent down and examined the brass covering -to the heel of the butt. Upon that plate there was an engraved crest. Yes! -and the crest was Challoner’s!</p> - -<p class='c008'>Arden kept his face bent over the pistol. Questions raced through his -mind. Had that pistol belonged to Luke Challoner, who had turned renegade -two hundred years ago? Had he married in his captivity? Had his descendants -married again, until all trace of their origin was lost except this -pistol and five words of English, and the name “Englishwoman”? Ah! -but if so, who was the Frenchwoman?</p> - -<p class='c008'>It was quite intelligible to Arden why Dimoussi had slain Challoner. -Fanaticism was sufficient reason. But supposing Dimoussi were a descendant -of Luke! It was all very strange. Challoner was the last of his family, -the last of his name. Had the family name been extinguished by a -Challoner?</p> - -<p class='c008'>Arden returned to Mequinez the next day, and, making search, through the -help of the Bashaw, who was his friend, amongst documents which existed, -he at last came upon the explanation.</p> - -<p class='c008'>The renegades, who were made up not merely of English prisoners of Tangier, -but of captives of many nationalities taken by the Salee pirates, had, about the -year 1700, become numerous enough to threaten Mequinez. Consequently -the Sultan had one fine morning turned them all out of the town through -the Renegade’s Gate and bidden them go south and found a city for themselves.</p> - -<p class='c008'>They had founded Agurai, they had been attacked by the Beni M’tir; -with diminishing numbers they had held their own; they had intermarried -with the natives; and now, two hundred years later, all that remained of -them were the Frenchwoman, Dimoussi, and his mother.</p> - -<p class='c008'>There could be no doubt that Challoner had been murdered because he -was a European, by one of his own race.</p> - -<p class='c008'>There could be no doubt that the real owner of the Challoner property, -which went to a distant relation on the female side, was a Moorish youth -living at the village of Agurai.</p> - -<p class='c008'>But Arden kept silence for a long while.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_16'>16</span> - <h2 class='c003'><span class='xxlarge'>The Woman</span><br /> <br /><span class='xlarge'><i>By</i> A. A. Milne</span><br /> <br /><i>Royal Warwick Regiment</i></h2> -</div> - -<h3 class='c009'>I</h3> - -<p class='c010'>It was April, and in his little bedroom in the Muswell Hill boarding-house, -where Mrs. Morrison (assisted, as you found out later, by Miss Gertie Morrison) -took in a few select paying guests, George Crosby was packing. Spring came -in softly through his open window; it whispered to him tales of green hedges -and misty woods and close-cropped rolling grass. “Collars,” said George, -trying to shut his ears to it, “handkerchiefs, ties—I knew I’d forgotten something: -ties.” He pulled open a drawer. “Ties, shirts—where’s my list?—shirts, -ties.” He wandered to the window and looked out. Muswell Hill -was below him, but he hardly saw it. “Three weeks,” he murmured. -“Heaven for three weeks, and it hasn’t even begun yet.” There was the -splendour of it. It hadn’t begun; it didn’t begin till to-morrow. He went -back in a dream to his packing. “Collars,” he said, “shirts, ties—ties——”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Miss Gertie Morrison had not offered to help him this year. She had not -forgotten that she had put herself forward the year before, when George had -stammered and blushed (he found blushing very easy in the Muswell Hill -boarding-house), and Algy Traill, the humorist of the establishment, had -winked and said, “George, old boy, you’re in luck; Gertie never packs for -me.” Algy had continued the joke by smacking his left hand with his right, -and saying in an undertone, “Naughty boy, how dare you call her Gertie?” -and then in a falsetto voice: “Oh, Mr. Crosby, I’m sure I never meant to -put myself forward!” Then Mrs. Morrison from her end of the table called -out——</p> - -<p class='c008'>But I can see that I shall have to explain the Muswell Hill ménage to you. -I can do it quite easily while George is finishing his packing. He is looking -for his stockings now, and that always takes him a long time, because he hasn’t -worn them since last April, and they are probably under the bed.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Well, Mrs. Morrison sits at one end of the table and carves. Suppose it -is Tuesday evening. “Cold beef or hash, Mr. Traill?” she asks, and Algy -probably says “Yes, please,” which makes two of the boarders laugh. These -are two pale brothers called Fossett, younger than you who read this have -ever been, and enthusiastic admirers of Algy Traill. Their great ambition -is to paint the town red one Saturday night. They have often announced -<span class='pageno' id='Page_17'>17</span>their intention of doing this, but so far they do not seem to have left their -mark on London to any extent. Very different is it with their hero and mentor. -On Boat-race night four years ago Algy Traill was actually locked up—and -dismissed next morning with a caution. Since then he has often talked as -if he were a Cambridge man; the presence of an Emmanuel lacrosse blue -in the adjoining cell having decided him in the choice of a university.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Meanwhile his hash is getting cold. Let us follow it quickly. It is carried -by the servant to Miss Gertie Morrison at the other end of the table, who slaps -in a helping of potatoes and cabbage. “What, asparagus <i>again</i>?” says -Algy, seeing the cabbage. “We <i>are</i> in luck.” Mrs. Morrison throws up -her eyes at Mr. Ransom on her right, as much as to say, “Was there ever -such a boy?” and Miss Gertie threatens him with the potato spoon, and tells -him not to be silly. Mr. Ransom looks approvingly across the table at Traill. -He has a feeling that the Navy, the Empire, and the Old Country are in some -way linked up with men of the world such as Algy, or that (to put it in another -way) a Radical Nonconformist would strongly disapprove of him. It comes -to the same thing; you can’t help liking the fellow. Mr. Ransom is wearing -an M.C.C. tie; partly because the bright colours make him look younger, -partly because unless he changes <i>something</i> for dinner he never feels quite -clean, you know. In his own house he would dress every night. He is fifty; -tall, dark, red-faced, black-moustached, growing stout; an insurance agent. -It is his great sorrow that the country is going to the dogs, and he dislikes -the setting of class against class. The proper thing to do is to shoot them -down.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Opposite him, and looking always as if he had slept in his clothes, is Mr. -Owen-Jones—called Mr. Joen-Owns by Algy. He argues politics fiercely -across Mrs. Morrison. “My dear fellow,” he cries to Ransom, “you’re nothing -but a reactionary!”—to which Ransom, who is a little doubtful what a reactionary -is, replies, “All I want is to live at peace with my neighbours. I -don’t interfere with them; why should they interfere with me?” Whereupon -Mrs. Morrison says peaceably, “Live and let live. After all, there are -two side to <i>every</i> question—a little more hash, Mr. Owen-Jones?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>George has just remembered that his stockings are under the bed, so I -must hurry on. As it happens, the rest of the boarders do not interest me -much. There are two German clerks and one French clerk, whose broken -English is always amusing, and somebody with a bald, dome-shaped head -who takes in <i>Answers</i> every week. Three years ago he had sung “Annie -Laurie” after dinner one evening, and Mrs. Morrison still remembers sometimes -to say, “Won’t you sing something, Mr. ——?” whatever his name was, -but he always refuses. He says that he has the new number of <i>Answers</i> to -read.</p> - -<p class='c008'>There you are; now you know everybody. Let us go upstairs again to -George Crosby.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Is there anything in the world jollier than packing up for a holiday? If -there is, I do not know it. It was the hour (or two hours or three hours) of -George’s life. It was more than that; for days beforehand he had been -<span class='pageno' id='Page_18'>18</span>packing to himself; sorting out his clothes, while he bent over the figures at -his desk, making and drawing up lists of things that he really mustn’t forget. -In the luncheon hour he would look in at hosiers’ windows and nearly buy a -blue shirt because it went so well with his brown knickerbocker suit. You -or I would have bought it; it was only five and sixpence. Every evening -he would escape from the drawing-room—that terrible room—and hurry -upstairs to his little bedroom, and there sit with his big brown kit-bag open -before him ... dreaming. Every evening he had meant to pack a few -things just to begin with: his tweed suit and stockings and nailed shoes, for -instance; but he was always away in the country, following the white path -over the hills, as soon as ever his bag was between his knees. How he ached -to take his body there too ... it was only three weeks to wait, two weeks, -a week, three days—to-morrow! To-morrow—he was almost frightened to -think of it lest he should wake up.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Perhaps you wonder that George Crosby hated the Muswell Hill boarding-house; -perhaps you don’t. For my part I agree with Mrs. Morrison that -it takes all sorts to make a world, and that as Mr. —— (I forget his name: -the dome-shaped gentleman) once surprised us by saying, “There is good in -everybody if only you can find it out.” At any rate there is humour. I -think if George had tried to see the humorous side of Mrs. Morrison’s select -guests he might have found life tolerable. And yet the best joke languishes -after five years.</p> - -<p class='c008'>I had hoped to have gone straight ahead with this story, but I shall have -to take you back five years; it won’t be for long. Believe me, no writer -likes this diving back into the past. He is longing to get to the great moment -when Rosamund puts her head on George’s shoulder and says—but we shall -come to that. What I must tell you now, before my pen runs away with me, -is that five years ago George was at Oxford with plenty of money in his pocket, -and a vague idea in his head that he would earn a living somehow when he -went down. Then his only near relation, his father, died ... and George -came down with no money in his pocket, and the knowledge that he would -have to earn his living at once. He knew little of London east of the Savoy, -where he had once lunched with his father; I doubt if he even knew the Gaiety -by sight. When his father’s solicitor recommended a certain Islington boarding-house -as an establishment where a man of means could be housed and fed -for as little as thirty shillings a week, and a certain firm in Fenchurch Street -as another establishment where a man of gifts could earn as much as forty -shillings a week, George found out where Islington and Fenchurch Street -were, and fell mechanically into the routine suggested for him. That he -might have been happier alone, looking after himself, cooking his own meals -or sampling alone the cheaper restaurants, hardly occurred to him. Life -was become suddenly a horrible dream, and the boarding-house was just a part -of it.</p> - -<p class='c008'>However, three years of Islington was enough for him. He pulled himself -together ... and moved to Muswell Hill.</p> - -<p class='c008'>There, we have him back at Muswell Hill now, and I have not been long, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_19'>19</span>have I? He has been two years with Mrs. Morrison. I should like to say -that he is happy with Mrs. Morrison, but he is not. The terrible thing is that -he cannot get hardened to it. He hates Muswell Hill; he hates Traill and -the Fossetts and Ransom; he hates Miss Gertie Morrison. The whole vulgar, -familiar, shabby, sociable atmosphere of the place he hates. Some day, perhaps, -he will pull himself together and move again. There is a boarding-house -at Finsbury Park he has heard of....</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>II</h3> - -<p class='c010'>If you had three weeks’ holiday in the year, three whole weeks in which -to amuse yourself as you liked, how would you spend it? Algy Traill went -to Brighton in August; you should have seen him on the pier. The Fossett -Brothers adorned Weymouth, the Naples of England. They did good, if -slightly obvious, work on the esplanade in fairly white flannels. This during -the day; eight-thirty in the evening found them in the Alexandra Gardens—dressed. -It is doubtful if the Weymouth boarding-house would have stood -it at dinner, so they went up directly afterwards and changed. Mr. Ransom -spent August at Folkestone, where he was understood to have a doubtful -wife. She was really his widowed mother. You would never have suspected -him of a mother, but there she was in Folkestone, thinking of him always, -and only living for the next August. It was she who knitted him the M.C.C. -tie; he had noticed the colours in a Piccadilly window.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Miss Gertie went to Cliftonville—not Margate.</p> - -<p class='c008'>And where did George go? The conversation at dinner that evening -would have given us a clue; or perhaps it wouldn’t.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“So you’re off to-morrow,” Mrs. Morrison had said. “Well, I’m sure -I hope you’ll have a nice time. A little sea air will do you good.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Where are you going, Crosby?” asked Ransom, with the air of a man -who means to know.</p> - -<p class='c008'>George looked uncomfortable.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I’m not quite sure,” he said awkwardly. “I’m going a sort of walking-tour, -you know; stopping at inns and things. I expect it—er—will depend -a bit, you know.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Well, if you <i>should</i> happen to stop at Sandringham,” said Algy, “give -them all my love, old man, won’t you?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Then you won’t have your letters sent on?” asked Mrs. Morrison.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Oh no, thanks. I don’t suppose I shall have any, anyhow.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“If you going on a walking-tour,” said Owen-Jones, “why don’t you -try the Welsh mountains?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I always wonder you don’t run across to Paris,” said the dome-shaped -gentleman suddenly. “It only takes——” He knew all the facts, and was -prepared to give them, but Algy interrupted him with a knowing whistle.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Paris, George, aha! Place me among the demoiselles, what ho! I -don’t think. Naughty boy!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Crosby’s first impulse (he had had it before) was to throw his glass of beer -at Algy’s face. The impulse died down, and his resolve hardened to write -<span class='pageno' id='Page_20'>20</span>about the Finsbury Park boarding-house at once. He had made that resolution -before, too. Then his heart jumped as he remembered that he was going -away on the morrow. He forgot Traill and Finsbury Park, and went off -into his dreams. The other boarders discussed walking-tours and holiday -resorts with animation.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Gertie Morrison was silent. She was often silent when Crosby was there, -and always when Crosby’s affairs were being discussed. She knew he hated -her, and she hated him for it. I don’t think she knew why he hated her. -It was because she lowered his opinion of women.</p> - -<p class='c008'>He had known very few women in his life, and he dreamed dreams about -them. They were wonderful creatures, a little higher than the angels, and -beauty and mystery and holiness hung over them. Some day he would -meet the long-desired one, and (miracle) she would love him, and they would -live happy ever afterwards at—— He wondered sometimes whether an -angel <i>would</i> live happy ever afterwards at Bedford Park. Bedford Park seemed -to strip the mystery and the holiness and the wonder from his dream. And -yet he had seen just the silly little house at Bedford Park that would suit -them; and even angels, if they come to earth, must live somewhere. She -would walk to the gate every morning, and wave him good-bye from under -the flowering laburnum—for I need not say that it was always spring in his -dream. That was why he had his holiday in April, for it must be spring when -he found her, and he would only find her in the country.... Another reason -was that in August Miss Morrison went to Cliftonville (not Margate), and so -he had a fortnight in Muswell Hill without Miss Morrison.</p> - -<p class='c008'>For it was difficult to believe in the dreams when Gertie Morrison was daily -before his eyes. There was a sort of hard prettiness there, which might have -been beauty, but where were the mystery and the wonder and the holiness? -None of that about the Gertie who was treated so familiarly by the Fossetts -and the Traills and their kind, and answered them back so smartly. “You -can’t get any change out of Gertie,” Traill often said on these occasions. Almost -Crosby wished you could. He would have had her awkward, bewildered, -indignant, overcome with shame; it distressed him that she was so lamentably -well-equipped for the battle. At first he pitied her, then he hated her. She -was betraying her sex. What he really meant was that she was trying to topple -over the beautiful image he had built.</p> - -<p class='c008'>I know what you are going to say. What about the girl at the A B C -shop who spilt his coffee over his poached egg every day at one thirty-five -precisely? Hadn’t she given his image a little push too? I think not. He -hardly saw her as a woman at all. She was a worker, like himself; sexless. -In the evenings perhaps she became a woman ... wonderful, mysterious, -holy ... I don’t know; at any rate he didn’t see her then. But Miss Morrison -he saw at home; she was pretty and graceful and feminine; she might -have been, not <i>the</i> woman—that would have been presumption on his part—but -a woman ... and then she went and called Algy Traill “a silly boy,” -and smacked him playfully with a teaspoon! Traill, the cad-about-town, -the ogler of women! No wonder the image rocked.</p> - -<div class='figcenter id001'> -<img src='images/p021.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic002'> -<p>“Let’s sit down,” he said. “I thought you always went to Mar—to Cliftonville for your holiday?” (page 27).</p> -</div> -</div> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_22'>22</span>Well, he would be away from the Traills and the Morrisons and the Fossetts -for three weeks. It was April, the best month of the year. He was right -in saying that he was not quite sure where he was going, but he could have -told Mrs. Morrison the direction. He would start down the line with his knapsack -and his well-filled kit-bag. By-and-by he would get out—the name of the -station might attract him, or the primroses on the banks—leave his bag, and, -knapsack on shoulder, follow the road. Sooner or later he would come to -a village; he would find an inn that could put him up; on the morrow -the landlord could drive in for his bag.... And then three weeks in which -to search for the woman.</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>III</h3> - -<p class='c010'>A south wind was blowing little baby clouds along a blue sky; lower down, -the rooks were talking busily to each other in the tall elms which lined the -church; and, lower down still, the foxhound puppy sat himself outside the -blacksmith’s and waited for company. If nothing happened in the next -twenty seconds he would have to go and look for somebody.</p> - -<p class='c008'>But somebody was coming. From the door of “The Dog and Duck” -opposite, a tall, lean, brown gentleman stepped briskly, in his hand a pair -of shoes. The foxhound puppy got up and came across the road sideways -to him. “Welcome, welcome,” he said effusively, and went round the tall, -lean, brown gentleman several times.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Hallo, Duster,” said the brown gentleman; “coming with me to-day?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Come along,” said the foxhound puppy excitedly. “Going with you? -I should just think I am! Which way shall we go?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Wait a moment. I want to leave these shoes here.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Duster followed him into the blacksmith’s shop. The blacksmith thought -he could put some nails in; gentlemen’s shoes and horses’ shoes, he explained, -weren’t quite the same thing. The brown gentleman admitted the difference, -but felt sure that the blacksmith could make a job of anything he tried his -hand at. He mentioned, which the blacksmith knew, that he was staying -at “The Dog and Duck” opposite, and gave his name as Carfax.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Come along,” said Duster impatiently.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Good morning,” said the brown gentleman to the blacksmith. “Lovely -day, isn’t it?... Come along, old boy.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>He strode out into the blue fresh morning, Duster all round him. But -when they got to the church—fifty yards, no more—the foxhound puppy -changed his mind. He had had an inspiration, the same inspiration which -came to him every day at this spot. He stopped.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Let’s go back,” he said.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Not coming to-day?” laughed the brown gentleman. “Well, good-bye.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“You see, I think I’d better wait here, after all,” said the foxhound puppy -apologetically. “Something might happen. Are you really going on? Well—you’ll -excuse me, won’t you?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>He ambled back to his place outside the blacksmith’s shop. The tall, -lean, brown gentleman, who called himself Carfax, walked on briskly with -<span class='pageno' id='Page_23'>23</span>spring in his heart. Above him the rooks talked and talked; the hedges -were green; and there were little baby clouds in the blue sky.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Shall I try to deceive you for a page or two longer, or shall we have the -truth out at once? Better have the truth. Well, then—the gentleman -who called himself Carfax was really George Crosby. You guessed? Of course -you did. But if you scent a mystery you are wrong.</p> - -<p class='c008'>It was five years ago that Crosby took his first holiday. He came to this -very inn, “The Dog and Duck,” and when they asked him his name he replied -“Geoffrey Carfax.” It had been an inspiration in the train. To be Geoffrey -Carfax for three weeks seemed to cut him off more definitely from the Fenchurch -Street office and the Islington boarding-house. George Crosby was -in prison, working a life sentence; Geoffrey Carfax was a free man in search -of the woman. Romance might come to Geoffrey, but it could never come -to George. They were two different persons; then let them be two different -persons. Besides, glamour hung over the mere act of giving a false name. -George had delightful thrills when he remembered his deceit; and there was -one heavenly moment of panic, on the last day of his first holiday, when (to -avoid detection) he shaved off his moustache. He was not certain what -the punishment was for calling yourself Geoffrey Carfax when your real name -was George Crosby, but he felt that with a clean-shaven face he could laugh -at Scotland Yard. The downward path, however, is notoriously an easy one. -In subsequent years he let himself go still farther. Even the one false name -wouldn’t satisfy him now; and if he only looked in at a neighbouring inn -for a glass of beer, he would manage to let it fall into his conversation that -he was Guy Colehurst or Gervase Crane or—he had a noble range of names -to choose from, only limited by the fact that “G.C.” was on his cigarette-case -and his kit-bag. (His linen was studiously unmarked, save with the hieroglyphic -of his washerwoman—a foolish observation in red cotton which might -mean anything.)</p> - -<p class='c008'>The tall, lean, brown gentleman, then, taking the morning air was George -Crosby. Between ourselves we may continue to call him George. It is not -a name I like; he hated it too; but George he was undoubtedly. Yet already -he was a different George from the one you met at Muswell Hill. He had had -two weeks of life, and they had made him brown and clear-eyed and confident. -I think I said he blushed readily in Mrs. Morrison’s boarding-house; the fact -was he felt always uneasy in London, awkward, uncomfortable. In the open -air he was at home, ready for he knew not what dashing adventure.</p> - -<p class='c008'>It was a day of spring to stir the heart with longings and memories. -Memories, half-forgotten, of all the Aprils of the past touched him for a moment, -and then, as he tried to grasp them, fluttered out of reach, so that he wondered -whether he was recalling real adventures which had happened, or whether -he was but dreaming over again the dreams which were always with him. -One memory remained. It was on such a day as this, five years ago, and -almost in this very place, that he had met the woman.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Yes, I shall have to go back again to tell you of her. Five years ago he -had been staying at this same inn; it was his first holiday after his sentence -<span class='pageno' id='Page_24'>24</span>to prison. He was not so resigned to his lot five years ago; he thought of it -as a bitter injustice; and the wonderful woman for whom he came into the -country to search was to be his deliverer. So that, I am afraid, she would -have to have been, not only wonderful, mysterious, and holy, but also rich. -For it was to the contented ease of his early days that he was looking for -release; the little haven in Bedford Park had not come into his dreams. -Indeed, I don’t suppose he had even heard of Bedford Park at that time. It -was Islington or The Manor House; anything in between was Islington. But, -of course, he never confessed to himself that she would need to be rich.</p> - -<p class='c008'>And he found her. He came over the hills on a gentle April morning and -saw her beneath him. She was caught, it seemed, in a hedge. How gallantly -George bore down to the rescue!</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Can I be of any assistance?” he said in his best manner, and that, I -think, is always the pleasantest way to begin. Between “Can I be of any -assistance?” and “With all my worldly goods I thee endow” one has not -far to travel.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I’m caught,” she said. “If you could——” Observe George spiking -himself fearlessly.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I say, you really <i>are</i>! Wait a moment.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“It’s very kind of you.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>There—he has done it.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Thank you so much,” she said, with a pretty smile. “Oh, you’ve hurt -yourself!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>The sweet look of pain on her face!</p> - -<p class='c008'>“It’s nothing,” said George nobly. And it really was nothing. One can -get a delightful amount of blood and sympathy from the most insignificant -scratch.</p> - -<p class='c008'>They hesitated a moment. She looked on the ground; he looked at her. -Then his eyes wandered round the beautiful day, and came back to her just -as she looked up.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“It is a wonderful day, isn’t it?” he said suddenly.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Yes,” she breathed.</p> - -<p class='c008'>It seemed absurd to separate on such a day when they were both wandering, -and Heaven had brought them together.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I say, dash it,” said George suddenly: “what are you going to do? -Are you going anywhere particular?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Not very particular.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Neither am I. Can’t we go there together?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I was just going to have lunch.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“So was I. Well, there you are. It would be silly if you sat here and -ate—what <i>are</i> yours, by the way?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Only mutton, I’m afraid.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Ah, mine are beef. Well, if you sat here and ate mutton sandwiches -and I sat a hundred yards farther on and ate beef ones, we <i>should</i> look ridiculous, -shouldn’t we?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“It <i>would</i> be rather silly,” she smiled.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_25'>25</span>So they sat down and had their sandwiches together.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“My name is Carfax,” he said, “Geoffrey Carfax.” Oh, George! And -to a woman! However, she wouldn’t tell him hers.</p> - -<p class='c008'>They spent an hour over lunch. They wandered together for another -hour. Need I tell you all the things they said? But they didn’t talk of -London.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Oh, I must be going,” she said suddenly. “I didn’t know it was so -late. No, I know my way. Don’t come with me. Good-bye.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“It can’t be good-bye,” said George in dismay. “I’ve only just found -you. Where do you live? Who are you?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Don’t let’s spoil it,” she smiled. “It’s been a wonderful day—a wonderful -little piece of a day. We’ll always remember it. I don’t think it’s meant -to go on; it stops just here.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I <i>must</i> see you again,” said George firmly. “Will you be there to-morrow, -at the same time—at the place where we met?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I might.” She sighed. “And I mightn’t.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>But George knew she would.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Then good-bye,” he said, holding out his hand.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“My name is Rosamund,” she whispered, and fled.</p> - -<p class='c008'>He watched her out of sight, marvelling how bravely she walked. Then -he started for home, his head full of strange fancies....</p> - -<p class='c008'>He found a road an hour later; the road went on and on, it turned and -branched and doubled—he scarcely noticed it. The church clock was striking -seven as he came into the village.</p> - -<p class='c008'>It was a wonderful lunch he took with him next day. Chicken and tongue -and cake and chocolate and hard-boiled eggs. He ate it alone (by the corner -of a wood, five miles from the hedge which captured her) at half-past three. -That day was a nightmare. He never found the place again, though he tried -all through the week remaining to him. He had no hopes after that day of -seeing her, but only to have found the hedge would have been some satisfaction. -At least he could sit there and sigh—and curse himself for a fool.</p> - -<p class='c008'>He went back to Islington knowing that he had had his chance and missed -it. By next April he had forgotten her. He was convinced that she was not -the woman. <i>The</i> woman had still to be found. He went to another part -of the country and looked for her.</p> - -<p class='c008'>And now he was back at “The Dog and Duck” again. Surely he would -find her to-day. It was the time; it must be almost the place. Would the -loved one be there? He was not sure whether he wanted her to be the woman -of five years ago or not. Whoever she was, she would be the one he sought. -He had walked some miles; funny if he stumbled upon the very place suddenly.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Memories of five years ago were flooding his mind. Had he really been -here, or had he only dreamed of it? Surely that was the hill down which he -had come; surely that clump of trees on the right had been there before. -And—could that be the very hedge?</p> - -<p class='c008'>It was.</p> - -<p class='c008'>And there was a woman caught in it.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_26'>26</span> -<h3 class='c009'>IV</h3> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>George ran down the hill, his heart thumping heavily at his ribs.... She -had her back towards him.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Can I be of any assistance?” he said in his best manner. But she didn’t -need to be rich now; there was that little house at Bedford Park.</p> - -<p class='c008'>She turned round.</p> - -<p class='c008'>It was Gertie Morrison!</p> - -<p class='c008'>Silly of him; of course, it wasn’t Miss Morrison; but it was extraordinarily -like her. Prettier, though.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Why, Mr. Crosby!” she said.</p> - -<p class='c008'>It <i>was</i> Gertie Morrison.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“You!” he said angrily.</p> - -<p class='c008'>He was furious that such a trick should have been played upon him at -this moment; furious to be reminded suddenly that he was George Crosby -of Muswell Hill. Muswell Hill, the boarding-house—Good Lord! Gertie -Morrison! Algy Traill’s Gertie.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Yes, it’s me,” she said, shrinking from him. She saw he was angry with -her; she vaguely understood why.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Then George laughed. After all, she hadn’t deliberately put herself in -his way. She could hardly be expected to avoid the whole of England (outside -Muswell Hill) until she knew exactly where George Crosby proposed to -take his walk. What a child he was to be angry with her.</p> - -<p class='c008'>When he laughed, she laughed too—a little nervously.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Let me help,” he said. He scratched his fingers fearlessly on her behalf. -What should he do afterwards? he wondered. His day was spoilt anyhow. -He could hardly leave her.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Oh, you’ve hurt yourself!” she said. She said it very sweetly, in a voice -that only faintly reminded him of the Gertie of Muswell Hill.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“It’s nothing,” he answered, as he had answered five years ago.</p> - -<p class='c008'>They stood looking at each other. George was puzzled.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“You are Miss Morrison, aren’t you?” he said. “Somehow you seem -different.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“You’re different from the Mr. Crosby I know.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Am I? How?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“It’s dreadful to see you at the boarding-house.” She looked at him -timidly. “You don’t mind my mentioning the boarding-house, do you?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Mind? Why should I?” (After all, he still had another week.)</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Well, you want to forget about it when you’re on your holiday.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Fancy her knowing that.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“And are you on your holiday too?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>She gave a long deep sigh of content.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Yes,” she said.</p> - -<p class='c008'>He looked at her with more interest. There was colour in her face; her -eyes were bright; in her tweed skirt she looked more of a country girl than -he would have expected.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_27'>27</span>“Let’s sit down,” he said. “I thought you always went to Mar—to Cliftonville -for your holiday?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I always go to my aunt’s there in the summer. It isn’t really a holiday; -it’s more to help her; she has a boarding-house too. And it really is Cliftonville—only, -of course, it’s silly of mother to mind having it called Margate. -Cliftonville’s much worse than Margate really. I hate it.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>(This can’t be Gertie Morrison, thought George. It’s a dream.)</p> - -<p class='c008'>“When did you come here?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I’ve been here about ten days. A girl friend of mine lives near here. -She asked me suddenly just after you’d gone—I mean about a fortnight ago. -Mother thought I wasn’t looking well and ought to go. I’ve been before once -or twice. I love it.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“And do you have to wander about the country by yourself? I mean, -doesn’t your friend—I say, I’m asking you an awful lot of questions. I’m -sorry.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“That’s all right. But, of course, I love to go about alone, particularly -at this time of year. <i>You</i> understand that.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Of course he understood it. That was not the amazing thing. The amazing -thing was that she understood it.</p> - -<p class='c008'>He took his sandwiches from his pocket.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Let’s have lunch,” he said. “I’m afraid mine are only beef.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Mine are worse,” she smiled. “They’re only mutton.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>A sudden longing to tell her of his great adventure of five years ago came -to George. (If you had suggested it to him in March!)</p> - -<p class='c008'>“It’s rather funny,” he said, as he untied his sandwiches—“I was down -here five years ago——”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I know,” she said quietly.</p> - -<p class='c008'>George sat up suddenly and stared at her.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“It was you!” he cried.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Yes.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“You. Good Lord!... But your name—you said your name was—wait -a moment—that’s it! Rosamund!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“It is. Gertrude Rosamund. I call myself Rosamund in the country. I -like to pretend I’m not the”—she twisted a piece of grass in her hands, and -looked away from him over the hill—“the horrible girl of the boarding-house.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>George got on to his knees and leant excitedly over her.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Tell me, do you hate and loathe and detest Traill and the Fossetts and -Ransom as much as I do?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>She hesitated.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Mr. Ransom has a mother in Folkestone he’s very good to. He’s not -really bad, you know.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Sorry. Wash out Ransom. Traill and the Fossetts?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Yes. Oh yes. Oh yes, yes, yes.” Her cheeks flamed as she cried it, -and she clenched her hands.</p> - -<p class='c008'>George was on his knees already, and he had no hat to take off, but he was -very humble.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_28'>28</span>“Will you forgive me?” he said. “I think I’ve misjudged you. I -mean,” he stammered—“I mean, I don’t mean—of course, it’s none of my -business to judge you—I’m speaking like a prig, I—oh, you know what I -mean. I’ve been a brute to you. Will you forgive me?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>She held out her hand, and he shook it. This had struck him, when he -had seen it on the stage, as an absurdly dramatic way of making friends, but -it seemed quite natural now.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Let’s have lunch,” she said.</p> - -<p class='c008'>They began to eat in great content.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Same old sandwiches,” smiled George. “I say, I suppose I needn’t -explain why I called myself Geoffrey Carfax.” He blushed a little as he said -the name. “I mean, you seem to understand.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>She nodded. “You wanted to get away from George Crosby; <i>I</i> know.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>And then he had a sudden horrible recollection.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I say, you must have thought me a beast. I brought a terrific lunch -out with me the next day, and then I went and lost the place. Did you wait -for me?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Gertie would have pretended she hadn’t turned up herself, but Rosamund -said, “Yes, I waited for you. I thought perhaps you had lost the place.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I say,” said George, “what lots I’ve got to say to you. When did you -recognise me again? Fancy my not knowing you.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“It was three years, and you’d shaved your moustache.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“So I had. But I could recognise people just as easily without it.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>She laughed happily. It was the first joke she had heard him make since -that day five years ago.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Besides, we’re both different in the country. I knew you as soon as -I heard your voice just now. Never at all at Muswell Hill.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“By Jove!” said George, “just fancy.” He grinned at her happily.</p> - -<p class='c008'>After lunch they wandered. It was a golden afternoon, the very afternoon -they had had five years ago. Once when she was crossing a little stream -in front of him, and her foot slipped on a stone, he called out, “Take care, -Rosamund,” and thrilled at the words. She let them pass unnoticed; but -later on, when they crossed the stream again lower down, he took her hand -and she said, “Thank you, Geoffrey.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>They came to an inn for tea. How pretty she looked pouring out the tea -for him—not for him, for them; the two of them. She and he! His thoughts -became absurd....</p> - -<p class='c008'>Towards the end of the meal something happened. She didn’t know what -it was, but it was this. He wanted more jam; she said he’d had enough. -Well, then, he wasn’t to have much, and she would help him herself.</p> - -<p class='c008'>He was delighted with her.</p> - -<p class='c008'>She helped him ... and something in that action brought back swiftly -and horribly the Gertie Morrison of Muswell Hill, the Gertie who sat next -to Algy and helped him to cabbage. He finished his meal in silence.</p> - -<p class='c008'>She was miserable, not knowing what had happened.</p> - -<p class='c008'>He paid the bill and they went outside. In the open air she was Rosamund -<span class='pageno' id='Page_29'>29</span>again, but Rosamund with a difference. He couldn’t bear things like this. -As soon as they were well away from the inn he stopped. They leant against -a gate and looked down into the valley at the golden sun.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Tell me,” he said, “I want to know everything. Why are you—what -you are, in London?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>And she told him. Her mother had not always kept a boarding-house. -While her father was alive they were fairly well off; she lived a happy life -in the country as a young girl. Then they came to London. She hated it, -but it was necessary for her father’s business. Then her father died, and left -nothing.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“So did my father,” said George under his breath.</p> - -<p class='c008'>She touched his hand in sympathy.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I was afraid that was it.... Well, mother tried keeping a boarding-house. -She couldn’t do it by herself. I had to help. That was just before -I met you here.... Oh, if you could know how I hated it. The horrible -people. It started with two boarders. Then there was one—because I -smacked the other one’s face. Mother said that wouldn’t do. Well, of course, -it wouldn’t. I tried taking no notice of them. Well, that wouldn’t do either. -I had to put up with it; that was my life.... I used to pretend I was on -the stage and playing the part of a landlady’s vulgar daughter. You know -what I mean; you often see it on the stage. That made it easier—it was -really rather fun sometimes. I suppose I overplayed the part—made it more -common than it need have been—it’s easy to do that. By-and-by it began -to come natural; perhaps I am like that really. We weren’t anybody particular -even when father was alive. Then you came—I saw you were different -from the rest. I knew you despised me—quite right too. But you really -seemed to hate me, I never quite knew why. I hadn’t done you any harm. -It made me hate you too.... It made me want to be specially vulgar and -common when you were there, just to show you I didn’t mind what you thought -about me.... You were so superior.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I got away in the country sometimes. I just loved that. I think I -was really living for it all the time.... I always called myself Rosamund -in the country.... I hate men—why are they such beasts to us always?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“They <i>are</i> beasts,” said George, giving his sex away cheerfully. But -he was not thinking of Traill and the Fossetts; he was thinking of himself. -“It’s very strange,” he went on; “all the time I thought that the others -were just what they seemed to be, and that I alone had a private life of my -own which I hid from everybody. And all the time <i>you</i>.... Perhaps Traill -is really somebody else sometimes. Even Ransom has his secret—his mother.... -What a horrible prig I’ve been!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“No, no! Oh, but you were!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“And a coward. I never even tried.... I might have made things -much easier for you.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“You’re not a coward.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Yes, I am. I’ve just funked life. It’s too much for me, I’ve said, and -I’ve crept into my shell and let it pass over my head.... And I’m still a -<span class='pageno' id='Page_30'>30</span>coward. I can’t face it by myself. Rosamund, will you marry me and help -me to be braver?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“No, no, no,” she cried, and pushed him away and laid her head on her arms -and wept.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Saved, George, saved! Now’s your chance. You’ve been rash and -impetuous, but she has refused you, and you can withdraw like a gentleman. -Just say “I beg your pardon,” and move to Finsbury Park next month ... -and go on dreaming about the woman. Not a landlady’s vulgar little daughter, -but——</p> - -<p class='c008'>George, George, what are you doing?</p> - -<p class='c008'>He has taken the girl in his arms! He is kissing her eyes and her mouth -and her wet cheeks! He is telling her....</p> - -<p class='c008'>I wash my hands of him.</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>V</h3> - -<p class='c010'>John Lobey, landlord of “The Dog and Duck,” is on the track of a mystery. -Something to do with they anarchists and such-like. The chief clue lies in -the extraordinary fact that on three Sundays in succession Parson has called -“George Crosby, bachelor, of this parish,” when everybody knows that there -isn’t a Crosby in the parish, and that the gentleman from London, who stayed -at his inn for three weeks and comes down Saturdays—for which purpose -he leaves his bag and keeps on his room—this gentleman from London, I tell -you, is Mr. Geoffrey Carfax. Leastways it was the name he gave.</p> - -<p class='c008'>John Lobey need not puzzle his head over it. Geoffrey Carfax is George -Crosby, and he is to be married next Saturday at a neighbouring village church, -in which “Gertrude Rosamund Morrison, spinster, of this parish,” has also -been called three times. Mr. and Mrs. Crosby will then go up to London -and break the news to Mrs. Morrison.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Not until you are my wife,” said George firmly, “do you go into that -boarding-house again.” He was afraid to see her there.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“You dear,” said Rosamund; and she wrote to her mother that the -weather was so beautiful, and she was getting so much stronger, and her friend -so much wanted her to stay, that ... and so on. It is easy to think of things -like that when you are in love.</p> - -<p class='c008'>On the Sunday before the wedding George told her that he had practically -arranged about the little house in Bedford Park.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“And I’m getting on at the office rippingly. It’s really quite interesting -after all. I shall get another rise in no time.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“You dear,” said Rosamund again. She pressed his hand tight and....</p> - -<p class='c008'>But really, you know, I think we might leave them now. They have -both much to learn; they have many quarrels to go through, many bitter -misunderstandings to break down; but they are alive at last. And so we -may say good-bye.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_31'>31</span> - <h2 class='c003'><span class='xxlarge'>The Cherub</span><br /> <br /><span class='xlarge'><i>By</i> Oliver Onions</span><br /> <br /><i>Army Service Corps</i></h2> -</div> - -<p class='c007'>It was provided in the roster of Garrison Duties, Section “Guards and Picquets,” -that a sentry should march and return along that portion of the grey -wall that lay between the Sowgate Steps and the Tower of the ancient South -Bar, a hundred yards away; but fate alone had determined that that sentry -should be Private Hey. And, since Private Hey was barely tall enough to -look forth from the grey embrasures of the outer wall to the pleasant Maychester -Plain where the placid river wound, the same fate had further decreed -that his gaze should be directed inwards, over the tall trees below him, to -the row of Georgian houses of mellow plum-like brick that stood beyond the -narrow back gardens, and past these again to other trees and other houses, -to where the minster towers arose in the heart of the ancient city. Only -occasionally did a fleeting, pathetic wonder cross Private Key’s mind whether -there was an irony in this.</p> - -<p class='c008'>A lithograph of uniforms outside the post office (guards, artillery, and militia, -all in one frame) had turned his thoughts to the Army seven years before, and -the recruiting-sergeant had clinched the matter. Until then he had been a -builder’s clerk. He was just five-and-twenty. He had a pink, round face, -wide-open blue eyes, the slightest of blond moustaches, and his soft, slack -mouth seemed only to be held closed by his chin-strap. He always looked -hot and on the point of perspiration.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Knowing something of the building trade, it had been his amusement, -while on his lofty beat, to work out in his mind the interiors of the Georgian -houses of which he saw only the outsides. With the chimney-stacks thus -and thus, the fireplaces were probably distributed after such and such a fashion; -white-sashed windows irregularly placed among the ivy doubtless gave on -landings; waste and cistern-pipes were traceable to sources here and there; -and Private Hey had his opinion on each of the chimney-cowls that turned -this way and that with the wind. He knew the habits, too, of the folk on -whose back gardens he looked down. The nurse in native robes reminded him -of his five years in India; the old lady in black merino who fed the birds was -familiar; and he liked to see the children who spread white cloths on the -grass beneath the pear and cherry trees and held their small tea-parties. Sometimes -he wondered whether, to them, so far above them, he did not look like -one of the scarlet geraniums of their own window-boxes.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_32'>32</span>It had been during the previous spring that the incoming of a new tenant -to the end house of the row had interested him mildly. He had watched the -white-jacketed house-painters at work, and had reflected that the small window -they were covering with a coloured transparency was probably that of a bathroom. -Then the new tenants had moved in, and one day a small, plump -woman’s figure had appeared shaking a table-cloth at the top of the narrow -garden. The sentry had stopped suddenly in his beat, and broken into the -sweat he always seemed on the point of. Even at that distance he had recognised -her; and when, after some minutes, he had begun to think again, the -only idea that had come to him was, why, during the seven years in which -he had not ceased to think of Mollie Westwood, had he never once pictured -her in a blue gown?</p> - -<p class='c008'>But she was Mollie Hullah now; he knew that. And he knew Hullah, -too, architect and surveyor. Hullah had been the foreman of Peterson’s -building yard in the days when he, Tom Hey, civilian, had been Peterson’s -junior clerk. He remembered him as an ambitious sort of chap, who (while -Tom Hey had “flown his kite,” as he put it) had bought himself a case of -instruments and a reel-tape, and studied, and made himself an architect. -Tom Hey’s duties had been confined to the day-book; Hullah and Peterson -between them contained the true account of the Peterson business; and Hey -had not guessed the reason for this until, in India, he had received the -newspaper that contained the account of Peterson’s bankruptcy. Then he -had “tumbled.” The examination showed Peterson’s books to have been -ill-kept with a sagacity and foresight that had drawn forth ironical compliments -from the registrar himself. “Your chief witness abroad, too; excellent!” -the registrar had commented.... No; Hullah was not the fellow to tell all -he knew about contractors and palm-oil and peculating clerks-of-works. Hullah -was the kind of man who got on.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Since Hullah had come to live in the end house, Private Hey, eyes-right -when he turned at the South Bar, and eyes-left when he turned again at the -Sowgate Steps, had counted the days when Mollie had appeared at the windows -or shaken the table-cloth in the narrow garden. His amusement was no -longer with chimney-pots and bath-rooms; it was, to tell over to himself -the dissolute life he had led since Mollie had turned her back on him. Somehow, -it seemed to exalt her.</p> - -<p class='c008'>It was not that he had ever lied, or stolen, or left a friend in trouble. To -the pink-faced private these things were not merely wicked; they were “dead -off”—a much worse thing. He drew the line at things that were “off.” -But he had committed a monotonous routine of other sins, beginning usually -at the canteen, continuing at the “regulation” inns or at the Cobourg Music-hall, -and ending on the defaulter-sheet with a C.B. And one day his colonel -had said to him: “Hey, you remind me of a cherub who kicks about in the -mud and glories to think himself an imp.” That had puzzled and troubled -Hey, for he liked the fine old colonel.</p> - -<div class='figcenter id001'> -<img src='images/f033.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic002'> -<p>“He forgot everything except little Mollie Westwood” (page 35).</p> -</div> -</div> - -<p class='c008'>For he had ranked himself with the magnificently wicked. In amours, -short of anything that was “off,” was he not a Juan? In the matter of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_33'>33</span>inebriety, and for brawling in the streets, why, his officers might make war -with ceremony and all that, but (the cherub flattered himself) he was an -item of the reckless, heroic, glorious stuff they had to do it with. And -since Mollie, by refusing him, had driven him to all this, the sight of her -ought surely to have inspired him in his courses; it troubled him that -it did not do so. On the contrary, he never felt less inclination to fuddle -himself or to click his heels over the gallery-rail of the Cobourg than when -he had seen her. When he did not see her, these things were less difficult, -and that again was wrong. To regulate his conduct at all by the sight of -another man’s wife was, of all dead-off things, the deadest.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Now Hullah, as the sentry knew, had no family; but when, the following -spring, the apple trees put forth their pink, and the white clouds sailed high -over Maychester, and the note of the cuckoo floated on the air, the cherub -became moody and bashful and changed colour ten times in an hour. Thrushes -and blackbirds flew back and forth from their nests; and Mollie, too, her -figure dwarfed by his point of vantage, sunned herself in the garden. Sometimes -the cherub blushed red as his tunic. He ought to have gone to the -Cobourg and played the very deuce; instead, off duty, he wandered unhappily -alone. Then one day he missed her, and his eyes scanned the house and her -windows timorously.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Six weeks passed. Then one morning he saw that the white blinds were -drawn. His face became white as wax.</p> - -<p class='c008'>The next day he saw the tail of a coach beyond the end of the house. He -exceeded his beat, descended the Sowgate Steps, and stood, trembling and -watching. Then he gave a great sob of relief. The coach had turned; the -horse wore white conical peaks of linen on its ears—the mark of a child’s -funeral. The small procession passed, and the cherub resumed his beat.</p> - -<p class='c008'>That evening the colonel stopped him as he crossed the barrack yard.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Ah, Hey!... I’m glad you’ve given us so little trouble lately. I’d -try to keep it up if I were you.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Yes, sir,” said the cherub, saluting; and the colonel nodded kindly and -passed on.</p> - -<hr class='c014' /> - -<p class='c008'>The July sun beat fiercely down on the grey walls, and the sentry’s tunic -was of a glaring bull’s red. Not a breath moved the trees below, and the click -of his heels sounded monotonously.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Within the shadow of the South Bar, where the steps wound down to the -street, a frock-coated, square-built man of forty, with clipped whiskers and -crafty eyes, watched the sentry approach. For the second time he cleared -his throat and said “Tom!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>This time the sentry turned. “I ain’t allowed to talk on duty,” he said.</p> - -<p class='c008'>The man within the shadow waited.</p> - -<p class='c008'>He waited for half an hour, and then the clatter of the relief was heard -ascending the turret. Presently Private Hey passed him without looking -at him. He descended after him, and in the street spoke again.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I ain’t off duty yet; you can come to the Buttercup,” said Private Hey.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_34'>34</span>The bar of the Buttercup was below the level of the street, and a gas-jet -burned all day over its zinc-covered counter. In the back parlour behind it -Hullah awaited Private Hey.</p> - -<p class='c008'>The cherub’s voice was heard shouting an order, and he entered the snug. -The uncoated barman followed him with the liquor, and retired.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Did you want to speak to me?” the cherub demanded.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I did, Tom, I did. How—how are you getting on?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Spit it out.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Hullah murmured smoothly: “Ah, the same blunt-spoken, honest Tom -that was at Peterson’s! You remember Peterson’s and the old days, Tom?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I’d let the old days drop if I was you. I thought you had done.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“So did I, Tom, so did I; but every breast has its troubles. You’ve heard -the expression, Tom, that there is no cupboard without its skeleton?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Keep your cupboards and skeletons to yourself.... Does the new -bathroom answer all right?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Nicely, Tom, I thank you.... Did you know Peterson was back in -Maychester?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Ho, is he? I expect he wants to talk over the old days with his friend -Hullah, same as you with me. Well, you was a precious pair o’ rascals—though -for myself, mark you, I like to see honour among such.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Hush, Tom!... He’s back, and seeking you. He’d better be careful; -it’s twenty years, is that. But what I wanted to say, Tom, is that it would -save a lot of trouble—a lot of trouble—if you weren’t to see him.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Ho!... Hullah, my man.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Yes, Tom.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Do you know what I think you are?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Hullah stammered. It was so hard to get a start in business—the competition—he’d -gone straight except for that once.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I think you’re the blackguardest, off-est scamp in the trade, and I wouldn’t -be found dead in a ditch with you. That’s juicy, coming from me. <i>I’m</i> no -saint, but just a common-or-garden Tommy, with a defaulter sheet it’s a sin -to read; and <i>I</i> say you’re a blackguard, and dead-off.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Hullah cringed. He’d gone straight since—Peterson had already pushed him -for twice what he’d had out of it—it was hard to be persecuted like this, hard. -The cherub revolved in his mind phrases of elaborate and over-done irony.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Suddenly Hullah mentioned his wife, and the pink of the cherub’s face deepened.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Come into the yard,” he said.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Hullah followed him into a dusty plot, where hens scratched and cases and -barrels lay scattered everywhere.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“What did you say?” the soldier demanded.</p> - -<p class='c008'>The architect’s face was of an unwholesome white, and Hey spat. He -saw that Hullah feared he was going to strike him.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“She’s been ill, Tom, and must be got away to the Mediterranean. Peterson’s -sucking me dry; he thinks I’m afraid of him. You used to be fond of her, Tom.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>All at once Private Hey’s wrath gave place to utter wretchedness, and he -began to stride up and down the yard. Tears rose into his eyes, and presently -<span class='pageno' id='Page_35'>35</span>rolled unchecked down his cheeks. He approached Hullah, and said in a -quavering voice: “A fortnight ago—was that?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“A boy,” Hullah murmured.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“It’s a mercy he’s dead, if he’d ha’ been like you,” the cherub sobbed.</p> - -<p class='c008'>And then he forgot all about Hullah. He forgot everything except that -little Mollie Westwood had been through an agony, was ill, must be got away, -and that he might help her. An ineffable, soft thrill stirred at his heart; he, -wicked Tom Hey, might help her. And presently he stood before Hullah -again, looking wistfully at him.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“You ain’t lying, Hullah?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Oh, Tom!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“And suppose—suppose I was to think Peterson’s as big a thief as you, -and treat him as such—treat him as such, if he dares to speak to me; you -understand, Hullah?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Don’t put it that way, Tom ... then I may take it, Tom——?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Oh, go, go! I want to me by myself!” the poor cherub moaned; and -Hullah, turning once to dart a hateful glance at him over his shoulder, passed -through the public-house.</p> - -<hr class='c014' /> - -<p class='c008'>“It’s Siberia for you this time, Tom,” the guard whispered, adjusting his -pipe-clayed belt; “what in thunder made you go and do it?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>The cherub’s tunic was unbelted, and the colour had fled from his simple -face. He made no reply.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Was you drunk? Barker says you hadn’t been in the canteen. Anyway, -the chap’s in ’orspital. A blooming civilian, too!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>He saluted stiffly; the major had passed on his way to the outbuilding that -had been furnished for a court-martial; and the barrack clock struck eleven.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Half a dozen officers in full uniform sat about a long trestle-table, and -the sunlight that came through the tall windows lay across the pens and ink -and pink blotting-paper that were spread before the Court. The colonel, -at the head of the table, talked to Warren, the regimental surgeon.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I’m absurdly upset, Warren. It’s ridiculous, the faith I have in the fellow. -Moreover, I have reason to know that he hasn’t touched drink for weeks.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“He’s been in the habit, and in such cases a sudden discontinuance sometimes.... -But the point isn’t whether he was drunk or not; it’s an unprovoked -attack on this fellow Peterson, or whatever his name is.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>The colonel sighed. “Ah, well, I can’t overlook this. Are you ready, -gentlemen?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>An orderly opened the door, and the prisoner was brought in between -two armed guards. He saluted the Court, and then stood at attention. The -guards fell back. Two or three witnesses sat on a bench within the door.</p> - -<p class='c008'>The colonel did not once look at Private Hey, and the charge was read. -The principal witness lay in hospital, but sufficient evidence of the fact of -the assault would be produced, and the president desired the prisoner to plead. -The plea was scarcely audible, but it was understood to be “Not guilty,” -and the first witness was called.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_36'>36</span>The cherub knew not in what queer way it hurt him that his colonel refused -to look at him. He didn’t much care what happened, but he would have -liked the colonel to think well of him. A witness was telling how the prisoner -had reeled, spoken thickly, offered his bayonet, and finally flung the man -down the steps of the turret of the South Bar. Would the witness consider -the prisoner to have been drunk? the Court asked, and the witness replied -that he should. The steps were old and worn; might not the man have -slipped? the Court suggested, and the witness reminded the Court that the -prisoner had staggered and offered his bayonet. Had the injured man spoken -to the prisoner? The witness thought not; he had seemed to be on the -point of speaking, but the prisoner had cut him short, exclaiming: “I don’t -want to talk to dead-off’s—like you!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Asked if he had anything to say, the prisoner shook his head. “I wasn’t -drunk, sir,” he said.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Other witnesses were called; the case went drowsily forward, and the -major yawned. The colonel was whispering to the doctor again, and then for -the first time he looked at the prisoner.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Do you know this Peterson?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I worked for him when I was a civilian, sir,” the prisoner answered.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Have you any grudge against him?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I didn’t want to talk to him, sir.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“But suppose he should speak to you again?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>A brief gleam of satisfaction crossed the cherub’s mild blue eyes. “I -frightened him too bad for that, sir,” he said; and then, as the colonel’s grave -eyes did not cease to regard him, there came a quick little break in his voice.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I wasn’t drunk, sir. I wouldn’t tell you a lie, sir, nor do nothing that’s -off—there’s marks against me a many, but not for things that’s off; I ask you -to believe I wasn’t drunk, sir——”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Clear the Court,” said the colonel.</p> - -<p class='c008'>The guard, the prisoner, and the witnesses filed out and the door closed, -and the colonel leaned forward in his chair. He seemed disproportionately -moved.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Gentlemen,” he said, “if the prisoner is to be seriously punished, I ask -you to remember it’s dismissal and imprisonment. Let me make a suggestion. -It was a very hot day—he’s been in India—possibly an old sunstroke——”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“A bit discredited, that,” observed the doctor.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“He would be punished, of course, but more leniently. It’s all I can put -forward. It rests with the Court.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>He leaned back again, troubled. In the hum of consultation he heard -Warren’s slightly sarcastic laugh, and thought he heard the major say: “Oh, -let it go at that; Neville seems to want it.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Very well, sir,” said the major by and by; “we are agreed.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>And as the cherub, returning with the guard, received the milder sentence, -he looked humbly and gratefully at his colonel. He recognised that there -are things that a commanding officer cannot overlook, but that a private -gentleman, on occasion, may.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_37'>37</span> - <h2 class='c003'><span class='xxlarge'>An Impossible Person</span><br /> <br /><span class='xlarge'><i>By</i> W. B. Maxwell</span><br /> <br /><i>Royal Fusiliers</i></h2> -</div> - -<p class='c007'>Using the cant phrase, people often said that General Sir John Beckford -was a quite impossible person. A brave soldier, a true gentleman, a splendid -creature physically—just so, but rendering himself absurd and futile by notions -so old-fashioned that they had been universally exploded before he was born. -A man who obstinately refused to move with the times, who in manner, -costume, and every idea belonged, and seemed proud to belong, to the past.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Even his own relatives admitted the impossibility of him when, at the -age of sixty, he gave effect to the most old-fashioned of all conceivable notions -by marrying for love. If an elderly widower with a little son of nine wants -somebody to make a home and help to rear the child, he should invite some -middle-aged female cousin to come to his assistance; but if he wants a charming, -attractive girl to renounce the joys and hopes of youth in order to soothe -and gladden his dull remnant of years—well, he <i>oughtn’t</i> to want it, and really -it is not quite nice when he does.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Lady Jane Armitage, an ancient aunt, put this thought into very plain -words and forced Sir John to listen to them. A mistake—not even a fair -bargain. What is Cynthia to get, on her side? A seat in a carriage, a -liberal dress allowance, perhaps a few more loose sovereigns than she has -been accustomed to carry in that silly little gold purse of hers!</p> - -<p class='c008'>“The idea of money,” said Sir John gruffly, “has never entered Cynthia’s -head.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Perhaps not. But what else can you offer her? To hold your landing-net -while you do your stupid fishing; to perform the duties of a nursery-governess -for Jack; to enjoy the privilege of playing hostess when you -entertain half a dozen other generals and their frumpish wives.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Sir John echoed his aunt’s last adjective ironically.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Yes,” said Lady Jane, “but I’m different. I <i>know</i> I’m a frump, and -your friends aren’t aware of their misfortune. No, John, I tell you frankly, -it isn’t a fair bargain.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Sir John bit his grey moustache, ran a strong hand through his shock of grey -hair, contracted his heavy brows, and then laughed and shrugged his shoulders.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Inexplicable to you, eh, Aunt Jane? Well, let’s leave it at that. But -be kind to Cynthia all the same, won’t you? Save her from the <i>other</i> -frumps,” and, ceasing to laugh, he stared at Lady Jane almost fiercely.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_38'>38</span>He was one of those men who consider it beneath their dignity to betray -tender emotion, and who perhaps look sternest and most forbidding when they -are feeling unusually soft and gentle. At any rate, he would not explain to -his aunt that he believed the marriage to be an eminently fair bargain—an old-fashioned -exchange—love for love—as much love on the girl’s side as on his.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Lady Jane made no promise, but she proved very kind indeed to her -new niece; endeavouring to find innocent amusement for pretty Cynthia, -acting as her chaperon, watching over her, and growing fonder and fonder -of her. She said that the young Lady Beckford was a model wife and a -pattern stepmother. No one could have been more devoted to or wiser in -her training of Master Jack.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Now, after five years, the boy was ready to go to a public school, and -during these long summer days a holiday tutor had been giving him final -preparation, ultimate crammed knowledge, and topmost polish of tone and -manners. August had been spent at the Beckfords’ country house in -Devonshire, and the early weeks of September at their flat in Victoria -Street. Lady Jane approved of everything that concerned these arrangements, -except one thing. She approved of the public school, of the engaging -of a holiday tutor, of all the care, devotion, and forethought with which -the little man was being launched from the home circle; but she did not -approve of the fact that Sir John had thrown the whole burden on Cynthia’s -slender shoulders, while he did his stupid salmon-fishing four hundred miles -away in Scotland.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Not quite fair to Cynthia—leaving her all alone with a schoolboy and his -tutor. Lady Jane, at considerable inconvenience, ran down to Devonshire -to cheer and enliven her. Came back to London and at worse inconvenience -stayed there, so as to be handy to act as companion, chaperon, advisory ally, -whenever Cynthia wanted her.</p> - -<p class='c008'>But Cynthia wanted her scarcely at all, and allowed poor Lady Jane to -perceive at last that uninvited companions are sometimes a tedium rather -than a solace.</p> - -<hr class='c014' /> - -<p class='c008'>It was the last night of the holidays. To-morrow Master Jack and his -tutor would disappear from Victoria Street.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Dinner had been ordered at an early hour, and Jack was scampering through -his meal with excited swiftness. One last treat had been arranged for him. -He was to be dispatched to a theatre presently in charge of George, the footman.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I wish you were coming,” said Jack, and as he turned to Mr. Ridsdale -his eyes expressed eloquently enough the hero-worship that is so easy to -kindle in young and ingenuous hearts.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“It would be scarcely polite,” said Mr. Ridsdale, “for both of us to desert -Lady Beckford.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“No,” said Jack; “but I wish she’d come with us,” and he turned to -his stepmother. “Won’t you change your mind?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I really don’t feel up to it, Jack. I’m tired—I’ve had a headache since -the day before yesterday.”</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_39'>39</span>“It might drive the headache away,” said Jack, eagerly. “They say -it’s a tip-top piece.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>His stepmother and his tutor both smiled as they looked at his bright and -animated face. Lady Beckford’s smile was simply affectionate; Mr. Ridsdale’s -was indulgent and patronising.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“A rousing melodrama, Jack! All noise and stamping.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Yes,” cried Jack, enthusiastically. “Murder and sudden death—just -what I like.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“But not,” said Mr. Ridsdale, “exactly indicated as a cure for a headache.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Well, if I can’t persuade you——” and Jack turned to Yates, the butler. -“Has George changed his things?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Yes, sir.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Then I’ll be off.” Jack pushed his plate away with a gesture that elegant -Mr. Ridsdale could not approve of. It was too childish for a boy of fourteen—a -little more polish required, in spite of so much polishing. “Good night,” -and Jack kissed Lady Beckford. “I shan’t say good night to you, Mr. Ridsdale, -because you won’t have turned in before I get back, will you?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“No; I’ll sit up for you,” and Mr. Ridsdale, smiling, spoke with rather -strained facetiousness. “I’ll be waiting to hear how the heroine was extricated -from her misfortunes, how the villain got scored off by the funny man, -and how virtue triumphed all round in the end. There! Cut along. Your -escort is waiting for you.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Master Jack hurried gaily from the dining-room, and his boyish voice -sounded for a few moments as he prattled to the footman. Then the hall -door of the flat opened and shut, and the two elders were left alone to finish -their dinner at leisure.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Ah!” Mr. Ridsdale drew in his breath with a little sigh, and, looking -at his hostess, spoke quietly and meditatively. “I know you often read -people’s thoughts, but I wonder if you could guess what I’m thinking now?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I’ll try, if you like. You were thinking that perhaps, after all, Jack is -too young still for the rough-and-tumble life of a big school.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Oh, no,” said Mr. Ridsdale, carelessly. “Jack’ll do all right. They’ll -soon lick him into shape. No”—and his tone softened and deepened, though -he was speaking almost in a whisper—“no; I was thinking this is the last -night of my—my holidays; possibly the last time I shall ever sit in this pleasant -room, or see you wearing that beautiful dress, or hear you playing classical -music, that I don’t understand, but love to listen to.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Truly it seemed a pleasant room, a remarkably pleasant room for a London -flat. The evening was just cold enough to justify a fire, and small logs of -wood in a basket grate sent dancing flames to light up the oak panels of the -walls; electric lamps flashed brightly on silver and glass; a golden basket -of peaches and another of grapes made the table appear a symbolised announcement -of ease, luxury, even of sumptuousness; the butler, moving to and -fro so promptly and yet so sedately, offered one delicate food and stimulating -wine. It was all very, very pleasant.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Pretty things wherever one glanced—a mirror in a sculptured frame, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_40'>40</span>some blue and white china on a long shelf, and, seen faintly, with the electric -light just indicating their existence, rows of handsomely bound books behind -latticed glass; altogether what would be described in stage language as a -charming interior.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Any tutor, accustomed to the hard seats and coarse fare of a school hall, -might feel regret at leaving such a room irrevocably, and might long afterwards -yearn to see again the pretty things that it contained. But just now -Mr. Ridsdale was looking only at his hostess, and he repeated the compliment -about her dress.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I admire you in that more than in any of the others,” he said, softly, -and rather sorrowfully.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Because it is black, I suppose. It’s quite old. But men always like -black dresses. My husband does.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>The dress was made of velvet, with some silver decoration across the front -of the bodice, and it certainly appeared becoming. In it Cynthia Beckford -looked very slim and young; fair-haired, but dark-eyed, naturally pale, -but with a rapid flicker of colour; a person of frank, kind outlook, a simple -and truthful sort of person, and yet with underlying depths of character -or sensibility that proved astoundingly interesting to the few people who -had studied her closely. Frenchmen would describe her beauty, such as it -was, as belonging to the order that slowly troubles rather than quickly fascinates.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“But I’m not like the General,” said Mr. Ridsdale. “I admire <i>that</i> black -dress, not <i>any</i> black dress.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>He said it with a perceptible insistence, quietly but obstinately; as if -conscious of subtle values in his own taste, and unwilling that it should be -confounded with the ordinary likes and dislikes of another person—even -though that person were as worthy and respectable as his temporary employer.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Mr. Ridsdale was a good-looking man of thirty, tall and thin, of easy -carriage and elegant manners. Boys, big and small, among whom he had -passed the better part of his life, always looked up to him, and sometimes -adored him, as a perfect type of school-trained manhood; and girls, too, were -frequently subjugated by his charms. He was the sort of man who is not -as a rule dreaded by other men as likely to prove a dangerous rival; and -yet one might well suppose that in certain circumstances he would be dangerous—for -instance, if paying slow and unhindered court to a foolish and otherwise -neglected woman. The dark eyes, the smooth, silky voice, the insidious -flattery of its softening tones, might all be effective in a protracted attack on -feminine foolishness of a certain age.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“To-morrow,” he said, dreamily; “to-morrow—almost to-day,” and -he sighed as he took a peach from the gold basket.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Yates, the butler, had put cigarettes and matches on the table, and was -about to leave the room, when the outer bell rang shrilly and sharply.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Who can that be?” said Ridsdale, looking up. “A visitor! Oh, do -tell him to say you’re not at home.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>The butler paused, waiting for instructions.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_41'>41</span>“It can’t be a visitor,” said Cynthia Beckford. “Some tradesman’s -messenger!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“It may be old Lady Jane.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“She wouldn’t come so late as this.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I don’t know,” said Ridsdale, eagerly. “She comes at all hours. With -your headache she would bore you to death.” He leaned forward in his chair -and spoke very softly. “And, remember, my last evening! You—you -promised that you would play to me.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Cynthia Beckford hesitated a moment, and then told the butler that she -was not at home.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Yes, my lady. Not at home to anybody?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“No.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>The flicker of colour showed in her pale cheeks as she added explanatorily -to Ridsdale, “It can’t be anybody of importance.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Mr. Ridsdale sat listening. Then he got up, and spoke with an impatience -that he did not attempt to conceal.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“That fool has let some one in—a man!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Yes, a man’s heavy footstep in the hall, and a man’s voice—loud and -assured, not making polite inquiries, but issuing curt directions.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I have left my tackle and luggage at Euston. Get a cab presently and -go and fetch it. Take this ticket.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Yes, Sir John. Her ladyship is in the dining-room.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Open the door, then.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Cynthia Beckford ran across the room to meet her husband; but, encumbered -with a hand-bag and a travelling-rug, he was not able at once to accept -her welcoming embrace.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Well, Cynthia, my dear! Ridsdale, my dear fellow, how are you? -But where’s Jack?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>General Beckford put his hand-bag on a chair by the sideboard, dropped his -rug upon the floor, and, coming to the table, took Master Jack’s vacated seat.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“We have sent him to a theatre,” said Cynthia, “with George. I’d no -idea that you were coming home, of course.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Oh, I see. Gone to the play—with George?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“We were all three going,” said Mr. Ridsdale, “but Lady Beckford had -a headache, so I strongly advised her to stay at home,” and he smiled. “Rather -fortunate—or you would have had a double disappointment.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“It would have been my own fault,” and the General smiled too. “I -ought to have sent you a telegram, Cynthia.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“What has brought you back so unexpectedly?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Impulse.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Fish not rising?” asked Ridsdale.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“No. Wretchedly poor sport. So this morning I suddenly made up -my mind that I’d had enough of it, and that home, sweet home, was the place -for me. Well, well, what about the home news?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Cynthia Beckford was instructing Yates as to her husband’s dinner, but -the General declared that he had eaten all he wanted in the train.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_42'>42</span>“I can’t call it dinner,” and he laughed good-humouredly. “But nothing -more, thank you—unless perhaps a biscuit and a whisky-and-soda. Now, -sit ye down. Don’t let me disturb you. Go on with your dessert, Ridsdale—and -then I’ll join you in a cigarette, if my lady permits us,” and he bowed to -his wife with the antiquated air of courtesy that always seems so odd in these -free-and-easy times.</p> - -<p class='c008'>They sat together, talking of Jack’s health, his progress, his future career; -and Mr. Ridsdale was able to speak most favourably of his pupil’s prospects.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Capital,” said the General. “I’m enormously indebted to you, Ridsdale. -You seem to have done wonders. But I knew you would; I knew the boy -was in good hands—— Seen much of Aunt Jane?” he asked his wife, abruptly.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Yes.” Cynthia was looking at the painted decoration on her dessert-plate, -and she answered slowly. “Yes; Aunt Jane was with us at Lynton -for a fortnight—quite a fortnight.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I know; but I mean after that. She is in London, isn’t she?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Then Cynthia smilingly confessed that the long fortnight in Devonshire had exhausted -the attraction of Lady Jane’s society, and that she had lately avoided it.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“She is too kind for words, but”—Cynthia looked at her husband deprecatingly—“dear -Aunt Jane can be rather boring.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>The General laughed tolerantly.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Ah, no companion for <i>you</i>. She belongs to another generation.” His -bushy eyebrows contracted and his voice became grave. “<i>My</i> generation. -We old folk are poor companions.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“She doesn’t belong to your generation.” Cynthia flushed, and her lips -trembled. She put out her hand and laid it on her husband’s arm. “You -are the best of companions—a companion that I have missed dreadfully.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“There!” General Beckford laughed gaily. “Did you hear that, -Ridsdale? That’s the sort of thing we old chaps like—even if we aren’t vain -enough to think we deserve it. Leave that where it is, Yates.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Yates was about to remove the hand-bag and take it to his master’s room.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Very good, Sir John.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“And you can go to Euston now—no hurry. Take a bus.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Yes, Sir John.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Smoking permitted?” And the General bowed again to his wife. -“Light your cigarette, Ridsdale. No, I mustn’t have any coffee on top of -whisky and soda.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>The little group at the table sat comfortably enough and talked lightly -and easily. But somehow the presence of General Beckford had destroyed -the graceful charm of the room.</p> - -<p class='c008'>He looked too big, too rough and shaggy for his delicately pretty surroundings. -His grey hair was rumpled and unbrushed after the journey; -his coarse grey suit suggested wild moorlands and brawling streams; his -whole aspect was savagely picturesque rather than neatly refined.</p> - -<p class='c008'>No contrast could have been greater than that offered by the smooth, -well-brushed, nicely polished young man who sat opposite to him on the other -side of the small round table. The electric light shone upon Mr. Ridsdale’s -<span class='pageno' id='Page_43'>43</span>black cloth and black silk, his stiff white shirt and soft white waistcoat, his -jewelled buttons, his pearl studs, his butterfly tie, his white hand fingering a -cigarette-tube, his smooth forehead, and his sleek hair plastered and brushed -back with studious art and infinite care. He seemed elegant, shapely, even -beautiful, when you compared him with his travel-stained, unkempt host.</p> - -<p class='c008'>All the charm had been banished by the new-comer. It was another -room now. And the ugly hand-bag on the distant chair seemed like an aggressive -symbol of proprietorship. It seemed to be saying that, although one -might wish the General at the deuce, one could not ask him to go there, because -in sober fact the room belonged to him.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Yet, to an understanding eye, there was something noble and knightlike -about the man; the ruggedness seemed blended with a certain fine simplicity, -and even the old-fashioned tricks of manner and speech, by removing him -from the commonplace mode of the hour, served to stimulate an effort to -get at the man’s real character. Certainly no <i>poseur</i>—a direct, straightforward -creature. On reflection one might perhaps guess that a young romantic girl, -whose imagination had been fired by the splendour of his fighting life, his -deeds of daring, and so forth, could quite conceivably be cajoled into giving -her untried heart to him.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“One more question, Cynthia.” The conversation had languished while -the General puffed at his second cigarette. “How’s the music? Have you -been assiduous in your practice?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Yes; I’ve played nearly every evening.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Mr. Ridsdale was conscious of an irksome constraint. Two are company -and three are none. Deciding to leave the husband and wife together, he -pushed back his chair and got up.</p> - -<p class='c008'>But the General would not let him go.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“No, no,” he said. “Sit ye down, my dear fellow.” Then to his wife: -“If the headache isn’t too bad, play something this evening. Run over your -latest studies. Ridsdale and I will follow you directly.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Cynthia Beckford rose obediently and turned towards the drawing-room -door. Her husband reached the door before Mr. Ridsdale could get to it, and -he held it open for her, bowing low as she passed out.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“There!” He had switched on the light in the other room, and he stood -in the doorway watching her. “Now delight our ears with your deft touch.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Lady Beckford seated herself at the piano and began to play a plaintive -and dreamy prelude by Bach.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Beautiful! Your hand has not lost its cunning. Now go on playing—and -don’t think me ungallant if for a few minutes I close the door. A word -or two with Ridsdale—on business. But we shall hear you, even through the -door.” Then he gently, and as if regretfully, shut the drawing-room door and -came back to the table.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Ridsdale”—and there was an apologetic tone in the General’s lowered -voice—“that wasn’t quite honest of me. A ruse! I asked her to play the -piano because I didn’t want her to disturb us—and I didn’t want her to hear -what we were saying.”</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_44'>44</span>“Oh, really?” Ridsdale smiled, and glanced at the closed door.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“A confidence! I may trust you, mayn’t I?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Of course.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Implicitly, eh? But that goes without saying. I <i>have</i> trusted you so -greatly already, haven’t I? The boy to consign him to your guidance. -Well, you know what he is to me. I couldn’t have better shown the faith I -had in you——”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“You’re very kind, General. I—I’ve done my best with him.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Exactly. But—well, this isn’t about the boy. It’s about myself. I am -in trouble.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Really?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I wasn’t honest, either, in my explanation of why I came hurrying home. -No, Ridsdale, it wasn’t a sudden caprice. I had serious reasons for coming.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Oh, had you?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Yes. I am in great trouble.” And the General looked at Ridsdale -keenly, as if seeking in his impassive face some expression of sympathy or -encouragement; then he dropped his eyes and paused before he continued -speaking. “I wonder if I ought to tell you? Yes, I will. You are one of -ourselves. We have <i>made</i> you one of ourselves—something more than an -acquaintance—a <i>friend</i>, eh? Yes, I’ll tell you the whole thing.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I am all attention.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Thank you.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>From the other room came the sound of Cynthia’s plaintive melody, and, -half-consciously listening to it, the General seemed to have transferred its -wistful cadence to his own voice. His manner had changed completely. He -looked preternaturally grave and sad, as he sat frowning at the tablecloth -and tracing a small circle of its pattern with a strong brown finger, while he -murmured his story.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“No, Ridsdale, what brought me home was a letter—a warning letter—about -my wife.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Before you tell me any more, may I say this? As a schoolmaster I -often have to deal with anonymous letters, and my experience has convinced -me that the only thing to do with them is just to chuck them into the——”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Just so. But this wasn’t an anonymous letter.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“No?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“No. The writer is a tried friend—a person of my own blood. I have -the letter in my pocket here, but I won’t bother you to read it. The warning -conveyed was simple enough. It amounted to this: I was to guard my wife -carefully if I did not want to risk losing her—because a man was attacking my -peace and honour.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Oh, I say”—Mr. Ridsdale spoke indignantly—“it would be an insult -to Lady Beckford not to treat such a communication with the absolute contempt -and——”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“But, my dear Ridsdale,” said the General, sombrely, “it is the communication -that I have always prepared myself to receive, that I have been -expecting to receive at any hour in the last few years.”</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_45'>45</span>“Nothing,” said Mr. Ridsdale, firmly, “would persuade me to suspect -Lady Beckford of——”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“No, no, of course not. Please leave her out of it. I’m not thinking of -her. I’m thinking only of myself—the attempted blow to <i>me</i>.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“You shouldn’t for one moment believe——”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Why not?” said the General, sadly. “One is vain, but there are -limits to one’s vanity. One hopes just at first, perhaps—but later one begins -to think and to understand. You know, with Cynthia and me, it was a convenient -marriage—although it wasn’t a marriage of convenience.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Indeed, no—I know that well.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Regard—and more than regard—entered into it. But there was the -difference of years. At my age one has not the adaptability of youth; one -cannot change one’s ways, even if one wishes to. So I foresaw that with marriages -of that sort a crisis sooner or later comes. Well, our crisis has come.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I—I am sure you are mistaken.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“You heard what she said about Lady Jane boring her. Well, <i>I</i> bore her. -Recently she has shown it plainly. In fact, that is why I went away—not to -give myself, but to give her, a holiday.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“My good sir,” said Mr. Ridsdale, earnestly, almost irritably, “I can -assure you she has spoken of you every day in the most affectionate terms—regretting -your absence, saying how she missed you, and so on.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Has she?” said the General, with a sigh. “That may have been from -a sense of duty—contrition—remorse. Pity for the old fogey whose presence -could but weary her.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>He got up, went to the drawing-room door, and opened it.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Thank you, Cynthia. Charming! Don’t stop playing. Please go on,” -and he shut the door again.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Ridsdale, rising from the table also, had gone to the fireplace. He pulled -out a cambric handkerchief, and rubbed the palms of his hands with it. Then -he put his hands in his pockets, and, standing with his back to the fire, turned -towards the General, politely attentive to, if not cordially sympathetic with, -the General’s doubts and fears.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Now, look here, Ridsdale, that’s all about it. I’ve given you the facts, -and I ask you to help me.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Delighted. But how could I possibly——”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Help me to find the man.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Why, I don’t believe he exists.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Oh, yes, he does.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Did your friend give you no hints—of any kind?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“None whatever.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Ah, just what I thought! Believe me, it’s some ridiculous misapprehension.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“No; my informant is not a fool, or a person who supposes that I am -lightly to be trifled with.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>The General’s manner had changed again. The sadness had gone from -his eyes and the wistfulness from his voice. Pride was the note that sounded -<span class='pageno' id='Page_46'>46</span>now in the carefully suppressed voice. He squared his big shoulders, threw -back his massive head, and, indeed, looked somebody who would be extremely -unlikely to be trifled with, either by chance acquaintances or old friends.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I am a soldier, and I think as soldiers used to think in the bygone days, -when we were taught that we ought to harden our thoughts until they become -as undeviating as instincts. If I’m called upon to guard and defend something -placed in my charge, the thought of what to do <i>is</i> an instinct—to go out -and meet the danger half-way. The safest method of defence is to deal promptly -with the enemy that threatens. Now, where is the enemy? Help me if -you can. His name has been withheld from me—for obvious reasons”—and -the General snorted scornfully. “I am advised to be moderate, to avoid a -scandal. It was a woman who wrote to me. It was Lady Jane”—and he -gave another snort. “She didn’t want to make mischief—as she calls it—and -she implores me not to be old-fashioned. But I <i>am</i> old-fashioned—I’m -not ashamed of it either—so old-fashioned that when I have found my man -I shall force him to give me satisfaction.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“A duel?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Yes.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Mr. Ridsdale laughed deprecatingly.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“That’s all very well; but, really, Sir John, you can’t put back the clock -quite so far as that. This is 1912, not 1812, you know.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I don’t care whether it is or it isn’t.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Though he did not raise his voice, the General spoke with so much intensity -that Ridsdale started.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“That may be; but—ah—Sir John, you won’t easily get—ah—other -people to share your opinions.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I’ll get <i>him</i> to share them, and that’ll be enough for me. Ridsdale, -you’re not a woman—<i>you</i> needn’t take your cue from Lady Jane and urge -moderation. At least you can guess at what I’m feeling.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Yes; but I think without cause—quite without cause.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“This century or the last, it must be the same code when things dearer -than life are at stake. That’s how I feel. So you may guess if I’ll follow -the mode of 1912, and seek aid from a private detective office, or ask for reparation -in a court of law.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“No, I’d never suggest that you should. What I beg you—what your -best friend of either sex would beg you—is not to do anything rash, not to -excite yourself needlessly.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>In truth, General Beckford was exciting himself. His voice vibrated -harshly; one could see the immense effort required to keep it at its low pitch. -He stared and glared, shook his shaggy hair, and looked altogether like some -grey old lion who had been brought to bay in a cruel hunt, and was ready -to spring upon his closest tormentors.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“All right, Ridsdale. But help me, don’t preach to me. There, I swear -I’ll do nothing without thought. I <i>have</i> thought. I have thought it all out. -Bring me face to face with my enemy. I answer for the rest. Now, who is -he? We don’t know so many people, she and I. Help me to run over their -<span class='pageno' id='Page_47'>47</span>names, or, better still, use your brains on my behalf. She has been more or less -under your observation lately. You must have seen her comings and goings—the -people she was in touch with. Have you observed anything suspicious?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“No; nothing whatever.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Some too attentive visitor?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“No.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“It doesn’t matter.” The General shook his grey mane and paced to -and fro. “I’ll find him unassisted,” and he stopped abruptly. “Ridsdale, -so surely as I stand here, I’ll find that man, and compel him to satisfy me.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Ridsdale drew out the cambric handkerchief and passed it across his -forehead. Then he laughed lightly. “General, please forgive me for laughing. -But really when any one is so carried away by excitement—well, you -yourself will laugh to-morrow when you remember the wild things you have -said in your excitement.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“You think that the fellow perhaps isn’t a gentleman, and that he may -try to refuse?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I think that, whether he is a gentleman or not, he will certainly refuse -to break the law of the land at your bidding.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Yes; but I’m prepared.” And the General smiled grimly, and spoke -with a kind of sly triumph. “I shall ignore his refusal. I shall put a pistol -into his hand and <i>make</i> him fight.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I doubt it.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“An unloaded revolver! Ridsdale, don’t you see? I’ll give him an -unloaded revolver, with six cartridges. I’ll have the same myself—and I’ll -begin to load. When he sees me load he’ll know that he must do something -if he means to save his skin. When he sees me load my weapon, <i>he’ll load his -weapon too</i>. I shall watch him as a cat watches a mouse. If he raises his -arm, up goes mine. If he fires, I fire. We bang at each other at the same -moment.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Impossible.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Why impossible? If I get him alone he can’t help himself.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“He’d treat you as a madman—give you in charge to the nearest policeman.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Oh, no, he wouldn’t. I’d get between him and the door.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Apart from the fact that it would be murder if you succeeded, you wouldn’t -succeed.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I should. You don’t know how the pressure of immediate peril quickens -people’s movements. Point by point I’d press him down the line I meant -him to take. It’s so simple—not a weak spot in the infallible logic of the -thing. The clock would be put back as rapidly as if destiny moved its hands.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Ridsdale laughed again, very lightly.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Look here,” said the General, eagerly, “try it. You don’t understand -what I mean. Let me show you what I mean. Act it with me.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Act it? I—I don’t follow.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Rehearse it. Let me show you how it works. We’ll go through it point by -point—and if you can show me a weak spot, I’ll thank you with all my heart.”</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_48'>48</span>As he spoke, eagerly and enthusiastically, but still almost in a whisper, the -General had hurried across to the chair that held his ugly leather bag.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“See here!” He had opened his bag, and the electric light flashed upon -the bright metal of a pistol. “Here—another one,” and the light flashed -again. “A revolver for him and for me. Now help me to rehearse the trick. -Here. Take your weapon. You see it’s open at the breech.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>He had come to the fireplace and was offering one of the two revolvers.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Mr. Ridsdale hesitated about taking it. “Really, you know, General, I -doubt if I ought to encourage you in——”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Catch hold. You’re not afraid of firearms, are you?” And the General -smiled.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“No, of course not.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Mr. Ridsdale took the pistol, and the General hurried across the room to -the door that led into the hall.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Watch me carefully,” he whispered. “I am locking this door.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>For the second time the aspect of the pleasant, comfortable room had -altered; the prettiest things in it looked ungraceful, grim, forbidding; its -atmosphere—even the air one breathed—was different. What was happening -in the room seemed dream-like, grotesque, quite unreal; and this sense of -unreality involved one’s perception of the material, unaltered world outside -the room. The sounds of music floated towards one as if from an immeasurable -distance.</p> - -<p class='c008'>But probably the queer notion of unsubstantiality in surrounding objects -was directly caused by the strangeness and oddness of the General’s antics. -He was no longer himself; he was a person acting a part—as it would be acted -on a brilliantly lighted stage.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“See!” he whispered, as he came creeping back towards the leather -bag. “I have manœuvred you into the worst possible position. I have -cut you off from escape. That door is locked. This door I guard.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>One could hear one’s heart beating above the far-off ripple of the music.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Watch me,” said the General. “Never take your eyes off my hands. -See! Here are six cartridges—and I put them down, so—on your side of the -table.” He stepped back swiftly and cautiously. “See! Here are six cartridges -for me—on my side of the table.” And he sprang away, to his old -post in front of the drawing-room door. “It is all fair play. I give as good -a chance as I take myself. We stand at equal lengths from our ammunition. -You follow it all, don’t you? You catch my meaning?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Mr. Ridsdale, staring at his empty revolver, nodded.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Very well. Now, if you value your life, prepare to defend it. See! -I am going to load.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>The General’s acting was rather good. Deriving stimulus from his natural -emotions, he achieved some fine artistic effects. His flushed face, his bent -brows, his fierce attitude and swift movements, indicated the determination -of implacable wrath.</p> - -<div class='figcenter id001'> -<img src='images/f048.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic002'> -<p>“‘The coward!’ she wailed. ‘The miserable coward!’” (page 49).</p> -</div> -</div> - -<p class='c008'>And Ridsdale, too, represented his assumed character well enough. His -cheeks were livid, his breath came gaspingly, the hand that carried the revolver -<span class='pageno' id='Page_49'>49</span>shook perceptibly—altogether an excellent simulation of surprise, apprehensive -doubts, if not of craven fear.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“One!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>The General had crept to the table, taken a cartridge, and was slipping -it into the chamber.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“There!” he whispered. “Automatically you have done it too. I -told you so. Wait! Lift your hand at your peril. My turn. Two!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Ridsdale, copying the General’s slightest movement, was loading as the -General loaded.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Three! That’s it. Three left. When you take the last, step back. -I’ll not raise my arm till you are back on the hearth. I swear it. Four!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>The music had ceased, but neither of them noticed. In a silence broken -only by the sound of panting respirations, they loaded the fifth and sixth -cartridges, and simultaneously sprang away from the table.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Now!” The General had been the quicker. His arm was up. “Now -answer me.” The ferocity in the hissing words was terrible to hear. “Are -you the man?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I—I—— Upon my word, I—don’t understand such folly.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“You blackguard! This is not acting.” The concentrated passion behind -the words seemed to send forth waves that struck one’s beating heart with -flame and ice. “Now answer me, or—so help me, God!—I’ll shoot you.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Then the drawing-room door opened. The General, instinctively dropping -his arm and turning, shouted at his wife:</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Go back! Go back, I tell you!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>There was a blaze as if all the electric lamps had exploded, and a crash -that seemed to shake the walls. Then again came the flash and the roar. -Mr. Ridsdale had fired twice.</p> - -<p class='c008'>For a moment the room was full of smoke. Then the dusty cloud rose, -grew thin. The lamplight, shining unimpeded, showed General Beckford -still upon his feet, standing square and erect, with Cynthia desperately clinging -to his breast.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“What’s this?” said the General, loudly and sternly. “Has the smoke -blinded you, Cynthia? Why have you come to me? Your place is not -here. Go to your lover’s arms.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>But she clung to him closer. She was stretching her slender figure to its -fullest height, trying to cover his limbs with her limbs, his face with her face, -madly straining to make a shield of trembling flesh large enough to protect -him from danger.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“The coward!” she wailed. “The miserable coward! He shot at you -when you weren’t looking. He tried to kill you!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Then get out of the way,” said the General, “and let him try again. -Can’t you see how you’re hampering him? This is his chance and yours. -Don’t spoil it. Let him set you free.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>But Cynthia only trembled, sobbed, and clung.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Very well,” and the General laughed harshly. “We have been interrupted, -and my opponent must kindly understand that his chance is gone. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_50'>50</span>Cynthia, do you hear? He won’t shoot again. Now, stop whimpering, and -answer me.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Yes, I want to tell you everything.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Is this man your lover?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“No—no.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“But he has endeavoured to be?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Yes.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Then why has he remained here?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I was afraid to send him away.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Why? What were you afraid of?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“You. I thought if you knew you’d do something dreadful.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>It was curious, but it seemed as if suddenly these two—the husband and -the wife—were quite alone. If the man they spoke of had been swept a -thousand miles from the room, they could not have disregarded him more -completely than they did now. Cynthia had linked her hands round the -General’s neck; she was looking up into his stern, unflinching eyes, her voice -was strong and clear as she answered each question.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“When did he first insult you?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Two days ago.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“But you knew what he meant before that?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“No, I didn’t. I knew he admired me—and I thought it rather amusing; -but I never dreamed he would dare. And then, when he did dare, I thought -if you heard or guessed it would be too dreadful. I blamed myself—yes, I -blamed myself. But I thought it was only two days, and then he’d be gone -for ever—with no fuss and no scandal. My darling, don’t you believe me?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Is there nothing else to tell?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>The General was glaring down into his wife’s eyes.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Before God, that is all. Oh, don’t you believe me?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Before God, I do.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Very gently Sir John released himself from the clinging hands, held one -of them for a moment; then, bowing ceremoniously, kissed it.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Mr. Ridsdale!” His manner was perfectly calm as he turned to the -ignored guest, and he spoke quietly but heavily, with an old-fashioned style -of humour that was too pompous to be quite successful. “My wife called you -a coward just now; but, honestly, I could not apologise if she had called -you a fool as well. Those are blank cartridges that we have been playing -with. Oh, yes, it would have been dangerous otherwise. But I’m always -careful. In fact, when I have to deal with gentlemen of your kidney, I’m almost -as afraid of firearms as you are yourself. And, à propos, the hall door is open -I didn’t really lock it.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Mr. Ridsdale silently crossed the room.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Then good night to you. Yates will be back directly, and when he has -packed your things, where shall he take them?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Ah—er—say, the St. Pancras Hotel.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“And I may send your cheque to that address? Thank you. Good -night!”</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_51'>51</span> - <h2 class='c003'><span class='xxlarge'><i>The</i> Veil <i>of</i> Flying Water</span><br /> <br /><span class='xlarge'><i>By</i> Theodore Goodridge Roberts</span><br /> <br /><i>1st Canadian Expeditionary Force</i></h2> -</div> - -<h3 class='c009'>I</h3> - -<p class='c010'>In those days an active man could not keep on friendly terms with everybody. -If he acted honestly by his own clan, or his own village, he was sure -to be in bad odour with some other clan or tribe. So it was with Walking -Moose, a young chief of that clan of the Maliseets that had a white salmon -for its totem.</p> - -<p class='c008'>This Walking Moose was chief of a sub-tribe that had its habitation and -hunting-grounds far to the west, within twenty miles of the source of old -Woolastook. Here the great river, beloved of Gluskap and his children, -which advances seaward so placidly throughout the latter half of its course, -dashes between walls of rock and gloomy curtains of spruce-trees that cling -with brown, exposed roots that suggest the gripping fingers of giants. Rapids -of twisting green and writhing white clang and shout in its narrow valley. -Here and there are amber pools and green-black eddies; here and there a -length of shallows that flashes silver and gold at noon; and here is that roaring -place where the river leaps a sheer fall of thirty feet in one unbroken white -curve—the Veil of Flying Water.</p> - -<p class='c008'>This is a rough country, full of shaggy forests and broken hills alive with -game, and swift water alive with fish; and in the days of Walking Moose -the Mohawks had their black lodges of undressed hides close to its western -borders. The Mohawks were the age-old enemies of the Maliseets. Before -Walking Moose grew to manhood and power, the peace-loving Maliseets had -been content to flee down river and seek the protection of the larger villages -whenever word came to them that the Mohawks contemplated a raid. Walking -Moose was not content to flee periodically from his good hunting-grounds, -however, and so the enmity of the raiders became bitter against him. Walking -Moose hemmed three sides of his village with a tangle of fallen trees—the river -kept the fourth side—lopped the upper and outer branches of these prostrate -trees to within three or four feet of the trunks, and sharpened the ends and -hardened them with fire. Also, he dug pits and covered them with brush, -and set up many sharp posts in unexpected places. These things were good, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_52'>52</span>but Walking Moose was not satisfied. He brought twenty families from one -of the more sheltered villages, built lodges for them within his defences, and -gave them equal rights of hunting with the older villagers. During that -summer the Mohawks came three times, and three times they went away -without so much as a scalp or a back-load of smoked salmon. During the -winter Walking Moose’s men were busy at making shields and weapons; and -late in March, when the depths of snow were covered with a tough crust, a -war party of the people of the White Salmon went swiftly to the westward and -fell upon and destroyed a village of the Mohawks. But the only men who -died at the hands of the victors were those who fell fighting. No prisoners -were made on that occasion. The women and children were not harmed, -the lodges and storehouses were spared. Only the weapons of the warriors -were taken.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“We do not want your food and furs,” said Walking Moose, “for we have -plenty of our own. We do not want your women, for we have better women -of our own.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Then he returned to his own country, with the victorious warriors at his -heels. Some of these warriors had to be drawn on toboggans; a few remained -behind, their spirits sped to even finer hunting-grounds than those of their -nativity.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Walking Moose’s first raid into the land of the Mohawks made a deep -impression on that warlike people. History contained no record of any -previous outrage of the kind. In the old, old days Gluskap had smitten the -Mohawks on more than one occasion, so tradition said, but to be smitten with -magic by a god and victoriously invaded by Maliseets were misfortunes of a -very different nature. The warriors were furious, and the insulting fact that -Walking Moose had left their lodges standing, their storehouses full, and -their families beside them added to their fury. They bandaged their wounds, -put their dead away, and sent the only uninjured man of the village to carry -the outrageous news westward and raise a war-party. But worse than this -was planned. Hawk-in-the-Tree, the daughter of the chief of the defeated -village, brooded darkly over the scornful words of Walking Moose. His gaze -had been upon her face when he had said, “We do not want your women, -for we have better women of our own.” Yes, his gaze had been fair upon -the face of Hawk-in-the-Tree, and she was the woman whom three great chiefs -wanted in marriage, many warriors had fought for, and Long Tongue had -made songs about. She sat in her father’s lodge and thought of the words -of the young Maliseet and recalled the look in his eyes. Her slim hands were -clasped tightly in her lap, her small, sleek head was bowed demurely, and her -beautiful eyes were upon the beaded hem of her skirt of dressed moosehide. -A tender pink shone in her dusky cheeks, her red lips were parted in a faint -smile, but there was no mirth in her vain and angry heart.</p> - -<div class='figcenter id001'> -<img src='images/f053.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic002'> -<p>“He saw a girl’s face looking timidly out, and a pair of dark eyes gazing shyly down upon him” (page 54).</p> -</div> -</div> - -<p class='c008'>Walking Moose was unmarried. All his thoughts were given to the pursuit -of power—of power for himself and his tribe. He was great in the chase, -and greater on the warpath. His mind and hand were at once subtle and -daring. Though he forgot the words he had said about the women of the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_53'>53</span>Mohawk village, he remembered everything else that he had said and done on -that expedition; and so he suspected that the enemy would strike back -before long, with all their strength and cunning. He sent swift runners down -river with word of his raid and victory. These returned after five days with -a band of daring young braves from the more sheltered villages of the tribe—adventurous -spirits who were attracted by the promise of warfare against -the Mohawks under a successful leader. Walking Moose welcomed these -reinforcements cordially.</p> - -<p class='c008'>It was not until all the snow was gone from the hills and the ice from the -river that the Mohawks returned Walking Moose’s call. They had planned -their arrival for the dark hours between midnight and dawn, but the sentries -brought word of their approach to Walking Moose, and so it happened that -instead of their finding him in his own lodge, he found them in a little valley -two miles distant from the village. By dawn all the invaders had vanished -save those who had lost command of their legs. And the Maliseets had vanished -from the little valley also, on the trail of the retreating Mohawks. They -followed that trail all day and half the night, and at last overtook and made -an end to that war party. One young man escaped, one whose lungs were -stronger than his heart. He carried word of the disaster throughout the -Mohawk country.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Spring passed and summer came. The village of which Walking Moose -was chief enjoyed quiet and security. The warriors of the White Salmon -carried on their fishing in all the swift brooks and rivers, but they kept their -shields and war clubs beside them, and far-sighted runners were on guard -in the hills, day and night.</p> - -<p class='c008'>In the Mohawk country quiet reigned also. But it was a sinister, brooding -quiet. Big chiefs met and parted, only to meet again. Rage gnawed them, -but they were afraid to strike openly at the strong village of the Maliseets. -About this time, Hawk-in-the-Tree spoke to her father, standing modestly -before him with her glance cast down at her beaded moccasins.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“The strength of that village is all in the head and heart of Walking Moose,” -she said.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“It is so,” replied the chief.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Then if death should find him——”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“What death?” returned her father, testily. “The medicine-men have -been questioned in this matter. You are but a squaw, my child, and cannot -see the truth of these things.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“True, I am but a squaw,” returned Hawk-in-the-Tree, modestly. “But -will not my father tell me the words of the medicine-men?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>So the chief told her what the wise ones of the nation had said about Walking -Moose. He did not know that, as usual, their wise words were nothing -more than a clever fiction to mystify the warriors and retain the awe of the -laity for the dark arts. To soothe the injured pride of the chiefs they had -said that the prowess of Walking Moose was due to magic; that he could -not be killed in battle, or by the spilling of blood, or by fire; that starvation -only could kill him, and that within bowshot of his own village. It was -<span class='pageno' id='Page_54'>54</span>a clever invention. No wonder the chiefs and warriors were puzzled and -impressed.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“To be starved within bowshot of his own village?” repeated Hawk-in-the-Tree, -reflectively. “Then he must first be caught and bound—then -hidden in a place where his warriors cannot find him.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“It is so,” replied the chief.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Hawk-in-the-Tree drew him into the lodge. The scornful words and -heedless glance of the Maliseet were hot and clear in her memory. She talked -to her father for a long time. He smiled sneeringly at first, but after a while -he began to nod his head.</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>II</h3> - -<p class='c010'>Walking Moose did not devote all his time in the summer months to the -catching and smoking of salmon and trout. He wandered about the country, -in seeming idleness, but in reality his brain was busy with ambitious plans. -And always his eyes were open and his ears alert. He did not expect another -attack from the Mohawks before the time of the hunter’s moon, but he continued -to place his outposts far and near, and to visit them at unexpected -moments. Though his village had doubled in size within the year, and leapt -into fame, he was not satisfied. He wanted to drive the Mohawks far to the -westward and break them so that they would never again venture into the -fringes of the Maliseet country, and he dreamed of the day when all the scattered -clans and villages of the Maliseets would name him for their head chief.</p> - -<p class='c008'>One morning in July he followed the edge of Woolastook’s rocky valley -for a distance of about five miles above the village, then clambered down -the bank and crossed the brawling stream—for at this point old Woolastook, -the father of Maliseet rivers, was no more than a lively brook. Beneath the -farther bank was a flat rock and an amber pool. He laid aside his shield and -bow, and reclined on the rock to dream his ambitious dreams. So he lay for -an hour, and the sunlight slanted in upon him and gilded his dreams.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Suddenly Walking Moose sprang to his feet and turned, his shield on his -left arm and his bow in his right hand. His glance flashed to the overhanging -fringe of spruce branches above his head. He saw a girl’s face looking -timidly out, and a pair of dark eyes gazing shyly down upon him. He did -not know the face. It was not that of any girl of his own village.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“What do you want?” he asked, watchful for some sight or sound to -betray the presence of some hidden menace.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Hawk-in-the-Tree answered him in his own tongue, for she had learned it -from a prisoner when she was a child. Until recently, the Mohawks had -never lacked opportunity of acquiring the Maliseet language.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I sometimes fish in that pool, chief. But I will go away and fish somewhere -else,” she replied, modestly.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Do not go,” he said. “Come down and fish here if you want to. The -pools of the river are free to all honest Maliseets.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Without more ado, the girl crawled forward, turned, and slid down to the -flat rock beside Walking Moose. In her left hand she held a short coil of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_55'>55</span>transparent fish-line made from the intestines of some animal. Her small -face was flushed. She stood beside Walking Moose with downcast eyes. -The young man gazed at her with frank interest.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“You are a stranger,” he said. “You do not belong to my village.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>She met his glance for a second.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Have you ever seen me before, chief?” she asked.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I am not sure,” he replied, puckering his brows in reflection. “But I -know that you do not live in my village. You do not look like those young -women.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“They are more pleasant of appearance, perhaps?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>He smiled at that.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Perhaps you say the truth, but I think your cheeks are pinker and your -eyes brighter than the young women I know.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>The girl turned her face away from him.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I must fish,” she said, “else my poor old grandfather will go hungry.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Walking Moose, feeling an interest that was new to him, and prompted -by a little devil that had never troubled him before, dropped his bow and -put out his hand and took the coiled fish-line from the girl. Their fingers -touched—and he was astonished at the thrill which he felt.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“You must tell me who you are, and where you come from,” he said, -and his voice had a foolish little break in it. This vocal tremor was not lost -on the girl.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I belong to a small village on the great river, three days’ journey from -here,” she said. “My old grandfather is my only friend. His name is Never -Sleep. Because of his sharp tongue he became disliked by the people of the -village, and so we journeyed to this place, and built a little hidden lodge. -Never Sleep is very old, and spends all his days in brewing healing liquors -from roots and barks. It is my work to keep the pot boiling.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Walking Moose was impressed.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“You are a good girl to take such care of your old grandfather,” he said. -“But why have you not brought him into my village to dwell?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“The noises of a village disturb him,” she replied. “And though his -heart is kind, his tongue is bitter. He fears no one when he is angered, and -rushes out of his lodge and calls people terrible names. He fears a great -chief no more than a giggling papoose.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>The young man smiled.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Then it is well that he should continue to live in quiet,” he said. “But -you have not told me your name,” he added.</p> - -<p class='c008'>She glanced at him swiftly, and as swiftly away again, and the glow deepened -in her cheeks.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“My name is poor and unknown,” she said. “It is for mighty chieftains -such as Walking Moose to give names to their people.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>At this Walking Moose, who planned greatness and fought battles without -disturbing a line of his thin face, looked delighted and slightly confused.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Sit down,” he said, “while I catch some fish for you and your grandfather; -and while I am fishing I may think of a name for you.”</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_56'>56</span>The girl sat down, smiling demurely. Walking Moose uncoiled the transparent -line, placed a fat grasshopper on the hook, and cast it lightly upon -the surface of the pool. He stepped close to the edge of the rock and, with -his right hand advanced, flicked the kicking bait artfully. The sun was in -front of him, so his shadow did not fall upon the pool. Suddenly there was -a movement in the amber depths as swift as light, and next instant the grasshopper -vanished in a swirl of bubbling water. The line, held taut, cut the -surface of the pool in a half-circle like a hissing knife-blade. The line was -strong, and in those days men fished for the pot and gave little thought to -the sport. So Walking Moose pulled strongly, to judge the resistance, then -took a lower hold with his right hand and gave a quick and mighty jerk on -the line. The big trout came up like a bird, described a graceful curve in -the sunlight, and descended smack upon the rock. He was dispatched in a -moment by a blow at the base of the head.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“There is a fine trout for your cooking-pot,” said Walking Moose, boyishly -delighted with his success. “Now I’ll see if there is another in the pool.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“But you have not made a name for me yet,” said the girl.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“True,” replied the young man. “Catching fish is easier.” He looked -shyly at the girl, then very steadily at the gleaming dead trout. “You are -like a trout,” he said, with hesitation. “You are bright—and slender—and -the beads on your skirt are red and blue like the spots along the trout’s -sides. I might name you Beautiful Trout, or Little Trout—but your eyes——” -He paused and glanced at her uncertainly.</p> - -<p class='c008'>She did not return his glance, but sat with her head bent and her hands -clasped loosely in her beaded lap. Her hair, in two dusky braids, was drawn -in front of her slender shoulders, and hung down her breast.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“They are not like a trout’s,” he said. “No, they are not at all like the -eyes of a fish.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“What are they like?” she asked, her voice small and shy.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Walking Moose fiddled with the line in his fingers and shuffled his feet -uneasily. “How should I know? I cannot see them.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“But you have seen them. Can’t you remember?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I remember. They are like—like things that have never been seen by -any man alive, for they are like black stars.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>The girl laughed, and the sound was like the music of thin water flittering -over small pebbles.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Is Walking Moose a poet as well as the conqueror of the Mohawks, -that he makes a fool of a poor young woman with talk of black stars?” -she asked, turning her gaze full upon him for a moment with a look of tender -mockery.</p> - -<p class='c008'>His heart expanded, then twitched with a pang of doubt. This mention -of the Mohawks was grateful to his vanity, but it was disturbing too. Here -he had been talking to a girl and catching a trout, when his mind should have -been intent on plans against the enemy. He felt ashamed of himself. What -would be the end of his good fighting and great dreams if he spent any more -time in such foolishness?</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_57'>57</span>“I am not a poet,” he said. “A man who pushes his shield between -the lodges of the Mohawks has no time for the making of songs.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Already his air was preoccupied. Hawk-in-the-Tree noticed this.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Or for the making of names, chief,” she said. “I do not wonder that -your mind is uneasy and that fear tingles in your heart, for the Mohawks -are mighty enemies.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Walking Moose stared at her, then smiled.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Yes, they are mighty against those who run away,” he said. “The -hare that jumps from the fern strikes as much terror in my heart as all the -Mohawks who stand in moccasins.” He laughed softly, gazing down at the -amber water of the pool. “But I have a name for you,” he added. “Shining -Star is your name in my country.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Then he put the line into her hand, took up his bow and shield, and crossed -the stream. He climbed the short, steep ascent and forced his way through -the tangled branches. So he advanced for about ten yards, making a good -deal of stir. Then he halted, turned, and crawled noiselessly back to the -edge of the bank. He lay motionless for several minutes, peering out between -the drooping spruces. He had no suspicion of the girl, but it was a part of -his creed to look twice and carefully at everything that was new to him. He -watched her bait the hook and cast it on the pool. She skipped it here and -there across the calm surface; and presently a fish rose and took it, and was -deftly landed upon the rock for his trouble. Walking Moose was satisfied -that the girl had no intentions against anything but the trout. He crawled -noiselessly back through the brush, then got to his feet, and returned to the -bank without any effort at concealment. She looked up as he appeared above -the stream.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I have come back,” he said, “to accompany you to your lodge. I must -see your grandfather, Never Sleep. It is my duty as chief to know all my -people and the whereabouts of every lodge.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>The girl coiled the wet line and took up the two trout. Her head was -bowed, so the young man did not see the smile on her red lips. It was in -her thoughts that something more than a poor fish had risen to her hook; -but Walking Moose really thought that he was but doing his duty as chief -of the clan of the White Salmon. As this couple had come to his country -from the lower river, it was clearly his place to know something of their position -so that he might protect them in time of need.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Walking Moose climbed the steep bank first and then reached down a -helping hand to the girl whom he had named Shining Star. This was an unusual -attention from a brave to a squaw. On reaching the top the girl took the lead. -She walked swiftly and gracefully, and the twigs and branches that sprang -into place behind her switched the warrior; but so intent was he in following -this Shining Star that he paid no attention to the switchings. She led -straight to the south, over hummocks, and across open places and tangled -valleys. So for about a mile; and then she halted and turned a glowing -face to her follower.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I must let Never Sleep know that I am bringing a stranger,” she said, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_58'>58</span>“or he will be in a terrible rage. He is not agreeable when he is angry. If -I whistle twice, he will know that I am not alone.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“He must be an unpleasant old man to live with,” said Walking Moose; -and because of the foolishness that was brewing in his heart he felt no suspicion. -He stood inert, gazing down at Shining Star’s glossy head, while she gave vent -to two long, shrill whistles.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“That will let him know that a visitor is coming,” she said. “It will -give him time to get a pleasant smile on his face.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>This appeared to Walking Moose as the most excellent wit. Again they -advanced, and soon they came to a little lodge of birchbark set in a grove -of young firs. A faint haze of smoke crawled up from the hole in the roof. -The door-flap of hide was fastened open, showing a shadowy interior and the -glow of a fallen fire. The girl laid her fish on the moss beside the door, and -peered into the lodge.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Walking Moose, the mighty chief, has come to see you,” she said.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Walking Moose is welcome to my poor lodge,” returned a feeble voice. -“Let him enter and speak face to face with old Never Sleep.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>The girl drew back and nodded brightly to the chief.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“You go first,” said he, his native caution flickering up for a moment. -“The lodge is so dark, that I am afraid that I might step upon the old man.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>She read the reason for his hesitation, and the blood tingled in her cheeks, -but she entered without a word. He paused at the door for long enough to -accustom his eyes to the dark within. He could see no one but Shining Star, -and a robed, stooped figure seated on the ground. He stepped inside.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“The thong of my moccasin became unfastened,” he said, by way of explaining -his hesitation at the door.</p> - -<p class='c008'>A dry chuckle came from the robed figure.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“He is a wise man who halts and sets his feet and eyes to rights at the -threshold of a strange lodge,” said the feeble voice of Never Sleep.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Walking Moose felt absurdly young and transparent. He stood beside -the fire and stared over it at the old man. He could see little but the living -gleam of the face and a hint of two watchful eyes.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“What do you want of me, great chief?” asked Never Sleep.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I met your granddaughter at the river, where she was fishing,” replied -the warrior. “She told me her story, and so I came home with her to mark -the position of your lodge. All who dwell in my country are in my care. It -is well for me to know where to find every one of my people, in case of need.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“You will find me of small use to you in time of need,” returned the other, -“for I am old and weak, and my fighting days are over. Only in one way -can I serve you, chief. I brew potent liquors for the cure of all bodily ills.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“It is well,” said Walking Moose, with a full recovery of his usual manner. -“But you twist the truth of my words. I do not ask for your help, old man; -but you and your granddaughter may need mine, some time. Brew your liquor -in peace—and in danger send word to Walking Moose.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>With that he turned on his heel and left the lodge.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Next morning found the chief of the people of the White Salmon again -<span class='pageno' id='Page_59'>59</span>reclined on the flat rock above the amber pool; and again his dreams of ambition -and plans of warfare were disturbed by the girl whom he had named -Shining Star. Again she slid down to the rock, with the coiled fish-line in -her hand. Again he took the line from her and caught a trout for her dinner. -So it happened for six days, and by that time the dreams of Walking Moose -were all of Shining Star instead of ambition. He even made a song, and it -seemed to please Shining Star. But of these strangers he said nothing in the -village. It would be time to speak of them when he had won the prize.</p> - -<p class='c008'>On the seventh morning the chief waited on the rock above the amber pool -for an hour. After that he spent another hour in walking up and down the -bed of the stream for a distance of several hundred yards each way. He flushed -hot and cold with anxiety.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Has something happened to her?” he asked of the lonely stream. “Or -have they both gone away as quietly as they came?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Unable to stand the torment of anxiety any longer, he ascended the bank -above the pool, and set off swiftly towards Never Sleep’s lodge. He found the -old man crouched before the door.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“The girl has a fever,” said the old man. “But I have given her a potent -liquor that will drive it out of her blood.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Such fear gripped the young chief’s heart at these words as he had never -felt before. His staring face showed it to the sharp eyes of Never Sleep.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“She rests quietly now,” said the old man. “She must not be disturbed. -In the morning she will be well, I think. But, in the meantime, the pot is -empty.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>So Walking Moose went into the forest to hunt for flesh for Never Sleep’s -cooking-pot. He walked slowly, for his feet felt as heavy as stones when -turned away from the lodge where Shining Star lay sick. His eyes were dim, -and the sunlight on the trees and the azure sky above looked desolate and -terrible to him. He stumbled as he walked. He wandered aimlessly for more -than an hour before the thought returned to him that Never Sleep’s pot was -empty, and that his mission was to fill it. But the thought flashed away -again as swiftly as it had returned, and so he continued his aimless wanderings.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I love that girl—that Shining Star!” he murmured. “I must tell her -of it soon, in plain words—to-morrow, when the fever is gone from her.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>It was close upon sunset when Walking Moose at last got back to the lodge -of Never Sleep. He carried two young ducks at his belt. The old man came -to the door of the lodge.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Has the fever gone?” whispered the chief.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“She still sleeps,” replied the other. “The fever is passing. But you -are weary, my son. Drink this draught to refresh your sinews and lighten -your spirit. Then sleep, and when you awake you will find that the fever has -passed away from the girl.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Walking Moose took the stone cup in a trembling hand and swallowed -the bitter-sweet liquid it contained. Then he lay down on the warm moss -beside the lodge. How light his body felt! What beautiful, faint music -breathed in his ears! His lids slid down, but he raised them with an effort.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_60'>60</span>“I must sleep—for—a—little——” His voice trailed away to silence. -Again his lids fluttered down.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Never Sleep stooped above him, but the face was no longer that of a feeble -old man, but of the Mohawk chief—the father of Hawk-in-the-Tree.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“The liquor has done its work,” he said.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Then the girl to whom Walking Moose had given the name of Shining Star -came out of the lodge.</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>III</h3> - -<p class='c010'>Walking Moose slept a deep and dreamless sleep. The Mohawk bound -him at ankles and wrists, and then lifted him to his massive shoulders.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Lead the way!” he commanded.</p> - -<p class='c008'>The girl took up her father’s weapons and a long, tough rope of twisted -leather, and entered the forest behind the lodge. The big warrior, with his -limp burden, followed close upon her heels. They moved silently, through -deep coverts and shadowed valleys, by an unmarked, twisting way. The -sun slid down behind the western spruces and twilight deepened over the -wilderness.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“For such a mighty chief he was wonderfully simple,” remarked the Mohawk.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Hawk-in-the-Tree did not reply.</p> - -<p class='c008'>At last they came to the river above the fall that was called the Veil of -Flying Water. The twilight had thickened to darkness by now; but these -two required only a little light, for they had studied this part of the river -and the bellowing fall night after night. The man laid Walking Moose on -the ground and drew a small canoe from under a blanket of moss and bushes. -He made one end of the raw-hide rope fast to the bars and gunnels of the -canoe. He tied the other end strongly to a tree at the edge of the bank. He -felt no uncertainty as to the strength and exact length of the rope. Everything -had been tested; the whole amazing deed had been done before, as far as -that had been possible without the presence of Walking Moose.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Now the Mohawk placed the canoe at the very edge of the water and lifted -the drugged chief into it. He fastened one end of a shorter line around his -victim’s body just below the shoulders and under the arms. Then he cut -the thongs that bound wrists and ankles.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“He will die of hunger within bowshot of his own village,” he muttered.</p> - -<p class='c008'>With the slack of the long rope in his hand he edged the canoe into the -racing current, stepped aboard, and let it ease slowly down towards the top -of the sheer, out-leaping fury of white water. At the very brow of the screaming -slope the canoe hung for more than a minute. Then it came slowly back -to where the girl waited on the shore. The big Mohawk stepped out of it, -grinning broadly. Walking Moose had vanished.</p> - -<p class='c008'>The Mohawk unfastened the rope and coiled it over his arm. With the -girl’s help he returned the canoe to the little hollow and covered it with moss. -Hawk-in-the-Tree stood behind him, trembling. This was her father; but -the young man who now lay with death above and below and on every side—what -of him? She had hated him at one time. But now——</p> -<div class='figcenter id001'> -<img src='images/f060.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic002'> -<p>“At 1.5 Andy announced that there was one infallible way to start a refractory car” (page 64).</p> -</div> -</div> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_61'>61</span>She held the shorter of the two ropes of leather in her hands. She made -a noose of it. Her father stooped before, spreading the moss over the canoe. -She crouched suddenly, gripped his ankles, and jerked his feet backwards, -from under him. He pitched headfirst into the hollow with stunning force.</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>IV</h3> - -<p class='c010'>Cold spray flying over his face aroused Walking Moose at last from his -drugged sleep. For a little while he lay still, too shocked and bewildered -by the quaking of the wet rock on which he lay and the roar and thunder -in his ears, to think or move. He saw something pale, wide, and alive close -in front and curving above him. He put out his right hand and felt cold, -dripping rock behind him. He put out his left hand. Here was more wet -rock—and there the sharp edge of it—and space—within a few inches of his -side. He sat upright, and as he gazed he remembered the liquor he had taken -from the hands of Never Sleep.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“This is the work of that old man!” he exclaimed. He stood up on the -narrow ledge and raised his hand to the dim-lit, flying arc. It was struck -down, and his face was dashed with bubbling water. Then horror seized him, -and he leaned weakly against the dripping rock—for he realised that he was -behind the Veil of Flying Water, hemmed in—in a deathtrap.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Walking Moose soon regained his usual composure. He stood with his -back to the dripping rock, his feet firmly set on the quaking ledge, and gazed -calmly at the roof and wall of thin, hissing water. He thought of the girl -to whom he had given the name of Shining Star; but in a second he put that -hateful vision from him. The spray came up from the boiling cauldron under -the ledge and drenched him. He stared with dull interest at the arching -water, and at last decided that the pale radiance that lit it was that of the -moon. So the time must be early night. Suddenly he was aware of something -foreign on the luminous front of his prison. It was a slender line of -blackness, sharply curved, that struck the veil, vanished, and struck again -on a level with his eyes. Spray flew when it touched. He leaned forward -and put out his right hand. The thing was of twisted leather.</p> - -<p class='c008'>He shot out his hand and gripped the line firmly. He pulled it towards -him. It came half-way, seeming to be slack only at one end; then it began -to straighten and draw strongly outward and upward. He advanced to the -very edge of the rocky shelf, still gripping the rope with his right hand. He -stood on tiptoe. Then he grasped the rope with both hands and sprang through -the roof of falling water.</p> - -<p class='c008'>When Walking Moose felt the solid rocks under his feet he loosed the grip -of his fingers and fell forward, exhausted. Then the girl whom he had named -Shining Star knelt beside him and raised his head against her shoulder.</p> - -<p class='c008'>The Mohawk chief, recovered from his fall, looked out upon them from -the bushes. Then he turned and went back to his own country, cursing a -magic that had not been foretold by the medicine-men.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_62'>62</span> - <h2 class='c003'><span class='xxlarge'>“Bill Bailey”</span><br /> <br /><span class='xlarge'><i>By</i> Ian Hay</span><br /> <br /><i>Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders</i></h2> -</div> - -<h3 class='c009'>I<br /> <br />THE COMING OF “BILL BAILEY”</h3> - -<p class='c015'><i>FOR SALE.—A superb 3-seated Diablement-Odorant Touring Car, 12-15 h.-p., -1907 model, with Cape-cart hood, speedometer, spare wheel, fanfare horn, -and lamps complete. Body French-grey picked out with red. Cost £350. -Will take——</i></p> - -<p class='c008'>The sum which the vendor was prepared to take was so startling, that to -mention it would entirely spoil the symmetry of the foregoing paragraph. -It is therefore deleted. The advertisement concluded by remarking that -the car was as good as new, and added darkly that the owner was going abroad.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Such was the official title and description of the car. After making its -acquaintance we devised for ourselves other and shorter terms of designation. -I used to refer to it as My Bargain. Mr. Gootch, our local cycle-agent and -petrol-merchant, dismissed it gloomily as “one of them owe-seven Oderongs.” -My daughter (hereinafter termed The Gruffin) christened it “Bill Bailey,” -because it usually declined to come home; and the title was adopted with -singular enthusiasm and unanimity by subsequent passengers.</p> - -<p class='c008'>I may preface this narrative by stating that until I purchased Bill Bailey -my experience of motor mechanics had been limited to a motor-bicycle of -antique design, which had been sold me by a distant relative of my wife’s. -This stately but inanimate vehicle I rode assiduously for something like two -months, buoyed up by the not unreasonable hope that one day, provided I -pedalled long enough and hard enough, the engine would start. I was doomed -to disappointment; and after removing the driving-belt and riding the thing -for another month or so as an ordinary bicycle, mortifying my flesh and enlarging -my heart in the process, I bartered my unresponsive steed—it turned -the scale at about two hundredweight—to Mr. Gootch, in exchange for a set -of new wheels for the perambulator. Teresa—we called it Teresa after our -first cook, who on receiving notice invariably declined to go—was immediately -put into working order by Mr. Gootch, who, I believe, still wins prizes with her -at reliability trials.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_63'>63</span>To return to Bill Bailey. I had been coquetting with the idea of purchasing -a car for something like three months, and my wife had definitely made up -her mind upon the subject for something like three years, when the advertisement -already quoted caught my eye on the back of an evening paper. The -car was duly inspected by the family <i>en bloc</i>, in its temporary abiding-place -at a garage in distant Surbiton. What chiefly attracted me was the price. -My wife’s fancy was taken by the French-grey body picked out with red, -and the favourable consideration of The Gruffin was secured by the idea of -a speedometer reeling off its mile per minute. The baby’s interest was chiefly -centred in the fanfare horn.</p> - -<p class='c008'>My young friend, Andy Finch—one of those fortunate people who feel -competent to give advice upon any subject under the sun—obligingly offered -to overhaul the engine and bearings and report upon their condition. His -report was entirely favourable, and the bargain was concluded.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Next day, on returning home from the City, I found the new purchase -awaiting me in the coach-house. It was a two-seated affair, with a precarious-looking -arrangement like an iron camp-stool—known, I believe, as a spider-seat—clamped -on behind. A general survey of the car assured me that the -lamps, speedometer, spare wheel, and other extra fittings had not been abstracted -for the benefit of the gentleman who had gone abroad; and I decided there -and then to take a holiday next day and indulge the family with an excursion.</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>II<br /> <br />THE PROVING OF “BILL BAILEY”</h3> - -<p class='c010'>Where I made my initial error was in permitting Andy Finch to come -round next morning. Weakly deciding that I might possibly be able to extract -a grain or two of helpful information from the avalanche of advice which -would descend upon me, I agreed to his proposal that he should come and -assist me to “start her up.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Andy arrived in due course, and proceeded to run over the car’s points -in a manner which at first rather impressed me. Hitherto I had contented -myself with opening a sort of oven door in the dish-cover arrangement which -concealed the creature’s works from view, and peering in with an air of intense -wisdom, much as a diffident amateur inspects a horse’s mouth. After that -I usually felt the tyres, in search of spavins and curbs. Andy began by removing -the dish-cover bodily—I learned for the first time that it was called the bonnet,—and -then proceeded to tear up the boards on the floor of the car. This -done, a number of curious and mysterious objects were exposed to view for -the first time, with the functions and shortcomings of each of which I was -fated to become severally and monotonously familiar.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Having completed his observations, Andy suggested a run along the road. -I did not know then, as I know now, that his knowledge of automobilism -was about on a par with my own; otherwise I would not have listened with -<span class='pageno' id='Page_64'>64</span>such respect or permitted him to take any further liberties with the mechanism. -However, I knew no better, and this is what happened.</p> - -<p class='c008'>I had better describe the results in tabular form:—</p> - -<p class='c008'>12.15. Andy performs a feat which he describes as “tickling the carburetter.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>12.16-12.20. Andy turns the handle in front.</p> - -<p class='c008'>12.20-12.25. I turn the handle in front.</p> - -<p class='c008'>12.25-12.30. Andy turns the handle in front.</p> - -<p class='c008'>12.30-12.45. Adjournment to the dining-room sideboard.</p> - -<p class='c008'>12.45-12.50. Andy turns the handle in front.</p> - -<p class='c008'>12.50-12.55. I turn the handle in front.</p> - -<p class='c008'>12.55-1. Andy turns the handle in front and I tickle the carburetter.</p> - -<p class='c008'>1-1.5. I turn the handle in front and Andy tickles the carburetter.</p> - -<p class='c008'>At 1.5 Andy announced that there was one infallible way to start a refractory -car, and that was to let it run down hill under its own momentum, -and then suddenly let the clutch in. I need hardly say that my residence -lies in a hollow. However, with the assistance of The Gruffin, we manfully -trundled our superb 1907 Diablement-Odorant out of the coach-house, and -pushed it up the hill without mishap, if I except two large dents in the back -of the body, caused by the ignorance of my daughter that what looks like solid -timber may after all be only hollow aluminium.</p> - -<p class='c008'>We then turned the car, climbed on board, and proceeded to descend the -hill by the force of gravity. Bill Bailey I must say travelled beautifully, -despite my self-appointed chauffeur’s efforts to interfere with his movements -by stamping on pedals and manipulating levers. Absorbed with these exercises, -Andy failed to observe the imminence of our destination, and we reached the -foot of the hill at a good twenty-five miles an hour, the back wheels locked -fast by a belated but whole-hearted application of the hand-brake. However, -the collision with the confines of my estate was comparatively gentle, -and we soon disentangled the head-light from the garden hedge.</p> - -<p class='c008'>The engine still failed to exhibit any signs of life.</p> - -<p class='c008'>At this point my wife, who had been patiently sitting in the hall wearing -a new motor-bonnet for the best part of two hours, came out and suggested -that we should proclaim a temporary truce and have lunch.</p> - -<p class='c008'>At 2.30 we returned to the scene of operations. Having once more tickled -the now thoroughly depressed carburetter to the requisite pitch of hilarity, -Andy was on the point of resuming operations with the starting-handle, when -I drew his attention to a small stud-like affair sliding across a groove in the -dash-board.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I think,” I remarked, “that that is the only thing on the car which you -haven’t fiddled with as yet. Supposing I push it across?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Andy, I was pleased to observe, betrayed distinct signs of confusion. Recovering -quickly, he protested that the condemned thing was of no particular -use, but I could push it across if I liked.</p> - -<p class='c008'>I did so. Next moment, after three deafening but encouraging backfires, -Bill Bailey’s engine came to life with a roar, and the car proceeded rapidly -<span class='pageno' id='Page_65'>65</span>backwards down the road, Andy, threaded through the spare wheel like a -camel in a needle’s eye, slapping down pedals with one hand and clutching -at the steering-gear with the other.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Who left the reverse in?” he panted, when the car had at length been -brought to a standstill and the engine stopped.</p> - -<p class='c008'>No explanation was forthcoming, but I observed the scared and flushed -countenance of my daughter peering apprehensively round the coach-house -door, and drew my own conclusions.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Since Bill Bailey was obviously prepared to atone for past inertia by frenzied -activity, our trial trip now came within the sphere of possibility. My wife -had by this time removed her bonnet, and flatly declined to accompany us, -alleging somewhat unkindly that she was expecting friends to tennis at the -end of the week. The Gruffin, however, would not be parted from us, and -presently Bill Bailey, with an enthusiastic but incompetent chauffeur at the -wheel, an apprehensive proprietor holding on beside him, and a touzled long-legged -hoyden of twelve clinging grimly to the spider-seat behind, clanked -majestically out of the garden gate and breasted the slope leading to the main -road.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Victory at last! This was life! This was joy! I leaned back and took -a full breath. The Gruffin, protruding her unkempt head between mine and -Andy’s, shrieked out a hope that we might encounter a load of hay <i>en route</i>. -It was so lucky, she said. She was not disappointed.</p> - -<p class='c008'>From the outset it was obvious that the money expended upon the fanfare -horn had been thrown away. No fanfare could have advertised Bill Bailey’s -approach more efficaciously than Bill himself. He was his own trumpeter. -Whenever we passed a roadside cottage we found frantic mothers garnering -stray children into doorways, what time the fauna of the district hastily took -refuge in ditches or behind hedges.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Still, all went well, as they say in reporting railway disasters, until we -had travelled about four miles, when the near-side front wheel settled down -with a gentle sigh upon its rim, and the tyre assumed a plane instead of a -cylindrical surface. Ten minutes’ strenuous work with a pump restored it -to its former rotundity, and off we went again at what can only be described -as a rattling pace.</p> - -<p class='c008'>After another mile or so I decided to take the helm myself, not because -I thought I could drive the car well, but because I could not conceive how any -one could drive it worse than Andy.</p> - -<p class='c008'>I was wrong.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Still, loads of hay are proverbially soft; and since the driver of this one -continued to slumber stertorously upon its summit even after the shock of -impact, we decided not to summon a fellow-creature from dreamland for -the express purpose of distressing him with unpleasant tidings on the subject -of the paint on his tail-board. So, cutting loose from the wreck, we silently -stole away, if the reader will pardon the expression.</p> - -<p class='c008'>It must have been about twenty minutes later, I fancy, that the gear-box -fell off. Personally I should never have noticed our bereavement, for the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_66'>66</span>din indigenous to Bill Bailey’s ordinary progress was quite sufficient to allow -a margin for such extra items of disturbance as the sudden exposure of the -gear-wheels. A few jets of a black and glutinous compound, which I afterwards -learned to recognise as gear-oil, began to spout up through cracks in -the flooring, but that was all. It was The Gruffin who, from her retrospective -coign of vantage in the spider-seat, raised the alarm of a heavy metallic body -overboard. We stopped the car, and the gear-box was discovered in a disintegrated -condition a few hundred yards back; but as none of us was capable -of restoring it to its original position, and as Bill Bailey appeared perfectly -prepared to do without it altogether, we decided to go on <i>in statu quo</i>.</p> - -<p class='c008'>The journey, I rejoice to say, was destined not to conclude without witnessing -the final humiliation and exposure of Andy Finch. We had pumped -up the leaky tyre three times in about seven miles, when Andy, struck by -a brilliant idea, exclaimed:</p> - -<p class='c008'>“What mugs we are! What is the good of a Stepney wheel if you don’t -use it?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>A trifle ashamed of our want of resource, we laboriously detached the -Stepney from its moorings and trundled it round to the proper side of the car. -I leaned it up against its future partner and then stepped back and waited. So -did Andy. The Gruffin, anxious to learn, edged up and did the same.</p> - -<p class='c008'>There was a long pause.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Go ahead,” I said encouragingly, as my young friend merely continued -to regard the wheel with a mixture of embarrassment and malevolence. “I -want to see how these things are put on.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“It’s quite easy,” said Andy desperately. “You just hold it up against -the wheel and clamp it on.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Then do it,” said I.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Yes, do it!” said my loyal daughter ferociously. With me she was -determined not to spare the malefactor.</p> - -<p class='c008'>A quarter of an hour later we brought out the pump, and I once more -inflated the leaky tyre, while Andy endeavoured to replace the Stepney wheel -in its original resting-place beside the driver’s seat. Even now the tale of -his incompetence was not complete.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“This blamed Stepney won’t go back into its place,” he said plaintively. -“I fancy one of the clip things must have dropped off. It’s rather an old-fashioned -pattern, this of yours. I think we had better carry it back loose. -After all,” he added almost tearfully, evading my daughter’s stony eye, “it -doesn’t matter <i>how</i> you carry the thing, so long——”</p> - -<p class='c008'>He withered and collapsed. Ultimately we drove home with The Gruffin -wearing the Stepney wheel round her waist, lifebuoy fashion. On reaching -home I sent for Mr. Gootch to come and take Bill Bailey away and put him -into a state of efficiency. Then I explained to Andy, during a most consoling -ten minutes, exactly what I thought of him as a mechanic, a chauffeur, -and a fellow-creature.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_67'>67</span> -<h3 class='c009'>III<br /> <br />THE PASSING OF “BILL BAILEY”</h3> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>It is a favourite maxim of my wife’s that <i>any</i> woman can manage <i>any</i> -man, provided she takes the trouble to thoroughly <i>understand</i> him. (The -italics and split infinitive are hers.) This formula, I soon found, is capable -of extension to the relations existing between a motor-car and its owners. -Bill Bailey and I soon got to understand one another thoroughly. He was -possessed of what can only be described as an impish temperament. He seemed -to know by instinct what particular idiosyncrasy of his would prove most -exasperating at a given moment, and he varied his <i>répertoire</i> accordingly. -On the other hand, he never wasted his energies upon an unprofitable occasion. -For instance, he soon discovered that I had not the slightest objection to his -back-firing in a quiet country road. Consequently he reserved that stunning -performance for a crowded street full of nervous horses. He nearly always -broke down when I took critical or expert friends for an outing; and the -only occasions which ever roused him to high speed were those upon which I -was driving alone, having dispatched the rest of the family by train to ensure -their safe arrival.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Gradually I acquired a familiarity with most of the complaints from which -Bill Bailey suffered—and their name was legion, for they were many—together -with the symptoms which heralded their respective recurrences. In this -connection I should like to set down, for the benefit of those who may at any -time find themselves in a similar position, a few of the commonest causes -of cessation of activity in a motor-car, gradual or instantaneous, temporary -or permanent:—</p> - -<p class='c016'><i>A.</i> Breakdowns on the part of the engine. These may be due to—</p> - -<p class='c017'>(1) Absence of petrol. (Usually discovered after the entire car has -been dismantled.)</p> - -<p class='c017'>(2) Presence of a foreign body. <i>E.g.</i>, a Teddy Bear in the water-pump. -(How it got there I cannot imagine. The animal was a present -from the superstitious Gruffin, and in the <i>rôle</i> of Mascot adorned the -summit of the radiator. It must have felt dusty or thirsty, and dropped -in one day when the cap was off.)</p> - -<p class='c017'>(3) Things in their wrong places. <i>E.g.</i>, water in the petrol-tank and -petrol in the water-tank. This occurred on the solitary occasion upon -which I entrusted The Gruffin with the preparation of the car for an -afternoon’s run.</p> - -<p class='c017'>(4) Loss of some essential portion of the mechanism. (<i>E.g.</i>, the carburetter.) -A minute examination of the road for a few hundred yards -back will usually restore it.</p> - -<p class='c016'><i>B.</i> Intermediate troubles.</p> - -<p class='c008'>By this I mean troubles connected with the complicated apparatus which -harnesses the engine to the car—the clutch, the gears, the driving-shaft, etc. -Of these it is sufficient to speak briefly.</p> - -<p class='c017'>(1) The Clutch. This may either refuse to go in or refuse to come -<span class='pageno' id='Page_68'>68</span>out. In the first case the car cannot be started, and in the second it -cannot be stopped. The former contingency is humiliating, the latter -expensive.</p> - -<p class='c017'>(2) The Gears. These have a habit of becoming entangled with one -another. Persons in search of a novel sensation are recommended to -try getting the live axle connected simultaneously with the top speed -forward and the reverse.</p> - -<p class='c017'>(3) The Driving-Shaft. The front end of this is comparatively intelligible, -but the tail is shrouded in mystery. It merges into a thing -called the Differential. I have no idea what this is. It is kept securely -concealed in a sort of Bluebeard’s chamber attached to the back-axle. -Inquiries of mine as to its nature and purpose were always greeted by -Mr. Gootch with amused contempt or genuine alarm, according as I -merely displayed curiosity on the subject, or expressed a desire to have -the axle laid bare.</p> - -<p class='c016'><i>C.</i> Trouble with the car. (With which is incorporated trouble with the -brakes and steering apparatus.)</p> - -<p class='c008'>It must not be imagined that the car will necessarily go because the engine -is running. One of the wheels may refuse to go round, possibly because—</p> - -<p class='c017'>(1) You have omitted to take the brake off.</p> - -<p class='c017'>(2) Something has gone wrong with the differential. (I have no -further comment to offer on this head.)</p> - -<p class='c017'>(3) It has just dropped off. (<i>N.B.</i> This only happened once.)</p> - -<p class='c008'>After a time, then, I was able not merely to foretell the coming of one of -Bill Bailey’s periods of rest from labour, but to diagnose the cause and make -up a prescription.</p> - -<p class='c008'>If the car came to a standstill for no outwardly perceptible reason, I removed -the bonnet and took a rapid inventory of Bill’s most vital organs, sending -The Gruffin back along the road at the same time, with instructions to retrieve -anything of a metallic nature which she might discover there.</p> - -<p class='c008'>When Bill Bailey without previous warning suddenly charged a hedge -or passing pedestrian, or otherwise exhibited a preference for the footpath -as opposed to the roadway, I gathered that the steering-gear had gone wrong -again. The Gruffin, who had developed an aptness for applied mechanics -most unusual in her sex, immediately produced from beneath the seat a suit -of blue overalls of her own construction, of which she was inordinately proud—I -hope I shall be able to dress her as cheaply in ten years’ time—and proceeded -to squirm beneath the car. Here, happy as a queen, she lay upon her -back on the dusty road, with oil and petrol dripping in about equal proportions -into her wide grey eyes and open mouth, adjusting a bit of chronically refractory -worm-and-wheel gear which I, from reasons of <i>embonpoint</i> and advancing years, -found myself unable to reach.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Finally, if my nose was assailed by a mingled odour of blistering paint, -melted indiarubber, and frizzling metal, I deduced that the cooling apparatus -had gone wrong, and that the cylinders were red-hot. The petrol tap was -<span class='pageno' id='Page_69'>69</span>hurriedly turned off, and The Gruffin and I retired gracefully, but without -undue waste of time, to a distance of about fifty yards, where we sat down -behind the highest and thickest wall available, and waited for a fall of temperature, -a conflagration, or an explosion, as the case might be.</p> - -<hr class='c014' /> - -<p class='c008'>Bill Bailey remained in my possession for nearly two years. During that -time he covered three thousand miles, consumed more petrol and oil than I -should have thought possible, ran through two sets of tyres, and cost a sum -of money in repairs which would have purchased a small steam yacht.</p> - -<p class='c008'>There were moments when I loved him like a brother; others, more frequent, -when he was an offence to my vision. The Gruffin, on the other hand, having -fallen in love with him on sight, worshipped him with increasing ardour and -true feminine perversity the dingier and more repulsive he grew.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Not that we had not our great days. Once we overtook and inadvertently -ran over a hen—an achievement which, while it revolted my humanitarian -instincts and filled the radiator with feathers, struck me as dirt cheap at half -a crown. Again, there was the occasion upon which we were caught in a -police-trap. Never had I felt so proud of Bill Bailey as when I stood in the -dock listening to a policeman’s Homeric description of our flight, over a measured -quarter of a mile. At the end of the recital, despite my certain knowledge -that Bill’s limit was about twenty-three miles an hour, I felt that I must in -common fairness enter him at Brooklands next season. The Gruffin, who -came to see me through, afterwards assured her mother that I thanked the -Magistrate who fined me and handed my accusing angel five shillings.</p> - -<p class='c008'>But there was another side to the canvas. Many were the excursions -upon which we embarked, only to tramp home in the rain at the end of the -day, leaving word at Mr. Gootch’s to send out and tow Bill Bailey home. -Many a time, too, have Bill and I formed the nucleus of an interested crowd -in a village street, Bill inert and unresponsive, while I, perspiring vigorously -and studiously ignoring inquiries as to whether I could play “The Merry Widow -Waltz,” desolately turned the starting-handle, to evoke nothing more than -an inferior hurdy-gurdy melody syncopated by explosions at irregular intervals. -Once, too, when in a fit of overweening presumption I essayed to -drive across London, we broke down finally and completely exactly opposite -“The Angel” at Islington, where Bill Bailey, with his back wheels locked -fast in some new and incomprehensible manner,—another vagary of the -differential, I suppose,—despite the urgent appeals of seven policemen, innumerable -errand-boys, and the drivers, conductors, and passengers of an increasing -line of London County Council electric tramcars, stood his ground -in the fairway for nearly a quarter of an hour. Finally, he was lifted up and -carried bodily, by a self-appointed Committee of Public Safety, to the side -of the road, to be conveyed home in a trolley.</p> - -<p class='c008'>But all flesh is as grass. Bill Bailey’s days drew to an end. The French-grey -in his complexion was becoming indistinguishable from the red; his -joints rattled like dry bones; his fanfare horn was growing asthmatic. Old age -was upon him, and I, with the ingratitude of man to the faithful servant who -<span class='pageno' id='Page_70'>70</span>has outlived his period of usefulness, sold him to Mr. Gootch for fifteen sovereigns -and a small lady’s bicycle.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Only The Gruffin mourned his passing. She said little, but accepted the -bicycle (which I had purchased for her consolation) with becoming meekness.</p> - -<p class='c008'>At ten o’clock on the night before Bill Bailey’s departure—he was to be -sent for early in the morning—the nurse announced with some concern that -Miss Alethea (The Gruffin) was not in her bed. She was ultimately discovered -in the coach-house, attired in a pink dressing-gown and bath slippers. She -was kneeling with her arms round as much of Bill Bailey as they could encompass; -her long hair flowed and rippled over his scratched and dinted bonnet; -and she was crying as if her very heart would break.</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>IV<br /> <br />“BILL BAILEY” COMES AGAIN</h3> - -<p class='c010'>A year later I bought a new car. It possessed four cylinders and an innumerable -quantity of claims to perfection. The engine would start at the -pressure of a button; the foot-brake and accelerator never became involved -in an unholy alliance; it could climb any hill; and outlying portions of its -anatomy adhered faithfully to the parent body. Pedestrians and domestic -animals no longer took refuge in ditches at our approach. On the contrary, -we charmed them like Orpheus with his lute; for the sound of our engine -never rose above a sleek and comfortable purr, while the note of the horn -suggested the first three bars of “Onward, Christian Soldiers!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>My wife christened the new arrival The Greyhound, but The Gruffin, faithful -to the memory of the late lamented Bill Bailey, never referred to it as anything -but The Egg-Boiler. This scornful denotation found some justification -in the car’s ornate nickel-plated radiator, whose curving sides and domed top -made up a far-away resemblance to the heavily patented and highly explosive -contrivance which daily terrorised our breakfast-table.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Of Bill Bailey’s fate we knew little, but since Mr. Gootch once informed us -with some bitterness that he had had to sell him to a Scotchman, we gathered that, -for once in his life, our esteemed friend had “bitten off more than he could chew.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>The Greyhound, though a sheer delight as a vehicle, was endowed with somewhat -complicated internal mechanism, and I was compelled in consequence -to retain the services of a skilled chauffeur, a Mr. Richards, who very properly -limited my dealings with the car to ordering it round when I thought I should -be likely to get it. Consequently my connection with practical mechanics -came to an end, and henceforth I travelled with my friends in the back seat, -The Gruffin keeping Mr. Richards company in front, and goading that exclusive -and haughty menial to visible annoyance by her supercilious attitude towards -the new car.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Finally we decided on a motor trip to Scotland. There was a luggage-carrier -on the back of the car which was quite competent to contain my wife’s -trunk and my own suit-case. The Gruffin, who was not yet of an age to trouble -about her appearance, carried her <i>batterie de toilette</i> in a receptacle of her own, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_71'>71</span>which shared the front seat with its owner, and served the additional purpose -of keeping The Gruffin’s slim person more securely wedged therein.</p> - -<p class='c008'>We joined the car at Carlisle, and drove the first day to Stirling. On the -second the weather broke down, and we ploughed our way through Perth -and the Pass of Killiecrankie to Inverness in a blinding Scotch mist. The -Greyhound behaved magnificently, and negotiated the Spittal of Glenshee -and other notorious nightmares of the bad hill-climber in a manner which -caused me to refer slightingly to what might have happened had we entrusted -our fortunes to Bill Bailey. The Gruffin tossed back to me over her shoulder -a recommendation to touch wood.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Next day broke fine and clear, and we rose early, for we intended to run -right across Scotland. I ate a hearty breakfast, inwardly congratulating -myself upon not having to accelerate its assimilation by performing calisthenic -exercises upon a starting-handle directly afterwards. At ten o’clock The -Greyhound slid round to the hotel door, and we embarked upon our journey. -Infatuated by long immunity from disaster, I dispatched a telegram to an -hotel fifty miles away, ordering luncheon at a meticulously definite hour, -and another to our destination—a hospitable shooting-box on the west coast—mentioning -the exact moment at which we might be expected.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Certainly we were “asking for it,” as my Cassandra-like offspring did not -fail to remark. But for a while Fate answered us according to our folly. We -arrived at our luncheon hotel ten minutes before my advertised time, an achievement -which pleased me so much that I wasted some time in exhibiting the -engine to the courtly and venerable brigand who owned the hotel, with the -result that we got away half an hour late. But what was half an hour to -The Greyhound?</p> - -<p class='c008'>Blithely we sped across the endless moor beneath the September sun. -The road, straight and undulating, ran ahead of us like a white tape laid upon -the heather. The engine purred contentedly, and Mr. Richards, lolling -back in his seat, took a patronising survey of the surrounding landscape. -Evidently he rejoiced, in his benign and lofty fashion, to think how this glittering -vision was brightening the dull lives of the grouse and sheep. Certainly -the appearance of The Greyhound did him credit. Not a speck of mud defiled -its body; soot and oil were nowhere obtrusive. Bill Bailey had been wont, -during periods of rest outside friends’ front doors, to deposit a small puddle -of some black and greasy liquid upon the gravel. The Greyhound was guilty -of no such untidiness. Mr. Richards, to quote his own respectfully satirical -words, preferred using his oil to oil the car instead of gentlemen’s front drives. -Under his administration my expenditure on lubricants alone had shrunk to -half of what it had been in Bill Bailey’s time.</p> - -<p class='c008'>But economy can be pushed to excess. Even as I dozed in the back seat, -sleepily observing The Gruffin’s flying mane and wondering whether we ought -not shortly to get out the Thermos containing our tea, there came a grating, -crackling sound. The Greyhound gave a swerve which nearly deposited its -occupants in a peat-hag; and after one or two zigzag and epileptic gambols -came to a full stop.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_72'>72</span>“Steering-gear gone wrong, Richards?” I inquired.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I don’t think so, sir,” replied Mr. Richards easily. “Seems to me it was -a kind of a side sl—— Get out, sir! Get out, mum! The dam thing’s afire!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>We cooled the fervid glowing of the back-axle with a patent fire-extinguisher, -and sat down gloomily to survey the wreck. Economy is the foundation of -riches, but you must discriminate in your choice of economies. Axle-grease -should not be included in the list. Mr. Richards, whether owing to a saving -disposition or an æsthetic desire to avoid untidy drippings, had omitted—so -we afterwards discovered—to lubricate the back-axle or differential for several -weeks, with the result that the bearings of the off-side back wheel had “seized,” -and most of the appurtenances thereof had fused into a solid immovable mass.</p> - -<p class='c008'>We sat in the declining rays of the sun and regarded The Greyhound. -The brass-work still shone, and the engine was in beautiful running order; -but the incontrovertible and humiliating fact remained that we were ten miles -from the nearest dwelling and The Greyhound’s career as a medium of transport -was temporarily closed. Even the biting reminder of The Gruffin that we -could still employ it to boil eggs in failed to cheer us.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Restraining an impulse to give Mr. Richards a month’s warning on the -spot, I conferred with my wife and daughter. We might possibly be picked -up by a passing car, but the road was a lonely one and the contingency unlikely. -We must walk. Accordingly we sat down to a hasty tea, prepared directly -afterwards to tramp on towards our destination.</p> - -<p class='c008'>The wind had dropped completely, and the silence that lay upon the sleepy, -sunny moor was almost uncanny. Imbued with a gentle melancholy, my wife -and I partook of refreshment in chastened silence. Suddenly, as The Gruffin -(considerably more cheerful than I had seen her for some days) was passing -up her cup for the third time, a faint and irregular sound came pulsing and -vibrating across the moor. It might have been the roar of a battle far away. -One could almost hear the popping of rifles, the clash of steel, and the shrieks -of the wounded. Presently the noise increased in intensity and volume. It -appeared to come from beyond a steep rise in the long straight road behind us. -We pricked up our ears. I became conscious of a vague sense of familiarity with -the phenomenon. The air seemed charged with some sympathetic influence.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“What is that noise, Richards?” I said.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I rather <i>think</i>, sir,” replied Mr. Richards, peering down the road, “that -it might be some kind of a——”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Suddenly I was aware of a distinct rise of temperature in the neighbourhood -of my left foot. My daughter, with face flushed and lips parted, was gazing -feverishly down the road. An unheeded Thermos flask, held limply in her hand, -was directing a stream of scalding tea down my leg. Before I could expostulate -she wheeled round upon me, and I swear there were tears in her eyes.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“It’s <i>Bill</i>!” she shrieked. “Bill Bailey! <i>My</i> Bill!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>She was right. As she spoke a black object appeared upon the crown of -the hill, and, incredible to relate, Bill Bailey, puffing, snorting, reeking, jingling, -back-firing, came lumbering down the slope, in his old hopeless but irresistible -fashion, right upon our present encampment.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_73'>73</span>His lamps and Stepney wheel were gone, his back tyres were solid, and -his erstwhile body of French-grey was now decked out in a rather blistered -coat of that serviceable red pigment which adorns most of the farmers’ carts -in the Highlands. But his voice was still unmistakably the voice of Bill Bailey.</p> - -<p class='c008'>He was driven by a dirty-faced youth in a blue overall, who presented -the appearance of one who acts as general factotum in a country establishment -which supports two or three motors and generates its own electric light. -By his side sat a patriarchal old gentleman with a white beard, in tweeds, -hobnail boots, and a deerstalker cap—obviously a head ghillie of high and ancient -lineage.</p> - -<p class='c008'>The spider-seat at the back was occupied, in the fullest sense of the word, -by a dead stag about the size of a horse, lashed to this, its temporary catafalque, -with innumerable ropes.</p> - -<p class='c008'>The old gentleman was politeness itself, and on hearing of our plight placed -himself and Bill Bailey unreservedly at our disposal. His master, The M‘Shin -of Inversneishan, would be proud to house us for the night, and the game-car -should convey us to the hospitable walls of Inversneishan forthwith. Tactfully -worded doubts upon our part as to Bill’s carrying capacity—we did not -complicate matters by explaining upon what good authority we spoke—were -waved aside with a Highlander’s indifference to mere detail. The car -was a grand car, and the Castle was no distance at all. Mr. Richards alone -need be jettisoned. He could remain with The Greyhound all night, and on -the morrow succour should be sent him.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Mr. Richards, utterly demoralised by his recent fall from the summit of -autocracy, meekly assented, and presently Bill Bailey, packed like the last ’bus -on a Saturday night, staggered off upon his homeward way. My wife and I -shared the front seat with the oleaginous youth in the overall, while the -patriarchal ghillie hung on precariously behind, locked in the embrace of the -dead stag. How or where The Gruffin travelled I do not know. She may -have perched herself upon some outlying portion of the stag, or she may have -attached herself to Bill Bailey’s back-axle by her hair and sash, and been -towed home. Anyhow, when, two hours later, Bill Bailey, swaying beneath -his burden and roaring like a Bull of Bashan, drew up with all standing at the -portals of Inversneishan Castle, it was The Gruffin who, unkempt, scarlet, but -triumphant, rang the bell and bearded the butler while my wife and I uncoiled -ourselves from intimate association with the chauffeur, the ghillie, and the stag.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Next morning, in returning thanks for the princely manner in which our -involuntary host had entertained us, I retailed to him the full story of our -previous acquaintance with Bill Bailey. I further added, with my daughter’s -hot hand squeezing mine in passionate approval, an intimation that if ever Bill -should again come into the market I thought I could find a purchaser for him.</p> - -<p class='c008'>He duly came back to us, at a cost of five pounds and his sea-passage, a -few months later, and we have had him ever since.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Such is the tale of Bill Bailey. To-day he stands in a corner of my coach-house, -an occupier of valuable space, a stumbling-block to all and sundry, and a -lasting memorial to the omnipotence of human—especially feminine—sentiment.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_74'>74</span> - <h2 class='c003'><span class='xxlarge'>Life-Like</span><br /> <br /><span class='xlarge'><i>By</i> Martin Swayne</span><br /> <br /><i>Royal Army Medical Corps</i></h2> -</div> - -<p class='c007'>Colonel Wedge was a quiet, genial bachelor. If there was anything that -seemed to distinguish him from the familiar type of retired officer, it was his -great breadth of shoulder. He was well over fifty, but still vigorous and -active. On the day after his arrival in Paris, whither he had come on a week’s -visit, he breakfasted at nine and spent the morning in visiting some public -places of interest. He lunched at a restaurant near the Porte St. Martin, -where he found himself in a typically Parisian atmosphere, and after smoking -a cigar began to stroll idly along the streets. Chance directed his steps in a -northerly direction, and about three in the afternoon he found himself in the -Montmartre district.</p> - -<p class='c008'>He walked along in a casual manner, his hands clasped behind his back, -watching everything with infinite relish. While passing up a side street his -eye fell on a flamboyant advertisement outside a cinematograph show. The -Colonel was not averse to cinematograph shows, and it struck him that here, -perhaps, he might see something out of the ordinary. The poster was certainly -lurid. It represented a man being attacked by snakes, and Wedge understood -enough French to read the statement underneath that the representation was -absolutely life-like, and that the death-agony was a masterpiece of acting.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Rattlesnakes,” reflected the Colonel, eyeing the poster. “It’s wonderful -what they do in the way of films nowadays. Of course, they’ve taken out -the poison glands.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>He stood for a short time studying the poster, which was extremely realistic, -and then decided to enter. He went up to the ticket-office, which stood on -the pavement, and paid the entrance fee. It was obvious that the establishment -was not of the first order. A couple of rickety wine-shops flanked it -one on either side, and the ticket-office was apparently an old sentry-box -with a hole cut in the back.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Wedge took his ticket and glanced up the street. It was a day of brilliant -sunshine. At the far end of the narrow road there was a glimpse of the white -domes of the Sacré Cœur, standing on its rising ground and looking like an -Oriental palace. Only a few people were about, and the wine-shops were empty.</p> - -<p class='c008'>A shaft of sunlight fell on the poster of the man fighting with rattlesnakes, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_75'>75</span>and the Colonel looked at it again. It attracted him in some mysterious way, -probably because physical problems interested him.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Seems to be in a kind of pit,” he thought. “Otherwise he could run for -it. It is certainly life-like.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>He turned away, ticket in hand. A man standing before a faded plush -curtain beckoned to him, and Wedge passed from the bright light of day into -the darkness behind the curtain.</p> - -<p class='c008'>He could see nothing. Someone took his arm and led him forward. The -Colonel blinked, but the darkness was complete. Somewhere on his left he -could hear the familiar clicking of a cinematograph.</p> - -<p class='c008'>The hand on his arm piloted him gently along, and he had the impression -of walking in a curve. But it seemed an intolerably long curve. Since he -could not speak French, he was unable to ask how much farther he had to go. -He felt vaguely that people were round him, close to him, and naturally concluded -he was passing down the room where the performance was being held.</p> - -<p class='c008'><i>But where was the screen?</i></p> - -<p class='c008'>He could not see a ray of light. Heavy, impenetrable darkness was before -him, and seemed to press on his eyelids like a cloth. Suddenly the hand on -his arm was lifted. Wedge stopped, blinking.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Look here,” he said, with a feeling of irritation, “where am I?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>There was no answer. He waited, listening. He could hear nothing. -The clicking of the cinematograph was no longer audible.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Deeply perplexed, he held out his arms before him and took a step forward. -His outstretched foot descended on—nothing.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Wedge fell forward and downwards with a sharp cry. His fall was brief, -but it seemed endless to him. He landed, sprawling, on something soft. Before -he could move he was caught and held down with his face pressed against -the soft mass that felt like a heap of pillows. A suffocating, pungent odour -assailed his nostrils, and gradually consciousness slipped away.</p> - -<p class='c008'>When Colonel Wedge came to his senses he found himself in a small room -lit by an oil-lamp hung against the wall. He was lying on a heap of mattresses, -bound hand and foot. At first he stared vaguely upwards. Directly overhead -was a circular mark in the ceiling. The sound of voices struck on his -ears, and, looking round, he saw a group of men talking at a table near by.</p> - -<p class='c008'>With startling suddenness memory came back. He glanced up at the ceiling. -There was no doubt that the circular mark was the outline of the trap-door -through which he had fallen. He did not attempt to struggle, but lay -passively searching in his mind for some explanation of his position.</p> - -<p class='c008'>The men at the table were talking in loud voices, but they spoke in French. -He could not understand what they said.</p> - -<p class='c008'>He looked round at them. Five of them—there were half a dozen—were -roughly dressed, with blue or red handkerchiefs knotted round their throats; -but one of them was of a different type, and looked like a prosperous business -man. He was the spokesman and leader of the group, and Wedge noticed -that he had a peculiarly evil, energetic type of face. He spoke rapidly, -occasionally nodding towards the heap of mattresses and employing violent -<span class='pageno' id='Page_76'>76</span>gestures. From time to time he thumped the table before him. Finally he -rose and crossed the room.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“My name is Dance,” he said. He stuck the cigar he was smoking into -the corner of his mouth and went on speaking between his teeth. “I’m an -Englishman by birth, and wonderfully fond of my fellow-countrymen. That’s -why you are here. You’re just the man I was wanting, and when I saw you -looking at that poster I could have hugged myself. What did you think of -it? Good, eh? Sorry you didn’t see the film.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>He chuckled to himself.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Wedge looked at him steadily and made no reply. The other shrugged -his shoulders and turned away. Some further discussion followed, and then -all six left the room.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Wedge waited until the sound of their footsteps had died away in the passage -without, and then raised himself. Owing to the way in which he was bound -he could not stand up. He looked around keenly. There was only one door -and no window. The walls were of rough brick, and it was clear the place -was a kind of cellar. Save for the table and chairs there was no furniture. -The stone floor was damp, and from one dark corner Wedge could hear the -trickling of water. After the first scrutiny of his prison he lay back again on -the mattresses and tried to think. He could hear no sound of the traffic or -footsteps from the road, and guessed that it would be useless to shout. Save -for the trickle of water and the occasional hissing and spurting of the lamp, -the place was absolutely silent.</p> - -<p class='c008'>The atmosphere was thick and close. The flame of the lamp grew smaller -and smaller, and finally expired. Wedge lay in the darkness, open-eyed, -listening to the beating of his heart. He was thirsty. His throat was dry -and his head ached, and the cords round his wrists and feet bit into the flesh. -He made several powerful attempts to burst them, but in vain.</p> - -<p class='c008'>For what purpose did they want him? If it was simply a question of -robbery, why was he kept prisoner? An eternity seemed to pass. In despair, -he tried to sleep. But the question as to why he was in this prison repeated -itself and made sleep impossible.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Wedge was a man of tried courage, but there was something sinister in -his position that caused disagreeable thrills to pass down his back. The trap-door, -the chloroform, the cords, the group of evil-looking men were not reassuring -incidents. Moreover, the isolation in complete darkness with the -monotonous trickling of water unnerved him.</p> - -<p class='c008'>An hour went by, and he made another violent attempt to release himself. -His breath came in gasps. Before his shut eyes he saw sheets of red flame. -But his efforts were useless. Thoroughly exhausted he lay still again, staring -upwards.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Owing to some trick of vision, possibly because the strong sunlight had -intensified the colouring of the poster while he was studying it, he saw a shadowy -picture of the man fighting for his life in the pit full of rattlesnakes hovering -before him in the darkness. He thought grimly that it would be some time -before he would have the pleasure of seeing the representation of that film—perhaps -never. The latter event was more likely. It was not probable that -they would let him go free, because his freedom would mean their arrest.</p> -<div class='figcenter id001'> -<img src='images/p077.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic002'> -<p>“Wedge, turning as it moved, always faced it” (page 81).</p> -</div> -</div> -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_78'>78</span>“They want me for some purpose,” he muttered. “But what it is, Heaven -knows. It can’t be simple robbery. There’s no point in murdering me. -I’m not a person of any importance, so I don’t see where the object of kidnapping -comes in. Their game beats me, unless they’ve mistaken me for -someone else.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>A step outside interrupted his reflections. He heard the door open. Something -that sounded like a plate was put on the floor, and the steps retreated -down the passage. After a few minutes they became audible again, and a -light showed in the doorway. A man appeared holding a candle. Colonel -Wedge realised that it was the intention of his captors that he should take -some nourishment, and decided that to do so would be the wisest course. -There was no reason why he should weaken himself by abstinence.</p> - -<p class='c008'>He submitted to being fed by his jailer, and eagerly drank the harsh red -wine that was offered to him. When the meal was finished he was left alone -again, but the candle was put on the table. By watching its rate of decrease -in length Wedge gained some idea of the passage of time. By a calculation -based on the number of his heart-beats, which were normally sixty to the -minute, he deduced that the candle would last for about four hours. As a -matter of fact, Wedge’s deduction was wrong. The candle burned for three -hours. Wedge was unaware that his heart was beating eighty to the minute.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Months seemed to elapse before the candle shot up in a last flare. The Colonel -stared at the walls, at the rough, unfaced bricks, at the trap-door in the ceiling. -He closed his eyes and tried to sleep. He sat up at intervals and looked round -him. He rolled from one side to another. But nothing helped to make the -time pass more quickly, and when he was left again in darkness he felt for the -first time in his life how easy it would be to go mad.</p> - -<p class='c008'>The tramp of feet roused him from a drowsy, half-conscious condition. -The door was flung open and a lantern shone in Wedge’s eyes. The men who -had sat at the table had returned. Two of them cut the cords round his ankles -and pulled him on to his feet. He stood with difficulty, for his legs were numb.</p> - -<p class='c008'>The man Dance, who had previously spoken to him, whose evil face had -made an impression on the Colonel’s mind, sat down at the table, and Wedge -was placed before him.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Speak no French?” he inquired.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“No.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>The man nodded, and played with a thick gold ring on one of his fingers. -His eyes were fixed on the Colonel’s face.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“What am I here for?” asked Wedge, quietly.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“You’ll see soon.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Do you want my money?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“We’ve taken that already.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>They looked at each other steadily. The others in the cellar shuffled uneasily. -They did not seem to be so certain of themselves as the man at the -table.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_79'>79</span>“You’re an English officer, aren’t you?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Yes.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“And you’ve seen some fighting?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>The Colonel shrugged his shoulders and said nothing. He refused to submit -to a cross-examination at the hands of this scoundrel.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“All right,” said the other. “Don’t get angry. I promise you that you’ll -see some more fighting before you die.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Something in the man’s expression made Wedge take a quick step towards -the table.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“What do you mean? Are you going to kill me?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>There was no answer, but the silence was enough. Wedge relaxed his -attitude slowly.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Is it money you need?” he asked, after a pause.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“What’s the good of offering us money? Once you got out of this place, you -would give us away to the police. Yes, we need money, but not from you.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>One thought dominated Wedge’s mind. It was clear that the situation -did not demand any unnecessary heroism. If anything could effect his escape -he was perfectly justified in making use of it.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I will give you a thousand pounds, and will promise not to put the affair -in the hands of the police,” he said.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“He offers money, and gives his word of honour to say nothing to the -police!” exclaimed the other, looking at the men behind Wedge.</p> - -<p class='c008'>There was an outburst of violent opposition. They were wildly excited. -They were all round Wedge, shouting and gesticulating and brandishing their -fists in his face. He stood impassively in the centre of them with his hands -bound. What was this riot? Why did the eyes of these men shine so -strangely?</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Two thousand,” he said steadily.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Impossible!” The man at the table jumped up. “This is only a waste -of time.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>He caught up the lantern and went out. The others, pushing Wedge -before them, followed. They passed through a long stone corridor, down some -narrow steps, and stopped before an iron door. Wedge heard the fumbling -of keys, the creak of a rusty lock, and the door swung open. The interior -was dark.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Dance stood by the door, holding the lantern aloft. In obedience to a -brief command Wedge’s hands were released.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Hand him the club.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>A stout cudgel of twisted wood, with a heavy nobbed end, was thrust into -his hands. But Wedge was a man of action, and he saw in a flash that if he was -to escape from his unknown fate the opportunity had come. They were -trying to push him through the door into the dark interior.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“<i>Vite! Il est dangereux!</i>” exclaimed the man with the lantern.</p> - -<p class='c008'>But Wedge was too quick. He swung the club swiftly round, and the -lantern fell, smashed to atoms. In a moment he was seized by half a dozen -hands. He fought powerfully, but they hung on to him grimly, and little by -<span class='pageno' id='Page_80'>80</span>little he was thrust forward. He had not enough space to use the club. He -dropped it and used his fists, and more than once struck the stone walls in the -confusion of the struggle in the dark. Then someone got hold of his throat, -while the others fastened on his arms, and he was thrown backwards. He -heard the clang of the iron door and lay gasping on the floor.</p> - -<p class='c008'>A blinding white light suddenly shone down on him. He staggered to -his feet and looked round, shading his eyes with his hands from the dazzling -glare. He was in a circular space bounded by smooth white walls. The -floor was sanded. Above him burned half a dozen arc-lamps, whose brilliant -rays were reflected directly downwards by polished metal discs. The upper -part of the place was in shadow, but he could make out an iron balcony running -partly round the wall, about fifteen feet above the sanded floor.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Colonel Wedge went to the wall and began to examine its surface. It was -smooth, and seemed made of painted iron. The outline of the door through -which he had been flung was visible on one side, but directly opposite there -was the outline of another door. He went towards it. It was also made -of iron like the surrounding structure, and apparently opened outwards. He -pushed at it, but it was shut.</p> - -<p class='c008'>A sound of something falling on the floor made him turn. The wooden -cudgel had been thrown down from the iron platform above. Looking up, -he could dimly see a number of faces staring down at him, and also a couple -of box-like instruments, one at either end of the platform. It was difficult -to see clearly, for the light of the arc-lamps was intense. He stared up, -shielding his eyes, and then suddenly he saw what they were. A couple of -cinematograph machines were trained on the floor below!</p> - -<p class='c008'>It was not until then that Wedge fully realised his position. The picture -of the man fighting the rattlesnakes was suddenly explained. He remembered -the pit. He walked to the centre and stood with clenched fists. Here was -the pit. <i>Extremely life-like!</i></p> - -<p class='c008'>He stooped and picked up the cudgel. At any rate, whatever he had to -face, he would make a fight for it.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Mechanically he found himself watching the second door. It was through -that door that the menace of death would come.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Up on the platform they were whispering together.</p> - -<p class='c008'>His brain was clear, and he felt calm. He knew that whatever came out -from behind that door would have the intention to kill. And he knew, also, -that it was not the wish of the onlookers that he should triumph. It would -not be a fair fight. In the moments of suspense he wondered in a kind of -deliberate, leisurely way what was coming. They would not repeat the rattlesnake -picture. That had already had its victim. In this arena one man had -acted the part of fear with marvellous realism—perhaps others as well.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Cudgel in hand, ready and braced, with his free hand at his moustache, -Colonel Wedge waited, his eyes fixed on the door.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Ah, I think you understand now,” said a voice out of the shadows above. -“We hope that this will make a fine film, the finest of this series that we have -done yet.”</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_81'>81</span>Wedge did not move a muscle.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“We rely on you to do your best for us.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Somewhere at the bottom of his heart the Colonel registered a vow that -if he ever got out of that place alive he would kill Dance.</p> - -<p class='c008'>A chuckle followed and then silence, except for the sizzling of the arc-lamps.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Then he heard a sound of clicking. The cinematograph machines had begun.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Ready?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Wedge took his breath slowly. The door was opening.</p> - -<p class='c008'>He saw a gap of blackness widening in the white circular wall. The hand -that was at his moustache fell to his side. The cudgel rose a trifle, and the -muscles of his right arm stiffened. Inch by inch, without a creak, the door -swung outwards until it stood widely open.</p> - -<p class='c008'>For a few seconds nothing appeared. The suspense was becoming unendurable, -and Wedge had just made up his mind to approach when he saw an -indistinct form moving in the background of the shadowy interior, and next -moment a big yellow beast slipped out and stood blinking in the strong light. -He recognised the flat diamond head and tufted ears in a moment. The door -clanged behind it.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Puma,” he muttered, with his eyes on the brute, and a spark of hope glowed -in his heart. There were worse brutes to face single-handed than pumas, and he -knew something of the capriciousness of the animal. It was just possible——</p> - -<p class='c008'>His thoughts ceased abruptly. The beast was moving. It slunk on its -belly to the wall, and began to walk slowly round and round. Wedge, turning -as it moved, always faced it. It quickened its pace into a trot, and as it ran it -looked only occasionally at the man in the centre. It seemed more interested -in the wall. At times it stretched its head and peered upwards.</p> - -<p class='c008'>In its lean white jaw and yellow eyes there was no message of hatred for -the moment. Suddenly it stopped and listened. The clicking of the cinematograph -had attracted it. It stood up against the wall, clawing at the paint. -Then it squatted on its haunches, with its back to Wedge, and blinked up at -the platform overhead.</p> - -<p class='c008'>The heavy fetid odour of the beast filled the air. Wedge relaxed himself -a little, but the puma heard the movement, for it looked round swiftly. It -behaved as if it had seen him for the first time, and began to pace round and -round again, eyeing him. It came to a halt near the door from which it had -emerged, and lay down flat, with its paws outstretched, watching Wedge. -He caught the sheen of its eyes. He remained still, for at the slightest movement -the brute quivered.</p> - -<p class='c008'>As yet he could read nothing vindictive in its look, but he knew that at any -moment it might change into a raging, snarling demon and spring. Being -a believer in the idea that animals are in some way conscious of the emotional -state in others and act accordingly, he tried to banish all sense of fear and -all sense of ill-will from his mind, and look at it calmly and indifferently.</p> - -<p class='c008'>The puma, with its fore-paws extended on the sand and its head raised, -blinked lazily at him. It seemed half asleep by its attitude. Sometimes -the brilliant eyes were almost shut.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_82'>82</span>“Mordieu!” said a voice above. “He wants rousing.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>In a flash the animal was on its feet, rigid and glaring up. Apparently -the platform overhead roused its anger. Its tail began to whip from side to -side, and its lip lifted at one corner in a vicious snarl, uncovering the white fang.</p> - -<p class='c008'>A clamour of voices broke out. The whole aspect of the beast changed. -Its eyes blazed. It stooped on its belly, glaring upwards. Was it possible -it recognised an old enemy amongst the spectators?</p> - -<p class='c008'>Wedge waited anxiously, and the sweat began to break out on his brow.</p> - -<p class='c008'>With bared claws, the animal crouched, still looking upwards. It seemed -to have forgotten Wedge. The men were shouting at it and stamping with -their feet on the iron floor of the platform. The beast put one paw out and -crept forward. The muscles rippled and bulged under the skin.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“It’s going to spring,” thought Wedge. “But it’s not looking at me.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Slowly step by step the beast advanced. It passed scarcely two feet away -from Wedge, and went on without looking at him. When it was almost directly -under the platform it stopped and snarled upwards.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Then someone threw a lighted match on its back, and straightway it became -transformed into the devil-cat of tradition.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Wedge was never quite clear as to its movements after that, for it flashed -round the arena like a streak of yellow lightning He raised his club, but the -brute was not after him. It went twice, and then a third time, round the -white walls, and stopped for an instant, taut and low on the sandy floor. And -then it shot up in a magnificent leap towards the shadows above the arc-lamps.</p> - -<p class='c008'>The shouts from the platform ceased suddenly, and then a wild hubbub -broke out.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Wedge heard the rattling and scraping of the beast’s claws against the railings -above and a shriek of terror. There was a stampede of feet. A loud -series of snarls followed and the sound of a body falling heavily.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Wedge stood for a moment dazed. Then he dashed across to the door -through which the beast had entered, and flung all his weight against it. He -tried again and again with all the weight of his powerful shoulders. It yielded -with a crash, and he fell flat into the cage on the other side, amongst the foul -straw.</p> - -<p class='c008'>He was up in an instant. By the light of the arc-lamps in the arena he -could make out that the cage had an iron grating on one side closed by a bolt. -He thrust his hand through the bars and worked back the bolt. Next moment -he was out of the cage and running down a dark stone corridor, cudgel in -hand, and determined to brain anyone who stood in his path. At the top of -a flight of steps he came to a door barred from the inside. He flung aside -the fastenings and staggered out into the sweet night air.</p> - -<p class='c008'>When the police raided the cellars under the cinematograph show a few -hours later, led by Wedge, they found the puma asleep in its open cage, and -above, on the iron platform, all that was left of Mr. Dance, inventor and producer -of life-like films.</p> - -<p class='c008'>It was not until daylight came that Wedge discovered they had blackened -his eyebrows and drawn disfiguring lines across his face.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_83'>83</span> - <h2 class='c003'><span class='xxlarge'>Lame Dogs</span><br /> <br /><span class='xlarge'><i>By</i> Cosmo Hamilton</span><br /> <br /><i>Royal Naval Air Service</i></h2> -</div> - -<p class='c007'>The sun fell straightly upon a great golden cornfield. Already the sickle -had been at work upon its edges, and tall bundles, among whose feet the vermilion -poppy peeped, stood head-to-head at regular distances. Among the -ripe heads of the uncut corn the intermittent puffs of a soft August breeze -whispered, offering congratulations and perhaps condolences—congratulations -mostly, because what is there more beautiful and right in all the year’s usefulness -than the glorious fulfilment of the spring’s green promise?</p> - -<p class='c008'>All the hours of a busy morning had been marked off melodiously by the -old clock of an older church which stood with maternal dignity among gravestones -several fields away. It wanted only a few moments to the hour of one. -A brawny son of the soil, tanned of face, neck, and arms, who had been working -in the angle of the field nearest the road, had just laid down his sickle and -his crooked stick.</p> - -<p class='c008'>He was hot, but satisfied. He was also sharp-set, and very ready for -the dinner that awaited him, with beer, at his cottage on the outskirts of the -village. He sang, quietly and monotonously, in a typical burring way, a -song which was written in praise of boiled beef and carrots. And while he -sang he dabbed his face and neck with a startling handkerchief of red and -yellow.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Swallows, flying high, skimmed the air playfully. Flocks of sparrows -moved quickly among the standing corn, no longer frightened by the tin with -stones in it, that was rattled by a slow-footed boy in the distance. They -were eager to get their fill of stolen fruits before their natural enemies removed -it from their beaks. The air was alive with the glimmering heat, and the -shadows of the trees were almost straight.</p> - -<p class='c008'>One sounded, and before the bell’s reverberations had blown away, a note -of discord in the delicious harmony was struck by the sudden appearance -of a man, who leaned on the white gate which divided the field from the road.</p> - -<p class='c008'>He was a short, slight, odd-looking creature, dressed in clothes that were -rather too smart, and a green dump hat a little the worse for wear. His clean-shaven -face, mobile and curiously lined, was pale and a little pinched, and -the whole limp appearance of the man showed that he was only just recovering -from an illness. Across one shoulder a knapsack was slung, and behind his -<span class='pageno' id='Page_84'>84</span>left ear there rested a cigarette. A pearl was stuck in a rather loud tie, and -there was a large ring on one of his little fingers.</p> - -<p class='c008'>There was something both comic and pathetic In the figure, and everything -that was peculiarly the very antithesis of the exquisite rural surroundings. -The initials “R. D.” were stencilled on the knapsack, and they stood -for Richard Danby, a name that was well known in towns, but wholly unknown -among cornfields and under the blue, unsmoked sky.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Danby, who had gladly leaned on the gate to rest, watched the big, muscular -man for a moment, with eyes in which there was admiration, and listened -to the unmusical rendering of a song which had trickled, note by note, into -the country from London, with amusement. He then adopted an air of forced -cheerfulness and clapped his hands.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Bravo!” he said. “Bravo!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Peter Pippard turned slowly, antagonistically.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Eh?” he said.</p> - -<p class='c008'>The little man waved his ringed hand.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I said ’Bravo’—well rendered. What is it? An aria from <i>Faust</i>, or -a little thing of your own?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>The big man was puzzled and surprised.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Eh?” he said again.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Danby was not to be beaten. There was something in his manner which -showed that he was in the habit of addressing himself to audiences and talking -for effect.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“How delightful,” he continued, with fluent insincerity, “to find a peasant -in song! A merry heart wags all the day. Who wouldn’t be happy among -the golden corn, in touch with Nature, with the field-bugs gambolling over -one’s back!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Eh?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Danby laughed.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“You find me a little flowery; I am flying too high for you. I am indulging -in aeroplanics. I’ll come down to the good red earth. Marnin’, matey. -How’s t’crops?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>The imitation of the country accent was ridiculously exaggerated. The -farm-hand examined the town man searchingly and suspiciously.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Eh?” he said again.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Beat again!” said Danby, with a shriek of laughter.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Pippard went closer, but slowly.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Want onythin’, mister?” he asked.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“No. Oh Lord, no! I only want to get some other word out of you -than ‘eh.’”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Oh,” said Pippard.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Thanks. Thanks most awfully. Now we’re moving.... Well, how’s -the corn? It looks fine and fat.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Ah,” said Pippard, grinning broadly and affectionately.</p> - -<p class='c008'>The little man bowed. He seemed to be saying things which would arouse -laughter among an invisible audience.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_85'>85</span>“Again I thank you. Yes, very fine and fat. You’ve been punching -out and giving them thick ears. What?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>The examination was continued.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“You doan’t seem ter be talkin’ sense, mister.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Another shriek of laughter disturbed the characteristic peacefulness.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Congratulations! You’ve discovered me. How can I talk sense when -I’m trying to be sociable? You don’t object to a little bright conversation, -do you?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Noa.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Well, we’ll cut generalities and come to facts. How’s the twins?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Ain’t got no twins.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Nonsense! I don’t believe it. A great, big, brawny fellow like you. -I take it you’ve got some nippers?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Pippard chuckled. “Three girls and two boys.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Ah, that’s something like! Again congratulations! It’s very kind of -you to ask me to come over. Since you’re so pressing, I think I will.” He -climbed over the gate a little painfully and walked jauntily into the field.</p> - -<p class='c008'>The farm-hand broke into a laugh. “Ah reckon as ’ow you’re a funny -man, ain’t you?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>The little man became suddenly serious, so suddenly and so eagerly serious, -that if Pippard had been endowed with the first glimmerings of psychology, -he would have been startled and a little nervous. “Are you joking, or do -you mean it? Is it possible that I make you laugh? Is it possible?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“The very sight o’ you gives me a ticklin’ inside,” was the reply.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Danby seized the brawny and surprised hand and wrung it warmly. “God -bless you, dear old Hodge!” he said hoarsely. “God bless you!” Then -he laughed merrily. “You make me feel like an attack of bronchitis.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>The feeble joke went home. Pippard roared. “There you goes agin,” -he said. “What <i>are</i> yer, mister? A hartist?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“An artist? Oh, dear no. Oh, God bless me, no! I’m an artiste.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“What’s the difference, any’ow?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>If the little man had asked for his cue, he could not have got it more readily. -“An artist earns his bread-and-butter by putting paint on canvas, and an -artiste gets an occasional dish of tripe and onions by putting paint on his face.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Ah reckon as ’ow you’re an artiste, mister, although Ah can’t see no paint -on yer face.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I washed over twelve months ago,” said Danby sadly. “Oh, by the way, -am I trespassing?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Well, it all depends on wot ye’re a-goin’ ter do.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Eat, old boy. If you’ve no objection I’m going to spread out my <i>hors -d’œuvres</i> and <i>pâté de foie gras</i>, and lunch al-fresco.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Don’t onderstand a blame wurd,” said Pippard, grinning.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Putting it in plain English, I’m going to wrestle with half a loaf of bread -and two slices of cold ham. Will you join me? Do.” The invitation was -made eagerly. “Stay here and let me hear you laugh. It does me more -good than a whole side of streaky bacon.”</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_86'>86</span>Pippard scratched his head doubtfully. “Well, Ah told th’ old ’ooman -as ’ow Ah’d be wome for dinner,” he said.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“The old woman must not be disappointed. Do you pass a pub on your -way home?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Can’t go anywhere from ’ere without passin’ a poob.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Danby squeezed a shilling into the great sun-tanned fist.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Well, call in and get a drink.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Thankee, Ah doan’t mind if Ah do.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Drink to my health. I don’t suppose you want a drink more than I -want health.” He walked round the farm-labourer admiringly. He looked -like a smooth-haired terrier who had suddenly met a St. Bernard. “My -word, I’d give something to be a man like you. What muscle, what bones, -what a back! What a hand! It’s as big as a leg of mutton. Do you ever -get tired of being healthy? Do you ever wake up in the morning and say: -‘O Lord, I’m still as strong as an ox—why can’t I get a nice thumping headache -to keep me in bed?’”</p> - -<p class='c008'>It was altogether too much for the man who rose with the sun and went -to bed with the sun and worked out in the fields all day long; the big, simple, -healthy, natural man, whose life was a series of seasons, to whom there was -no tragedy except bad weather, and a lack of work and wages. This odd -little creature, who said unexpected things as though he meant them, and asked -funny questions seriously, was “a comic”—such a man as the clown who -came with the circus twice a year, and played the fool in the big tent which -was pitched on the green and lighted with flares of gas. Pippard laughed -so loudly that he scared the eager sparrows.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“There you go,” he said. “Ah reckon as ’ow you was born funny.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Danby eyed him keenly and wistfully. “Are you laughing at me?” -he asked. “<i>Me?</i>”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Laffin’? Why, you’d make an old sow laff.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“You amaze me,” said Danby. He gave the man another shilling. “Get -further drinks on your way back. You’re—you’re a pink pill for pale people, -old boy.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Ah <i>must</i> go,” said Pippard reluctantly.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Yes, you trudge off to the old woman and get your dinner. I’ll drink -your health in a glass of water and a tabloid.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Pippard got into his coat and re-lit a short black clay.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Well, good day, and thankee.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Good day, and thank <i>you</i>.” Danby held out his hand. It was thin -and pale. It was grasped and shaken monstrously. “That’s right—hurt it. -Go on; hurt it. You make me feel almost manly.... Good day and good -luck! My love to the old woman and the kids, and the rabbit, and the old -dog, and granny.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Laughing again, the big man marched off, made small work of the gate, -and trudged away. Danby followed him up to the gate, and stood watching -him curiously and admiringly, and as he watched he spoke his thoughts aloud.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Good day, giant,” he said. “Good day, simple son of the soil, who eats -<span class='pageno' id='Page_87'>87</span>hearty, drinks like a fish, and digests everything. Good-bye, man who knows -nothing, and doesn’t want to know anything. I’d give ten years of my life -for five of yours any day. Well, well.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>He turned with a sigh, took off his hat and hung it on a twig of the hedge, -and then divested himself of his knapsack. This he unstrapped, and, taking -out a napkin, spread it with a certain neatness on the grass, and set upon it a -loaf, a piece of Cheddar cheese, a lettuce, and several slices of ham wrapped -in paper, a knife and fork. To this not unappetising meal he added a large -green bottle of water.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Ah!” he said. A sudden thought struck him. He put his finger and -thumb into a waistcoat pocket, and brought out a small bottle of tabloids. -He swallowed one with many grimaces and much effort. He sighed again -and sat down. He looked with feigned interest at the eatables in front of -him for several minutes. He then shook his head and gave an expressive -gesture. “No,” he said aloud, in order that he might not feel quite so lonely. -“No, not hungry. Beautiful food, clean napkin, lettuce washed in the -brook, no appetite—not one faint semblance of a twist!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>It appeared from the startled flight of a thrush from the hedge that R. D. -was not to be lonely after all. Another person bent over the gate, and looked -into the cornfield, seemed perfectly satisfied, and climbed over. “This is -all right,” she said. “Carlton, S.W. Oh!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>The exclamation was involuntary. The girl caught sight of the man and -pulled up short.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Danby sprang to his feet. The girl was pretty; and although her once -smart clothes were shabby, and her shoes very much the worse for wear, she -looked a nice, honest, frank creature, aglow with health and youth and optimism. -Danby caught up his hat, put it on, and took it off again in his best society -manner.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“No intrusion,” he said. “Just a little al-fresco lunch, nothing more.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>The girl smiled. Her teeth were very small and white and regular. “That -was my idea,” she said. “Not in the way, I hope?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Oh, please,” replied Danby. “The sight of some one eating may inspire -me and give me the much-desired appetite.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>A ringing laugh was caught up by the gentle breeze.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I should like to be able to eat enough to starve mine. Good morning!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Good morning!” said Danby. He bowed again, and hung his hat back -on the twig. He was not a little disappointed. He had hoped for conversation -and companionship. He sat down, but with interested eyes watched the -girl unpack her luncheon quickly and deftly. She had no napkin. She spread -her bread and meat on a sheet of newspaper, and cleaned her knife by thrusting -it into the earth and wiping it on the grass. He noticed that her shoes were -very dusty, and came to the conclusion that she had walked some distance. -He was right. He caught her eye and looked away quickly.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I beg pardon!” he said.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Granted, I’m sure.” Danby’s manners were excellent.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“You haven’t got such a thing as a pinch of salt, I suppose?”</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_88'>88</span>“I can oblige you with all the condiments, including a little A1 sauce.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>The girl laughed again. It was a charming laugh. “Oh, I can do without -that,” she said.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Danby, only too glad of an excuse to be of use, scrambled to his feet and -made his way across the golden stubble to the girl’s side. In his hand he -held a small tobacco-tin. He opened it and held it out.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Navy-cut?” she said, with wide-eyed surprise.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“An old ‘Dreadnought’ turned into a merchant ship. It’s quite clean.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Oh, thanks most awfully!” She helped herself to salt.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Not at all,” said Danby. “Any little thing like that.... Good day!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Good day!” she said.</p> - -<p class='c008'>But Danby did not move. The girl’s kind heart was reflected in her blue -eyes. Never in his life had he needed sympathy and companionship so desperately. -He felt that even his long-lost appetite would return if she were to -invite him to eat with her.</p> - -<p class='c008'>She too was lonely, although her indomitable courage did not permit her -to own it, even to herself. There was, too, something about the little man that -was very attractive, something which made her feel sorry for him. She wished -that he would ask her if he might join her and bring his own food. What -was it about him which reminded her of some one she had seen before?</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Rather nice here, isn’t it?” she said.</p> - -<p class='c008'>He replied quickly, eagerly.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Charming!” he said. “So sylvan.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“So whater?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Sylvan. French for rustic.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Oh, French!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Yes; I beg your pardon.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Good day!” she said.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Good day!” he replied.</p> - -<p class='c008'>He returned reluctantly to his pitch. He felt that he deserved his dismissal. -It was a very foolish thing to have shown that he was something -of a scholar. Evidently she considered that he was putting on side.</p> - -<p class='c008'>He sat down and made a sandwich. He felt that he could eat it with some -enjoyment if he were seated on the other side of her square of newspaper. -As it was....</p> - -<p class='c008'>The girl gave a short laugh.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I’m afraid I’m a great nuisance,” she began apologetically.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Not at all. Far from it.” There was another chance, then.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“You haven’t got such a thing as a touch of mustard, I suppose?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Oh yes, I have. Almost quite fresh.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>He got up again, and carried a little cold-cream pot with him.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Oh, thank you!” She took the pot and gazed at its label, with raised -eyebrows.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“It’s a has-been,” he said hastily. “I’m a bit of an engineer. Everything -comes in useful.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Oh—thanks frightfully.” She helped herself.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_89'>89</span>“Honoured and delighted.” He remained standing over her.</p> - -<p class='c008'>She looked up.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Anything I can do for you, now?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Yes, if you would. When you came here you said something about -Carlton Hotel.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Oh, that was a poor attempt at wit.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Danby’s hand went up to his tie. It was extraordinary how nervous he -felt these days.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Don’t think me intrusive, but suppose we imagine that this is the Carlton -Hotel, and that all the tables are full except one.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Well?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Well, in that case, as you and I both wish to lunch, it would be very natural -for us to be put at the same table, wouldn’t it? Do you take me?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>The girl laughed heartily.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Come on, then. Two’s company.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“How kind you are!” said Danby. “It will give me an appetite for the -first time for months.” He hurried to his belongings and brought them back. -“I know this is very irregular, our not having been introduced, but I don’t -think under the circumstances it will cause a scandal in high life.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“No, nor a paragraph in the weeklies.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Danby respread his napkin and arranged his things on it. A sudden -unexpected sensation of high spirits infected him.</p> - -<p class='c008'>He adopted what he considered to be the manner of a man of the world.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Waitah, waitah!” he called, shooting his cuffs. “Great heaven, where’s -that waitah! I shall really have to lodge a complaint with the manager. -Hi! you in last week’s shirt, her ladyship and I have been waiting here for -five minutes and no one’s been near us. It’s a disgrace. Don’t stand gaping -there, sir, with a Swiss grin. Alley-vous ang. Gettey-vous gone toute suite, -and bringey moi le menu. Verfluchtes, geschweinhund!” He waved the -imaginary waiter away. “Pray pardon my heat, Lady Susan.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>The girl was intensely amused.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Oh, certainly, Lord Edmund,” she replied, assuming an elaborately refined -accent.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Danby kept it up.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Do you find the glare of the electric light too much for you? Shall I -complain about the orchestra?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“One must endure these things in these places, your lordship. Were you -riding in the Row this morning?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Yaas.” Danby twirled an imaginary moustache. “I had a canter. -My mare cast a shoe—sixteen buttons. I rode her so hard that she strained -her hemlock. She’s a good little mare. Has fourteen hands, and plenty of -action. She’s a bit of a roarer, but then her mother was ridden by a Cabinet -Minister.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“You haven’t taken to a car, then?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Oh, yes. I’ve got one Fit and two Damlers. The annoying thing is, -I’ve just lost my chauffeur.”</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_90'>90</span>“Oh, really? How?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“He dropped an oath into the petrol-tank and was seen no more.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“What an absurdly careless person!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Danby dropped acting, and eyed the girl keenly.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I say,” he exclaimed, “that was good!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“So’s that ham,” said the girl involuntarily.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Instantly Danby’s fork prodded the best piece.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Have some. Do!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Sure you can spare it?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“It would be a pity to waste it. I can’t tackle more than one slice.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>The girl held out a slice of bread.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Haven’t seen ham for ten days,” she said simply. “It’s an awfully -odd thing.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“What? The ham?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“No; your face.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Danby laughed.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“You’re not the first who’s thought so.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“And your voice is familiar, too,” said the girl.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Danby pretended to misunderstand. She had provided him with a chance -he simply could not resist.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Familiar? Oh, don’t say that. I thought I was behaving like an -undoubted gentleman—one of the old régime.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>The girl examined the little man with a sudden touch of excitement.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Look here,” she said. “Tell me the truth. Haven’t you been a picture-postcard?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Yes,” said Danby bitterly, “oh dear, yes! A year ago I was to be found -in all the shops, between Hackenschmidt and the German Emperor.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I’ve got it!” she cried. “I know you.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“No, you don’t,” said Danby.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I do. I recognise you.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I think not. No one could recognise <i>me</i> now.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“But I do. You’re Dick Danby—<i>the</i> Dick Danby. The famous Dick -Danby. The Dick Danby who used to set all London laughing, who played -Widow Twankey at Drury Lane, and topped the bill at the Tivoli and the -Pav.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>The little man’s thin pale hands went up to his face.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Oh, don’t!” he said, bursting into tears. “I can’t bear it.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>For a moment the girl was not sure whether this unexpected emotion was -not part of the celebrated funny man’s comic method. She was about to -laugh, when she found that Danby’s shoulders were shaking with very real -and very terrible sobs. She was intensely surprised and upset and touched. -She had never seen a man cry before. She put a soft hand on his arm.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Oh, Mr. Danby,” she said, “what is it—what’s the matter?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Haven’t you heard? Dick Danby’s done for—gone under—gone <i>phut</i>. -Dick Danby that was; Dick Danby that is no more. Dick Danby, that used -to make ’em laugh, is a broken man. Oh, my God!”</p> - -<div class='figcenter id001'> -<img src='images/p091.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic002'> -<p>“He came forward with a life-like walk and smile. ‘Oh, how do you do, my dear Mrs. Richmansworth?’ he said” (page 95).</p> -</div> -</div> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_92'>92</span>“Oh, don’t go on like that!” said the girl brokenly. “You’ll make me -cry if you do. What’s happened, Mr. Danby?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>The little man shook himself angrily. He was ashamed of himself. He -didn’t know that he had become so weak, so unstrung, so little master of -himself.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ve never cried before. It was your recognising -me. I didn’t think any one could recognise me as I am now. It was overwork, -overstrain, three halls a night—I couldn’t stand it. I tried to struggle -on, but it was no use. I earned my living as a funny man. Can you imagine -what it means to a funny man to find that his jokes don’t go? Can you imagine -what it meant for me to stand waiting in the wings for my number to go up, -trembling all over with fear and fright, and then to face the public that used -to roar with delight, and get a few scattered hands? Oh, those awful nights! -The crowd, no longer my friends, who struck matches and talked. The look -of pity on the face of the conductor, and the few words from the stage door -when I crept away: ‘Never mind, Mr. Danby; can’t always expect to knock -’em, y’know.’ Do you wonder that I fretted myself into an illness? Do you -wonder that I’ve been creeping about the country, afraid to face the managers? -I’m done. I’m a funny man gone unfunny. I’m the Dick Danby that can’t -get his laughs.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>The girl listened to this painful confession with intense sympathy. She -too had earned a hard living on the music-hall stage. She too knew what -it was to fail in her anxious endeavour to win applause. She too was at that -moment tramping to London in search of work, with only a few shillings -between the lodging-house and the Salvation Army shelter. There was something -very different between her case and Richard Danby’s. She was an -insignificant member of a large army of music-hall artistes whose place was -always at the very beginning or the very end of the programme. When she -had the good fortune to be in work, her salary was a bare living wage, and it -was only by stinting herself of the few luxuries of life that she could put by a -few pounds for a rainy day. Dick Danby’s case was utterly—almost ludicrously—different. -His salary for years had been large enough to take her breath -away. He had earned more in a week than she had earned in a year. His -health had broken down, and his nerves and confidence had left him, but, at -any rate, he was not faced, or likely to be faced, with starvation and the -Embankment, and other terrors that were unmentionable.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Don’t take it to heart, Mr. Danby,” she said cheerily. “You’ll get -better, never fear, and knock ’em again. And, until then, you can be a country -gentleman, and enjoy yourself. Think of all the money you’ve made!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Danby gave a curious little laugh.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“And spent,” he said. “Money? Oh, yes, I made money—money -to burn—and I burnt it—in the usual way. I thought my day would go on -for ever, but, like other thoughtless fools, I made a mistake. It came to a -sudden end.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“But—but you don’t mean to tell me that you haven’t saved, Mr. Danby?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Saved?” Danby laughed again. “Have you ever heard that the word -<span class='pageno' id='Page_93'>93</span>‘save’ isn’t in the dictionary of the men who earn their living behind the -footlights? I’ve got just enough left to keep me on the road till the end of -the summer.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“And then?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“And then—the workhouse or the prison.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Never, never!” cried the girl. “Never!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>A great thrill ran through the little man’s veins. The emphatic cry was -the best thing he had heard for many long, depressing months. The fact -that it came from a shabby girl who might be in a worse plight than himself -did not seem to matter.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“But what am I to do?” he asked.</p> - -<p class='c008'>The girl did not hesitate.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Go back to the halls with new and better turns,” she said strongly.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Danby shuddered, and went back, snail-like, into his shell.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I couldn’t. I couldn’t face ’em. Who’d have me now?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“The Coliseum; the Hippodrome.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“They’d never look at me. <i>Me?</i> They only want good stuff—first-rate -stuff—all stars.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“But you are a star!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“A fallen star. No; it’s the workhouse for me. I’m a ‘has-been,’ a -waster.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Who will be again,” said the girl. “Mr. Danby, I know <i>you</i>, and what -you’re capable of. <i>I’ve</i> been in the same bill with you, and you haven’t <i>begun</i> -to show ’em what you can do yet.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Danby looked at this girl, whose young voice quivered with confidence, -with a new interest.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“<i>You</i> in the same bill with <i>me</i>!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Yes. You’ve never heard of the Sisters Ives?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Danby wrinkled up his forehead.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“The Sisters Ives? Fanny and Emily Ives?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I’m Fanny. Emily’s dead. We did pretty well together, but somehow—I -dunno, I don’t seem to catch on alone. I’m tramping back to London.” -She was unable to keep her resolutely cheerful voice quite steady, or prevent -her smiling mouth from trembling.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Danby bent forward and caught Fanny’s hand, and held it warmly.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Oh, my dear,” he said. “My dear.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>There was no longer any need for society manners between these two, -nor introductions nor small-talk. They had become brother and sister—two -human beings on the same hard road.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“So we’re both of us lame dogs, eh?” he said.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Yes,” said Fanny, “but not too lame to give each other a hand over -the stile. <i>I’m</i> not going to give up barking, and you’re not, either.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I’ve got no bark left in me,” said Danby sadly. “Not even a growl.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>The girl sprang to her feet. Her young body seemed to be alight with -energy.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Don’t talk nonsense, Mr. Danby!” she said. “Cock up your tail, go -<span class='pageno' id='Page_94'>94</span>springy on your feet, and come back to London, and give ’em a bit of the old. -D’you mean to tell me that you can’t remember the knack you had of doing -the blear-eyed major?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Danby was beginning to feel horribly excited. His depression seemed -to be lifting like a mist.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I can remember nothing,” he said irritably. “I tell you I’m no good. -I’ve lost my pluck!” He said these things merely in the hope that they -might be denied.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Go on. Pluck! You only want a shove. I’m not going to have any -of that sort of thing, believe me. You’ve got to wake up, you have. You’ve -got to be brought in from grass and stuck into harness again. Now, no -nonsense. I’m the great B. P., I am, for the time being. Now, then, on -you come. The blear-eyed major, quick. We’ll take the song for sung. Come -to the patter!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Danby’s fingers twitched, and already he had flung out his chest and squared -his shoulders.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I—I can’t,” he said.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“You shall!” said Fanny.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“But—but what about make-up?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Fanny nearly gave a shout of triumph. It had got as far as make-up. -She was winning!</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Make-up!” she scoffed. “A great artiste wants no make-up!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“But I must have a moustache. I never did the major without something -to twirl.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Fanny’s quick hands were up to her hair.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Here you are,” she said, holding out a curl. “Bit of my extra. Go on -now. Get it up.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Danby caught it, and laughed. He was shaking with excitement.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“You—you inspire me,” he said. “You—fill me with new life. How -can I stick it on? I know. Mustard!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>He rushed to the cold-cream pot, put his fingers into it, rubbed the thick -yellow stuff on his upper lip, and stuck on the curl. Then he seized his hat, -cocked it on at an angle of forty-five, buttoned up his coat, and strutted about -like an irascible bantam cock.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Armay? Armay? My dear lady, we have no Armay! It was taken -over by a lawyer as a hobby. It’s a joke, a bad joke, at which nobody laughs. -When you ask about the Armay you go back to the days of my youth, when -I was in the 45th—a deuce of a feller too, I give you my word. We officers -of Her Majesty’s British Armay were fine fellows, handsome dorgs, my dear -lady; and I think I may say I am the last of the fruitay old barkers who could -make love as well as they could fight. Oh, l’amour, l’amour! Do you kiss?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>There was in this rapidly touched-in sketch something of portraiture -which was not spoilt by the banality of the patter. It was, perhaps, the portrait -of the stage-major, but it was the portrait of a man who might conceivably -have lived even for the strong note of caricature.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Fanny danced with delight, and clapped her hands until they smarted.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_95'>95</span>“Hot stuff, Mr. Danby; very hot stuff!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“No; it’s rotten. Hopeless. You’d better give me up!” Danby, still -afraid to believe in himself, took off the impromptu moustache and unbuttoned -his coat.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Give you up! I’ll see you further. Now, then. The woman turn. -Quick. You were a scream as a woman, Mr. Danby dear.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“The woman! How can I?” He looked round for his properties—wig, -bonnet, dress, umbrella, little dog. His hands fluttered impotently.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Fanny was ready for him—ready for anything. She was playing the -angel, the Florence Nightingale. She was bringing back a human being to -life, to a sense of responsibility, to a realisation of power, putting him on his -feet again. She intended to win.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Here you are,” she said. “Get into this.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>With quick, deft fingers she undid her belt and some hooks, slipped her -skirt down, stepped out of it, and threw it at him. In her short, striped petticoat -she looked younger and prettier and more honest than ever.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Danby gave a gurgle of excitement.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Oh!” he said. “Oh, Miss Ives, you—you beat me, you——” He got -into the skirt.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“That’s the notion,” she said. “Now get into this.” She had whipped -off her hat and held it out.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Danby took it. If Pippard had caught sight of him as he stood among -the stubble in a skirt beneath his coat he would have fallen into what might -turn out to be a dangerous fit of laughter.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“But how about hair?” asked Danby. “Oh, I know.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>It was an inspiration. He darted to the nearest rick, plucked out a handful -of golden corn, twisted it into a sort of halo, put it on turbanwise, and placed -the hat on top. The effect was excellent; but it was the expression of the -little actor’s face which did more to put before his audience of one the garrulous, -spiteful, prying woman than the skirt and hat put together.</p> - -<p class='c008'>He came forward with a life-like walk and smile.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Oh, how do you do, my dear Mrs. Richmansworth?” he said. “I’m -afraid I’m a little late, but I only just remembered that it’s the third Thursday. -I see you’ve got a new knocker. It represents a gargoyle, or a Chinese god, -does it not? Or is it a fancy portrait of your husband? How is dear Mr. -Richmansworth? Better! Ah, I wish I could say the same for mine. <i>My</i> -husband.... But there; the least said the soonest mended. I see that you’ve -been having some coal in to-day. Isn’t it dreadful how coal has risen? I -don’t call it coal now—I call it yeast. My husband.... But let us talk of -pleasant things. I see that you’ve lost your next-door neighbour. She was -a good woman, and a great personal friend of mine; but I must say, in all -fairness and in very truth, that she won’t be missed, for her tongue was bitter -and her words poison. No, thank you! I will not take tea. I was foolish -enough to drink a cup at Mrs. Snodgrass’s; and although I don’t wish to go -into details, I might just as well have swallowed a cannon-ball. I’m that -swollen, I could hardly put my gloves on. I think it’s called gastritis.”</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_96'>96</span>Fanny roared with delight. The absurd patter was said with an unmistakable -touch of humour which would have appealed irresistibly to any music-hall -audience.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Good old Dick Danby!” she cried. “It’s a case of six weeks at the -Coliseum and fifteen on the road, with a star line on the bills. Give me my -skirt.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I beg your pardon!” He got out of it quickly. “Oh, if only I dared! -If only I had the pluck to face my friends in front again! ‘Return of Mr. -Richard Danby,’ eh?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“That’s it! It’s a cert.! It’s fine! You’re up to your best form. You -only want a couple of good songs, and your face will gleam again in all the shop -windows.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Danby put his trembling hands on the girl’s shoulders.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Oh, Miss Ives! Oh, Fanny, you’re better than all the medicine. You’re -a lady doctor—a hospital of lady doctors. You’ve bucked me up. You’ve -given me back my pluck. Come on—to London—to London!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Yes,” cried Fanny, “to London!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Danby ran to his knapsack and began to pack it feverishly. The colour -had returned to his face. His eyes were alight. He laughed as he packed. -They both laughed; and when, a few minutes later, they faced each other -again, ready for the road, they both looked as if a fairy had touched them with -her wand.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Your sister’s dead,” said Danby, “and you’re down on your luck. Join -forces with me, and we’ll do a turn together—<i>this</i> turn, <i>this</i> story, just as -we’ve done it here, and we’ll call it ‘Lame Dogs.’”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Fanny’s tears started to her eyes.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Oh, Mr. Danby, do you mean that?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Danby almost shouted with excitement.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Mean it? I never meant anything so seriously in my life. Dick Danby -and Fanny Ives at ten o’clock nightly. That’s what I mean, my dear. You’ve -done it. You’ve helped a lame dog over a stile. In future, I won’t work -only for myself. I’ll work for you too. Little Dick Danby’s on his feet again. -Little Dick Danby’s believed in. He’s come face to face with Miss Fanny -Hope Faith Charity Ives, and he won’t let her go. Is it a contract?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Fanny tried to take the outstretched hand. She tried to speak, and failed. -Danby bent down and put his lips on her sleeve. Then he led her to the stile, -helped her over, and together they took the road which led to London.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_97'>97</span> - <h2 class='c003'><span class='xxlarge'>The Silver Thaw</span><br /> <br /><span class='xlarge'><i>By</i> R. E. Vernede</span><br /> <br /><i>Rifle Brigade</i></h2> -</div> - -<p class='c007'>A silver thaw had set in. The icy rain fell so suddenly and so quickly that -Masson felt his car skid on what had been a dry—almost a dusty—high-road -before he was well aware of the cause. Two minutes later the imperative -necessity of pulling up became apparent, and he came to a stop at the end -of a hundred yards’ slide.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“If it had been downhill,” he thought to himself, “the depreciation on -this particular four and a half horse-power de Dion would have been considerable. -I suppose I’m in luck.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>The luck, on second thoughts, was of a very dubious kind. A mist, following -on the break of the frost, had already obscured the beauty of the night; the -roadway seemed absolutely deserted, and the nearest approach to a village -was, as Masson guessed, some five miles off. His lamps, shining upon what -might have been a frozen canal between two high hedges, showed that he -could as well have been twenty miles from a village for all chance he had of -getting there either on foot or on wheels. Pulling out his watch, he found -the time to be ten o’clock. He had been about half an hour on the road. Calculating -that he had done some twelve miles, and that there were fifty separating -the place he had dined at from the place he had intended to reach, he was -still thirty-eight miles from the latter.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“No London for me to-night,” he said, turning up his coat-collar. “This -thaw may turn to rain and it may not. The point is, what am I to do if it -doesn’t?” He stood up in the car to prospect.</p> - -<p class='c008'>An answer came in lights that glowed yellow through the mist, from some -house evidently that stood a little off the road to the left. They had been -hidden until that moment by the hedge, and seemed all the nearer now for -their suddenness. They meant shelter from that icy drip, possibly a bed for -the night. There was no resisting the prospect. Masson climbed gingerly -down, commended the car to Providence, and made for a white gate in the -hedge that seemed to indicate the entrance to the drive. His fingers were -so numbed that he could scarcely unlatch it.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Any one who has tried the business of walking in what is called—romantically -enough—a silver thaw will know that romance is the last thing that -<span class='pageno' id='Page_98'>98</span>occupies the mind of a person so engaged. The constant striving to remain -perpendicular, the grovelling with unseizable earth forced upon a man who -has sat down upon it with an unexpectedness that is outside all experience, -the doubts as to whether any material progress can be made except on all -fours, combine to keep the attention fixed upon practical things. Add the -darkness of a clouded winter sky, a gathering mist, and a path—if it could -be called a path—at once barely visible and totally unknown, and it will be -clear that a man encountering these difficulties will be justified in wishing -romance to the deuce. Masson wished it further before he had done with -it that night.</p> - -<p class='c008'>The only warning that he had before he was plunged into it, willy-nilly, -was the sound of a whistle, as of some one expressing surprise, from the high-road -he had left. He imagined that it proceeded from some yokel who had -come upon the deserted de Dion, and he sincerely hoped that the yokel would -not have the time or inclination to overhaul its machinery. For a moment, -indeed, with some of the yearning instinct of the motorist for his car, he thought -of returning to it and warning the yokel off. The very act of trying to come -to a decision, however, made his heels go from under him, and when he had -got them under control again the decision was formed. It was to reach the -house—or congeal.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Another five minutes’ skidding and he reached it. The back of it apparently, -for there was no door. The result of a polite hail was that a window -was opened from overhead, and a voice—a girl’s voice—said:</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Is it you?” She said it in a whisper, only just audible.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Who?” returned Masson, a little surprised.</p> - -<p class='c008'>It was not, perhaps, an intelligent question, but it did not seem to justify -what followed. The window was shut with a little shriek, and a pair—or two -pairs—of sturdy arms closed about Masson’s body. It did not require so -much force as was used to bring him to the ground, his antagonist or antagonists -on top of him. He explained as much with some warmth as he lay -there, but only had the satisfaction of hearing one of the men say to the other—there -were two, it seemed: “You tak’ un by the lags, Mr. Board, and ef ’e -tries kicken’, Ah’ll gi’e un a jog in the belly.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Right y’are, Jenkins.... Now, sir, gently, if you please.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>The last words were addressed to Masson, and he guessed, from the tone -of reluctant respect, that the speaker was some house-servant. Probably -the butler.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“All right,” he said. “Only, if you’re going to carry me, for Heaven’s -sake be careful. If you drop me, it’s murder, mind. You’ll be hanged for it.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“No fear, sir,” said Mr. Board genially. “We won’t hurt you, never -fear. What the squire’ll do is another matter, sir, as I dessay you guess. -Ready, Jenkins?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Ah,” said Jenkins, and moved forward with Masson’s head. Mr. Board -followed with his legs. In this manner, and with an unpleasant feeling that -one or other of them would certainly slip, Masson made his untriumphal -procession into the house.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_99'>99</span>He was dumped, brutally by Jenkins, respectfully by Mr. Board, on the -Turkey-carpet of what—so far as he could see for the sudden glare of lights—was -the large and armoured hall of a manor-house.</p> - -<p class='c008'>He lay for a moment on the Turkey-carpet with closed eyes. When he -looked up there was a tall and irascible old gentleman standing over him with -a heavy riding-whip.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Stand him on his feet, Jenkins, and you stand by the door, Board, and -see that he don’t make a rush. Now, sir”—the old gentleman addressed -himself to Masson with a most threatening countenance—“you’re going to -elope with my daughter—eh, what?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Masson stared. “Going to elope with your daughter? Might I ask—can -you explain to me what the meaning of this assault on me by your servants—I -presume they’re your servants—means?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“You might,” said the old gentleman caustically. “They had their -orders, sir, from me, to bring you in neck and crop, sir—neck and crop, by -gad! You didn’t expect <i>that</i> when you came sneaking round here after my -daughter—eh, what?” He thrashed the air significantly. “Any excuse -to offer before——”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Masson backed away a little towards a light but solid chair that stood -near. It might serve as a weapon if this old madman attacked.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Mr. Board—a middle-aged man, unmistakably the butler—put his back -against the hall door and stood rubbing his hands. Jenkins, a gaitered -person, choked a guffaw. It seemed to Masson that, with three able-bodied -persons opposed to him, he had better try the discreet before the valorous -part.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“It seems to me,” he said, raising his voice a little, “that the excuse should -be offered to me. I can only imagine you’re labouring under some delusion——”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Ha!” said the old gentleman.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Which I am quite willing to help to clear, so far as I am concerned. I -haven’t the least idea what you mean by accusing me of sneaking round after -your daughter. I have never set eyes on your daughter. I don’t know who -she is or who you are. I came here off the high-road—perhaps I ought to -say I’m motoring to London—because the roads are so slippery I couldn’t -get on. Seeing your lights, I thought I could get some assistance here.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“That’s why you went round to the back of the house, eh?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“My dear sir,” said Masson impatiently, “are you aware that it’s a pitch-dark -night, that the back and the front of your house are equally strange to -me, that the mistake I made in going to the back instead of the front is the -kind of mistake any stranger trying to get here would make?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>He spoke with a good deal of indignation, by no means soothed to hear -Jenkins snigger: “He, he! that’s a good un. Et was all along of a mistake. -He, he!” and the squire’s reply, snorted insultingly:</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Look here, my young man, I knew you were a rogue. I didn’t know -you were a cur too. Likely story, ain’t it? Motoring, eh? Never seen -my daughter. What? Never seen John Clifton o’ the King’s Arms neither, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_100'>100</span>I dare say? Well, I have. John Clifton knows me, and he knows I’ve got -him in my pocket. So when you went and ordered a horse and trap for ten -o’clock to-night, mentioning—hang your impudence—that you might be -wanting it for a young lady you were going to elope with, John Clifton, he -came round to me. ‘He’ll be waiting about ten-thirty to-night, under missy’s -window. That’s the arrangement, squire.’ John Clifton told me that. ‘Ten-thirty,’ -said he, and, by gad, ten-thirty it is.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I’ve never heard of John Clifton in my life,” said Masson soothingly.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Stick to your lie,” snorted the squire.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Stick to your mulish idiocy,” returned Masson, equally enraged; “only, -if you want to avoid making a drivelling fool of yourself, send for your daughter. -I imagine she’ll be able to inform you that you’ve made a mistake, so far as -I’m concerned.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Whether the squire, thus braved, would have proceeded at once to carry -out the intention his hands, twitching at the whip, suggested, Masson hardly -knew. At that moment an elderly lady opened a door at the far end of the -hall and entered.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Oh, Reginald!” she cried.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“What is it?” asked the squire, turning at her.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Is this the young man?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Is this the——” the squire choked. “No, it isn’t. This is the young -man who swears he isn’t the young man. That’s who this young man is. -Wants me to call Judith down to verify him. I’ll be——”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Merely in justice to the young lady,” said Masson scornfully, as the -squire stopped for breath.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Perhaps——” said the elderly lady, in a deprecating voice. “Possibly, -Reginald, it would be fairer. You have never seen the young man before, -have you? Judith——”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Judith’s a minx!” said the squire furiously.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“But she has never told a lie,” said the elderly lady.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Call her!” The squire rumbled the order, and the elderly lady fled. -“Judith, my dear, Judith!” Masson could hear her twittering to her charge -as he leaned on the back of the chair which was to have served him for a weapon -in case the squire had proceeded to extremities. He supposed the matter was -now as good as ended, and could afford a smile at the disappointed expression -of Jenkins, who was evidently the squire’s principal backer in the scheme -of <i>force majeure</i>. Mr. Board, indeed, had allowed a sigh, as of relief, to escape -him at the new turn of affairs, and was for leaving his post at the door.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Didn’t I tell you to stay there?” said the squire sharply; and, observing -Masson’s smile, “Don’t you imagine, my fine fellow, that you’ve escaped -your thrashing yet. Ha!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>The last word was an acknowledgment of his daughter’s arrival under -the wing of the elderly lady. Masson looked at the girl with interest. She -was tall and slender—a pretty girl. There was, Masson judged, some grounds -for the squire’s suspicions, for she was dressed for out of doors, in hat and -furs, and seemed pale and upset. She avoided Masson’s eyes.</p> -<div class='figcenter id001'> -<img src='images/f101.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic002'> -<p>“Masson looked about him wildly.... ‘My name is Henry,’ he explained—‘Henry Masson’” (page 101).</p> -</div> -</div> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_101'>101</span>“You wanted me, father,” she said.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“No, I didn’t; confound it!” said the squire rudely. “It was your -aunt wanted you. This rogue”—he indicated Masson with his riding-whip—“wants -to save his skin; says he isn’t your man. Ha! What do you -say?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Masson waited in all serenity for her reply. She seemed to hesitate and -gulp for words. It was excusable, Masson thought. The old curmudgeon -had frightened the wits half out of her.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“What do you say?” roared the squire, again.</p> - -<p class='c008'>She twisted her hands together, took a step forward, and, in a trembling -voice, addressing Masson:</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Oh, Dick!” she said fondly.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Masson became aware that the dropping of a pin might have been audible -but for Mr. Board’s respectful sigh of dismay at the door. For a second he -doubted his full possession of his senses.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“What did you say?” he stammered.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Oh, Dick! Why, why did you come? I wish——” she burst into -gentle sobs.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Masson looked about him wildly. He felt a mere fool.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“My name is Henry,” he explained—“Henry Masson.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Just so,” said the squire grimly. “Martha, take Judith upstairs! -Send her to bed. Quickly now; no talking. Now, sir” (to Masson as the -door closed upon the two ladies), “are you going to take your thrashing standing -up or lying down?” He had recovered his self-possession, and it was -Masson who felt his leaving him. Only for a moment, however. Then, -“Standing up,” he said, and gave Jenkins, as that individual advanced to -collar him, a kick that brought him to the ground. He seized the momentary -advantage to dodge the squire’s whip and to give a swing of the chair into -Mr. Board’s bread-basket. Mr. Board fell back—unfortunately, against the -hall door, which was against Masson’s chance of escaping. It is probable -that the next five minutes offered as good an exhibition of rough-and-tumble -fighting as the hall of the manor-house had ever been privileged to witness. -Only superior agility enabled Masson to keep his end up, for, though Mr. -Board’s attack was reluctant, it was not devoid of cunning, and both the -squire and Jenkins were bulls for fierceness. Indeed, Masson, panting hard, -was having his chair wrenched from him by the latter, while he dodged the -squire’s attempts to clinch, when he felt the other door, through which the -ladies had vanished, scrape his back. It gave him an idea, and he acted on -it. Letting Jenkins have the chair at full grip, which sent him staggering -backwards, Masson butted the squire, turned the handle, and was through. -He hung on to the handle desperately, feeling for a key. There was none. -The opposition forces had got their hold, and were forcing the door open.</p> - -<p class='c008'>It was at this crisis that the elderly lady again made her appearance. She -came bustling into Masson’s back, crying aloud, “She’s gone! She’s gone -with the other young man! Oh, dear” (as she perceived Masson), “what is -happening? Where is my brother?”</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_102'>102</span>“In there,” said Masson, and let go.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Reginald!” she cried, as the squire came bouncing through. “Stop! -It’s not this young man. It’s another young man; and Judith’s gone. She -got out of her bedroom window, and they’re driving off now!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“What?” cried the squire.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Perhaps,” said Masson politely, “you will now believe what I said.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>He might as well have addressed the walls for all the attention he received. -The squire had no sooner grasped the new situation than he was foaming for -the front door, giving directions at the top of his voice.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Put in the mare, Jenkins. Saddle Black Beauty. Tell the boy to ride -for the police. Drat and confound this——”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Masson gathered that the squire’s broken sentences signified that he had -stepped out into the ice-paved night, with the inevitable results. However, -he must have picked himself up, for his halloaing grew fainter.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“But how it will all end, Heaven only knows,” said the elderly lady to -Masson, in a despairing way.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I’m afraid you’re right,” said Masson. “Good evening, madam.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>The hall door was open, his late antagonists had disappeared, but since -there was no knowing when they would return, or in what frame of mind, -it was not wise to lose an opportunity. Stepping out into the darkness, Masson -found that the silver thaw had turned to rain, and that the path, though -slippery in parts, was safety itself to what it had been. He followed the -winding drive until he came to the white gate and the road beyond. There, -unnoticed, it seemed, and untouched, stood his car by the side of the road. -He started it and moved on at a moderate pace. A couple of minutes later -he neared two figures going at a plodding canter in the light of his lamps. -The one that led was tall and large. “The squire,” thought Masson, and -hooted vigorously.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“A hundred pounds if you’ll give me a lift,” cried the squire. “I want -to catch up a horse and trap—just ahead. Won’t take you three minutes. -A hundred pounds! Come!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“For mercy’s sake, sir, do!” said the other—Mr. Board, it was clear. -Neither of the two seemed to know whom they were addressing; or else they -had forgotten the events of the evening, which hardly seemed possible.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I’m afraid—very sorry—but I can’t stop,” said Masson politely. He -bore them no grudge, on the whole; but, having witnessed the squire in the -fulness of his raging, he felt no desire to cumber himself with him any more. -It would be conniving at manslaughter. “Quite impossible,” he repeated, -as he whizzed by them.</p> - -<p class='c008'>He put on speed, turned a bend of the highway a minute and a half later, -and pulled up just in time to avoid not mere connivance, but actual committal -of manslaughter. For there, in the very centre of the road, was the horse -and trap which the others were so anxious to come up with. Only it was no -longer a horse and trap united, but a horse and a trap quite separate entities—of -which, moreover, the trap lay on one side, minus a wheel and with broken shafts.</p> - -<p class='c008'>So much Masson’s lights showed him as he came to a stop just in time. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_103'>103</span>A little shriek that arose at the same moment from the bank at the side of -the road revealed more.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Oh, Dick, is it—father?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“No,” said Mr. Masson. With every wish to be neutral in this family -affair, he could not resist giving so much consolation. A young man, who -had, it seemed, been divided between soothing the author of the little shriek -and holding on to the frightened horse—not altogether a simple division of -labour—came forward at this. “Excuse me, sir,” he said to Masson: “I -don’t know who you are, but——”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Oh, Dick, it’s the other young man—Mr.—Mr. Henry.” The squire’s -daughter spoke from the bank.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Henry Masson,” said that gentleman; “not Dick! I should have -been obliged,” he continued, with a good deal of urbanity, “if you could -have mentioned that fact half an hour ago.” He bore the squire’s daughter -no grudge, on the whole, but he felt that he was entitled to that small piece -of irony at least. It was not altogether amusing to be “the other young man.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>The young man—the real Dick—had apparently received only a partial -account of the evening’s proceedings.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” he said frankly. “I know something -went wrong up at the house—Judy was telling me just as our horse came -down—confound that ice thaw! The squire mistook you for me, didn’t he?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Well,” said Masson, “the squire couldn’t very well help making the -mistake when——” A fierce bellowing not far in the rear interrupted him. -“That is the squire, I suppose,” he went on. “I passed him a couple of -minutes ago. He seemed anxious to come up with you.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Good heavens!” said the young man. “Look here, sir. I don’t know -if you know the state of affairs. This lady and I wish to get married. You -see what’s happened? Cart smashed. If you could give us a lift——”</p> - -<p class='c008'>He spoke very pleasantly and yet earnestly. Masson bore no grudge -against him. As he hesitated, the squire’s daughter came from the hedge -bank, where she had been sitting, into the light of his lamps.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“You will forgive me, won’t you?” she said winningly. “It was my -only chance of getting away. I was frantic.” She looked very piteous and -pretty in the light of the lamps. “You will, won’t you?” she repeated.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Certainly,” said Masson; “there’s nothing to forgive. Pray get in. -I ought to think myself lucky to have been the young man, if it was only -for ten minutes.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Come, Dick—quick!” cried the squire’s daughter.</p> - -<p class='c008'>The young man let the horse go and climbed into the car.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Just in time, I think,” he said, as Masson backed a little and slipped -the car past the fallen trap to a loud chorus of “Stop, you rogue!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Good night, squire!” they all cried, as they went ahead through the -thin, falling rain.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Later on, when Masson accepted an invitation to be best man at the wedding -of Mr. Richard Castle with Miss Judith Trelawney, he realised that he had -not come so badly out of that silver thaw. He felt magnanimous, in fact.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_104'>104</span> - <h2 class='c003'><span class='xxlarge'>Carnage</span><br /> <br /><span class='xlarge'><i>By</i> Compton Mackenzie</span><br /> <br /><i>Royal Navy</i></h2> -</div> - -<p class='c007'>I am not a man naturally fond of adventure, but on the contrary have -preserved from earliest youth an ambition to stay at home and watch -from a sunny window-seat the orderly course of humanity along an orderly -street.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Fortune, however, by depriving my parents of everything except myself, -and myself of everything except a flute, made me a raggle-taggle wanderer, -dependent for my livelihood on the charms of music.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Ignorant of luxury through the exigencies of a nomadic existence, I owned -nevertheless a very fastidious taste which often led me to despise the miseries -of my situation—so much so that I believe I would rather a thousand times -depend on the hard ground than sacrifice my sensibility in the endurance -of an uncongenial bedfellow.</p> - -<p class='c008'>So much by way of explaining the following adventure, which was -actually produced by my inability to suffer a common hardship of the -wanderer’s lot.</p> - -<p class='c008'>On a December dusk of the year 1753, I found myself, with apparently -no prospect of a lodging, on a bleak high-road in the middle of Cornwall. What -horrid impulse took me to that barbarous peninsula, I cannot now recall -exactly; but probably my journey was connected with some roadside rumour -of prosperity to be found in the West of England at the holiday season.</p> - -<p class='c008'>My first experience of Cornish hospitality was not happy; for, having -begun to flute merrily in the yard of an outlying farmhouse, the savage owner -loosed a pair of lean hounds, who followed me with a very odious barking -nearly half a mile along the road. I was determined to avoid such places -in future, and to keep my breath for a town, where the amenity of a closer -social intercourse might have evolved a more generous spirit among the -inhabitants.</p> - -<p class='c008'>With gloomy thoughts I trudged on, without a glimpse of any village or -hamlet, or even of an isolated dwelling such as I had lately tried.</p> - -<p class='c008'>The night was coming up fast behind me, and I was already pondering -the imminent extinction of my life’s flame in the wind-swept bogs on either -<span class='pageno' id='Page_105'>105</span>side of the path, when I came suddenly on a small inn, not visible before -on account of the road’s curve and a clump of firs shorn and blistered by -the prevailing wind.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Here I asked for a bed; but on being informed that I must share it with -a degraded idiot whom I perceived slobbering in a corner of the taproom, I -scorned the accommodation and inquired the distance and direction of the -nearest village.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“There’s no village for another five mile or more,” said the landlord. -“What’s your trade, master?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>I did not wish to gratify the bumpkin’s curiosity; but reflecting that I -might hear of a junketing in the neighbourhood, told him I was a musician.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Then why don’t ’ee make for Cannebrake?” he asked.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Cannebrake?” I exclaimed. “How on earth shall I make for a place -of whose existence I am only this moment aware?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Never heard of Cannebrake o’ the Starlings?” he exclaimed. “Why, -’tis a famous place here around, and the old lord he might be proud to listen -to a parcel o’ music. Come, I’ll show ’ee the road.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>A burst of gibberish from the idiot made up my mind, and I hurried after -the landlord, who with much circumlocution described my route. I left him -by the inn door, and when I turned once or twice to wave a farewell, saw him -still standing there, a white patch in the fading light.</p> - -<p class='c008'>I passed, according to his directions, a dry tree, a slab of granite shaped -like an elephant’s back, and a stretch of waste water stuck here and there with -withered reeds like an old brush, until I reached a tall Celtic cross that leaned -very forbiddingly towards the path. Here a side track dipped down from -the main road to a valley whose ample vegetation contrasted strangely with -the barren moors above. My path was soon overarched with trees. A smell -of damp woodland pervaded its gloom, and my footsteps were muffled by -the drift of wet leaves. Had it not been for the deep ruts into which from -time to time I slipped, I should have concluded I had missed the path and -was penetrating towards the heart of a forest.</p> - -<p class='c008'>I emerged from the avenue at last; though by now it was so dark that -only the fresher air and the rasping of my feet on stones told me I was again -in open country. But it was impossible to advance, and I was beginning to -regret the inn and rail at myself for objecting to the idiot’s company, when -I saw above a black hill-top the yellow rim of the full moon, whose light, -increasing every moment, was presently strong enough to show me I was not -fifty yards from the great gates of Cannebrake.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Yet I was half afraid to set them creaking in the silence, so menacing were -they between their tall stone pillars, so complete was the absence of any -welcome.</p> - -<p class='c008'>I have often had occasion to visit the seats of the nobility and gentry in -more civilised corners of England, and the air of abandonment that surrounded -the entrance of Cannebrake did not seem to consort with the traditions of -any famous or honoured name.</p> - -<p class='c008'>The very moonlight in that hollow was tainted with a miasma, setting -<span class='pageno' id='Page_106'>106</span>no clear contrasts of shadow and silver, robbing the pillars of all solidity -and giving the landscape the tremulous outlines of a half-remembered -dream.</p> - -<p class='c008'>I had never before experienced the sensation of absolute decay. I had -been affected by the fall of autumn leaves from dripping branches, by the -melting of ice on warm winter mornings; but here dissolution was silent, -without a curlew’s cry or lisp of withered grass to mark its accomplishment.</p> - -<p class='c008'>At last, by an effort of common sense, I pushed the gates ajar, and the -creaking of them, as they swung back upon their hinges, followed me up the -moss-grown drive with a wailful indignation.</p> - -<p class='c008'>The shrubbery planted round the gates did not extend far, and the drive -soon unfolded its direction, running straight and bare over a wide, undulating -grassland populated with the shadowy forms of cattle, to the doors of Cannebrake—a -long, low building of the undistinguished architecture which I had -already learned to associate with Cornish houses.</p> - -<p class='c008'>I stood awhile contemplating the mansion that seemed impalpable in -the webs of the moon.</p> - -<p class='c008'>There was neither barking of dogs nor any sign of human life until I -observed the shadow of a man carrying from room to room of the second -story a circle of candlelight increasing and diminishing with each entrance -and exit. I supposed it to be a servant’s nightly round of inspection, and, -assured of the existence of life within, moved across to the heavily nailed -door.</p> - -<p class='c008'>I would have pulled at once the great iron bell-chain, had it not been -for a strange disinclination to destroy the quiet with so wild a sound. As it -was, I stood there holding my breath, I believe, while I deciphered the -coat-of-arms above the door—a medley of Turks’ heads and birds.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Then, with the slight knowledge of French gleaned on my wanderings, I -fell to translating the motto of the family, “Aux amis l’amour, aux ennemis -la mort.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Notwithstanding the pledge of this sentiment in stone, I could not spur -myself into arousing the inmates; but as there was a rank growth of grass -between the drive and the house itself, I availed myself of its quiet to crawl -round and peer unheard into the windows on the ground floor.</p> - -<p class='c008'>On a closer view of the window to the right of the door, I saw glinting on -the darkness of heavy curtains a thin line of light. Without more ado I pulled -out my flute and started “Come, Lasses and Lads.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>This harmless old air seemed to produce a most distressing effect upon the -inmates, for the curtains were immediately flung back and an elderly gentleman, -with wig all awry and hands tugging at his stock, stared out into the -night as if afraid of hell.</p> - -<p class='c008'>I tapped gently with my flute upon the lattice, and in response to my -knocking, but with evident dismay, my listener was persuaded to throw -it open.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Whether the sight of him pale and horror-struck had led me to expect -a timid inquiry as to my business, I do not know, but I doubt if I ever heard -<span class='pageno' id='Page_107'>107</span>so deep a voice from any human creature before. It rumbled like a bull’s -and, I vow, alarmed me more than the music of my instrument had alarmed -its owner.</p> - -<p class='c008'>A horrid stream of blasphemies heralded his demand to know my business.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“My name, my lord, is Tripconey—Peter Tripconey, a flute-player, and -your lordship’s very humble, obedient servant to command.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>This frank avowal had the effect of slightly mitigating his wrath, and he -was pleased to ask me what I did in his park at such an ungodly hour.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Indeed, my lord, I was sent here.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Sent here, you vagabond? By whom?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“By an inn-keeper who plies a poor trade on the desolate moors adjacent -to your lordship’s estate.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>He seemed relieved by my information, and was gracious enough to ask -if I could play any sea-songs. I answered I could play and sing the “Ballad -of the Golden Vanity” and many more besides, as well as any man alive.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Hark ’ee, Cynthia,” he said, turning to address another inmate. “There’s -a musician outside. Shall we have him in, girl? Shall we have a merry-making? -The poor wretch looks as if a good supper would do him no harm. -Hi, sirrah, can you eat?” he asked, turning round again to me.</p> - -<p class='c008'>I assured him I had a very tolerable appetite, and he bade me ring the -bell forthwith, vowing he would give me bed and board for a night’s music. -I made haste to obey his orders, and when I stepped into the great hall, lighted -by a score of candles and the blaze of a gigantic fire roaring on the hearth, was -glad I had done so.</p> - -<p class='c008'>His lordship with much condescension presented me to his daughter, the -Honourable Miss Cynthia Starling, who received me with the courtesy it -delights a woman of rank to exercise. In the presence of this lovely creature -I threw off every evil foreboding, and made haste to entertain the noble -company with as much wit as I could command. I may say I was very -successful.</p> - -<p class='c008'>His lordship laughed very heartily at all my sallies, and once or twice I -plainly detected a faint smile pass over the classic features of the honourable -and handsome young woman.</p> - -<p class='c008'>His lordship excused himself from joining me at supper, pointing out -with much intelligence that, having already dined, a second meal so soon -after the other would be likely to injure his night’s rest. I cordially agreed -with him, and drank his health in a pint bumper of a very level and solid old -Burgundy. His lordship was pleased to acknowledge my toast, and indeed -went so far as to drink prosperity to the humble flute-player sheltered by his -hospitable roof.</p> - -<p class='c008'>When I had eaten as much as I wanted, my host called out in his great -voice for the butler, whom I disliked at first sight. He was a tall, thin man, -with pouched eyes and an unnaturally sleek face the colour of tallow. His -hands were hairy, blue with gunpowder, and criss-crossed with livid scars.</p> - -<p class='c008'>However, I soon forgot him in racking my memory for the old -sea-tunes which his lordship wished to hear. The latter sat upright in the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_108'>108</span>ingle, beating time to the choruses with his ebony cane, or rather crutched-stick, -which he leaned upon very heavily in his walk, being, as I supposed, -a sufferer from the gout. The crutch itself was very massive and bound with -gold bands.</p> - -<p class='c008'>I also played some polite melodies for the pleasure of her ladyship, which -she commended very earnestly; but when she had wished us a good night -and retired to her chamber, my Lord Cannebrake set out to curse all love-songs -and country dances, and bade me get back immediately to the sea-tunes -which he loved so well.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Presently he called for the butler, Springle, and to my surprise, and I -may add profound vexation, invited him to take a chair by the fire and join -in the choruses. I was shocked to see the familiar way in which this fellow -treated his master, and, for my own part, was quick to put the insolent rogue -in his place as often as I could, thus showing him very plainly how I esteemed -his presumption.</p> - -<p class='c008'>One or two of my hits went very well with his lordship; and though Mr. -Springle snarled at me from his chair, I was not at all afraid to bait him -whenever the circumstances of the conversation gave me an opportunity.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Springle,” said his lordship after a round of tunes, “Mr. Tripconey must -whet his whistle. Bring in another bottle of Burgundy and warm me a noggin -of rum.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>I was amazed to hear a nobleman favour the plebeian beverage of rum, -and still more deeply amazed to hear his butler answer him very saucily, “Aye, -aye,” without offering to move himself.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Get up, you impudent swab!” bellowed Lord Cannebrake. “What! -Disobey orders, would you, you dog! You whimpering, sneering, dirty ship’s -steward.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Mr. Springle, perceiving he had made too free with his master’s affableness, -rose at once and slunk from the hall.</p> - -<p class='c008'>My Lord Cannebrake growled to himself awhile, and then sat moodily -silent, staring into the fire.</p> - -<p class='c008'>I seized the occasion of the butler’s absence to ask him point blank why -the first sounds of my flute had alarmed him so violently. “For,” said I, -“there is nothing surprising at this jolly season of the year, when waits and -mummers are abroad, in hearing the sound of music by night.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Did I look frightened, eh?” asked his lordship. “Hah, and I was -frightened, woundily frightened. I come, sir, of a plaguy old family, and I -live in a plaguy old house, and I’ve inherited very little else but a plaguy crew -of ghosts.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“And you mistook me for one of ’em?” I laughed.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“We Starlings,” he went on, “like most old families, have our omens and -death cries and what not, and it has always been accounted very ill work for -a Starling to hear a starling’s whistle.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>I was somewhat put about to learn that my playing had been mistaken -for a vulgar bird’s whistle, but, concealing my annoyance very genteely, laughed -the matter off.</p> -<div class='figcenter id001'> -<img src='images/f108.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic002'> -<p>“‘Springle,’ his lordship gasped. ‘Springle, I’ve killed him, ha’n’t I?’” (page 113).</p> -</div> -</div> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_109'>109</span>“Indeed, my lord, I believe that is the first time that ever my flute was -taken for a bird.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Yes,” he murmured, more to himself than to me, “yes, I heard that -whistle forty days out from Sierra Leone, and the next day we was flinging -half-cooked niggers into the sea and——”</p> - -<p class='c008'>He stopped suddenly and looked me full in the face, but I thought his -mind was wandering and paid small attention to his wild words.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“And I heard it again when we were careening in the Pearl Islands off -Panama just before I was took with Yellow Jack, but I’ve never heard it -since till to-night. Ecod, I don’t like being my Lord Cannebrake, with ghosts -thick as seagulls round about. I was happier before; I was happier in the -pleasant Isle of Thanet with the sea-wind singing day and night round my -cottage. I used to do nothing mostly, except sight the craft beating round -the Foreland, and think of ’em so white and handsome in the Downs, a-stroking -all the while my little daughter’s light-brown hair. And now look at me, -stuck in a low, dirty swamp ten miles from the sound of breakers, wi’ nothing -to think of but ghosts. That’s bad for a man who, mark you, was a-seafaring -once. But there came an ague and took one; and another broke his neck -out hunting; and the third, he fell into the pool fishing for carp; and so I -became Lord Cannebrake.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>I was at a loss to know why this elderly nobleman honoured me with his -confidence, but ascribed it to the influence of the old sea-songs and my own -insignificance, for I doubt he never thought me a person of much importance, -and he went on with his monologue without seeming to expect any comment -from me.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Then there’s Cynthia. Cannebrake’s no place for a high-spirited young -woman. London’s the place for her, where she can meet women of quality -and learn the ways of fashion. She’s a sweet maid. I never knew a sweeter. -But what’s to become of her, buried alive, in a manner of speaking, and like -to grow into a mumbling, fumbling old maid with nothing to watch all her -life but the sun’s rise and set, and winter coming in cold, and the spring-time -rain, and a few flowers of summer?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Here I made bold to offer a suggestion that he should go back to the Isle -of Thanet.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Ah, why don’t I, Mr. Flute-player? I’ll tell you why,” and he leaned -over, whispering in my ear:</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Because I dare not. Because I lived a vile, bad life when I was young, -and I’m afraid. That’s a terrible thing for you to ponder, Mr. Tripconey—an -old man living alone in a dip of these wild moors—afraid. Listening to -the clock tick-ticking, and all the time fast afraid. You’ve seen me, white -and shaking, when you tapped on the window: me—Captain Starling—afraid.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Springle’s entrance with rum enough for half a dozen put an end to further -reminiscence.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Why, Conrad,” said his lordship, “why, Conrad, boy, I see you’ve set -a glass for yourself. That was thoughtful of you, Conrad.”</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_110'>110</span>Then suddenly the old man’s fury broke out—very terrible.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“And so you’d make a nincompoop of me before my guests, would you? -Below deck, you swab!” he roared, and, picking up one of the heavy cut-glass -goblets, flung it between the butler’s legs as he hurried from the hall. -Lord Cannebrake laughed and made me fill up my glass, while he poured out -for himself an extra strong allowance of rum.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Master Springle thinks he can do as he likes because I give him a moderate -amount of freedom, seeing that we were shipmates once.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“It is indeed a condescension on your side, my lord, for which the fellow -shows himself monstrous ungrateful. I drink your lordship’s very good health.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>He acknowledged the compliment by draining his glass to me, and I could -not forbear my admiration to see how he poured the fiery liquor down his throat -at a single gulp. I myself, a timid drinker, could never have survived the -quarter of it sipped slowly. When he had put down his glass I saw that he -was sniffing the air as a stag sniffs for water.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Tell me,” he demanded, “can you smell sea-water?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>So unusual a question put me in some confusion, for if I laughed it aside -I would have seemed to suspect him of drunkenness. I determined therefore -to humour his fancy, and told him very gravely that I could not smell -sea-water.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I doubt it’s my fancy,” he muttered. “Or rum. Rum more likely.” -With which he gulped down a second glass even stronger than the former. -All at once a horrid cry rang through the house. The long-drawn echo of it -froze my blood and set my glass clinking against the decanter in a tumult -of apprehension.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“What’s that?” gasped his lordship. And here let me assure you, he -looked as much alarmed as myself. I threw a glance up to the gallery, expecting -to see her ladyship in bed-gown peering over the balustrade. But there -was nothing.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Then Springle, his face as livid as the criss-cross scars on his hand, burst -into the hall.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Cap’n Starling! Cap’n Starling!” he cried.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Aye, aye,” muttered my lord in the dead voice of profoundest agitation.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Cap’n Starling!” moaned the butler.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Eh, what!” exclaimed his master. “Who the plague are you calling -’cap’n’? Ha’n’t you learned ’tis ‘my lord’ nowadays?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“To blazes wi’ lords,” chattered Springle. “Sea-lords and land-lords. -Here’s Cap’n Swall walking up the path to this house.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Cap’n Swall?” repeated his lordship. “Cap’n Swall? Here, give -me the rum, my handsome.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>He drained the glass a third time, which seemed to calm his excitement.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“This ain’t a fancy of yours, Conrad?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“No fancy, my lord. I seed him quite plain and the stars a-shining through -his wicked bow legs as he come down the slope. But let him come!” Springle -almost screamed. “Let the swab come! We’re too many for him, with -pleasant talk of old ships and a knife that goes in easy and quick like.”</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_111'>111</span>I confess I was amazed by the coolness with which the rascal proposed -to murder a fellow-creature, and was relieved to hear his lordship discourage -the notion.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“None of that,” he commanded. “None of that. If ’tis Matthew Swall, -’tis him; and maybe there’s a reckoning, and maybe there isn’t, but none -of that. If ’tis man to man, him and me, ’tis out in the moonlight with ship’s -cutlasses and you and Mr. Tripconey here to see fair play. So drink the rum, -you cowardly dog, and stand by.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Springle swallowed the spirit, and the three of us waited in silence till -there came a ringing peal from the great bell, a peal that echoed jangling and -clanging through Cannebrake of the Starlings.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Must I let him in, cap’n?” whispered Springle.</p> - -<p class='c008'>There was a tap-tap on the lattice, but when we turned towards the -sound the curtains were close drawn and we knew the man outside could -not see us.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Let him in,” said his lordship, standing up very stern.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Conrad moved sideways to the door, and what with the way he kept twitching -his hairy hands, and what with his chestnut-brown suit and his manner -of walking, I could not help comparing him to a large crab.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Captain Swall followed the servant into his master’s presence. He was -a short, thickset, squab-nosed man, much weather-beaten, and wearing a -soiled blue coat trimmed with gold lace frayed and tarnished. In his right -hand he carried a cocked beaver hat, in the other a pistol. Flinging down -the hat, he went with outstretched palm right up to Lord Cannebrake, -saying:</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Well, if this don’t beat pay-day. Messmate, how are ye? Lord Cannebrake -now, ain’t it? And here’s Conrad Springle and a bottle of rum and -Matthew Swall of the <i>Happy Return</i>, and—why, bless me,” he added, catching -sight of me, “here’s a strange face after all.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>His lordship never offered to present me, but, coming sharp to the point, -said:</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I thought you were dead, Matthew.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I know ye did, Dicky. Nor more isn’t that very astonishing seeing as -I thought I were dead myself. It was a cunning move of yourn, Dicky, that -’ere sheering off in Jamestown. It was a clever trick, when you thought -you’d quit being a gentleman of fortune, to leave me laying low with Yellow -Jack, and not a single golden George to so much as spit on, not a single golden -George to get me clear of Virginia and the tobacco planters. And I was took, -Dicky. I was took all right and sold five hundred miles up country, to a -Frenchman whose throat I slit so as he died quicker nor ever you’d think a -man could die.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Mr. Tripconey,” said his lordship to me, “I think you’ll find your bedroom -prepared. Springle, show Mr. Tripconey to his chamber.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>The butler, with many a backward glance to where the two sea-captains -sat facing one another in the firelight, led me up the wide stairs and parted -from me by the door of my room without so much as a good night.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_112'>112</span>Now whether the wicked flavour of Captain Swall’s conversation had -fascinated my imagination, or whether the Burgundy had fired my blood -with an inquisitiveness foreign to my nature, I do not know, but for the life -of me I could not help wondering how it fared with the party downstairs. -I resented being shut up out of sight and sound in this gaunt bedchamber; -and at last, no longer able to bear my ignorance, I snuffed the candle and -crept barefooted along the black corridor as far as the opening to the hall. -Here, by kneeling close to the wall and peering through the balustrade, I could -see and hear all that was happening below. I ran but small risk of discovery; -for, as I reasoned, it would be easy to gain my room noiselessly while any one -from below was ascending the stairs.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Lord Cannebrake and his visitor were still seated facing one another, while -Springle was standing, well out of the way of both, at the farther end of the -hall.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“But I don’t want to fight, Dicky,” Captain Swall was saying. “I done -with fighting long ago. This here pop I holds in my hand so pretty, that’s -not for fighting; that’s for protection, Dicky, in case you was to leave me -once again on a lee-shore. No, I don’t want no revenge nor nothing, Dicky. -But seeing as how I’m tired of roaming, and finds it dull at the <i>Prospect of -Whitby</i> down by Wapping Stairs, I’ve a mind to sling my hammock in Cannebrake.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“So you think you’re going to live at my expense, do you?” asked his -lordship grimly. “But you’re not. I don’t feed ruffians like you, Matthew -Swall.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Turned pious, have ye?” sneered the other. “Took to religion, maybe? -Changed the name of your ship? That’s a main unlucky thing to do, and -by——” He swore an abominable oath. “By—— it won’t go down with -me, not with old Matthew. Springle, my lad, it looks as if you was ship’s -cook aboard here. Let’s see the quality of your beef.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>I could not help feeling greatly delighted by Mr. Springle’s discomfiture -as he stood there in a fine quandary.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“What! Mutiny, Conrad?” the captain went on, as the butler made -no offer to move. “You was quicker at obeying orders in the old days, Conrad. -You was a long way more spry arter I sarved you with your six dozen lashes. -You become quite a handy lad arter that. Quick and handy with that ’ere -clasp-knife of yourn, Conrad, when you done for the crew of the <i>True Love</i> -what was lying on their backs off Calabar a-waiting for you to obey orders. -Come, look alive, my lad, or you’ll find yourself in Bodmin Gaol, and ’tis Cap’n -Swall who says so.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Springle, cowed by the fierce intruder, gave up defiance and went to fetch -the victuals.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“That’s a nice little place Conrad’s got himself,” continued Swall, with -one eye cocked very wickedly at Lord Cannebrake.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Do you want to be my butler?” demanded the latter.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“No, I wouldn’t rob Conrad. There’s room for both of us. Maybe you’ve -got a snug little cabin somewhere between decks, a snug little berth where you -<span class='pageno' id='Page_113'>113</span>and me and Conrad ’ll be able to talk over old times and old ships. Better -you and I should talk over ’em quiet and comfortable and snug like, with -the rum going round as it ought to in a genelman’s country house. Better -nor talking over ’em at the Old Bailey. Why, you’ve a darter, haven’t you, -Dicky? What ’ud she say if she went for a cruise down the river one lovely -morning in the summer-time, and seed her father, black as a crow, swinging -in the wind at Execution Dock?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“You won’t blackmail me,” said my lord.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Blackmail, is it? By the Lord,” shouted Captain Swall, “Black Flag’s -more the lay.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Be careful, Matthew. You know I’m a hot-blooded man. You know -I won’t stand too much.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Aye, by the plague, and you know mine, Dick Starling, and it ain’t lost -nothing these twenty years of waiting. Look ’ee here, it comes to this. You’ve -got a darter. Well.” Again he swore that fearful oath. “If you don’t give -me your darter—for I won’t be put off with no fine words after Jamestown, -Dicky; I’ll have something of yours as you vally—I’ll have your young maid, -or you swing for piracy.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>But even while he threatened, shaking the pistol, Lord Cannebrake struck -hard with his stick and Captain Swall fell forward among the glasses on the -table.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Springle,” his lordship gasped. “Springle, I’ve killed him, ha’n’t I?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Then I saw that the butler was standing in the corner, a plate of beef in -his hand. He came forward and, setting down the plate, shook the sprawling -figure.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Aye, aye, he’s dead as his beef,” said Springle.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“We’ll bury the body quick, Conrad. Wait. I’ll see he has no friends -outside.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>I could not help wondering at the old nobleman’s pluck as I saw him move -towards the door, and thought of him marching round that desolate house -with Heaven knows how many bloodthirsty enemies ambushed in the -shadows.</p> - -<p class='c008'>When his master had left the hall, Springle shook the body more roughly, -and to my horror, for I thought him stone dead, Captain Swall muttered -thickly:</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Curse you, Dicky, you nearly done for me a second time, but you’ll pay—you’ll -pay.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Look ’ee here, Cap’n Swall,” said Springle, turning the wounded man -over and staring into his eyes. “Two’s company at Cannebrake, but three -ain’t. You sent me off for beef. You had me flogged once. You’ve run -aground, Cap’n Swall.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Here the fiend caught his enemy by the throat, and, as he squeezed the -life out of the thickset man, spoke through clenched teeth:</p> - -<p class='c008'>“You’re making port at last, Cap’n Swall. I’ll lay Davy Jones is about -signalling your sperrit now.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>I suppose I should have interrupted the man’s villainy, but by this time, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_114'>114</span>between cramp and terror, I could do nothing but lie quaking on the cold -floor of the gallery.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Lord Cannebrake came back in a minute or two.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“He’s dead?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Dead,” said the murderer.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“And nobody will know,” said his lordship, with a sigh of relief.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Not if I don’t peach.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“What d’ye mean?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Why, just this here, my lord. I’m tired of being butler. I wants promotion. -I reckon you’ll sign some sort of a parlez-vous as’ll ensure my -promotion.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Lord Cannebrake seemed stricken by his servant’s treachery.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Are you going to turn against me, Conrad?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“You’ve been a fool,” said the latter—“a fool for twenty years. Afraid -o’ what I might say about the <i>Jolly Roger</i>. What could I ha’ done, a pore -ignorant seaman? What was my word against Lord Cannebrake’s? You -might ha’ cut me adrift long ago. But now you can’t. Now things is different. -Here’s murder stepped in on my side.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Aye, it has!” I shouted, springing up. “Black-hearted, cold murder; -but it’s you, Mr. Springle, that’s the murderer. My lord, my lord, he -strangled Captain Swall when you were outside. That villain there—that -ruffian——”</p> - -<p class='c008'>In my bare feet, and waving my flute, I came dancing down the stairs—a -ludicrous figure, I dare swear, but jubilant at having outwitted the -butler.</p> - -<p class='c008'>He had his knife out in a flash, and I owed my life to his lordship, who, -without a thought of the scandal, picked up the dead man’s pistol and shot -his servant through the back, so that he fell huddled at the foot of the -staircase.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Then Lord Cannebrake and I looked at each other with two bodies -between us.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Her ladyship?” I said.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“We’ll have to tell her.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>I felt sorry for the old man who had kept his secret so many years. But -the hall was now running with Conrad’s blood, and I thought we should do -well enough to escape the law.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Her ladyship came along the gallery, very pale and beautiful.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“What is it, father? I heard a shot.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“A bad night’s work, my lady-love,” said the father gently. “But Mr. -Tripconey here has saved Cannebrake.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“And his lordship has saved me,” I cried.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Then we should all be grateful,” said my lady, very calm.</p> - -<p class='c008'>I slept prodigious little that night, and blistered my hands so that I couldn’t -play my flute for a week; but I was always sure for many a year of a hearty -welcome at Cannebrake of the Starlings.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_115'>115</span> - <h2 class='c003'><span class='xxlarge'>The Bronze Parrot</span><br /> <br /><span class='xlarge'><i>By</i> R. Austin Freeman</span><br /> <br /><i>Royal Army Medical Corps</i></h2> -</div> - -<p class='c007'>The Reverend Deodatus Jawley had just sat down to the gate-legged table -on which lunch was spread and had knocked his knee, according to his invariable -custom, against the sharp corner of the seventh leg.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I wish you would endeavour to be more careful, Mr. Jawley,” said the -rector’s wife. “You nearly upset the mustard-pot, and these jars are exceedingly -bad for the leg.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Oh, that’s of no consequence, Mrs. Bodley,” the curate replied cheerfully.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I don’t agree with you at all,” was the stiff rejoinder.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“It doesn’t matter, you know, so long as the skin isn’t broken,” Mr. Jawley -persisted with an ingratiating smile.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I was referring to the leg of the table,” Mrs. Bodley corrected frostily.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Oh, I beg your pardon!” said the curate, and, blushing like a Dublin Bay -prawn, he abandoned himself in silence to the consideration of the numerical -ratios suggested by five mutton chops and three prospective consumers. The -problem thus presented was one of deep interest to Mr. Jawley, who had a -remarkably fine appetite for such an exceedingly small man, and he awaited -its solution with misgivings born of previous disappointments.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I hope you are not very hungry, Mr. Jawley,” said the rector’s wife.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Er—no—er—not unusually so,” was the curate’s suave and casuistical -reply. The fact is that he was always hungry, excepting after the monthly -tea-meetings.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Because,” pursued Mrs. Bodley, “I see that Walker has only cooked -five chops; and yours looks rather a small one.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Oh, it will be quite sufficient, thank you,” Mr. Jawley hastened to declare; -adding, a little unfortunately, perhaps: “Amply sufficient for any moderate -and temperate person.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>The Reverend Augustus Bodley emerged from behind the <i>Church Times</i> -and directed a suspicious glance at his curate; who, becoming suddenly conscious -of the ambiguity of his last remark, blushed crimson and cut himself -a colossal slice of bread. There was an uncomfortable silence which lasted -some minutes, and was eventually broken by Mrs. Bodley.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I want you to go into Dilbury this afternoon, Mr. Jawley, and execute -a few little commissions.”</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_116'>116</span>“Certainly, Mrs. Bodley. With pleasure,” said the curate.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I want you to call and see if Miss Gosse has finished my hat. If she has, -you had better bring it with you. She is so unreliable, and I want to wear it -at the Hawley-Jones’s garden party to-morrow. If it isn’t finished, you must -wait until it is. Don’t come away without it.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“No, Mrs. Bodley, I will not. I will be extremely firm.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Mind you are. Then I want you to go to Minikin’s and get two reels -of whitey-brown thread, four balls of crochet cotton, and eight yards of lace -insertion—the same kind as I had last week. And Walker tells me that she -has run out of black-lead. You had better bring two packets; and mind -you don’t put them in the same pocket with the lace insertion. Oh, and as -you are going to the oil-shop, you may as well bring a jar of mixed pickles. -And then you are to go to Dumsole’s and order a fresh haddock—perhaps -you could bring that with you, too—and then to Barber’s and tell them to -send four pounds of dessert pears, and be sure they are good ones and not -over-ripe. You had better select them and see them weighed yourself.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I will. I will select them most carefully,” said the curate, inwardly -resolving not to trust to mere external appearances, which are often deceptive.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Oh, and by the way, Jawley,” said the rector, “as you are going into -the town, you might as well take my shooting-boots with you, and tell Crummell -to put a small patch on the soles and set up the heels. It won’t take him long. -Perhaps he can get them done in time for you to bring them back with you. -Ask him to try.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I will, Mr. Bodley,” said the curate. “I will urge him to make an -effort.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“And as you are going to Crummell’s,” said Mrs. Bodley, “I will give -you my walking shoes to take to him. They want soling and heeling, and tell -him he is to use better leather than he did last time.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Half an hour later Mr. Jawley passed through the playground appertaining -to the select boarding-academy maintained by the Reverend Augustus Bodley. -He carried a large and unshapely newspaper parcel, despite which he walked -with the springy gait of a released schoolboy. As he danced across the desert -expanse, his attention was arrested by a small crowd of the pupils gathered -significantly around two larger boys whose attitudes suggested warlike intentions; -indeed, even as he stopped to observe them, one warrior delivered -a tremendous blow which expended itself on the air within a foot of the other -combatant’s nose.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Oh! fie!” exclaimed the scandalised curate. “Joblett! Joblett! -Do you realise that you nearly struck Byles? That you might actually have -hurt him?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I meant to hurt him,” said Joblett.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“You meant to! Oh, but how wrong! How unkind! Let me beg -you—let me entreat you to desist from these discreditable acts of violence.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>He stood awhile gazing with an expression of pained disapproval at the -combatants, who regarded him with sulky grins. Then, as the hostilities -seemed to be—temporarily—suspended, he walked slowly to the gate. He -<span class='pageno' id='Page_117'>117</span>was just pocketing the key when an extremely somnolent pear impinged on -the gate-post and sprinkled him with disintegrated fragments. He turned, -wiping his coat-skirt with his handkerchief, and addressed the multitude, who -all, oddly enough, happened to be looking in the opposite direction.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“That was very naughty of you. <i>Very</i> naughty. Someone must have -thrown that pear. I won’t tempt you to prevarication by asking who? But -pears don’t fly of themselves—especially sleepy ones.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>With this he went out of the gate, followed by an audible snigger which -swelled, as he walked away, into a yell of triumph.</p> - -<p class='c008'>The curate tripped blithely down the village street, clasping his parcel -and scattering smiles of concentrated amiability broadcast among the -villagers. As he approached the stile that guarded the footpath to Dilbury, -his smile intensified from mere amiability to positive affection. A small lady—a -very small lady, in fact—was standing by the stile, resting a disproportionate -basket on the lower step; and we may as well admit, at once and without -circumlocution, that this lady was none other than Miss Dorcas Shipton and -the prospective Mrs. Jawley.</p> - -<p class='c008'>The curate changed over his parcel to hold out a welcoming hand.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Dorcas, my dear!” he exclaimed. “What a lucky chance that you -should happen to come this way!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“It isn’t chance,” the little lady replied. “I heard Mrs. Bodley say -that she would ask you to go into Dilbury; so I determined to come and -speed you on your journey” (the distance to Dilbury was about three and a -half miles) “and see that you were properly equipped. Why did not you -bring your umbrella?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Mr. Jawley explained that the hat, the boots, the fresh haddock, and the -mixed pickles would fully occupy his available organs of prehension.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“That is true,” said Dorcas. “But I hope you are wearing your chest-protector -and those cork soles that I gave you.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Mr. Jawley assured her that he had taken these necessary precautions.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“And have you rubbed your heels well with soap?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Yes,” replied the curate. “Thoroughly—most thoroughly. They are -a little sticky at present, but I shall feel the benefit as I go on. I have obeyed -your instructions to the letter.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“That is right, Deodatus,” said Miss Dorcas; “and as you have been so -good, you shall have a little reward.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>She lifted the lid of the basket and took out a small paper bag, which -she handed to him with a fond smile. The curate opened the bag and peered -in expectantly.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Ha!” he exclaimed. “Bull’s-eyes! How nice! How good of you, -Dorcas! And how discriminating!” (Bull’s-eyes were his one dissipation.) -“Won’t you take one?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“No, thank you,” replied Dorcas. “I mustn’t go into the cottages smelling -of peppermint.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Why not?” asked Deodatus. “I often do. I think the poor creatures -rather enjoy the aroma—especially the children.”</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_118'>118</span>But Dorcas was adamant; and after some further chirping and twittering, -the two little people exchanged primly affectionate farewells, and the curate, -having popped a bull’s-eye into his mouth, padded away along the footpath, -sucking joyously.</p> - -<p class='c008'>It is needless to say that Mrs. Bodley’s hat was not finished. The curate -had unwisely executed all his other commissions before calling on the milliner: -had ordered the pears, and even tested the quality of one or two samples; -had directed the cobbler to send the rector’s boots to the hat-shop; and had -then collected the lace, black-lead, cotton, pickles, and the fresh haddock, and -borne them in triumph to the abode of Miss Gosse. It appeared that the hat -would not be ready until seven o’clock in the evening. But it also appeared -that tea would be ready in a few minutes. Accordingly the curate remained -to partake of that meal in the workroom, in company with Miss Gosse and her -“hands”; and having been fed to bursting-point with French rolls and cake, -left his various belongings and went forth to while away the time and paint -the town of Dilbury—not exactly red, but a delicate and attenuated pink.</p> - -<p class='c008'>After an hour or so of rambling about the town, the curate’s errant footsteps -carried him down to the docks, where he was delighted with the spectacle -of a military transport, just home from West Africa, discharging her passengers. -The khaki-clad warriors trooped down the gang-planks and saluted him with -cheerful greetings as he sat on a bollard and watched them. One even inquired -if his—Mr. Jawley’s—mother knew he was out; which the curate thought -very kind and attentive of him. But what thrilled him most was the appearance -of the chaplain; a fine, portly churchman with an imposing, coppery -nose, who was so overjoyed at the sight of his native land that he sang aloud. -Mr. Jawley was deeply affected.</p> - -<p class='c008'>When the soldiers had gone, he slowly retraced his steps towards the gates; -but he had hardly gone twenty yards when his eye was attracted by a small -object lying in the thick grass that grew between the irregular paving-stones -of the quay. He stooped to pick it up and uttered an exclamation of delight. -It was a tiny effigy of a parrot, quaintly wrought in bronze and not more -than two and a half inches high including the pedestal on which it stood. -A perforation through the eyes had furnished the means of suspension, and -a strand of silken thread yet remained, to show, by its frayed ends, how the -treasure had been lost.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Mr. Jawley was charmed. It was such a dear little parrot, so quaint, -so naïve. He was a simple man, and small things gave him pleasure; and -this small thing pleased him especially. The better to examine his find, he -seated himself on a nice, clean white post and proceeded to polish the little -effigy with his handkerchief, having previously moistened the latter with his -tongue. The polishing improved its appearance wonderfully, and he was -inspecting it complacently when his eye lighted on a chalked inscription on -the pavement. The writing was upside-down as he sat, but he had no difficulty -in deciphering the words “Wet paint.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>He rose hastily and examined the flat top of the post. There is no need -to go into details. Suffice it to say that anyone looking at that post could -<span class='pageno' id='Page_119'>119</span>have seen that some person had sat on it. Mr. Jawley moved away with an -angry exclamation. It was very annoying. But that did not justify the -expressions that he used; which were not only out of character with his usual -mild demeanour but unsuitable to his cloth, even if that cloth happened to -be—but again we say there is no need to go into details. Still frowning irritably, -he strode out through the dock gates and up the High Street on his way to -Miss Gosse’s establishment. As he was passing the fruiterer’s shop, Mr. Barber, -the proprietor, ran out.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Good evening, Mr. Jawley. About those pears that you ordered of my -young man. You’d better not have those, sir. Let me send you another kind.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Why?” asked the curate.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Well, sir, those pears, to be quite candid, are not very good——”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I don’t care whether they are good or bad,” interrupted Mr. Jawley. -“I am not going to eat them,” and he stamped away up the High Street, leaving -the fruiterer in a state of stupefaction. But he did not proceed directly to -the milliner’s. Some errant fancy impelled him to turn up a side-street and -make his way towards the waterside portion of the town; and it was, in fact, -nearly eight o’clock when he approached Miss Gosse’s premises (now closed for the -night) and rang the bell. The interval, however, had not been entirely uneventful. -A blue mark under the left eye and a somewhat battered and dusty condition -of hat and clothing seemed reminiscent of recent and thrilling experiences; and -the satisfied grin that he bestowed on the astonished caretaker suggested that -those experiences, if strenuous, had not been wholly unpleasurable.</p> - -<p class='c008'>The shades of night had fallen on the village of Bobham when Mr. Jawley -appeared in the one and only street. He carried, balanced somewhat unsteadily -on his head, a large cardboard box, but was otherwise unencumbered. The -box had originally been of a cubical form, but now presented a slightly irregular -outline and from one corner a thin liquid dripped on Mr. Jawley’s shoulder, -diffusing an aroma of vinegar and onions with an added savour that was delicate -and fish-like. Up the empty street the curate strode with a martial air, and -having picked up the box—for the thirteenth time—just outside the gate, -entered the rectory, deposited his burden on the drawing-room sofa, and went -up to his room. He required no supper. For once in a way he was not hungry. -He had, in fact, taken a little refreshment in town; and whelks are a very -satisfying food, if you only take enough of them.</p> - -<p class='c008'>In his narrow and bumpy bed the curate lay wakeful and wrapped in -pleasing meditation. Now his thoughts strayed to the little bronze parrot, -which he had placed, after a final polish, on the mantelpiece; and now, in -delightful retrospection, he recalled the incidents of his little jaunt. There -was, for instance, the slightly intoxicated marine with whom he had enjoyed -a playful interview in Mermaid Street. Gleefully he reconstituted the image -of that warrior as he had last seen him sitting in the gutter attending to his -features with a reddened handkerchief. And there was the overturned whelk-stall -and the two bluejackets outside the “Pope’s Head.” He grinned at -the recollection. And yet there were grumblers who actually complained of -the dulness of the clerical life!</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_120'>120</span>Again he recalled the pleasant walk home across the darkening fields, -the delightful rest by the wayside (on the cardboard box), and the pleasantries -that he had exchanged with a pair of rustic lovers—who had told him that -“he ought to be ashamed of himself; a gentleman and a minister of religion, -too!” He chuckled aloud as he thought of their bucolic irritation and his -own brilliant repartee.</p> - -<p class='c008'>But at this moment his meditations were broken into by a very singular -interruption. From the neighbourhood of the mantelpiece there issued -a voice—a very strange voice, deep, buzzing, resonant, chanting a short sentence, -framed of yet more strange and unfamiliar words:</p> - -<p class='c008'>“<i>Donköh e didi mä tūm. On esse?</i>”</p> - -<p class='c008'>This astounding phrase rang out in the little room with a deep, booming -emphasis on the “tūm,” and an interrogative note on the two final words. -There followed an interval of intense silence, and then, from some distance, -as it seemed, came the tapping of drums, imitating, most curiously, the sound -and accent of the words; “tūm,” for instance, being rendered by a large drum -of deep, cavernous tone.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Mr. Jawley listened with a pleased and interested smile. After a short -interval, the chant was repeated, and again, like a far-away echo, the drums -performed their curious mimicry of speech. Mr. Jawley was deeply interested. -After a dozen or so of repetitions, he found himself able to repeat, with a fair -accent, the mysterious sentence, and even to imitate the tapping and booming -of the drums.</p> - -<p class='c008'>But after all you can have too much of a good thing; and when the chant -had continued to recur, at intervals of about ten seconds, for a quarter of -an hour, Mr. Jawley began to feel bored.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“There!” said he, “that’ll do,” and he composed himself for slumber. -But the invisible chanter, ignoring his remark, continued the performance -<i>da capo</i> and <i>ad lib.</i>—in fact, <i>ad nauseam</i>. Then Mr. Jawley became annoyed. -First he sat up in bed and made what he considered appropriate comments -on the performance, with a few personal references to the performer; and -then, as the chant still continued with the relentless persistence of a chapel -bell, he sprang out and strode furiously over to the mantelpiece.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Shut up!” he roared, shaking his fist at the invisible parrot; and, -strange to say, both the chant and the drumming ceased forthwith. There -are some forms of speech, it would seem, that require no interpreter.</p> - -<p class='c008'>When Mr. Jawley entered the breakfast-room on the following morning, -the rector’s wife was in the act of helping her husband to a devilled kidney, -but she paused in the occupation to greet the curate with a stony stare. Mr. -Jawley sat down and knocked his knee as usual, but commented on the circumstance -in terms which were not at all usual. The rector stared aghast -and Mrs. Bodley exclaimed in shrill accents: “Mr. Jawley, how dare——”</p> - -<p class='c008'>At this point she paused, having caught the curate’s eye. A deathly -silence ensued, during which Mr. Jawley glared at a solitary boiled egg. Suddenly -he snatched up a knife, and with uncanny dexterity, decapitated the -egg with a single stroke. Then he peered curiously into the disclosed cavity. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_121'>121</span>Now if there was one thing that Mr. Jawley hated more than another, it was -an underdone egg; and as his eye encountered a yellow spheroid floating -in a clear liquid, he frowned ominously.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Raw, by Gosh!” he exclaimed hoarsely; and plucking the egg from -its calyx, he sent it hurtling across the room. For several seconds the rector -stared, silent and open-mouthed, at his curate; then, following his wife’s -gaze, he stared at the wall, on the chrysanthemum paper of which appeared -a new motive uncontemplated by the designer. And meanwhile, Mr. Jawley -reached across the table and stuck a fork into the devilled kidney.</p> - -<p class='c008'>When the rector looked round and discovered his loss, he essayed some -spluttered demands for an explanation. But since the organs of speech are -associated with the act of mastication, the curate was not in a position to -answer him. His eyes, however, were disengaged at the moment, and some -compelling quality in them caused the rector and his wife to rise from their -chairs and back cautiously towards the door. Mr. Jawley nodded them out -blandly; and being left in possession, proceeded to fill himself a cup of tea, -and another of coffee, cleared the dish, emptied the toast-rack, and having -disposed of these trifles, concluded a Gargantuan repast by crunching up the -contents of the sugar-basin. Never had he enjoyed such a breakfast, and never -had he felt so satisfied and joyous.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Having wiped his smiling lips on the table-cloth, he strolled out into the -playground, where the boys were waiting to be driven in to lessons. At the -moment of his appearance, Messrs. Joblett and Byles were in the act of resuming -adjourned hostilities. The curate strode through the ring of spectators and -beamed on the combatants with ferocious benevolence. His arrival had produced -a brief armistice, but as he uttered no protests, the battle was resumed -with a tentative prod on the part of Joblett.</p> - -<p class='c008'>The curate grinned savagely. “That isn’t the way, Joblett,” he exclaimed. -“Kick him, man. Kick him in the stomach.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Beg pardon, sir,” said Joblett, regarding his preceptor with saucer-eyes. -“Did you say kick him?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Yes,” roared the curate. “In the stomach. Like this!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>He backed a few paces, and fixing a glittering eye on Byles’s abdomen, rushed -forward, and, flinging his right foot back until it was almost visible over his -shoulder, let out a tremendous kick. But Byles’s stomach was not there. -Neither was Byles, which, of course, follows. The result was that Mr. Jawley’s -foot, meeting with no resistance, flew into space, carrying Mr. Jawley’s centre -of gravity with it.</p> - -<p class='c008'>When the curate scrambled to his feet and glared balefully around, the -playground was empty. A frantic crowd surged in through the open house -door, while stragglers hurriedly climbed over the walls.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Mr. Jawley laughed hoarsely. It was time to open school, but at the -moment he was not studiously inclined. Letting himself out by the gate, -he strolled forth into the village and sauntered up the street. And here it -was, just opposite the little butcher’s shop, that he encountered the village -atheist. Now this philosopher—who, it is needless to say, was a cobbler by -<span class='pageno' id='Page_122'>122</span>profession—had a standing and perennial joke, which was to greet the curate -with the words: “How do, Jawley?” and thereby elicit a gracious “Good -morning, Mr. Pegg” and a polite touch of the hat. He proceeded this morning -to utter the invariable formula, cocking his eye at the expectant butcher. -But the anticipated response came not. Instead, the curate turned on him -suddenly and growled:</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Say ‘sir,’ you vermin, when you speak to your betters.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>The astounded cobbler was speechless for a moment. But only for a -moment.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“What!” he exclaimed, “me say ‘sir’ to a sneakin’ little sky-pilot, -what——”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Here Mr. Jawley turned and stepped lightly over to the shop. Reaching -in through the open front, he lifted a cleaver from its nail, and swinging it -high above his head, rushed with a loud yell at the offending cobbler. But -Mr. Pegg was not without presence of mind—which, in this case, connoted -absence of body. Before you could say “wax,” he had darted into his house, -bolted the door, and was looking down with bulging eyes from the first-floor -window on the crown of the curate’s hat.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Meanwhile the butcher had emerged angrily from his shop and approached -the curate from behind.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Here,” he exclaimed gruffly, “what are you doing with that chop——” -Here he paused suddenly as Mr. Jawley turned his head, and he continued with -infinite suavity:</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Could you, sir, manage to spare that cleaver? If you would be so -kind——”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Mr. Jawley uttered a sulky growl and thrust the great chopper into its -owner’s hands; then, as the butcher turned away, he gave a loud laugh, on -which the tradesman cleared his threshold at a single bound and slammed the -half-door behind him. But a terrified backward glance showed him the curate’s -face wreathed in smiles, and another glance made him aware of the diminutive -figure of Miss Dorcas Shipton approaching up the street.</p> - -<p class='c008'>The curate ran forward to meet her, beaming with affection. But he -didn’t merely beam. Not at all. The sound of his greeting was audible even -to Mr. Pegg, who leaned out of window, with eyes that bulged more than -ever.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Really, Deodatus!” exclaimed the scandalised Miss Dorcas. “What -can you be thinking about, in such a pub——” Her remonstrances were cut -short at this point by fresh demonstrations, which caused the butcher to -wipe his mouth with the back of his hand and Mr. Pegg to gasp with fresh -amazement.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Pray, pray remember yourself, Deodatus!” exclaimed the blushing Dorcas, -wriggling, at length, out of his too-affectionate grasp. “Besides,” she added -with a sudden strategic inspiration, “you surely ought to be in school at this -time.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“That is of no consequence, darling,” said Jawley, advancing on her with -open arms; “old Bod can look after the whelps.”</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_123'>123</span>“Oh, but you mustn’t neglect your duties, Deodatus,” said Miss Dorcas, -still backing away. “Won’t you go in, just to please me?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Certainly, my love, if you wish it,” replied Jawley, with an amorous leer. -“I’ll go at once—but I <i>must</i> have just one more,” and again the village street -rang with a sound as of the popping of a ginger-beer cork.</p> - -<p class='c008'>As he approached the school, Mr. Jawley became aware of the familiar and -distasteful roar of many voices. Standing in the doorway, he heard Mr. -Bodley declare with angry emphasis that he “would not have this disgraceful -noise,” and saw him slap the desk with his open hand; whereupon nothing -in particular happened excepting an apparently preconcerted chorus as of -many goats. Then Mr. Jawley entered and looked round; and in a moment -the place was wrapped in a silence like that of an Egyptian tomb.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Space does not allow of our recording in detail the history of the next -few days. We may, however, say in general terms that there grew up in -the village of Bobham a feeling of universal respect for the diminutive curate, -not entirely unmixed with superstitious awe. Rustics, hitherto lax in their -manners, pulled off their hats like clockwork at his approach; Mr. Pegg, -abandoning the village street, cultivated a taste for footpaths, preferably -remote and unobstructed by trees; the butcher fell into the habit of sending -gratuitous sweetbreads to the Rectory, addressed to Mr. Jawley; and even -the blacksmith, when he had recovered from his black eye, adopted a suave -and conciliatory demeanour.</p> - -<p class='c008'>The rector’s wife alone cherished a secret resentment (though outwardly -attentive in the matter of devilled kidneys and streaky bacon), and urged the -rector to get rid of his fire-eating subordinate; but her plans failed miserably. -It is true that the rector did venture tentatively to open the subject to the -curate, who listened with a lowering brow and sharpened a lead pencil with -a colossal pocket-knife that he had bought at a ship-chandler’s in Dilbury. -But the conclusion was never reached. Distracted, perhaps, by Mr. Jawley’s -inscrutable manner, the rector became confused, and, to his own surprise, -found himself urging the curate to accept an additional twenty pounds a year—an -offer which Mr. Jawley immediately insisted on having in writing.</p> - -<p class='c008'>The only person who did not share the universal awe was Miss Dorcas; -for she, like the sundial, “numbered only the sunny hours.” But she respected -him more than any, and, though dimly surprised at the rumours of his doings, -gloried in secret over his prowess.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Thus the days rolled on, and Mr. Jawley put on flesh visibly. Then came -the eventful morning when, on scanning the rector’s <i>Times</i>, his eye lighted -on an advertisement in the Personal Column:</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Ten Pounds Reward.—Lost: a small bronze effigy of a parrot on a square -pedestal; the whole two and a half inches high. The above Reward will -be paid on behalf of the owner by the Curator of the Ethnographical Department -of the British Museum, who has a photograph and description of the -object.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Now Mr. Jawley had become deeply attached to the parrot. But after -all, it was only a pretty trifle, and ten pounds was ten pounds. That very -<span class='pageno' id='Page_124'>124</span>afternoon, the Curator found himself confronted by a diminutive clergyman -of ferocious aspect, and hurriedly disgorged ten sovereigns after verifying -the description; and to this day he is wont to recount, as an instance of the -power of money, the remarkable change for the better in the clergyman’s -manners when the transaction was completed.</p> - -<p class='c008'>It was late in the afternoon when Mr. Jawley reappeared in the village -of Bobham. He carried a gigantic paper parcel under one arm, and his pockets -bulged so that he appeared to suffer from some unclassified deformity. At the -stile, he suddenly encountered Mr. Pegg, who prepared for instant flight and -was literally stupefied when the curate lifted his hat and graciously wished -him “good evening.” But Mr. Pegg was even more stupefied when, a few -minutes later, he saw the curate seated on a doorstep, with the open parcel -on his knees, and a mob of children gathered around him. For Mr. Jawley, -with the sunniest of smiles, was engaged in distributing dolls, peg-tops, skipping-ropes, -and little wooden horses to a running accompaniment of bull’s-eyes, -brandy-balls, and other delicacies, which he produced from inexhaustible pockets. -He even offered Mr. Pegg himself a sugar-stick, which the philosophic cordwainer -accepted with a polite bow and presently threw over a wall. But -he pondered deeply on this wonder, and is probably pondering still, in common -with the other inhabitants of Bobham.</p> - -<p class='c008'>But though, from that moment, Mr. Jawley became once more the gentlest -and most amiable of men, the prestige of his former deeds remained; reverential -awe attended his footsteps abroad, devilled kidneys and streaky bacon were -his portion at home; until such time as Miss Dorcas Shipton underwent a -quieter metamorphosis and became Mrs. Deodatus Jawley. And thereafter -he walked, not only amidst reverence and awe, but also amidst flowers and -sunshine.</p> - -<hr class='c014' /> - -<p class='c008'><i>Postscript.</i>—The curious who would know more about the parrot may -find him on his appropriate shelf in the West African Section, and read the -large descriptive label which sets forth his history.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Bronze-gold weight in the form of a parrot. This object was formerly -the property of the great Ashanti war Chief, Amankwa Tia, whose clan totem -was a parrot. It was worn by him, attached to his wrist, as an amulet or charm, -and when on a campaign a larger copy of it, of gilded wood, was carried by -the chief herald, who preceded him and chanted his official motto. It may -be explained here that each of the Ashanti generals had a distinguishing motto, -consisting of a short sentence, which was called out before him by his heralds -when on the march, and repeated, with remarkably close mimicry, by the -message drums. Thus, when several bodies of troops were marching through -the dense forest, their respective identities were made clear to one another -by the sound of the chant on the drums. Amankwa Tia’s motto was: -‘Donköh e didi mä tūm. On esse?’ Which may be translated: -‘(Foreign) Slaves revile me. Why?’ A somewhat meaningless sentence, -but having, perhaps, a sinister significance.”</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_125'>125</span> - <h2 class='c003'><span class='xxlarge'>The Forbidden Woman</span><br /> <br /><span class='xlarge'><i>By</i> Warwick Deeping</span><br /> <br /><i>Royal Army Medical Corps</i></h2> -</div> - -<p class='c007'>Hilary Blake went down through the tangled shrubs of the garden that -was half a wilderness, and a strange, white awe was on his face.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Twice he paused, turned, and looked back. She was still there on the -terrace, set high against the sunset—a strange, wet sunset, in which streaks -of opalescent blue showed dimly through a vaporous glow of scarlet and gold. -Queer, slate-coloured clouds sailed low down across the sky. The far woods -were the colour of amethyst. But Judith of the terrace was outlined against -a clear breadth of gold. She was watching him, and he could imagine the -provoking set of her head, and that enigmatic smile of hers that made men -wonder.</p> - -<p class='c008'>She had been strangely kind to him that evening, and the fire of her beauty -was in his blood.</p> - -<p class='c008'>How was it that she had been a young widow these five years, and that no -man had won her a second time? She was proud, with a vague, elusive pride, -a pride that baffled and kept men at a distance. And yet it had seemed to -him that there was a great sadness behind those eyes, a dread of something, -a loneliness that waxed impatient. Sudden silences would fall on her. He -had found her looking at him in a queer and tragic way, as though she saw -some shadow of fate falling between them.</p> - -<p class='c008'>A spray of syringa brushed across his face as he walked on down the tangled -path. It was wet and fragrant, and, with sudden exultation, he crushed it -against his mouth. The smell of it was of June and of her.</p> - -<p class='c008'>He went on, head in air, marvelling at all the tangle of chances that had -brought this great thing to him. A year ago he had been Captain Blake, -of the 7th Foot, leading redcoats by the Canadian lakes. He remembered -that letter coming to him, that letter that told him how two deaths had made -him Blake of Brackenhurst Manor. There had been that wild dinner in -that block-house by the lakes, when all the fine fellows had drunk to Blake -of Brackenhurst, and Red Eagle and his “braves” had gone mad with fire-water -and set the store-house alight by shooting into the thatch. He had -not seen Brackenhurst since he was a boy. He had come to it a little elated, -and he had discovered her.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_126'>126</span>“Good evening, Captain Blake.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Hilary had just let the wicket-gate clash behind him. He turned sharply.</p> - -<p class='c008'>An old yew threw a deep shade here, shutting off the sunset, and, leaning -against the fence under it, Hilary saw a big man in a long green coat, buff -riding-breeches and top boots. He wore a black, unpowdered wig under his -three-cornered hat, and this dark wig set off the sallow and impassive breadth -of a face that showed to the world a laconic arrogance. He had a little book -of fishing flies in his hands, and as he played with it casually his eyes looked at -Hilary Blake with an ironical insolence that was but half veiled.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Blake hardly knew the man, save by sight and reputation. He was Sir -Royce Severn, of Moor Hall, a man with a mystery round him and more -duels to his credit than his neighbours cared to mention. In fact, there was -a sort of dread of him dominating the neighbourhood. He lived practically -alone at Moor Hall, up yonder against the northern sky, a grim, secretive sort -of creature who rode, and shot, and fished alone.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Good evening to you,” and Blake’s eyes added, “What may you be -doing outside Judith Strange’s garden fence?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>The man seemed to have been waiting for that challenging look in the -other’s eyes. He gave a queer and almost noiseless laugh, and put his fly-book -away in his pocket. A heavy hunting-crop hung on the fence. Sir -Royce Severn tucked it with a certain cynical ostentation under his arm.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I think we are strangers, Captain Blake.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I think we are, sir.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“My way is your way for a mile or so. Do you take the path through -the park?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I do.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>He moved on, and the man in green set himself beside him. The sunset -was on their faces, and up yonder Judith of the Terrace still stood outlined -against a glow of gold.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Blake saw his companion look steadily towards her, and there was something -in that look that made his blood simmer.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Mrs. Judith stays out late on so damp an evening.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“And what is it to you if she does, my friend,” said Blake’s eyes.</p> - -<p class='c008'>The man in green laughed, that quiet, threatening laugh of his.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“You come here very often, Captain Blake.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I beg your pardon, sir.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I said, you come here very often. You are new to these parts; I know -them better than you do.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>A cold anger began to stir in Hilary Blake.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“My business is my own, Sir Royce Severn. Pray leave it at that.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>The other answered him sharply.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I deny that, Captain Blake; I deny that flatly. It is my business to -tell you that Judith Strange is a dangerous woman.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>The path had reached a spot where great oaks were gathered together, -casting a half gloom over the grass. Under their canopies the stormy sky -showed yellow and red.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_127'>127</span>Blake stopped dead and faced the man in green.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I think, sir, you are a little mad—or very insolent.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I am neither the one nor the other.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“You will leave a certain name untouched in my presence.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>He saw two like points of light shine out in the other’s eyes.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“That is the language that all of them have used, Captain Blake. Your -good cousin talked like that, sir, though what right he had to mouth such -heroics only his own silly conceit could tell. I have heard a great deal of -such talk”—he shrugged and laughed—“it never moved me one iota.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Blake stared at him.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Moved you, sir! What cause was there for you to be moved—one way -or the other? Save that if you spoke lightly of a lady it was right that some -man should smite you on the mouth.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“That no man has ever done.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Indeed!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I speak of Judith Strange as I please.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I think not, sir.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Captain Blake, you have never seen me handle a sword or mark my man -with a pistol.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>He drew himself up, squaring his shoulders; and his arrogant face was a -threat, a face that loomed big and white and fanatical under the gloom of -the trees.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Blake’s eyes grew dangerous.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Come out into the open, sir. What is at the bottom of all this boasting?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Sir Royce Severn bowed to him.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Captain Blake, let me suggest to you that you go no more to Judith -Strange’s house.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Let me suggest, sir, that you mind your own business.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Judith Strange is my business.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>The younger man took a step forward, and his left arm went up. Severn’s -hunting-crop whirled suddenly, and struck Blake’s fist so that one of the -knucklebones cracked. The pain of it made Blake stride to and fro, biting -his lips.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“You fiend!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Severn laughed.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“You cannot hurt me, my friend. I never met a cock yet who could -face me in the pit. Judith Strange, Captain Blake, is to be my wife, and -I have a sort of jealousy in me that is dangerous to calves. I say what I -please about the woman I mean to marry.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Blake’s face had gone dead white, but not with physical pain.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I don’t take you, sir.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Oh, come, sir, come. You appear to know very little about women. -Judith Strange would flirt on her wedding morning. But I, Captain Blake, -want no youngsters playing round the woman I mean to marry. If moths -come to my candle, <i>pff</i>, I snuff them out. Only twice, sir, have men dared -to fight with me. They did not need a second dose.”</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_128'>128</span>He tucked his hunting-crop under his arm, took off his hat ironically, and -left Blake standing.</p> - -<p class='c008'>For the moment Hilary Blake’s anger had died out of him. He saw Sir -Royce Severn disappear among the trees, and felt himself a fool for having -ridden the high horse. The man had had the laugh of him. It was all natural, -and logical enough.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Sir Royce Severn could be accused of neither madness nor insolence -if he resented another man paying court to the woman who was to be his -wife.</p> - -<p class='c008'>But Judith! And that wet sunset, and the walk upon the terrace, that -leave-taking, the brushing of the syringa across his mouth! A flare of pain -rushed through him. He thought of the exultation of an hour ago, of the -wonder of joy that had been in his heart.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Had she been playing with him, fooling him? What was he to -believe?</p> - -<p class='c008'>He was lost in the chaos of his own emotions, of love, anger, scorn, hate, -shame, and savage regret. He would go back and hear the truth from her -own lips. But no, the laughter of a coquette would be too bitter for him -to bear. Great God! was she that heartless thing? Why should he believe -this man’s word against her, throw over all that was sacred because of Severn’s -confident sneers?</p> - -<p class='c008'>Hilary turned, and began to walk back along the path, staring at the -ground in front of him, forgetting his bruised hand. The splendour was -dying in the west, and a blue twilight flowing into the valleys; the hills looked -black and cold.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Hilary!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>She had come on him suddenly out of the twilight, and the red brocade -dress that she was wearing seemed to catch the last rays of the sunset, and to -glow amid the gloom. She was breathing fast as though she had been running, -and he could see the rising and falling of her breast.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Hilary had stopped dead, his head held high.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Mrs. Judith!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>But that haughty poise of his was no more than hoar frost on a sunny -morning.</p> - -<p class='c008'>She came close to him till he saw the shine in her eyes, the proud rage -of her white throat, and the way that glowing red brocade swayed up and -down below a smother of white lace. Even the lover in him had guessed her -capable of great passion, but now that he saw the full flare thereof he stood -silent and astonished.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“That brute was waiting for you. I had looked for it. That is why I -stayed upon the terrace. I knew that it must happen some day soon.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Sir Royce Severn?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Her passion did not give him time to speak.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“So, Hilary Blake, he has frozen or frightened you—after his fashion! -You hold your head high and look at me with haughty eyes! Must I defend -myself, I, who have never justified myself to any man? By Heaven, why -<span class='pageno' id='Page_129'>129</span>should I stoop to defend myself before any man? Why? Even before -you!”</p> - -<div class='figcenter id001'> -<img src='images/f128.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic002'> -<p>“‘Judith, I will break this fate of yours.’ He drew closer, but she put him back with her hands” (page 130).</p> -</div> -</div> - -<p class='c008'>Her whole figure seemed to glow in the twilight like metal at red heat, but -her face was a stark white, her eyes challenged him.</p> - -<p class='c008'>He drew his breath in deeply, for this tempest of passion played upon the -half-smothered fire in him like the wind.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Judith, what have I said yet?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Ah, say it; let us have it spoken. Then I, too, will speak.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>He looked at her, and a sudden generous shame smote him.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“No, by Heaven!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>She beat her hands together.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Yes, by Heaven! But I can guess what Severn said: that I am to be his -wife, that I have played with men——”</p> - -<p class='c008'>His silence answered her.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“He lied. Do you hear, he lied. My God, how I hate that man!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>She stood very still a moment, but it was the stillness of a wrath that found -nothing strong enough to carry it to self-expression.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Listen. For five years—ever since my husband died—this man has -persecuted me. ‘Judith, marry me,’ he has asked, month by month, but I -know that I hated him from the first, and I did not hide my hate. But -he is a devil, that man; he seemed to thrive on the ‘Nays’ I gave him, and he -came and quarrelled month by month, by way of making love. I forbade -him the house. He laughed, and said: ‘Be sure that I shall not let you -marry another man. I shall scare them away, or kill them if they refuse to -be scared.’ And he was as good as his word. Men sought me; I did not -seek them, nor did I love any of those who came to me to make love. What -did it matter? Each man dropped away in turn, and came no more. Three -were cowards; two fought Royce Severn and were wounded; he swore that -he would kill them the next time, and they took him at his word. Love was -not worth the risk! Then he would waylay me somewhere, and be smooth, -and courteous, and sneering. ‘Judith,’ he would say, ‘no man will put me -out of his path. You will marry me—or remain a widow.’ And when I -threatened to go away—marry, to spite him—he threatened in return. ‘My -dear, I shall follow you. And if you trick me, by marrying, you will be a -widow again within a month.’”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Strange as the tale sounded, Blake knew that it was the truth, and a -fierce exultation woke in him. If she had not cared, would she have told -him this?</p> - -<p class='c008'>“The man is mad!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Mad, yes, but most accursedly logical in his madness. The Severns -have been like that. Sometimes I feel that I shall take his life, or that he -will take mine.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Blake took a step towards her.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Judith, am I no more than the other men, the cowards, and the two -who would not dare the uttermost?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I shall not answer you.”</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_130'>130</span>“By Heaven, you must! Why, even if you have no love for me, shall -I slink away and not fight for the right to be near you! There is a devil in -me that can match the devil in Royce Severn.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>She gave a queer, inarticulate cry, and the fire died out of her eyes.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“No, no; that is why I followed you to-night. Hilary, I knew that you -were not like those others.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“You knew that! Then——”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“No, no; listen. I have a feeling in me sometimes that I am a woman -who is fatal to men—fatal to those who love me. A month ago I might not -have cared, but now I care too much. Hilary, promise never to see me -again.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>He gave a grim yet exultant laugh.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“That is impossible. Judith, I will break this fate of yours.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>He drew closer, but she put him back with her hands.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“No, no; have I not told you that this man is a devil? No one in these -parts would dare to cross him. He can shoot as no mortal man should shoot, -and they say that the best French swordsmen could not touch him. It is -death.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>He drew himself up, and his eyes smiled suddenly.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“If it be death, well, what of that! My love is greater than Severn’s -love. I, too, can use foil or pistol, and a cavalry sabre is like neither of these. -I shall fight this man.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>She stood white and mute a moment, her hands hanging limply. Then -suddenly her hands were upon his shoulders, her passionate face looking into -his.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Hilary, oh, my dear! No, no; I cannot bear it. Go away, leave me. -I shall have your blood upon my hands, and then I think I shall go mad.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>He caught her and held her.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Judith, I cannot leave you. So I must kill Severn.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“But he——”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Dear, the man is mortal. I say, I shall kill him.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Yet, if you kill him——”</p> - -<p class='c008'>He lifted her face to his.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Well, I might have to go over the water for a while. But I should come -back.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Hilary!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>He felt all the woman in her stirring in his arms.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Hilary, I should be with you then, not here. Oh, if it were possible!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Dear, is this the truth?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“The uttermost truth, the very heart of my heart.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>He looked at her, very dearly, and then kissed her upon the mouth.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“So be it. Go back, my beloved. I have work to do.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>He had to free himself, almost by force, for her dread returned.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“No, no; I shall never see you again.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I swear that you shall. Dear heart, let me go.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>He put her hands aside very gently.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_131'>131</span>“Judith, go home and wait. By morning I may have news for you.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>In half an hour Blake was on the edge of the moor, walking as though for -a wager. A mere cart track led over the moor to Moor Hall, and on either -side of it were stretched masses of whin and heather. A moon was just rising, -and all the countryside was spread below, the distant cliffs drawing a black -outline about the glimmer of the sea. But Blake was watching the cart track -in front of him.</p> - -<p class='c008'>He had cut an oak sapling with his clasp-knife in one of the park plantations -so that he should have something to match against Royce Severn’s -hunting-crop.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Blake had guessed that he might catch his man on the homeward road, -and catch him he did, just where the track turned eastwards over the ridge -of the moor. Fifty paces ahead of him Blake saw a black figure rise against -the sky-line, almost between him and the rising moon.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Sir Royce Severn.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>The black figure paused, and waited there against the steel-grey sky.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Who’s there?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>The moonlight showed him Hilary Blake.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Ah, Captain Blake, come to apologise so soon!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“No, sir, only to tell you that you are a liar.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>He could not see Severn’s face, for he had his back turned towards the -moon.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“So you do not believe me, Captain Blake?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“No, I do not, sir; or I should not have turned so far out of my way -to call you a liar and a coward.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Both men felt that it had come, that they were like dogs doomed to be -at each other’s throats, but Severn strolled forward with a casual air, flicking -his hunting-crop to and fro as though he were beating time to a piece of music. -And that arrogant self-confidence of his fooled him. He had to do with an -athlete that night, a man who had matched himself to run and leap against -Indians, and not with some heavy squireling or town gallant out of condition -with drink and cards. For Blake took a standing leap at Severn, covered ten -foot of ground at the spring, and got such a blow home as sent the big man -sprawling.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Blake was on him, and had wrenched the hunting-crop away. He broke -it across his knee, and threw the pieces into a furze bush.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“If you want a broken fist, sir, I have an oak sapling that will wipe out -that blow you gave me two hours ago.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>But Severn was up, in far too wild a rage for sticks or fisticuffs.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Fool, I should have warned you with a sword-prick through the arm, but -now, by the woman I mean to marry, I will kill you.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Leave it at that!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Choose your weapons. I’ll meet you with whatever you please.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Blake smiled over set teeth.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I claim cavalry sabres. I have two. You shall have your choice.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Severn snarled at him.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_132'>132</span>“You prefer being slashed to pricked, eh? Very good. One second each -will serve. At six to-morrow morning.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“When you please.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Severn became suddenly and splendidly polite.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Captain Blake, it will be a pleasure. What do you say to that little -field at the back of the fir plantation on the main road down yonder? You -know it?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Yes.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“At six, then. I have a friend at my house who will act for me. I -shall be happy to choose one of your sabres. I wish you a very good -night.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>His politeness had thinned to an ironical and sneering playfulness, but Blake -had been born with a stiff back. Yet he saw how Royce Severn had trodden -on the courage of those other men, and half cowed them before they had crossed -swords.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“It is a pretty thing, a cavalry sabre, sir. May you, too, pass a good -night. I shall go home and get some sleep.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>And so they parted.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Hilary Blake turned back for Brackenhurst, and in half an hour found -himself standing in the brick porch of Colonel Maundrell’s house at the -end of Brackenhurst village. The colonel’s old soldier-servant answered his -knock.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Is your master in, Thomas?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Sure, sir; he is in.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“And alone?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“And alone, sir.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Colonel Maundrell was sitting at the open window of his library that looked -towards the sea.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Two candles in silver candlesticks stood on the oak table, and their pale -light seemed to mingle with the moonlight that streamed in at the window. -The old soldier with the hawk’s beak of a nose and the iron-grey head had -been sitting there thinking.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Directly the door had closed and the sound of Thomas’s footsteps could -be heard departing, Blake told his business.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Colonel, I want you to second me. I fight Royce Severn at six to-morrow -morning.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>The old soldier sat forward in his chair. Then, after a moment’s silence, -“Curse Royce Severn.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>He rose, and drawing himself to his full height, looked searchingly at -Blake from under his straight grey eyebrows.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“What has made you quarrel with Royce Severn?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“A love affair, sir.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Maundrell pulled out his tortoise-shell snuff-box and took snuff vigorously.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“So you want to marry Judith Strange. I know how Severn has persecuted -her. It is a pity someone has not shot the beast; I have thought of -doing it myself. But do you know what you are doing, Blake?”</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_133'>133</span>“I am going to marry Judith Strange.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Yes, yes; all very well that. But this man Severn can shoot and fence -like the devil himself. He is the coolest and most deadly beast when there -is fighting afoot. Who has the choice of weapons?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I have, sir; I have chosen cavalry sabres.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>The colonel threw up his right hand with a stiff gesture of delight.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Sabres? excellent! Severn’s love is the foil. There are some men, Blake, -who can never take kindly to sabre play, just as some men would rather be -slashed than pinked through the liver. Sabres: excellent!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>He walked up and down, limping slightly, from an old wound that he had -got at Fontenoy.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Where do we meet, lad?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“In the little meadow behind the fir plantation above Gaymer’s farm.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“At six?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“At six. I take the sabres. Severn has his choice. A friend is to second -him.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I know that friend of his. A little brown beast of a French fencing-master. -Sabres: excellent! Look you, lad, speed is the great thing against -a man like Severn. Go at it, like a cavalry charge. I have known good -swordsmen knocked over by mere slashing boys in a cavalry charge. It is -no use playing the cunning game with Royce Severn.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Thank you, sir. I am out to kill him in the first thirty seconds. I know -something about sabres.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>The colonel came and tapped him on the shoulder.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Blake, you had better sleep here. Go up and get those sabres now it -is dark.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“That is an idea, sir. I want to pack a valise, and get all the money I -have in the house. I will ride my black horse down here and stable him for -the night.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Lad, you don’t contemplate dying! That’s the spirit.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“If I have to go, sir, I’ll not leave Severn alive behind me. Judith shall -be free.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>It was a cloudless June morning when Hilary Blake and Colonel Maundrell -got on their horses and took the lane that led round the back of the village -past the mill.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Blake’s Canadian campaigning had hardened him, and he had slept for -three hours. He carried a leather valise strapped to his saddle. The colonel -had the sabres wrapped in a black cloth under his arm. Mists still hung -about the valleys, and they could not see the sea.</p> - -<p class='c008'>They passed Gaymer’s farm and came to the fir plantation. It was black, -and still, and secret, and gloom hung within the crowded trunks like a curtain. -A rough gate opened through a ragged hedge. They dismounted, and leading -their horses, disappeared into the wood.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Judith Strange had not slept, for a man had come riding late up the drive -between the old oaks, and had left a letter with the major domo, and galloped -away again as though fearful of being called back. The letter had been -<span class='pageno' id='Page_134'>134</span>sealed with red wax, and Judith had broken the seal and read the letter by -candle-light in the long parlour.</p> - -<p class='c018'>“<span class='sc'>Judith</span>,—I love you. I fight Severn to-morrow morning, and -you shall be free. Do not try to come between us, for you will fail.</p> - -<div class='c019'>“<span class='sc'>Hilary Blake.</span>”</div> - -<p class='c008'>She had turned the letter over in her hands, and her gaze had rested on -the red wax of the seal she had broken. The colour of blood! She had been -seized by a foreboding of evil, by the thought that this thing was prophetic, -that to-morrow the man who loved her might be dead.</p> - -<p class='c008'>She fought against this dread in her own heart, but she did not sleep. -Her servants were a-bed; the candles had burnt out in the long parlour, and -the full moon shone over the sea.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Judith had stepped through the open window on to the terrace, and she -walked to and fro there in the moonlight, feeling that she was helpless to -hinder the workings of her own fate.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Then she rebelled, thrust her forebodings aside, and refused to believe in -her own fears.</p> - -<p class='c008'>She returned to the house, found a little hand-lamp burning in the panelled -hall, and taking it went up the broad stairs to her room at the end of the long -gallery. There was a valise under the bed. She pulled it out, and began -to fill it with clothes, and to collect her jewellery and store it away in a rosewood -case bound with brass. Nor did she forget the guineas she kept in the -secret drawer of her bureau.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Then she dressed herself as for a journey, with a kind of tenderness towards -herself and towards her love, putting on one of her red brocades and a black -beaver hat with black feather. She looked long at herself in her glass, touching -her black hair with her fingers, on which she had thrust the most precious of -her rings. Emeralds and rubies glittered in the lamplight, and her eyes were -almost as feverish as the precious stones.</p> - -<p class='c008'>She sat down in a chair by one of the windows and waited. Hours passed; -the dawn showed in the east; the lamp had burnt all its oil, and had flickered -out. The silence was utter. An anguish of restlessness returned.</p> - -<p class='c008'>A clock struck five. She rose, passed out of the room, down the dim -stairs, and through the long parlour on to the terrace. The freshness of the -dawn was there, and the birds were awake in the thickets. She began to walk -up and down, up and down over the stone flags, with the heavy mists lying -in the valleys below, and the sea hidden by a great grey pall.</p> - -<p class='c008'>The boom of a gun came from the sea. It was some fog-bound ship firing -a signal.</p> - -<p class='c008'>The clock in the turret struck six. A gardener appeared upon the terrace, -saw Judith walking there, stared, and slunk away. She was conscious of a -strange oppression at the heart, a sudden spasmodic quickening of her -suspense. She could walk no longer, but sat down on the dew-wet parapet -and waited.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_135'>135</span>Suddenly the mist lifted. The great trees in the park seemed to shake -themselves free of their white shrouds. The vapour drifted away like smoke; -the grass slopes and hollows showed a glittering greyish green.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Judith stood up, her eyes dark and big in a pale face, for far away, over -yonder, something moved amid the trees. She pressed her hands over her -bosom and waited. And then she saw a galloping horse, and a man bending -forward in the saddle, a little figure, distant in the morning light.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Which was it? She strained her eyes, but could not satisfy her suspense. -Twice had Royce Severn ridden to her in just such a fashion, to make mocking -love to her and to tell her that he had left a rival cowed and beaten.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Suddenly her heart leapt in her. The man had galloped near; he had -seen the figure on the terrace; he waved his hat.</p> - -<p class='c008'>She gave a strange cry, ran to the terrace steps and down them to the path -that led through the wilderness.</p> - -<p class='c008'>They met where a climbing rose trailed in the branches of a half-dead -almond tree. Blake had left his horse at the wicket-gate.</p> - -<p class='c008'>She saw the grim radiance of his face.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Hilary!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I have killed Royce Severn.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>She swayed forward, and he had her in his arms.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Oh, my beloved, you are as white as death.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Dear, I have suffered.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>He kissed her.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Judith, you are free. But this man’s blood——”</p> - -<p class='c008'>She clung to him.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Let us go away, let us go away together. Yes, I have money, and my -jewels, and my valise packed. I will order the coach. They cannot harm -you, Hilary, for killing him, and yet——”</p> - -<p class='c008'>He looked in her eyes and understood.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Dear, we will leave the thought of it behind us. Come, there is no time -to lose. We can make Rye town before noon.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>They went up the terrace steps hand in hand.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_136'>136</span> - <h2 class='c003'><span class='xxlarge'>Eliza <i>and the</i> Special</span><br /> <br /><span class='xlarge'><i>By</i> Barry Pain</span><br /> <br /><i>Royal Naval Air Service</i></h2> -</div> - -<p class='c007'>“Eliza!” I said, after we had retired to the drawing-room, as we almost always -do after our late dinner nowadays, unless of course the lighting of an extra -fire is involved, “Eliza, I have this afternoon come to rather an important -decision. I must ask you to remember the meaning of the word decision. It -means that a thing is decided. It may be perfectly natural to you to beg me -not to risk the exposure to the weather, and the possible attacks by criminals -or German spies, but where my conscience has spoken I am, so to speak, -adamant, (if you would kindly cease playing with the cat, you would be able -to pay more attention to what I am saying). What I want you to realise -is that no entreaties or arguments can possibly move me. This nation is at -present plunged——”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“By the way,” said Eliza, “you don’t mind my interrupting, but I’ve -just thought of it. Miss Lakers says she can’t think why you don’t offer -yourself as a special, and I don’t see why you shouldn’t, either.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“This, Eliza,” I said, “is one of the most extraordinary coincidences that -have befallen me in the whole course of my life. If an author were to put such -a thing in a book, every reader would remark on its improbability. But the -fact remains—at the very moment when you spoke I was on the point of -telling you that I had decided to become a special constable.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“That’s all right, then,” said Eliza. “I’ll tell Miss Lakers. Wonder -you didn’t think of it before. Anything in the evening paper to-night?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“You are hardly taking my decision in the way that might have been -expected,” I said. “However, we will let that pass. We must now take the -necessary steps.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“What do you mean?” said Eliza. “You just go to the station -and——”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I was not thinking of that. There is this question of exposure to the -weather. A warm waistcoat—sufficiently low at the back to give protection -to the kidneys—is, I understand, essential. We must also procure a flask.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Well, I shouldn’t if I were you. If you take whiskey when you’re on -duty, and then anything happens, you only put yourself in the wrong.”</p> - -<div class='figcenter id001'> -<img src='images/p137.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic002'> -<p>“I had forgotten my cocoa flask” (page 139).</p> -</div> -</div> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_138'>138</span>“My dear Eliza,” I said, “I was not dreaming of taking stimulants while -on duty. Afterwards, perhaps, in moderation, but not during. I was referring -to one of those flasks which keep soup or cocoa hot for a considerable period. -This question of exposure to the weather is rather more serious than you seem -to——”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Oh, that kind of flask! Well, that’s different. And do be more careful -when you’re uncrossing your legs. You as near as possible kicked the cat -that time.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>As I told her, she had quite failed to grasp the situation or to take -a proper interest in it. Her reply, that I was too funny, simply had no -bearing on the subject.</p> - -<hr class='c014' /> - -<p class='c008'>I am not a snob. Far from it. But I do think that in the special constabulary -a little more regard might be paid to social status. I was required -for certain hours of the night to guard a small square building connected with -the waterworks. It was in a desperately lonely spot, fully a hundred yards -from the main road and approached by a footpath across a desolate field. I -make no complaint as to that. Unless a man has pretty good nerves he had -better not become a special constable. But I do complain, and with good -reason, that in this task I was associated with Hopley.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Hopley is a plumber, in quite a small way. Some ten or twelve years -ago, when I was merely an employee of the firm in which I am now a -partner, I gave Hopley some work. At the time of taking the order he -called me “sir,” and was most respectful. Later, he used very coarse -language, and said he should not leave my kitchen until the account had -been settled. I remember this because it was the last time that I had to -pawn my watch.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Fortunately, Hopley seemed to have forgotten the incident and to have -forgotten me. On the other hand he seemed quite oblivious of the fact that -there was any social barrier between us. He always addressed me as an -equal, and even as an intimate friend. Making allowances for the unusual -circumstances, the nation being at war, I did not put him back in his place. -But after all, I ask myself, was it necessary? With a little more organisation -it would not have happened.</p> - -<p class='c008'>I will admit that I found him useful at drill and generally tried to be next -him. He seemed to know about drill, and gave me the required pull or push -which makes so much difference.</p> - -<p class='c008'>But when we two were guarding that building I found him most depressing. -He took a pessimistic view of the situation. He said that any special who -was put to guard a waterworks was practically sentenced to death, because -the Germans had got the position of every waterworks in the kingdom charted, -and the Zeppelins had their instructions. Then he talked over the invasion -of England, and the murder of a special constable, and told ghost stories. By -day I could see, almost before Eliza pointed it out, that an incendiary bomb -<span class='pageno' id='Page_139'>139</span>would do more active work in a gasometer than in a reservoir. But in the -darkness of the small hours I am—well, distinctly less critical.</p> - -<p class='c008'>And I may add that the only mistake we have made yet was entirely due -to Hopley. It was a nasty, foggy night and I saw a shadowy form approaching. -I immediately went round to the other side of the building to report to Hopley, -and he said that this was just the sort of night the Germans would choose -for some of their dirty work. It was he who instructed me about taking -cover and springing out at the last minute. We sprang simultaneously, -Hopley on one side and myself on the other, and if it had been anybody but -Eliza we should have made a smart job of it. I had forgotten my cocoa flask -and Eliza was bringing it to the place where I was posted. This was unfortunate -for Hopley, as she hit him in the face with the flask. I think that I -personally must have slipped on a banana-skin, or it may have been due to -the sudden surprise at hearing Eliza’s voice. Eliza said she was sorry about -Hopley’s nose, but that we really ought not to play silly jokes like that when -on duty, because we might possibly frighten somebody.</p> - -<p class='c008'>The other night I was discussing with Hopley the possibility of my being -made a sergeant.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Not a chance,” he said. “No absolute earthly, old sport.” And then -he passed his hand in a reflective way over his nose. “But if only your missus -could have joined,” he said, “she’d have been an inspector by now.”</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_140'>140</span> - <h2 class='c003'><span class='xxlarge'>The Probation <i>of</i> Jimmy Baker</span><br /> <br /><span class='xlarge'><i>By</i> Albert Kinross</span><br /> <br /><i>Army Service Corps</i></h2> -</div> - -<h3 class='c009'>I</h3> - -<p class='c010'>The bank was in the High Street, a broad, leafy place of stone houses and -regularly planted trees. The most of Seacombe, however, is neither broad -nor leafy nor regular. Old Town—so they call it—a picturesque welter of -thatched and cream-washed cottages, climbs the hills and clusters round the -harbour; New Town, with its bank and High Street and electric light and -things, was added when the railway came. Into this bank, one bright September -morning, stepped Miss Mamie Stuart Berridge, of Lansing, in the -State of Michigan. From Lansing, in the State of Michigan, to Seacombe, -in the county of Somerset, is a far and distant cry, and the transition -requires money for its satisfactory accomplishment. Miss Mamie had money, -a diminishing wad that folded up in a neat black leather case. She stepped -into the bank, unfolded her wad, and handed an American Express Company’s -cheque across the counter. The young man who did duty there reminded -her that she must sign it. “That’s the second time I’ve forgotten,” said -Mamie, and wrote her name in the appointed space.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“All gold, or would you like a note?” inquired the young man.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Miss Mamie thought that she would like a note; and then she altered -her mind and exchanged the note for gold; and then she altered her mind -once more and took the note. The young man smiled amiably and blushed -a little; for the transaction was fast becoming confidential, and he was told -that the note would “do for Mrs. Bilson.” He knew Mrs. Bilson as a party -who let lodgings.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Are you comfortable there?” he ventured.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“As comfortable as one can be in this old England of yours.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>A laugh, a snapping of her handbag, a swish of skirt, and she was gone. -Other and duller customers engaged the young man till four o’clock. Once -or twice that day he thought of Mamie, and wondered whether she was ever -coming back again.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_141'>141</span>The next afternoon he caught a glimpse of her, seated high on a char-à-banc, -and just returned from an excursion. “She’s been to Porlock Weir,” he -said, and then went off to play tennis, a game that invariably occupied his -leisure hours of daylight. After the bank had closed there was little else to -do in Seacombe. The next day he met her face to face, and he blushed a -deep pink, for she had recognised him. She gave him a bright little bow; -he stopped; she inquired whether he had anything to do; and “Nothing -at all,” was his answer. The tennis club could go hang was an inward -ejaculation that escaped Miss Mamie Stuart Berridge.</p> - -<p class='c008'>They bought things for her supper and her breakfast, and she also wanted -a new pair of gloves, and asked the young man where she could get them. -He did his best for her and carried the parcels, and explained that a florin -was not the same as half a crown. She had given up Mrs. Bilson, who had -overcharged her, and was now doing her own catering. “Just like you English,” -she added gaily, and led the way to a shop where they sold Devonshire cream. -This latter delicacy, it appeared, was “just lovely,” and not to be had at -all in the United States.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Won’t you come in?” she asked, when at last they reached her door.</p> - -<p class='c008'>The young man hesitated.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Isn’t it proper?” inquired Miss Mamie.</p> - -<p class='c008'>The young man smiled.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Well, I guess we’ll just be improper.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>The young man followed her into a sitting-room that overlooked the street.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Indoors, Mamie tucked up her sleeves and made a salad, and the young -man sat on the sofa and watched her. “What’s your name?” she asked.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Baker—James Baker.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Always been at that old bank?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Since I left school.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Like it?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Not very much.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Why do you stay there?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I don’t know.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Got put there, and here in England people stay where they’re put?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I suppose so.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Any prospects?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I may be a manager some day—get a branch office like this.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“When you’re pie-faced and bald?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Her frankness was alarming, but Jimmy Baker rather liked it. “When -I’m forty or so,” he admitted.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“How old are you now?” She asked the question without looking up -from her salad.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Twenty-three.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I’m twenty-two,” said she. “Uncle Walter died and left me a thousand, -and so I thought I’d come to England and have a good time. I’m going to -be a school teacher when it’s over. I’ve been to college. When you’ve been -to college you can do without a chaperon, and I’d nobody to go with me and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_142'>142</span>nobody to ask. Father’s married again, and I don’t remember mother. I -was a baby when she died. You got any folks?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Baker had everything and everybody. His father farmed near Bideford; -his mother and sisters looked after the dairy; his brothers were at school -or in positions similar to his own.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“What do they give you at the bank?” she asked.</p> - -<p class='c008'>He named the figure of his meagre salary.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“My! you’re not going on working for that!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I have to,” he answered.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Well, it’s no business of mine;” and now she rang for the landlady -and introduced Mr. Baker as a guest who was staying to supper.</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>II</h3> - -<p class='c010'>Miss Mamie Stuart Berridge had explored Exmoor and Dunster and Porlock, -and the other wonderful and romantic places that are within walking or driving -distance of the little town. She had, perhaps, just scratched the surface; -yet, for all that, it was ecstatic to take tea in the shadow of age-old castles, -or wander through villages that looked as though they had come straight out -of a picture-book. Till she met Jimmy Baker, however, one thing had been -lacking in this romance—the final touch. She saw it at last, and clearly too; -it had not been so very prominent before. Jimmy’s ingenuous face brought -it home to her. She wanted a companion. Doing England and having “a -good time” was all very well; but without a companion it was only half the -good time it might have been. And there was Jimmy, free to go a-roaming every -evening after five, or even earlier. So she annexed him, and such of Seacombe -as knew Jimmy whispered that this annexation was not entirely one-sided.</p> - -<p class='c008'>He was twenty-three and she was twenty-two, and it was the month of -the harvest moon and all the year’s stored tenderness. They climbed the -winding paths that led to the church; close together on a bench they rested -and found the sea; through narrow lanes they strolled, and thence upward -to purple heather and the misty hills. And there Mamie discovered that she -had not been mistaken. The final touch was a hand laid on hers, and an -inward wound like that which comes when music is too sweet, too magical. -The night she gave her lips to him obliterated America, and especially Lansing, -in the State of Michigan. She wanted to stay here for ever, in his arms, and -the moon poised above Dunkery Beacon. This place was no longer England; -it had become the Land of Heart’s Desire.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Let me look and look,” she cried; “I shall never see anything like this -again!” And with his arm on her neck, and cheek against cheek, they sat -there, awed by a world bathed in moonlight, themselves transfigured, smitten -and silenced by the great mystery of first-awakened love. It seemed to Mamie -that she had been born anew, been here admitted into some strange, all-satisfying -faith.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Baker’s holiday, an annual fortnight wherein he might refresh himself -as best he could, was due next Monday. He had been saving up for it. During -fifty weeks of the year he was a bank clerk, the other two he was permitted -<span class='pageno' id='Page_143'>143</span>to be a man. By a predestinate coincidence—or so they deemed it—Mamie’s -trip expired on the same date. A fortnight from the Monday she must go -to Liverpool, and thence return to Lansing, in the State of Michigan. She -had her berth on the steamboat; all was paid for and arranged. Thus two -weeks and some odd days remained to them before she sailed.... It was on -the Saturday that they made up their minds to get married.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Which of the two first jumped to that decision is hard to say, and does -not matter specially. That they jumped to it is enough. The Saturday -found them at Grabbist, above Dunster, and the inspiration came during -a pause. It seemed as simple as the line of Dunkery Beacon, that great hill -whose monstrous bulk is so precise. Next day, in the smoke-room of the -Pier Hotel, they consulted reference books. They could go to London to-morrow, -and be married on the Tuesday, it said, provided they paid the fees. -They clubbed their money together and went.</p> - -<p class='c008'>From then onward unseen hands seemed to guide them; first to their -lodgings, thence to the office of the Vicar-General, where they bought a licence—Mamie -had stayed in London, and had a residential qualification, it appeared—and -next day to the church where they were married. They came out -into the street again, and no one knew their secret. They shared the memory -of a sacrament taken in the wilderness, where the droning curate and paid -witnesses were of small account beside the flame that had fused them into -man and wife.... The golden sunlight of that exquisite hour when, hand-in-hand, -they faced London was as though made for them; the old heart of -the giant city could still rejoice, it seemed, and was ready to crown true lovers, -and fold them in mantles of shimmering tissue and cloth of gold. They wandered -through leafy squares, and a man stopped them and asked them the -way to Bell Yard. Neither of them knew. Had he inquired the road to -Paradise they could have told.... They grew hungry at last. Their wedding -breakfast was eaten in a restaurant off Hatton Garden. The regular customers -of the place, Jews for the most part, and dealers in the staple article of that -quarter, smiled the racial smile of genial incredulity as these two entered and -found room. But neither Jim nor Mamie had a doubt; for in their eyes -that met across the narrow table shone a light more precious and more enduring -than that emitted by all the diamonds, rubies, and emeralds of Hatton Garden.... -The night found them in Rye, a southern place that Mamie had chosen—she -had so often longed to see it.</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>III</h3> - -<p class='c010'>The boy and girl shared everything in those two weeks—pain and bliss, -the joy of early morning, the wistfulness of twilight and the first white star. -Their money was in one purse; they spent it together, choosing things to -eat and drink, or little gifts that would remind them when their hour was -come. Over their young heads hung the shadow; they had the courage to -outface it; to-morrow was yet distant, and when it dawned they would praise -God for what had been, and could never be removed.... They knew all there -was to know; and a strange pride thrilled them, a tenderness that neither -<span class='pageno' id='Page_144'>144</span>had foreseen. Love was even greater than their dreams of it and their foreknowledge. -The sea’s strength and the land’s strength had tested soul and -body, had blessed these two with infinite renewals, an unassailable virginity.</p> - -<p class='c008'>From Rye and Winchelsea they had wandered to Hythe along that coastline, -avoiding Dungeness, and pausing at Lydd, New Romney, and Dymchurch -with its sands. Each morning they had bathed, and often at sunset; these -old places fascinated them, and especially Mamie, who came from Lansing, in -the State of Michigan.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“What a lot you know!” he said one day, amazed at her book learning.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I’m going to be a school teacher,” she laughed back, “and besides, I -like it. No, it’s not the history—the dates and things—that fascinates me; -but I seem to have been here before,” she explained, adding: “Lots of us -Americans feel that way about it—as though—as though——”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“You’d come from here?” he helped her.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“That’s right—as though we’d come from here. And perhaps we have,” -she added gaily, finishing with “Our name’s Berridge, so we must have done.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I never look upon you as a foreigner,” said he; “at least, I haven’t -since——” and he hesitated.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Since?” she inquired.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Since I first wanted to kiss you.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Do it again!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Jimmy was quite prepared to take up the challenge, but she had fled. -He caught her behind the plump Martello Tower where she was hiding, and -did it again. After that they returned to firmer ground, sitting on the beach -and looking out over the Channel.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“You must leave that old bank,” began Mamie; “it’s served its purpose.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“It brought us together.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Yes, that’s just it. And now it’s brought us together——”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“We can drop it?” He had seen her point.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I don’t want you to go on working for them,” she pursued; “I want -you to work for us—for me.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Jimmy nodded. “I’ve thought of that as well,” he answered.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“They give you a wretched salary, and when you’re an old Gazook and -nobody wants you, they say, ‘Perhaps it’s time he got married,’ and put -you in charge of a little office like that at Seacombe.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“That’s it,” said Jimmy.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Banking’s no good in this old country unless you’re somebody’s son, -or rich on your own account. But I know what,” she added, brightening.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Jimmy sat up.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“You must get into some regular article like woollens or cottons or manufactured -things—a good salesman’s always got a chance.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“D’you know, I’ve thought of that as well?” cried young Baker. “My -brother Tom travels with wholesale groceries, and he’s doing well.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“If you haven’t got money, you’ve got to make business, and then the firm’s -<i>bound</i> to pay you—it can’t help itself. My old uncle was always saying that.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>And so it was resolved that, when Mamie went back to America, Jim -<span class='pageno' id='Page_146'>146</span>should quit the bank and get hold of a “regular article.” Only that way -could they two come together again, unless they wished to wait till he had -become the “old Gazook” of Mamie’s prophecy.</p> - -<div class='figcenter id001'> -<img src='images/p145.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic002'> -<p>“Through narrow lanes they strolled, and thence upward to purple heather and the misty hills” (page 142).</p> -</div> -</div> - -<h3 class='c009'>IV</h3> - -<p class='c010'>The day of parting came. He stood on the quay at Liverpool and watched -the great boat out of sight. A mist filled his eyes; but when, at last, he -turned on his heel and faced reality once more, a courage rose within him, -and he resolved to conquer or to perish. He would conquer—conquer—conquer. -All the way to London the train seemed to be repeating that burden, -seemed to be branding it, stamping it in deep-bitten letters on his heart of -hearts. And with that repetition mingled an ineffaceable memory of her and -her fine courage. They had kissed good-bye that morning in the room of -their hotel, and again in the tiny cabin where there was scarce room to swing -a cat. “Believe in me,” he had whispered, her slim body close pressed to -his own; and once more “Believe in me, believe in me!”... “If I didn’t -believe in you,” she had answered, “I would just drop overboard, and no -more said.”... “And if there’s anything else, when you get over there, you’ll -tell me?” She had understood him.... “I’ll tell, of course I’ll tell;” and -then: “It’s no fun being a woman, is it, Jim?” she had added, with a little -laugh.... Now in the train he fed on those last moments, and he would conquer -or perish. “Conquer—conquer—conquer,” echoed the on-rushing train.</p> - -<p class='c008'>He was in Seacombe that night, and had given notice next morning. “Got -another job?” asked the manager; and “Yes, in London,” answered young -Baker. The other seemed to envy him his chance of escape. A month from -then, armed with a first-class character and seven pounds in gold, Jimmy -set out for the metropolis. He had told his father as much as he dared tell -that unromantic old man. He hadn’t been home for his holiday this year, -he said, because he wanted to get away somewhere quiet and think about -his future. Now he had come to a decision. Unless one had capital or -influence, banking was no good; for a poor man it was best to learn about -some staple article like woollens or cotton or coal, and stick to that. His -father said: “We’ll see,” and the rest of that week-end passed much as -usual.... “D’you know, I think you’re right?” said the old man on the -Monday morning; “I never thought much of that banking, but your mother -says it’s a genteel trade, almost like parsoning or being a lawyer.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Jim Baker went up to London, and these West-Country folk being a sturdy -stock, no one at home, or even at Seacombe, had any doubt but that he would -find a living. Mamie, meanwhile, had removed to Buffalo, New York, and -had there begun her school teaching. Letters came and went; at first by -every post, then not quite so often, and at last it was agreed that, when there -was nothing of any consequence to say, a post-card would be enough. “I -don’t want you to be <i>worried</i> by all this,” wrote Mamie; “you’ve got your -work to do, and I guess I’ve got mine.” Sometimes to the romantic youth -she seemed the least bit hard-hearted. He mustn’t let the thought of her -hinder him, she insisted; yet often she wrote two letters to his one.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_147'>147</span>Baker’s business hours were spent in looking for the staple article. He -tried several before he dropped on to his feet; cocoa to begin with, then clocks -and watches, and, finally, leather. He resolved to stick to leather—firstly, -because everybody used it; and, secondly, because he felt instinctively that -the man who had engaged him was of the sort who would give a fellow a chance. -This gentleman, a middle-aged Scotsman, Campbell by name, had a warehouse -in Bermondsey, and to him young Baker went as invoice clerk. Now he wrote -leather to Mamie, who answered for a while on cards. A suspicion flashed -across him during this fancied period of neglect; but she had said no word -about <i>that</i>—and she had promised. The suspicion died down with her first -long letter. She had removed to Cleveland, where she had taken a new position. -That explained it all, and Mamie was forgiven.</p> - -<p class='c008'>The next year he spoke French and German after a fashion of his own, -and could attend to foreign customers. In the autumn he was promoted to -the warehouse and allowed to sell. One day he went out and came back -with a contract running into four figures; and then, instead of an increase -of salary, he stipulated for a small commission. His employer made no opposition; -indeed, Mr. Campbell rather preferred this new arrangement. Baker -was beginning to put by money. And from across the ocean came an answering -whoop, shouts and ecstasies of triumph, as, step by step, these two drew -nearer to the Promised Land. Her letters had now become a spur, a call—never -a goad, never a lash; but there they were, egging him on, a challenge -and yet a support, a martial music playing him into battle. In the night he -blessed her; often he lay awake, groping for the memory of that sweet slim -body.... So passed the years till he had made a home for her.</p> - -<p class='c008'>The long-awaited day had dawned at last. His commissions had reached -the sum they had agreed; with his savings he had taken a modest house -and furnished it. She had only to walk inside. He told his chief, now become -his friend; he took him into his confidence and unfolded their whole story.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“So that’s what put the devil inside you!” cried Campbell, and slapped him -on the back. “Go you off to Liverpool,” he added, “and don’t come back till -you’re wanted. Make it a week, Baker; for you’re not indispensable, though you -think you are. And tell the dear girl I sent you, and that I want to shake hands -with her—she’s given me the best salesman in all Bermondsey, d’ye hear that?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Jimmy heard it and laughed; and there was a pride in his laughter as -well as a deep joy. Few men had a wife like his, he knew—scarce one in all -he had run across these six hot years. Arrived home that night, he found -the last letter she had posted from the other side.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Husband and lover,” she wrote, “hold on to something tight. I have -a dear surprise for you. I am bringing your boy to his father. I never told -you before, because I wanted you to be free, because I wanted you to go ahead -and not bother about me and about us. He was born in the spring, when I -only sent post-cards. That was why I only sent post-cards, and that was -why I removed to Cleveland afterwards. I had my marriage paper to show, -so it didn’t matter much, and I let out and worked for the two of us; and -now he’s close on six years old. He’s just like you, Jim: the same sturdy -<span class='pageno' id='Page_148'>148</span>limbs, the same clear forehead, and good blue eyes. With him I have been -able to bear all this separation. He knows you and loves you, and to-day -he is mad with joy, because, at last, we are going to live with father. Forgive -me for hiding this from you; but I didn’t want to be a drag upon you. I -wanted you to have a clear road and go the shortest way. When you meet -us at Liverpool, you’ll tell me whether I did right.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“My God,” cried Jimmy Baker, “my God, I’ve got a son as well! And -it was like her, too—like her to say nothing and stand aside for me!”</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>V</h3> - -<p class='c010'>In Liverpool Baker met them, and the boy was just as she had described -him, with his father’s eyes and forehead, and strength of chest and limb. That -subtle something which makes blood know its own blood, flesh its own flesh, -united these two on the landing-stage. Mamie stood aside holding in her -tears, as father and son hugged one another for the first time. He had kissed -her before the child, and she was glad of that. His quick embrace, his look -of pride, had been a reassurance, a reward, that wiped out in one stroke the -pain of those long years, their doubts, their fears, suspenses, and privations. -From a slip of a girl she had grown into splendid womanhood; and he, the -lad that she remembered, was standing there—a man.</p> - -<p class='c008'>They left the boy with grandparents and aunts, a whole cloud of new -relations; and then alone they stole off to Seacombe and Dunster, and the -shadow of Dunkery Beacon.</p> - -<p class='c008'>It was May. Earth, sea, and sky were tender with their own tenderness; -in the youth of all things green, new fledged, or bursting into flower, they -found echo and symbol of their own renewal. Lovers they had been here, -when he had served in “that old bank”; and lovers they were once more, -now that steadfastness and self-mastery had brought them a far deeper passion.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Would you go through it all over again?” he asked her, knowing her -answer ere he spoke.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Over and over again, if it had to be—but God is merciful to lovers,” she -replied. “I have learnt that thinking—thinking how it all happened.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I too,” he said. Few things there were that these two had not thought -together, though time and ocean rolled between.</p> - -<p class='c008'>London claimed them, and work and their new home. Mr. Campbell -invited himself to supper on the evening of their arrival.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“The living image of you, Baker,” he said, when Jimmy, junior, was introduced, -“the living image!” And then, “I want you to stay on with us in Bermondsey; -you can have a share—call it ‘Campbell & Baker,’ shall we, Mamie?” -For the old ruffian had insisted on addressing Mamie by her Christian name.</p> - -<p class='c008'>The offer was accepted, and in parting, “Only one man in a thousand -could have done what you have done,” said Mr. Campbell; “and only one -woman in a hundred thousand, Mamie. You’ve done the impossible; you’re -geniuses,” he ended, laughing at them; and, as an afterthought, “If my boy -ever gets married on the quiet and plays the fool, I’ll break his blethering -neck for him!”</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_149'>149</span> - <h2 class='c003'><span class='xxlarge'>The Ghost <i>that</i> Failed</span><br /> <br /><span class='xlarge'><i>By</i> Desmond Coke</span><br /> <br /><i>Loyal North Lancashire Regiment</i></h2> -</div> - -<p class='c007'>The Blue Lady wailed disconsolately in the panelled room.</p> - -<p class='c008'>In her mortal life, four hundred years before, she had always been somewhat -behind the times; and now she was in arrears by the space of a whole -Silly Season. She was grappling with the stale problem, “Do we Believe?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>The Blue Lady concluded, emphatically, that we did not believe; and -hence her wailing. She had seen the age of scepticism coming. For more than -three hundred glad years men had crossed themselves and shuddered when -she went moaning through the sombre rooms of Yewcroft Hall. Secure in -her reputation, she had been content once only in the evening to interrupt -the revelry, and then, conscious that all eyes had been upon her stately progress, -to seek contentedly her spectral couch. But with the growth of science had -risen also disbelief. Once stage-coaches were discarded, and people came -to Yewcroft by a steam-drawn train, she felt that any other marvel must lose -caste. She did not fail to observe that, as she passed along the rooms, there -were those who, though they trembled, would not turn, and made pretence -of not observing her. Then came the hideous day on which the Hall harboured -a deputation from a Society of Research, who loaded themselves with cameras, -dull books, and revolvers, before spending a night in the Panelled Room. -The Blue Lady, as became a self-respecting ghost, slept elsewhere, and would -not show herself to these ill-mannered creatures; so that next day the Press -declared the famous Yewcroft ghost to be a myth. This was terrible; but -far worse was to come.</p> - -<p class='c008'>The family who had held Yewcroft since feudal times, the Blue Lady’s -own family, showed with old age a preference for sleep, and inasmuch as an -ungrateful populace refused to pay them for this function, reduced means led -to the abandonment of Yewcroft. It was taken by Lord Silthirsk, who had -made tinned meat and a million by methods equally ambiguous. He turned -the moss-hung chapel into a garage, and fitted electric light throughout the Hall.</p> - -<p class='c008'>The Blue Lady, struck in every vulnerable part, resolved to drive the -Silthirsks out. For the first three days of their residence she missed no chance -of floating in on Lady Silthirsk at moments likely to embarrass her. Her -Ladyship showed no symptoms of annoyance or of fear, though sometimes, -if not alone, she would look up and say, “Oh, here’s that blue one again,” -in tones which the blue one took to be of terror cleverly concealed. On the -fourth day the Silthirsks had a niece to stay, and the Blue Lady embraced -this as a chance to learn what real impression she had made. Waiting till -<span class='pageno' id='Page_150'>150</span>dessert was on the table, so that her Ladyship might not think it necessary -to hide her fear before the servants, she swept into the dining-room and passed -close beside the niece.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Elfrida shuddered. “What was that?” she cried.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“What’s what?” asked her aunt; while her uncle said “Banana,” and -fell to his dessert again.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“No—something cold: it made me shudder, just as if something had gone by.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>The Blue Lady, ambushed behind a vast tooled-leather screen, gloated -over her success.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Oh, <i>that</i>!” said Lady Silthirsk: “that’s one of the fixtures—a spook. -We rather like her—it’s so picturesque and old-world, ain’t it? Some people -can see her—<i>I</i> always can. She’s blue—quite an inoffensive mauvy blue. -Oh, I distinctly like her. She’s a novelty, ye know: and she’ll be <i>so</i> cooling -in the summer!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>But even she started at the ghastly groan which issued from behind the -leather screen.</p> - -<p class='c008'>For some weeks the Blue Lady did not deign to show herself, until Lady -Silthirsk began to find fault. The landlord, she implied, had swindled her. -It became clear to the spectre that all hopes of driving out these upstarts by -terror had been idle dreams.</p> - -<p class='c008'>And now, on Christmas Eve, the night dedicate of old to her compatriots, -she had given herself up to despair. She did not even care to walk. She -wailed disconsolately in the Panelled Room.</p> - -<p class='c008'>It was thus that the Gaunt Baron found her. The Gaunt Baron did not -belong to Yewcroft, but was attached to a neighbouring house, now empty. -With nobody to terrify at home, he found visits to the Blue Lady a not -unpleasing variant of the monotony. Except that she was several centuries -his junior, he felt for her an emotion which went to a dangerous degree beyond -respect. He was pained to find her wailing.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“What, wailing!” he cried, coming on her through the oaken panels, -“and nobody to hear you?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>The Blue Lady raised a tortured face towards him. “Who would not -wail? And who should hear me? Fools! They <i>can</i> not hear me. Many -of them do not even see me. Bah! They have no sense, except the sense -of taste: with truffles before them, they see nothing else.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“To-night is Christmas Eve.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>The Gaunt Baron made the suggestion in a mild, kindly way, but the -Blue Lady turned upon him almost angrily, as though he had been the culprit.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Yes! To-night is Christmas Eve. And what are they doing? Where -is the Yule-log? Where is the wassail? Where the dim light of glowing -embers? They’ll sit in the glare of this new light—a big party—and play -what they call Bridge; and if they feel a mystic chill, will draw the curtains -or turn the hot-air pipes full on.... What do these fools know about Romance? -The word is dead. I saw some of their novels while the house was shut. -Love? Gallantry? Nowhere in the volume. A knock-kneed weakling -making love to his friend’s wife, or two infants puling of passion like mere -<span class='pageno' id='Page_152'>152</span>vulgar serfs.... Love, for these people, ends with Marriage, to begin again -after Divorce.”</p> - -<div class='figcenter id001'> -<img src='images/p151.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic002'> -<p>“‘Do a cake-walk, now!’ ‘Encore!’” (page 153).</p> -</div> -</div> - -<p class='c008'>“You are bitter.” The Gaunt Baron held his head beneath his arm—a -fact which gave to all his utterances something of the tone of a ventriloquist.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Bitter! So would you be bitter! It’s all very well for you, with the -Manor empty;—but me, with these vulgarians!... Baron, these mortals -are beating us: we’re pretty well played out. ‘Played out!’ Look at -our very speech: they’ve ruined that. Do I speak like a woman of the day -of Good Queen Bess? Do you speak like a baron of—of King—like an ancient -baron?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“You do not,—and it was Stephen,” said the Baron quietly.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Mark me, Baron, we are near the end. Either Lady Silthirsk or myself -leaves Yewcroft. There is no room here for a self-respecting spectre. They -use the headsman’s block for mounting on their horses. If I cannot drive -them out, I go,—and where? Well, if I cannot leave the earth—oh, why -was I ever murdered?—then I must sleep beneath the hedges, till I find an -empty house. Baron, that time is near. I have tried everything, and nothing -seems to frighten them. Lady Silthirsk serves liqueurs in the old Banquet -Hall at midnight, and as I don’t appear,—as though I should!—she says -the theatre, is closed for alterations and repairs. Oh, it is unbearable, unbearable!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Dear lady,” answered the Gaunt Baron, “do not despair. I managed -to say, some minutes ago, that it was Christmas Eve. Let me explain. It -is now close upon the hour of midnight—the time and day on which we ghosts -are thought by men to have our greatest power. Even those who don’t -believe in us are a little influenced by the tradition. As twelve strikes every -one is half expectant. That is your moment. Burst upon them, wailing -and raving. They are sure to see. Some of the guests will insist on leaving -Yewcroft, and the Silthirsks will not like a house where parties are impossible. -Quick! There is the gurgle that preludes the hall-clock’s striking. In three -minutes midnight will be here. Hasten, sweet dame, hasten! I will be at -hand to watch you.”</p> - -<hr class='c014' /> - -<p class='c008'>Downstairs, during this dialogue, Lady Silthirsk had been talking to her -niece. “Elfrida, dear, in a few minutes they’ll all be here for the midnight -<i>séance</i>; and I have something that I want to tell you first.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Why, what is it, auntie?” asked Elfrida: “you look terribly serious.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I am serious, darling girl. Let me be frank. I think it is time that you -were married—not only, understand, because of your poor parents, but also -for your own happiness. And when I see a man who can make you both -rich and happy, well——”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“But who?” interrupted Elfrida.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“<i>Who?</i> My dear girl, are you blind! Why, Bobby!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Lord Bancourt?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Yes, ‘Lord Bancourt’! Don’t look as though I had shot you! Why, -you silly dear thing, you must know Bobby is madly in love with you. All -<span class='pageno' id='Page_153'>153</span>this week he has followed you about like an obedient dog, and all the week -you’ve ignored him as though he were a naughty mongrel!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Why, I’m sure I’ve treated him just like anybody else. I never——”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“My dear Elfrida, you will be the death of me! Do you think he wants -no more of you? Are you living in the Middle Ages, or is this the Twentieth -century? Do you expect him to come and steal you away by night and -force? Nowadays the girl must do her part. Bobby is a splendid fellow, -an old friend of mine, rich, young, passably good-looking——”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I think he’s handsome, decidedly,” Elfrida said, without a thought, -and then blushed scarlet.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Her aunt laughed. “And <i>I</i> think you’re in love with him,” she said. -“I know he only wants a little encouragement—not quite so much ice to the -square inch, my dear! Won’t you try, for my sake?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I’ll try, auntie, yes: I could be very, very happy with him—if he asked -me: but I don’t think I could—it’s so hard——”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Lady Silthirsk kissed her. “I don’t ask anything, you little goose, except -that you should be just humanly kind to poor Bobby—I think he’ll do the -rest!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I’ll <i>try</i>,” said Elfrida dubiously.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Her aunt, she reflected, was not of a nature to see how terrible it would -be if people should believe her to be “angling” for Lord Bancourt. Better -that he should choose some one else than that he should marry her on such -a rumour!</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Oh, here they are!” cried Lady Silthirsk, as her husband brought his -flock into the room, shouting:</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I’ve collected every one, gamblers and all, for the <i>séance</i>—except Bobby. -Can’t find him.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Oh, I wish he were here—the Lady will surely walk on Christmas Eve,” -said the hostess. “If she doesn’t, I mean to demand my money back! Oh, -there’s the hour! Sit quiet, every one.... Blue Lady forward, please! -There, look!—there!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>She pointed excitedly at the old gallery, once for minstrels, now arrogated -by a pianola organ. Behind its oaken pillars passed a vague female figure, -dressed in blue, moaning horribly, and waving distraught arms above her -flowing hair.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Immediately cries of every sort rose from the watchers.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I can’t see her.” “It’s a cinematograph!” “What ho, Lord Bobby!” -“Gad, she’s gone slick through the music-stool.” “I still can’t see her.” -“No, there’s nothing there.” “Do a cakewalk, now!” “Encore!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>As she vanished some one clapped his hands, and with a laugh the whole -party joined in the applause.</p> - -<p class='c008'>The scene had not been very impressive. From a theatrical point of view -the ghost’s entrance had been ruined by the number and the temper of its -audience. Those who had not seen it scoffed; those who had, till reminded -of the music-stool seen dimly through the figure, half-believed the Blue Lady -to be an <i>alias</i> of Lord Bancourt. Then, as one by one they realised that what -<span class='pageno' id='Page_154'>154</span>had passed was in very truth a ghost, the guests hushed their laughter, until -the babel sank almost into silence.</p> - -<p class='c008'>It was in such a lull that Bobby entered. “Why, what a stony <i>séance</i>!” -he exclaimed. “Missing me? or seen a ghost?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Yes—so delightful! The Blue Lady actually came,” said Lady Silthirsk, -who alone seemed totally unruffled.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Bobby laughed—the unforced laugh of healthy youth. “Oh-ho! I -see why you were silent. But you can’t green me, thanks: I’m not quite -so verdant—oh no, not at all!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“We have seen it—really,” one or two guests hastened to assure him.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Lord Bancourt laughed more heartily than ever. “Why, I believe you’ve -honestly deceived yourselves! This is glorious! You really think you saw -the ghost!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Who could doubt?” asked a plump dowager, who intended henceforth -to adopt a pose intensely spiritual. “What doubt exists, when the great -After lifts its veil? Have <i>you</i> ever seen a ghost, Lord Bancourt?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Bobby tried to hide his smiles. “I’m afraid—and glad—I haven’t. If -I did, I should go off my nut, I think. But I don’t think I ever shall!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>With these words he moved towards the circle of ghost-seers, and chose, -with unerring aim, of all the vacant chairs, that next Elfrida.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Lady Silthirsk beamed contentedly.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I seem to have missed a lot,” said the irrepressible Bobby, as he sat -down, and added impudently, “but I hope that I’ve been missed a lot?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Elfrida remembered her aunt’s warning, but she also fancied (as the self-conscious -will) that all the gathering, still somewhat silent, had heard the -question, and would hear the answer. She could fancy their scorn at her -“scheming tactics.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Bobby looked expectantly towards her.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“It was certainly a unique experience,” she said stiffly.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Bobby’s face fell.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Lady Silthirsk shrugged her shoulders.</p> - -<hr class='c014' /> - -<p class='c008'>“There!” exclaimed the Blue Lady, safe within the Panelled Room, -“I knew how your mad scheme would work. You heard: they catcalled, -they encored me, asked for some new dance. They gave me a round of applause -when I went off. I can stay here no longer, to be insulted.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Always impetuous!” said the Gaunt Baron quietly. “You rushed -off after the applause: I waited, and heard what alters the whole question.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Namely——?” asked the Lady, in ill temper.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Lord Bancourt did not see you—has never seen a ghost—doesn’t believe -in them. He said distinctly, ‘If I saw one, I should go off my nut,’—this -being schoolboy and smart for going mad.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I begin to see.” The Blue Lady brightened visibly.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Exactly. You must catch him alone—no more of these convivial audiences—and -then drive him mad. He is an old friend of Lady Silthirsk, rich and titled; -she would not stay here after that. You must wreak your worst on him.”</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_155'>155</span>“I can only wail,” she answered gloomily; “I have no chains, or blood, -or severed head——”</p> - -<p class='c008'>The words inspired the headless Baron.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Ah,” he cried, “I will come and help—to-night. I ought not to show -myself out of my own house, but——”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Oh, what is etiquette in such a crisis? Baron, dear Baron, you have -saved me. I am an old-fashioned woman, and at such a time I need a man....”</p> - -<hr class='c014' /> - -<p class='c008'>It was night. It had, to be precise, been night for several hours, and the -whole household was at length tucked up in bed. Sleep had come none too -easily to at least three members,—to Elfrida worrying about the real sentiments -of Bobby, to Bobby worrying about the real sentiments of Elfrida, and -to Lady Silthirsk worrying about the real sentiments of both. The last named, -in particular, tossed long upon her sleepless bed. She was puzzled. She -could half understand Elfrida’s foolish diffidence: she could not understand -Bobby’s idiotic silence. Why did he not speak? He was not of a sort to be -lightly daunted by the fear of a rebuff. Or had she made a false diagnosis? -Was he not in love at all?</p> - -<p class='c008'>And at length even she turned over on her side with a contented groan. -Sleep reigned over Yewcroft Hall.</p> - -<p class='c008'>But in Bobby’s room, far off along the west wing, dark deeds were decidedly -afoot. For more than half an hour a headless Knight, clanking horribly in every -joint of his dim-gleaming armour, had chased to and fro a blue-clad Lady, -who wailed in awful wise and tossed arms of agony to the wall-papered ceiling.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Through all this Lord Bancourt slept smilingly upon his noble bed.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Then the Gaunt Baron consulted with the Blue Lady, and a change of -tactics was the result. The armoured figure now rattled round the room, -rousing more noise than any antiquated motor, the while a frantic dame pursued -him with blood-curdling wails.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Bobby stirred a little, murmured sleepily, turned over, and showed every -symptom of having relapsed into even deeper slumber.</p> - -<p class='c008'>The ghosts were in despair.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Dawn draws on,” said the Gaunt Baron suddenly. “I always knew -when I was beaten. Come, sweet dame. A man who can sleep like that will -make his mark some day in the House of Lords.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>He vanished, and, after one despairing glance, the Blue Lady flung herself -angrily through the oaken door.</p> - -<p class='c008'>It was at this moment, by a subtle irony of fate, that Lord Bancourt awoke. -The sense of some presence lingered with him, and he sat upright in bed. His -sleepy eyes were caught by a blue skirt which vanished from the doorway; -his sleepy mind failed to perceive that the door had not been open.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Whew!” he said, and lay thinking, thinking deeply—for Lord Bancourt.</p> - -<p class='c008'>He was very young, and, like most young nobles, not inclined to underestimate -his own importance. After the first moment of surprise, he felt no -doubt as to the wearer of the blue skirt. It was Elfrida. He was rather -unobservant as to women’s dresses “and all that, you know”: but he felt -<span class='pageno' id='Page_156'>156</span>fairly certain that she had worn a blue costume at dinner. Yes, it could be -no one else. It was almost certainly Elfrida.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Elfrida’s iciness was but a cloak. When she had snubbed him by day, -she would creep in by night and gaze upon his sleeping, moonlit face! How -beautiful!</p> - -<p class='c008'>His heart thrilled at the revelation. He had hesitated, so far, to speak. It -would never do for him—Lord Bancourt—to risk refusal by a nobody. His -mother, in her long course of tuition, had taught him proper pride. But now....</p> - -<p class='c008'>Now, at the first chance, he would throw himself, his rank, his wealth, his -everything before the nobody, and feel no fear as to the verdict. To-morrow—to-morrow!</p> - -<p class='c008'>And when to-morrow came, as it does sometimes come despite the proverb, -he rose early and went out in the garden. As he had shaved each morning, -he had seen Elfrida walking in the grounds below. He had never dared to -join her. Everything, to-day, was different, though the weather was certainly -absurdly cold for early rising.</p> - -<p class='c008'>She was there before him, in among the white, hoar-laden, yew walks. She -turned at his coming. “You are early this morning, Lord Bancourt.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Ah,” he responded meaningly, “the early bird catches the first worm.” -It struck him, for the moment, as a compliment, and rather neat. But he -pined for something less indefinite. “Elfrida,” he said, going close to her, -“I may call you Elfrida?—I could not wait. You encouraged me last night, -you gave me hope, and now—I want more. You won’t take even that away? -I want far more. I want you—I want you to be my wife. Will you, Elfrida? -Don’t be cruel. I want you to say ‘yes’!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Elfrida’s head was in a whirl. She did not know how she had encouraged -him. She could remember nothing of last night, except that she had lost a -chance—that he had seemed offended. She could not guess at what had -changed his attitude. She only knew that what her aunt wanted—above all, -what she herself longed for—had somehow come to pass; only knew that -her loved one’s arms were round her. She said “Yes.”</p> - -<hr class='c014' /> - -<p class='c008'>“Sweet dame,” said the Gaunt Baron, later, in the Panelled Room, “I -have been scouting, and, alas! bring evil news. Lord Bancourt took you -last night for Elfrida, was encouraged to propose, and is accepted. Lady -Silthirsk is delighted, says the wedding shall be here, and she must turn this -dear chamber into a dressing-room. She says she will clear out the musty -panelling. It is all unfortunate.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Unfortunate!” wailed the Blue Lady. “It all comes of listening to -a man. See what your mad scheme has done!... Baron, forgive my bitterness,—I -am defeated. I told you these mortals had vanquished us. I set -out to do a little evil, in the good old way, and see what I have done! I have -made everybody happy! Farewell. Yewcroft must know me no more. -Farewell, farewell for ever!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>With an abysmal groan she vanished through the panelling. Unless she has -found an ancient, empty house, she is perhaps sleeping underneath the hedges.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_157'>157</span> - <h2 class='c003'><span class='xxlarge'>The Miracle</span><br /> <br /><span class='large'>A Tale of the Canadian Prairie</span><br /> <br /><span class='xlarge'><i>By</i> Ralph Stock</span><br /> <br /><i>Artists’ Rifles</i></h2> -</div> - -<p class='c007'>The old man slowly shook his head and looked out through the ranch-house window -to where the sea of yellow grass merged into the purple haze of the horizon.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I’m sorry, Dode,” he said in his gruff drawl, “blamed sorry.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>The young man stood before him choking back words he longed to utter -and twisting his hat out of recognition in the effort. Words! Of what use -had they ever been with Joe Gilchrist? All his life he had used as few as -possible himself and shown little patience with those who did otherwise—why -should it be different now?</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Blamed sorry,” the colourless voice repeated. “I had no notion things -were going this way or I’d have put ’em straight right away. It’ll hurt all the -more now, I guess, but I can’t help it, Dode—you’re not the man, that’s all.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Why?” The other’s voice carried resentment. “What’s the matter -with me, anyway?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>The grizzled head turned slowly, the keen, deep-set eyes, surrounded by a -tracery of minute wrinkles from looking into long distances, rested on the -young man’s troubled face in a level, emotionless scrutiny.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Nothing,” said Joe Gilchrist. “As a man—nothing, or you wouldn’t -have been my foreman the last ten years; but as a husband for Joyce——” -He smiled faintly and shook his head.</p> - -<p class='c008'>At that moment Dode Sinclair could have killed this man whose life he -had saved more than once. He knew the iron resolve behind that smile and -shake of the head.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I’m the man she chose,” he jerked out.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“At seventeen,” was the quiet rejoinder.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“She’s a woman.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Joe Gilchrist tilted his head to one side and scratched his cheek. It was -a habit of his when anything puzzled him.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“She chose you, did she? Who’s she had to choose from?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Dode Sinclair opened his mouth to speak, closed it again, and fell to twisting -his hat with renewed vigour.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Well,” he began awkwardly, “there was Dave Willet and that dude schoolmaster -on Battle Creek and——”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“And you want to tell me Dave Willet and a dude schoolmaster on Battle -Creek’s a fair show for a girl?” The old man paused. “You can’t, Dode—not -me.”</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_158'>158</span>Dode looked down at a pair of work-worn riding-boots, then up into the -other’s face.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“What’s the matter with Dave Willet?” he demanded hotly, “or a dozen -others who’d give their ears for her? I know we’re not fit to lick her boots; -what man would be? but we’re as good as most round these parts.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Ah, these parts,” muttered the old man, “these parts. But they ain’t the -world, Dode. You’ve got to get that into your head, though maybe it’ll be a job.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“They’re good enough for me.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“And me, and the rest of us; but they’re not good enough for my daughter.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“She doesn’t say that.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“No, because she’s never seen anything else——” Joe Gilchrist broke off with -a gesture of uneasiness. “Shut that door; I want to ask you something.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>The young man obeyed mechanically, and when he turned, the other was -leaning forward in the pine pole-rocker, whittling flakes from a plug of tobacco.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I want to ask you what you think I’ve been doing the last fifteen years,” -he drawled. “You ought to know, but if you don’t, I’ll put you wise. I’ve -been tryin’ to make money out of breeding horses. It ain’t daisy-pickin’, but -after hopin’ a bit, despairin’ a bit, and workin’ a bit, I’ve made it—there it is on -four legs in a pretty middlin’ bunch of horses, and what’s it for? Me? You know -my wants, Dode Sinclair. No, it’s for Joyce. <i>Joyce’s got to have her chance.</i>”</p> - -<p class='c008'>He stopped abruptly, with an indrawing of his thin lips that the other -knew well, and commenced to rub the tobacco between his horny palms.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Dode Sinclair still stared at his boots.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“You’re going to take her East,” he muttered. “You’re going back on -the prairie.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Joe Gilchrist rose slowly from his chair and pointed through the window -with the stem of his pipe.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“You see Tin Kettle buttie,” he said evenly, “there to the east of Hungerford -Lake: when they read my will they’ll find they’ve got to pack me up -there someway—in the democrat, I guess—but that’s where I’m goin’ to be, -and I’m tellin’ you now so’s you’ll remember when you feel like sayin’ I’ve -gone back on the prairie. But—Joyce’s got to have her chance.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>He stood looking out of the window for a space, then turned with the air -of one disposing of an unpleasant topic.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“You can round up. The boy’ll be here any day after a week. I’m sellin’ -half the bunch. You’re to run the place when—we go.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Dode Sinclair turned on his heel. At the door he hesitated, then looked -back at the thin bent figure by the window.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Maybe the prairie won’t let you,” he said.</p> - -<p class='c008'>When he had gone Joe Gilchrist stood motionless, staring at the door.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“What the dickens does he mean by that?” he growled, and frowned as -he lit his pipe.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Joyce Gilchrist was perched on the corral-poles when Dode came out to her.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“He won’t listen to me,” he said, tracing dejected patterns in the dust -with his spur. “Says you’ve got to have your chance.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Chance?—what chance?” Joyce looked down at him wonderingly.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_159'>159</span>“Chance of getting a better man than me.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>The girl was at his side in a flash, looking into his face with anxious interrogation.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Dode, Dode, what do you mean?—what does he mean?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“He means he’s going to take you away, Joyce—East, where the guys -come from. He’s been working for that the last fifteen years—and, God help -me!—so have I, without knowin’ it. The horses is a pretty considerable bunch -now, and——”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“But I won’t go,” flashed the girl; “I won’t go, Dode.” Her hand was -on his arm. “I’ll talk him over.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“You’ll never do that,” said Dode. “Never. I know Joe better’n you, -though he <i>is</i> your dad. He’s got that queer set look;—besides, he’s right.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Right?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Yes, he always is. You’ve made good—you ought to go East and live -swell. This is no country for a woman.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“<i>You</i> say that?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“<i>He</i> says it, and he’s always right.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“But you don’t say it—<i>you</i> don’t say it, Dode!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Her hands were on his shoulders now, he could feel her warm breath on his face.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“My God!” he burst out, “you know I love every inch and atom of -you.” His hands were trembling at his sides. “You know that I’d do -anything—anything—but we can’t go against him. Someway I couldn’t do -it—I’d feel I’d stolen you—that I wasn’t giving you what was your due. -He’s right; he’s always right.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>The girl stamped a small work-worn riding-boot in the dust. “I wish—I -wish all the horses were dead! I wish we had to start all over again. -I won’t go, so there! I’ll talk to him; he’ll say yes; you see——”</p> - -<p class='c008'>She left him and hurried towards the house, a slim figure of health and -lightness in a short, dun-coloured riding-skirt and dilapidated soft felt hat.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Dode Sinclair watched her go.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Nothing short of a miracle will make him say that,” he mused.</p> - -<p class='c008'>And he was right.</p> - -<p class='c008'>For the next week the grass flats below the Gilchrist ranch echoed with -the thunder of galloping hoofs and the shrill whinnying of mare and foal. -From every point of the compass horses flowed into the valley, with distended -nostrils and untrimmed manes and tails streaming in the wind. Some had -never yet seen a house, and at sight of the low line of pine-log stables and -corrals turned tail and fled in terror, until overtaken and headed back by tireless -riders on steaming mounts.</p> - -<p class='c008'>On the final day Joyce Gilchrist helped her father to mount the old piebald -cayune that he loved, and rode down with him to inspect the herd. Dode Sinclair -saw them coming and turned swiftly on his companion, a lean wire of a man -in the unpretentious, workmanlike uniform of the North-West Mounted Police.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Here they come,” he said in a voice harsh with apprehension. “If you -don’t want to see an old man drop dead—an old man that’s done more for you -fellers than any one on the range—take your men and horses into that stable.”</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_160'>160</span>The policeman followed his glance and saw two black dots moving slowly -down the trail.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“He’s got to know,” he said sternly.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Yes, he’s got to know—ain’t that enough? Curse it, man, can’t you see -there’s ways of doin’ these things? Sudden like that—it’d break him up.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Joe Gilchrist knows how to take his medicine.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“No man better; but I know him, I tell you—the horses are his life. There’s -time enough for him to know.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Three days,” replied the policeman shortly. “The regulations allow -three days for glanders. He’s bound to know then—why not now?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Dode Sinclair laid his hands on the other’s shoulders and looked into his -stern-set face.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Because I’m asking you, Jim,” he said. “Maybe your memory’s short; -maybe you forget the early days now you’re a corporal. Try back a bit—try -back to the spring of 1900, when the chinook came and thawed out the -Warlodge mushy a bit previous, and you thought it’d bear and it didn’t; and -the elegant fix I found you in——”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“You don’t need to tell me, Dode,” said the other, looking away up the -trail. “But you know what Fenton’s like, and——” Suddenly he threw -back his head. “Well!—open the door, then!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Joe Gilchrist rode slowly through the herd. Some of the brood mares -he knew by name—had known them for fifteen years.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“See that pot-bellied grey with the roan foal?” he said to Dode. “Got -her for fifteen dollars off the Indians at Red Deer. We’ve had her fifteen -years, and she’s had twelve foals. Seems to me she’s about done now, though. -Got that peaked look.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Hasn’t lost her winter coat yet,” Dode answered shortly, and moved -on towards the edge of the herd. “Ragged, that’s all.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Pretty middlin’ bunch,” mused the old man. He had never been known -to say more about his horses. “Pretty middlin’.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Sure,” said Dode, and watched the pinto ambling up the trail. Then -he dismounted and opened the stable door.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I’m leaving two men,” said the policeman. “You can corral them to-night, -and the vet’ll be along to-morrow.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Dode leant against the stable and watched him mount.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“How many d’you think——” he began.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“The vet’ll be along to-morrow,” the other repeated shortly, and set spurs -to his horse.</p> - -<p class='c008'>The next day and the next the grass-flat corrals creaked and strained and -rattled while an endless procession of horses fought and worked its way along -the narrow chutes, halted a brief moment while one of its number was subjected -to the “squeeze” and a minute examination by a sweating police vet. and -passed on, some to another corral and some—pitiably few—to the open prairie -and freedom.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Dode Sinclair watched the work like a man in a trance.</p> - -<div class='figcenter id001'> -<img src='images/f160.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic002'> -<p>“It was eight o’clock before Joe Gilchrist returned” (page 161).</p> -</div> -</div> - -<p class='c008'>When it was done the corral gate was flung open and the horses it had held -<span class='pageno' id='Page_161'>161</span>were headed up the valley and still up to where it ended in a deep gully of -gumbo and yellow gravel. On three sides the animals were hemmed in by -almost sheer cliff a hundred feet high; on the fourth by ten N.W. Mounted -Policemen with levelled rifles and set faces.</p> - -<p class='c008'>There is only one cure for glanders.</p> - -<hr class='c014' /> - -<p class='c008'>“Queer that buyer don’t come,” said Joe Gilchrist.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Three days before Dode Sinclair had ridden out to meet a florid little man -in a livery buggy on the town trail, and after five minutes’ conversation the -latter had turned his horses and driven off in a cloud of dust.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Blamed queer. They’ll be losing flesh if they’re herded much longer.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Towards evening the old man became restless—both Joyce and Dode -noticed it, but neither was quite prepared when returning from the west field -to find the homestead empty, except for the Chinese cook, and the pinto cayune -gone from the stables.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“He’s gone to have a look at the herd,” Dode said.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“But alone, and on pinto!” exclaimed the girl. “You know how she -stumbles. I must go and find him.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“She stumbles, but she don’t fall,” said Dode. “Let him be—this once. -Alone—that’s the best way for him to find out.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>He told her all, while Joyce sat like one turned to stone. When he had -done, she looked up into his face.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Then—then we <i>have</i> got to start all over again,” she whispered.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Pretty near.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Dode looked out through the window. The setting sun was dyeing the -sea of yellow grass a rich auburn, and Joyce was at his side, but his thoughts -were with the lone rider down on the grass flats. He would find the corrals -empty, the gates open. He would follow the tracks up the coolie, and still -up, until he came to the deep gully of gumbo and yellow gravel. Dode remembered -that the “ewe-necked” grey with the roan foal lay at the outside of -the ghastly circle, her mild eyes staring glassily down the valley. Beyond -that his thoughts refused to travel.</p> - -<p class='c008'>It was eight o’clock before Joe Gilchrist returned. He stabled the pinto -himself and came into the sitting-room, where Joyce and Dode sat pretending -to read, with his usual slow, heavy step. The pine-pole rocker creaked, and -they could hear him whittling at his plug of tobacco, but they could not bring -themselves to look up.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Bit dull to-night, ain’t you?” he queried suddenly. His voice was so -natural that for a fleeting moment Dode thought it impossible that he could -know. But when he looked up, there was no longer any doubt in his mind. -The strong old face was drawn and haggard, in spite of the smile he had summoned -to his lips. His keen eyes were levelled on the younger man in a -penetrating but not unkindly look.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I guess you were right, Dode,” he drawled. “The prairie knows how -to cure swelled head.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>And the other two knew that the miracle had come to pass.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_162'>162</span> - <h2 class='c003'><span class='xxlarge'>The Fight <i>for the</i> Garden</span><br /> <br /><span class='xlarge'><i>By</i> Sir Arthur T. Quiller-Couch</span><br /> <br /><i>Duke of Cornwall’s Light Infantry</i></h2> -</div> - -<h3 class='c009'>I</h3> - -<p class='c010'>“It is strange, though,” said the gardener’s wife in Flemish, standing in -the doorway of the chapel and studying, while she shook her duster, the tall -pigeon-house in the centre of the courtyard. “The birds have not come back -yet. Not a sign of them.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“They never like it when their house is cleaned out,” responded Philomène, -the middle-aged maid-of-all-work, just within the doorway. She, too, had a -duster and, perched on a step-ladder insecurely—she weighed, by our English -reckoning, a good fifteen stone—was flapping the dust from a tall crucifix -nailed above the lintel. “The good man told me he had collected close on -two pecks.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“He is down in the garden digging it in around the roses. He says that -it will certainly rain to-night.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“It has been raining to the southward all the afternoon,” said Philomène, -heavily descending her step-ladder and shielding her eyes to stare up at the -western window, through the clear quarrels of which the declining sun sent a -ray from under heavy clouds. “That will be by reason of the guns.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Thunder,” suggested the gardener’s wife.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“The guns bring the thunder; it is well known.” In her girlhood Philomène -had been affianced to a young artilleryman; she had lost him at Landrecy -twenty-one years ago, and had never since owned another lover or wished -for one.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Ah, well—provided they leave us alone, this time!” sighed the gardener’s -wife. She gazed across to the stable-buildings where, by a flight of cup steps -leading to the hay-loft, her two children, Jean and Pauline, were busy at play -with Antoine, son of a small farmer, whose homestead, scarcely a mile away, -aligned the high-road running south from the capital.</p> - -<p class='c008'>The school in the neighbouring village had been closed for two days; and -to-morrow, being Sunday, would make a third holiday anyhow. Yesterday -Jean and Pauline had been Antoine’s guests at a picnic breakfast in the sand-pit -opposite his father’s farm (there were domestic reasons why they could not -be entertained in the house), and had spent four blissful hours watching the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_163'>163</span>army—their army, horse, foot, and artillery, all within toss of a biscuit—march -past and southward along the chaussée. To-day it was their turn to be hosts; -and all the long afternoon, with intervals for light refreshment, the three -children had been conducting a series of military operations from the orchard-hedge -through the orchard, across a sunken ditch, through the terraced garden -(with circumspection here, for the gardener was swift to detect and stern -to avenge paternally any footmark on his beds), through the small fruit-garden -(where it was forbidden to eat the under-ripe currants), the barnyard, among -the haystacks, the outbuildings, to the courtyard and a grand finale on the -stable steps. Here Napoleon (Antoine, in a cocked hat of glazed paper) was -making a last desperate stand on the stair-head, with his back to the door -of the loft and using the broken half of a flail en moulinet to ward off a combined -“kill” by the Prince of Orange (Jean) and the British Army (Pauline). -Jean wielded a hoe and carried a wooden sword in an orange-coloured scarf -strapped as waistband around his blouse. But Pauline made the most picturesque -figure by far. She had kilted her petticoat high, and gartered her -stocking low, exposing her knees. On her head through the heat of action -she carried an old muff strapped under her chin with twine. Her right hand -menaced the Corsican with a broomstick; her left arm she held crooked, working -the elbow against her hip while her mouth uttered discordant sounds as -a bagpipe.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Pauline—Pauline!” called her mother. “Mais, tais-toi donc—c’est -à tue-tête! Et d’ailleurs nu-genoux! C’n’est pas sage, ça....”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“C’est le pibrock, maman,” called back the child, desisting for a moment. -“J’suis Ecossaise, voilà!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>She had seen the Highland regiments yesterday, and the sight had given -her a new self-respect, a new interest in warfare; since (as she maintained -against Antoine and Jean) these kilted warriors must be women; giantesses -out of the North, but none the less women. “Why, it stands to reason. Look -at their clothes!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>The gardener’s wife left discipline to her husband. She took a step or -two out into the yard, for a glance at the sun slanting between the poplar -top of the avenue. “It’s time Antoine’s father fetched him,” she announced, -returning to the chapel. “And what has happened to the birds I cannot think. -One would say they had forgotten their roosting house.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“The birds will return when the corn is spread,” answered Philomène -comfortably. “As for little Antoine, if he be not fetched, he shall have supper, -and I myself will see him home across the fields. The child has courage enough -to go alone, if we pack him off now, before nightfall; but I doubt the evil -characters about. There are always many such in the track of an army.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“If that be so,” the gardener’s wife objected, “it will not be pleasant for -you, when you have left him, to be returning alone in the dark. Why not -take him back now before supper?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Philomène shrugged her broad shoulders. “Never fear for me, wife; -I understand soldiery. And moreover, am I to leave the chapel unredded on -a Saturday evening, of all times?”</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_164'>164</span>“But since no one visits it——”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“The good God visits it, service or no service. What did Father Cosmas -preach to us two Sundays ago? ‘Work,’ said he, ‘for you cannot tell at -what hour the Bridegroom cometh’—nor the baby, either, he might have -said. Most likely the good man, Antoine’s father, has work on his hands, -and doctors so scarce with all this military overrunning us. I dreamt last -night it would be twins. There now! I’ve said it, and a Friday night’s -dream told on a Saturday——”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Wh’st, woman!” interrupted the gardener’s wife, in a listening attitude; -for the shouts of the children had ceased of a sudden.</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>II</h3> - -<p class='c010'>Napoleon, at bay with his back to the hay-loft door, ceased to brandish his -weapon, dropped his sword-arm and flung out the other, pointing:</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Look!” he cried. “Behind you!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Oh, we know that trick!” answered the escalading party, and closed -upon him for the coup de grâce. But he ducked under Jean’s clutch, still -pointing, and cried again, this time so earnestly that they paused indeed and -turned for a look.</p> - -<p class='c008'>About half-way between the foot of the steps and the arched entrance, -with one of its double doors open behind him, stood a spare shortish gentleman, -in blue frock-coat, white breeches, and Hessian boots. On his head -was a small cocked hat, the peak of it only a little shorter than the nose which -it overshadowed; and to this nose the spare shortish gentleman was carrying -a pinch of snuff as he halted and regarded the children with what, had his -mouth been less grim, might have passed for a smile of amusement.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Mademoiselle and messieurs both,” said he in very bad French, “I am -sorry to interrupt, but I wish to see the propriétaire.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“The pro—— but that will be monseigneur,” answered Pauline, who was -the readiest (and the visitor’s eyes were upon her, as if he had instantly guessed -this). “But you cannot see him, sir, for he lives at Nivelles, and, moreover, -is ever so old.” She spread her hands apart as one elongates a concertina. -“Between eighty and ninety, mamma says. He is too old to travel nowadays, -even from Nivelles, and my brother Jean here is the only one of us who remembers -to have seen him.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I remember him,” put in Jean, “because he wore blue spectacles and -carried a white umbrella. He was not half so tall as anyone would think. -Oh, what a beautiful horse!” he exclaimed, catching through the gateway -a glimpse of a bright chestnut charger which an orderly was walking to and -fro in the avenue. “Does he really belong to you, sir?” Jean asked this -because the visitor’s dress did not bespeak affluence. A button was missing -from his frock-coat, his boots were mired to their tops, and a black smear -on one side of his long nose made his appearance rather disreputable than -not. It was, in fact, a smear of gunpowder.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“He really does,” said the visitor, and turned again to Pauline, his blue -<span class='pageno' id='Page_165'>165</span>eyes twinkling a little, his mouth grim as before. “Who, then, is in charge -of this place?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“My father, sir. He has been the gardener here since long before we -were born, and mamma is his wife. He is in the garden at this moment if -you wish to see him.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I do,” said the visitor, after a sharp glance around the courtyard, and -another at its high protecting wall. “Take me to him, please!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Pauline led him by a little gateway past the angle of the château and out -upon the upper terrace of the garden—planted in the formal style—which -ran along the main (south) front of the building and sloped to a stout brick -wall some nine feet in height. Beyond the wall a grove of beech trees stretched -southward upon the plain into open country.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Excellent!” said the visitor. “First rate!” Yet he seemed to take -small note of the orange trees, now in full bloom, or of the box-edged borders -filled with periwinkle and blue forget-me-not, or with mignonette smelling -very sweetly in the cool of the day; nor as yet had he cast more than a cursory -glance along the whitewashed façade of the château or up at its high red-tiled -roof with the pointed Flemish turrets that strangers invariably admired. -He appeared quite incurious, too, when she halted a moment to give him a -chance of wondering at the famous sun-dial—a circular flower-bed with a -tall wooden gnomon in the centre and the hours cut in box around the edge.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“But where is your father?” he asked impatiently, drawing out a fine -gold watch from his fob.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“He is not in the rose-garden, it seems,” said Pauline, gazing along the -terrace eastward. “Then he will be in the orchard beyond.” She turned to -bid Jean run and fetch him; but the two boys had thought it better fun to -run back for a look at the handsome chestnut charger.</p> - -<p class='c008'>So she hurried on as guide. From the terrace they descended by some -stone steps to a covered walk, at the end of which, close by the southern wall, -stood another wonder—a tall picture, very vilely painted and in vile perspective, -but meant to trick the eye by representing the walk as continued, with -a summer-house at the end. The children held this for one of the cleverest -things in the world. The visitor said “p’sh!” and in the rudest manner.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Stepping from this covered way they followed a path which ran at right angles -to it, close under the south wall, which was of brick on a low foundation of stone -and stout brick buttresses. In these the visitor’s interest seemed to revive.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Couldn’t be better,” he said, nodding grimly.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Pauline knew that her father must be in the orchard, for the small door -at the end of the path stood open; and just beyond it, and beyond a sunken -ditch, sure enough they found him, with a pail of wash and a brush, anointing -some trees on which the caterpillars had fastened. As the visitor strode forward -Pauline came to a halt, having been taught that to listen to the talk of -grown-up people was unbecoming.</p> - -<p class='c008'>But some words she could not help overhearing. “Good evening, my -friend,” said the visitor, stepping forward. “This is a fine orchard you have -here. At what size do you put it?”</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_166'>166</span>“He is going to buy the château,” thought Pauline with a sinking of her -small heart; for she knew that monseigneur, being so old, had more than -once threatened to sell it. “He is going to buy the château, and we shall -be turned out.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“We reckon it at three arpents, more or less. Yes, assuredly—a noble -orchard, and in the best order, though I say it.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>After a word or two which she could not catch, they walked off a little -way under the trees. Their conversation grew more earnest. By and by -Pauline saw her father step back a pace and salute with great reverence.</p> - -<p class='c008'>(“Yes, of course,” she decided. “He is a very rich man, or he could -not be buying such a place. But it will break mamma’s heart—and mine. -And what is the place to this man, who appreciates nothing—not even the -sun-dial?”)</p> - -<p class='c008'>The two came back slowly, her father walking now at a distance respectfully -wide of the visitor. They passed Pauline as if unaware of her presence. The -visitor was saying——</p> - -<p class='c008'>“If we do not hold this point to-night, the French will hold it to-morrow. -You understand?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>They went through the small doorway into the garden. Pauline followed. -Again the visitor seemed to regard the long brick wall—in front of which -grew a neglected line of shrubs, making the best of its northern aspect—as -its most interesting feature.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Might have been built for the very purpose with these buttresses.” He -stopped towards one and held the edge of his palm against it, almost half-way -down. “But you must cut it down, so.” He spoke as if the brickwork were -a shrub to be lopped. “Have you a nice lot of planks handy?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“A few, milord. We keep some for scaffolding, when repairs are needed.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Not enough, hey? Then we must rip up a floor or two. My fellows -will see to it.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>The gardener rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. “To be sure there are the -benches in the chapel,” he suggested.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“That’s a notion. Let’s have a look at ’em.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>They mounted to the terrace and passed back into the courtyard, Pauline -still following. Antoine’s father had arrived to fetch him; had arrived too -with a cart. The cart held a quantity of household furniture. The farmer -held the reins, and the gardener’s wife and Philomène were hoisting the child -up beside him. They were agitated, as anyone could see, and while her father -led the visitor into the chapel Pauline walked over to Jean, who stood watching, -to ask him what it all meant.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“He says the war is coming back this way: it may even be to-night.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Yes,” said the farmer, addressing the women and unwittingly corroborating -Jean’s report. “This is the third load. With the first I took along my -good woman, and by God’s mercy found a lodging for her at the Curé’s. A -small bedroom—that is all; but it will be handy for the midwife.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“And your crops, my poor friend?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“It was a fine swathe of rye, to be sure,” agreed the farmer, sighing. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_167'>167</span>“And the barley full of promise—one gets compensation, they tell me; but -that will be small comfort if while the grass grows the cow starves. So I -brought you the first word, did I? Vraiment? And yet by this time I should -not wonder if the troops were in sight.” He waved a hand to the southward.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Jean plucked Pauline by the sleeve. The two stole away together to the -ladder that stood against the pigeon-house.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“We hear no news of the world at all,” said the gardener’s wife. “My -man at this season is so wrapped up in his roses——”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Holà, neighbour!” called the gardener at this moment, coming forth -from the chapel, the visitor behind him. “You are stealing a march on us, -it seems? Now as a friend the best you can do is to drive ahead and bespeak -some room at the village for my wife and little ones, while they pack and -I get out the carts.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Is it true, then?” His wife turned on him in a twitter.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“My good woman,” interposed the visitor, coming forward—at sight of -whom the farmer gave a gasp and then lifted his whip-head in a flurried (and -quite unheeded) salute—“it is true, I regret to say, that to-night and to-morrow -this house will be no place for you or for your children. Your husband -may return if he chooses, when he has seen you safely bestowed. Indeed, -he will be useful and probably in no danger until to-morrow.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“The children—where are the children?” quavered the gardener’s wife, -and began calling, “Jean! Pauline!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Jean and Pauline by this time were perched high on the ladder, under -the platform of the pigeon-cote. From this perch they could spy over the -irregular ridge of the outbuildings down across the garden to the grove, and -yet beyond the grove, between the beech-tops to the southward ridge of the -plain which on most days presented an undulating horizon; but now all was -blurred in that direction by heavy rain-clouds, and no sign of the returning -army could be seen, save a small group of horsemen coming at a trot along the -great high-road and scarcely half a mile away. Crosswise from their right -a shaft of the setting sun shot, as through the slit of a closing shutter, between -the crest of another wood and rain-clouds scarcely less dark. It dazzled their -eyes. It lit a rainbow in the eastern sky, where also the clouds had started -to discharge their rain.</p> - -<p class='c008'>The château seemed to be a vortex around which the thunderstorm was -closing fast—on three sides at any rate. But for the moment, poured through -this one long rift in the west, sunlight bathed the buildings; a sunlight uncanny -and red, that streamed into the courtyard across the low ridge of the outbuildings. -The visitor had stepped back to the eastern angle of the house, -and stood there as if measuring with his eye the distance between him and -the gate. He began to pace it, and as he advanced, to Jean’s eye his shadow -shortened itself down the wall like a streak of red blood fading from the top.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“There’s room in the cart here for the little ones,” the farmer suggested.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“But no,” answered the gardener; “Jean and Pauline will be needed to -drive off the cattle. I shall take one cart; you, Philomène, the other; and I -will have both ready by the time you women have packed what is necessary.”</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_168'>168</span>“A bientôt, then!” The farmer started his mare, the gardener following -him to the gateway. The gardener’s wife turned towards the house, -sobbing. “But I shall come back,” called Philomène stoutly. “Mon Dieu, -does anyone suppose I will leave our best rooms to be tramped through by -a lot of nasty foreign soldiers!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>No one listened to her. After a moment she, too, went off towards the -house. Jean and Pauline slid down the ladder.</p> - -<p class='c008'>The farmer’s cart had rumbled through the archway and out into the -avenue. The visitor had beckoned his orderly, and was preparing to mount. -With one foot in stirrup he turned to the gardener. “By the way,” said he, -“when you return from the village bring lanterns—all you can collect”; -then to the orderly, “Give me my cloak!” for already the rain was beginning -to fall in large drops.</p> - -<p class='c008'>A squall of rain burst over the poplars as he rode away.</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>III</h3> - -<p class='c010'>Jean and Pauline awoke next morning to some very queer sensations. -They had slept in their clothes upon beds of hay. Their bedroom, in fact, was -part of a cottage loft partitioned into two by rough boards; on this side, hay—on -the other a hen-roost. The poultry were cackling and crowing and seemed -to be in a flurry. Jean raised himself on his elbow and called:</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Pauline!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Jean! I was just going to wake you. I have scarcely slept all night, -while you have been snoring. Listen! The battle has begun.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Sure enough a deal of fusillading was going on, and not very far away; -and this no doubt had scared the fowls on the other side of the partition. The -loft had but a narrow slit, unglazed, close under the eaves, to admit air and -daylight. Jean crept to it, over the trusses of hay, and peered out on the -world. He could see nothing but clouds and a few near trees wrapped in a -foggy drizzle. Still the loose fusillade went on.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I don’t think it can be the battle,” he reported. “Philomène says that -battles always begin nowadays with the big guns, and this moreover sounds -half-hearted.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>He was right, too. The two or three trees visible in the mist were the -outposts of a plantation which straggled up to the entrance of the village. -Beyond this plantation lay two regiments that, like the rest of the army, had -marched and bivouacked in mud and rain. At dawn they had been ordered -to clean their small arms, and since the readiest way to make sure of a musket -is to fire off the charge, they had been directed to do so, by companies.</p> - -<p class='c008'>In an interval of this fusillade the children caught the sound of someone -moving in the kitchen below, lighting the fire. Jean crept from his window-slit -to the hatchway of the loft and called down softly, “Maman!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>The good woman of the cottage answered, bidding him go back to bed -again. His mother was not in the house, but had been called during the night -to visit a cottage some way up the road.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_169'>169</span>“That will be Antoine’s mother,” whispered Pauline, who had crept over -the hay to Jean’s side. “Is it a boy or a girl?” she asked aloud.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“It is twins,” said the good woman. “Now lie down and be sensible, -you two.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“But where is papa?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Down at the château, doubtless. But God knows. He was here a little -before midnight, and left again meaning to spend the night there. Now I -have told you what I know.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>The two crept back to their lairs, and lay very obediently until the good -woman called up that coffee was ready. They hurried down the ladder, washed -their hands and faces at the pump outside, and returned to the meal. There -was coffee and a very savoury pottage in which they dipped great slices of -bread. The woman was kind to them, having no children of her own. Her -husband (she said) was somewhere in the plantation, felling trees with the -troops. He had gone out long before dawn with a lantern, because he knew -the best trees and could lead the pioneers to them in the dark.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Jean, having breakfasted until his small belly was tight as a drum, felt -a new courage in his veins, and a great curiosity. He proposed to Pauline in -a whisper that they should run down together to the château and see how -papa was getting on, and Philomène.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“She will scold, though,” objected Pauline.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Oh!” said Jean. “Philomène’s scolding!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>They ran out into the back garden. “That is right,” the woman called -after them. “You can play there more safely than in the road. But be -sensible now; if they should begin firing——”</p> - -<p class='c008'>It was not difficult to slip through the tumble-down fence. On the far -side of it the children struck a footpath which ran down across a rye-field to -the plantation. The rain had ceased, and above the rye many larks were -singing, though the clouds hung grey and heavy. The loose firing, too, had -ceased. Trees and the backs of a few cottages on their left, denser woodland -ahead of them, circumscribed the view here. Not a soldier was in sight. -There was nothing to be heard save the larks’ chorus.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“But, of course,” exclaimed Pauline, recollecting, “it is Sunday. People -do not fight on Sunday.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Are you sure?” asked Jean, with a touch of disappointment. “If it -were an ordinary Sunday the church bell would be ringing before now.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“That is M. le Curé’s cunning. With so many soldiers about, his church -would be suffocated if he called attention——”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“But where are the soldiers?” demanded Jean.</p> - -<p class='c008'>They went down the path, which was narrow and slippery with mire, -between walls of rye that, when brushed against, shook down the golden rain -in showers. Jean led, with Pauline at his heels. They reached the plantation -and entered it by a low gap. The wood being of beech, there was no -undergrowth to wet their legs; but the boughs dripped. The plantation -ended at a bank overhanging a paved road, and down this bank they scrambled -without difficulty.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_170'>170</span>The pavement ran down the middle of the road, and they followed this, -avoiding the slush which lined it on either side. The ruts here were prodigious. -In fact, the children, who had driven the cattle up this road a few hours ago, -found it almost unrecognisable.</p> - -<p class='c008'>They now heard sounds of wood-cutters’ axes, creaking timber, men’s -voices—foreign voices, and at an angle of the road came on a sudden glimpse -of scarlet. The avenue to the château turned off from the high-road just here; -and just beyond the turning a company of British red-coats were completing -an abattis, breast-high, of lopped trees criss-crossed and interlaced with -beech-boughs.</p> - -<p class='c008'>An officer caught sight of the children as they stood hesitating, and warned -them sharply to go back.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“But we have a message for our father, who is the gardener yonder,” -spoke up Jean, with a jerk of his thumb towards the château.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Well, you can give it to the sentry at the gate, if he’ll take it. But be -quick!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>The children darted up the avenue between the poplars. At the entrance -gate, which stood open, sure enough they found a red-coat posted.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“We bring a message for our father, who is the gardener here,” said Jean, -hardily.</p> - -<p class='c008'>The sentinel made him repeat it, and answered in execrable French. “Well, -I suppose there is no harm in letting you carry it, if the message is urgent. -Your father’s somewhere in the garden; I saw him pass that way a minute -ago. But you must promise to be back within five minutes.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Lord, now,” added the sentry, smiling down at them, “I left just such -a pair as you at home, not two months ago. I’d be sorry, much as I love -them, to see them anyways here.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I like that man,” said Pauline, as she and Jean passed into the yard. -The place was empty, save for two soldiers—Lunsbrugers—in green uniform, -who were carrying a bench from the chapel towards the small gate of the garden.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“But we have no message for papa,” said Pauline, “unless we tell him -that Antoine’s mother has twins.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“And he won’t be in a hurry to hear that.” Just then a dull noise sounded -afar to the southward, and the ground seemed to shake a little. “We will -first seek Philomène.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>He had hardly spoken the words when something screamed in the air -above and struck the edge of the stable-steps with a terrific crash. The children, -frightened out of their lives, dashed for the ladder of the pigeon-house—the -nearest solid object to which they could cling. Across the smoke, as they -clung and turned, they saw the sentry very coolly shutting the gate. Four -or five green-coats ran out of the chapel to help him, but paused a moment -as a second and a third shot whistled wide overhead. Then they rushed -forward, heads down, to the gate, which was quickly shut and barred. They -had not seen the children, who now, climbing up the ladder, stayed not until -they had squeezed through the square hole of the platform and crawled into -the pigeon-house, where they lay panting.</p> - -<div class='figcenter id001'> -<img src='images/p171.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic002'> -<p>“They had not seen the children, who now, climbing up the ladder, stayed not until they had squeezed through the square hole of the platform” (page 170).</p> -</div> -</div> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_172'>172</span>It was, of course, quite foolish to seek shelter here. For the moment they -would have been far safer in the courtyard below, under the lee of the outbuildings. -A ball, striking the pigeon-house, would knock it to shivers at one -blow. But they had climbed in pure panic, and even now, without any excuse -of reason, they felt more secure here.</p> - -<p class='c008'>As a matter of fact the danger was lessening, for with these first shots -the artillery to the southward, beyond the trees, had been finding its range -and now began to drop its fire shorter, upon the garden below the château. -Through their pigeon-holes Jean and Pauline overlooked almost the whole -stretch of the garden, the foot of which along the brick wall was closely lined -with soldiers—tall red-coats for the most part, with squads of green-jackets -here and there and a sprinkling of men who carried yellow knapsacks. They -had broken down the cups of the buttresses during the night and laid planks -from buttress to buttress, forming a platform that ran the entire length of -the wall. Along this platform a part of the defenders stood ready with bayonets -fixed in their muskets, which they rested for the moment on the brick coping; -others knelt on the flower border close beneath the platform watching at -apertures where a few bricks had been knocked out. There were green jackets -and yellow, too, in the grove beyond, posted here and there behind the breech-holes—a -line of them pushed forward to a hedge on the left—with a line of -retreat left open by a small doorway.</p> - -<p class='c008'>This was all that Jean and Pauline could see of the defence; and even -this they took in hurriedly, for the round shot by now was sweeping the garden -terraces and ploughing through the flower-beds. It still passed harmlessly -over the wall and the soldiery lining it; and the children could see the men -turn to watch the damage and grin at one another jocosely. Pauline wondered -at their levity; for the hail under which they stood and the whistling noise of -it, the constant throbbing of earth and air and the repeated heavy thuds upon -the terrace were enough to strike terror into anyone.</p> - -<p class='c008'>She cried “O—oh!” as a tall orange-tree fell, shorn through as easily -as a cabbage stump.</p> - -<p class='c008'>But Jean dragged at her arm. Between the tree tops in a gap of the smoke -that hung and drifted beyond the wood—which dipped southward with the -lie of the slope and fined away there to an acute angle—the enemy batteries, -or two of them, were visible, shooting out fresh wings of smoke on the sullen -air, and on a rising ground beyond, dense masses of infantry, with squadrons -of horsemen moving and taking up position. Flags and pennons flickered, -and from moment to moment, as a troop shifted ground, quick rivulets of light -played across lines of cuirasses and helmets. Tens—hundreds—of thousands -were gathered there and stretched away to the left (the trees were lower to -the left and gave a better view); and the object of this tremendous concourse, -as it presented itself to Jean—all to descend upon the château and swallow -up this thin line of men by the garden wall. To him, as to Pauline, this -home of theirs meant more than the capital, being the centre of their world; -and of other preparations to resist the multitude opposite they could see -nothing.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_173'>173</span>Jean wondered why, seeing it was so easy, the great masses hung on the -slope and refrained from descending to deliver the blow.</p> - -<p class='c008'>By and by that part of the main body which stood facing the angle where -the wood ended threw out, as it were by a puff, a cloud of little figures to left -and right, much like two swarms of bees; and these two dark swarms, each -as it came on in irregular order, expanding until their inner sides melted together -and made one, descended under cover of their artillery to the dip, where -for a few minutes Jean lost sight of them.</p> - -<p class='c008'>In less than a minute the booming of the heavy guns ceased, and their -music was taken up by a quick crackle of small arms on both sides of the wood. -The line of defenders by the hedge shook, wavered, broke and came running -back, mingling with their supporters posted behind the beech-boles; under -whose cover they found time to reload and fire again, dodging from tree to -tree. But still as it dodged the whole body of men in the wood was being -driven backward and inward from both sides upon the small door admitting -to the garden. At this point the crush was hidden by the intervening wall. -The children could only see the thin trickle of men, as after jostling without -they escaped back through the doorway. But across the wall could now be -seen the first of the assailants closing in among the beech-trunks. A line -of red jackets, hitherto hidden, sprang forward—as it were from the base of -the wall on the far side—to cover the route. But they were few and seemed -doomed to perish when——</p> - -<p class='c008'>Whirr-rh! Over the children’s heads, from somewhere behind the château, -a shell hissed, plunged into the trees right amongst the assailants, and exploded. -It was followed by another, another, and yet another. The whole air screamed -with shells as the earth shook again with their explosions. But the marvel -was the accuracy with which they dropped, plump among trees through which -the assailants crowded—white-breasted regiments of the line, blue-coated, -black-gaitered, sharpshooters closing in on their flanks. The edge of this ring -within thirty seconds was a semicircle of smoke and flame along which, as -globe after globe fell and crashed, arms tossed, bodies leapt and pitched back -convulsively; while even two hundred yards nearer at most, the knot of -defenders stood unscathed.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Within five minutes—so deadly was the play of these unseen howitzers—not -a blue-coat stood anywhere in sight. A few wounded could be seen -crawling away to shelter. The rest of the front and second lines lay in an -irregular ring, and behind it the assault, which had swept so close up to the -wall, melted clean away. Amid hurrahs the streams of green and yellow -jackets, which had been pouring in at the entry, steadied itself and began to -pour forth again to reoccupy the wood, gaily encouraged by the tall red-coats -on the platform. The hail of shells ceased as suddenly as it had begun.</p> - -<p class='c008'>In the lull Jean found tune to look below him, then through another pigeon-hole -which faced the gateway he saw his father crossing the yard with a red-coated -officer who was persuading him to leave it.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Philomène!” shouted the gardener.</p> - -<p class='c008'>The serving-woman came forth from the doorway of the house, bearing -<span class='pageno' id='Page_174'>174</span>a large basin. She emptied it into a sink beside the steps, and what she poured -was to appearance a bowlful of blood.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“We are to go, it seems,” called the gardener. “They will try again, -and the likes of us will be shot as having no business here.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“No business?” called back Philomène. “I don’t remember when I -had so much.” She disappeared into the house.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Papa!” shrilled Jean, and pushed Pauline out towards the platform. -“For your life, quick!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“But the ladder has gone!” gasped Pauline.</p> - -<p class='c008'>It was true. Jean shouted to his father again, but the scream of a belated -shell overhead drowned his young voice. Someone had removed the ladder. -Before he could call again his father had passed out and the sentry, under the -officer’s instructions, was barring the gate.</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>IV</h3> - -<p class='c010'>The ladder which alone could help them to descend rested against the -curtain of the gate, some two dozen yards away. Why it had been carried -off to be planted there, or by whom, there was no guessing. Someone, maybe, -had done it in a panic. For a moment it rested there idly: yet, as events proved, -it had a purpose to serve.</p> - -<p class='c008'>A lull of twenty minutes ensued on the baffled first assault. But the French -tirailleurs, beaten back from their direct attack on the wood, collected themselves -on the edges of it, and began to play a new and more deadly game, creeping -singly along the hedges and by the sunken ways, halting, gathering, pushing -on again, gradually enclosing three sides of the walled enceinte. Against -the abattis on the high-road they made a small demonstration as a feint. -But the main rush came again through the wood and across an orchard to the -left of it.</p> - -<p class='c008'>This time, for some reason, the deadly howitzers were silent. This time, -after another roar of artillery fire, the defenders in the grove came pouring -back with the black-gaitered men close upon them, intercepting and shooting -them down by scores.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Then followed half an hour’s horrible work all along the garden wall; work -of which (and they should have thanked Heaven for it) the children missed -the worst, seeing only the red-coats jabbing across the wall and downwards -with their bayonets; the riflemen at the loopholes firing, drawing back, pausing -to re-load. The small door had been shut fast, and a dozen men held their -weight against it.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Yells and firing sounded all the while from the orchard to the loft. But -what was happening there the children could not see. An angle of the house -cut off their view in that direction—cut off in fact, their view of the main -field of battle, where charge after charge of cavalry was being launched against -the few regiments holding a ridge to the left, close under which the château -stood.</p> - -<p class='c008'>But for Jean and Pauline the whole fight was for the château—their home, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_175'>175</span>and especially just now for the garden. It seemed incredible that a thin -line of red-coats could hold the wall against such numbers as kept pouring up -between the beech-boles. Yet minute after minute passed, and the wall was -not carried.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Someone shouted close at hand from the gate. They turned that way, -each choosing a peephole. A score of blue-coats had actually burst the gate -open, and were carrying the courtyard with a rush. But, half-way, as many -red-coats met them and swept them out at point of bayonet, forcing the -double gate on their backs. Half a dozen others ran with beams to barricade -it. Close beside it to the left a man topped the wall and straddled it with -a shout of triumph; a red-coat fired slantwise from the pigeon-house ladder -and he pitched writhing upon the cobbles. Shakos and heads bobbed up -behind the coping whence he had dropped; but the yard now was full of -soldiers (Heaven knew whence they had sprung) and so this assault too was -driven back.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Shouts arose from the left of the house. Gradually, the assault here being -baffled, the men drained off in that direction. The attack upon the wall, too, -seemed to have eased. Then came another lull. Then the enemy’s artillery -opened fire again, this time with shell. A tall officer stood against the wall, -shouting an order, when the first shell dropped. When the smoke of the explosion -cleared he was there no longer. There remained only what seemed -to be his shadow. It was actually the streak of him beaten in blood upon the -stucco.</p> - -<p class='c008'>This new cannonade was designed to set fire to the obstinate buildings, and -very soon the roof broke into a blaze in two places. That of the chapel was -the first to catch, at the western end. Many of the wounded had been carried -there.</p> - -<p class='c008'>The pigeon-house stood intact. Not even a stray bullet had struck it. -But now a new danger threatened the children and a surer one even than the -fast dropping shells. Smoke from the blazing roof of the main building poured -into every aperture of their hiding-place. They fought with it, striving to -push it from them with hands that still grew feebler. Of a sudden it blotted -out, not the battle only, but life itself for them.</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>V</h3> - -<p class='c010'>“Pauline!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>It seemed to Jean that he was awaking again in the hay-loft. Again he -heard the distant crackle of musketry.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Pauline!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Pauline stirred. At that moment a bird alighted on a sill before one of -the holes and disappeared with a whirr of wings. It was a pigeon returning -to roost, frightened to discover his house occupied.</p> - -<p class='c008'>The noise awakened Pauline upright. She sat up on the floor of the loft -and asked suddenly:</p> - -<p class='c008'>“But did they break in after all?”</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_176'>176</span>“They? Who?” asked Jean, still confused. But he crept to the opening, -as he had crept to the other opening in the dawn.</p> - -<p class='c008'>It was close upon sunset now; but he did not mark this. What he marked—and -what brought him back to his senses—was the sight of Philomène crossing -the empty courtyard with a bucket. It was the same courtyard, though its -outbuildings here and there lacked a roof. It was the same Philomène anyhow, -with her waddling walk.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Philomène!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Eh? But, the good God deliver us, how?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Fetch the ladder here.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>She fetched and planted it. The two children climbed down to her.</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>VI</h3> - -<p class='c010'>A man came through the broken gateway and stood for a moment gazing -around him in the falling twilight at the ruins—a tall sergeant of the Horse -Artillery. He caught sight of Philomène and the children and stared at them, -harder still.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Well, I’ve seen things to-day,” he said. “But if you ain’t the unlikeliest. -Who belongs here?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I could have told you, yesterday,” answered Philomène, in an old voice, -following his look around.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“And you’ve seen these things? You?” he asked. His face was dirty—a -mask of gunpowder; but his eyes shone kindly, and Pauline, without -recognising his uniform, knew him for a friend. “Well, I’m——! But -who lives here just now?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“There’s nobody at home just now but me and the children, as you see,” -said Philomène. “Were you looking for somebody?” with another look -around. “He will be hard to find.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>The tall sergeant leaned an elbow against the gate. He was tottering -with fatigue. “It’s a victory, that’s what it is,” he said; “an almighty -victory.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“It ought to be, God knows,” Philomène assented.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“And—and——But you’ll be busy, no doubt?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Moderately.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I have to push on with my battery. But there’s no real hurry—the -Prussians are after them. Now I thought—on the off-chance, if I could find -a friend here——”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“What is it you ask of me, good man?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“If one of you wouldn’t mind stepping yonder with me. It’s much to -ask, I know. But there’s a gentleman—an officer of ours——”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Wounded?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“No such trouble for you, good woman. Dead he is, and I helped bury -him. But I want to find someone who will mark the place and keep it marked -’gainst I come back—if ever I do.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Was he a friend of yours, then?” asked Philomène, while the children -stared.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_177'>177</span>“I wouldn’t altogether say that. He’d have said ‘yes’ fast enough, if -you’d asked him. But he was a gentleman; Ramsey by name—Major Norman -Ramsey; one of many fallen to-day, but I rode with him in his battery when -he charged in slap through the whole French cavalry at Fuentes d’Oñoro. -Will you come? ’Tis but a little way.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>His voice pleaded so—it was so strange and womanly, coming from a -man of his strength and inches—that they followed him almost without demur, -out by the gateway and around the sunken lane at the back of the buildings, -where (for it was dark) they had to pick their steps for fear of stumbling over -the dead.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Mercifully the way was not far. The tall sergeant halted and pointed to -a patch of broken turf, where was a loose mound among broad wheel-ruts.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“You see, I have marked it with a stone,” said he. “But in a few days’ -time there may be many around here. I want you to mark this one—it doesn’t -matter how, so that you know it and can point it out when his friends ask. -He wears his jacket, of course—the same as mine.” The tall man spanned -his chest and turned towards the dying daylight, so that the bars of yellow -braid showed between his fingers. “Only the facings will be of gold. You -see those three trees standing alone? They will be half-way between it and -the wall of the château—in a straight line almost; and the lane close here on -our left. You cannot miss it.” He felt in his pockets.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“We want no money, soldier,” said Philomène. “We will do our best. -Give me your name, that meanwhile we may pray for you and him, out of -these many.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“My name is Livesay, Sergeant, of Bull’s troop. That will mean nothing -to you, however.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I dare say,” answered Philomène simply, “it will convey more to our -Lord God. I had a man once—who was killed—in the Artillery.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Jean and Pauline stared at the man. Tears, as he stood by the grave, -had carved channels of white down his powder-stained cheeks.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I do not believe,” he said, “in praying for the dead. But I am glad, -somehow, there are folks who do. Will you? His name was Ramsey; and -the Duke, who has won this battle, broke his heart, curse him!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“How did he die, sir?” asked Philomène simply.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“He was killed some while ago and far from here,” answered the sergeant. -“Of a broken heart, Mademoiselle.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“It is a sad thing,” sighed Philomène, “to live for the Artillery.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>The sergeant seemed to wish to say more, but turned to shake hands with -her. He patted the children lightly on the head, then strode down the slope. -A last shaft of sunset cast his long shadow over the heaps of slain.</p> - -<p class='c008'>With a sob Philomène pulled herself together.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Mark my words, children. The pigeons will be home at their roosts to-morrow -and all this will be as if it never had been.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>She turned back to retrace the path, and over the fields of slain the two -children followed her, heavy with sleep.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_178'>178</span> - <h2 class='c003'><span class='xxlarge'>The Face <i>in the</i> Hop Vines</span><br /> <br /><span class='xlarge'><i>By</i> Charles G. D. Roberts</span><br /> <br /><i>King’s (Liverpool) Regiment</i></h2> -</div> - -<p class='c007'>From the low window, framed in hop-vines, came light enough to light to -bed so sleepy a traveller as I, so I troubled not at all to find the candle. Sitting -idly on the edge of the couch, I pondered on the effort it would require to pull -off my boots. A soldier, and hardened to all shifts, I might, indeed, have slept -as I was; but the bed was the best in the inn, and I cared not to vex my -hostess’s tidy soul by any such roughness of the camp. Even as I thought of -it, however, my tired brain was flowing away into dreams.</p> - -<p class='c008'>But on the sudden I sat up straight, very wide awake. My hand went to -the butt of my pistol. I had caught a stealthy rustling in the hop vines -about the window. Could these Acadians be planning any mischief against -me? It was not probable, for they were an open-dealing and courageous -folk, and had shown themselves civil during the few hours since my coming -to Cheticamp village. Nevertheless, I knew that in a certain sense I might -count myself to be in an enemy’s country, and vigilance my best comrade. -I sat in the gloom motionless, watching the pale square of the window.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Presently a head appeared close to the glass, and my fingers released the -pistol. The head was a woman’s—a young girl’s, it seemed—in the wimpled -white cap wherein these girls of Acadia are wont to enshadow their bright faces. -Then light fingers tapped on the pane, and with great willingness I threw open -the sash. But on the instant, guessing at a mystery of some sort, I held my -tongue and kept my face aloof from the outdoor glimmer. For my part, -however, I could make out—less, perhaps, by these material eyes than by the -insight of the heart—that the face which looked up peeringly into mine was -young and alluring.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Jacques,” she murmured in a voice which my ears at once approved, -“is it really you?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“There’s a mistake here—an interesting mistake,” said my heart to me. -But I let no such utterance rise to my lips. No, indeed. But my name is -Jack—and no one could be supposed to think of spelling at such a moment. -My conscience made no protest as I answered:</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Surely, dear one, it’s Jack. Who else could it be?”</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_179'>179</span>I spoke in a discreet whisper, for all voices in a whisper sound alike; and -I blessed my stars that I had perfected my French since my arrival in Halifax. -I put out my hand, but failed to find a small one to occupy it.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Of course, I knew it was you, Jacques,” the bewitching voice responded, -“or you don’t suppose I should have come knocking at your window this -way, do you?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“No, I should think not, <i>chérie</i>,” I assented heartily, solicitous to cherish -the maid’s mistake and prolong the interview to the utmost patience of Fate. -“But it was kind of you to come so soon.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>This seemed safe and non-committal, but I trembled after I said it, lest -some unknown revelation should be lurking in the words.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I had to, Jacques, because I was afraid you might come to see me to-night——”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I was coming,” I interrupted, boldly mendacious, “but I was on the -road all night, and thought I had better lie down for a soldier’s forty winks -before I called.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>She laughed under her breath provocatively.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“How your French has improved in these two years,” she remarked with -approbation. “I used to think you would never learn.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>This was the first time I had seen Cheticamp village, but I felt safe in my -reply.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I was stupid, of course, <i>mon ange</i>; but after I was gone I remembered -your sweet instructions.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>This was dangerous ground. I hastened to shift it.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“But tell me,” I went on, “what can you mean by saying I am not to -come and see you? Surely you are not going to be so cruel, when I’ve been -away so long.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“No, Jacques,” she said, with a decisive shake of her pretty head, “you -cannot come. Father is very bitter against you, and there would be a -scene.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>I began to feel that I had rights which were being trampled upon.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“But what do you suppose I came to Cheticamp for?” I pleaded.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Not merely to see me—that I know, Jacques,” came the decided answer. -“You could never get leave of absence just for that. You cold-blooded -English could never make a woman’s wishes so important.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Couldn’t we, indeed?” I protested. In my eagerness I leaned forward -into the glimmer, seeking closer proximity to the fair enshadowed face that -seemed to waver off alluringly just beyond my reach. Then, in a panic lest -I had revealed myself and displayed to her the error which I was finding so -agreeable, I drew myself back hastily into the gloom. To cover my alarm -I reproached her plaintively.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Why do you keep so far away, sweet one? Surely you are glad to see -me again!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>She laughed softly, deliciously, under her hood.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I haven’t seen you yet, really, you know, Jacques. Perhaps you have -changed, and I might not like you so well. Men do change, especially Englishmen -<span class='pageno' id='Page_180'>180</span>and soldiers, they say. But tell me, why have you come to Cheticamp; -what reason beside to see me?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>This was a poser. I feared the game was up. But experience has taught -me that when one has no good lie ready to hand it is safest to throw oneself -on the mercy of Truth and trust to her good nature. She has so many sides -that one of them can generally be found to serve any occasion. I told the -truth, yet with an air that would permit her to doubt, should the game -require it.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“The business which gained me the privilege of coming where I might -be once more blessed by the light of your sweet eyes, provoking one, was the -need conceived in the heart of our good Governor of putting a stop to certain -transactions with the French at Louisbourg, which, as you doubtless know -very well, have laid all this Cheticamp coast under grave suspicion. Your -people, I dare wager, are too wise to be mixed up in such perilous enterprises.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>No sooner had I spoken than I realised that, for once, Truth had tricked -me. I had better have trusted to invention.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Thank you, Jacques. That is just what I wanted to know. You are -so kind. Good night.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>There was a mocking note in the sweet voice, a little ring of triumph and -hostility. For one instant the face was raised, and I saw it plainly, as if by -the radiance of the scornful eyes. Then, before I could in any way gather -my wits, it vanished.</p> - -<p class='c008'>I thrust my head forward, heedless of concealment, and gained one glimpse -of a shadow disappearing through the shrubbery. I sprang out to follow. -But no, I forget myself. The window was somewhat small for one of my -inches. I climbed out laboriously. The witch was nowhere to be seen. Then, -still more laboriously, I climbed back again, cursing Fortune and my own -stupidity which had bungled so sweet a game. I sat down on the edge of my -bed to consider.</p> - -<p class='c008'>The errand which had brought me from Halifax to Cheticamp, with six -soldiers to support me, was one of some moment, and here was I already in -danger of distraction, thinking of a girl’s voice, of half-seen, mocking eyes, -rather than of my undertaking. I got up, shook myself angrily, then sat -down again to lay my plans for the morrow.</p> - -<p class='c008'>The old Seigneur of Cheticamp, Monsieur Raoul St. Michel le Fevre, had -heartily accepted the English rule, and dwelt in high favour with the powers -at Halifax. But he had died a year back, leaving his estates to his nephew, -young St. Michel. It had come to the ears of the Government that this youth, -a headstrong partisan of France, was taking advantage of his position as -seigneur to prosecute very successfully the forbidden traffic with Louisbourg. -Great and merited was the official indignation. It was resolved that the -estates should be confiscated at once, and young Monsieur St. Michel le Fevre -captured, if possible. Thereupon the estates were conferred upon myself, to -whom the Governor was somewhat deeply indebted. It was passing comfortable -to him to pay a debt out of a pocket other than his own. I was dispatched -to Cheticamp to gather in Monsieur le Fevre for the Governor and the le Fevre -<span class='pageno' id='Page_181'>181</span>estates for myself. They were fair estates, I had heard, and I vowed that -I would presently teach them to serve well the cause of England’s king.</p> - -<p class='c008'>My first thought in the morning, when the level sun streaming through -the hop vines brought me on the sudden wide awake—as a soldier should -wake, slipping cleanly and completely out of his sleep-heaviness—my first -thought, I say, was of a shadowed face vanishing into the night-glimmer, and -something enchantingly mysterious to be sought for in this remote Acadian -village. Then, remembering my business and hoping that my indiscretion -had not muddled it, I resolutely put the folly from me and sprang up.</p> - -<p class='c008'>It is curious, when one looks back, to note what petty details stand forth -in a clear light, as it were, upon the background of great and essential experience. -I am no gourmand, but apt to eat whatever is set before me, with little -concern save that it be cleanly and sufficient. Yet never do I hear or think -of Cheticamp village without a remembered savour of barley cakes and brown -honey, crossed delicately with the smell of bean blossoms blown in through a -sunny window. At the time, I am sure, I took little heed of these things. My -care was chiefly to see that two of my men set forth promptly to watch the -two wharves on each side of the creek, which served the fleet of the fishermen. -Then I dispatched two others to spy on the roadway entering and leaving -the village, and a fifth to sentinel a hill at the back overlooking all the open -country. With the remaining fellow, my orderly, at my heels, I set out for -the dwelling of young Monsieur St. Michel le Fevre de Cheticamp, rehearsing -his full name with care as I went, in order that there should be no lack of -courteous ceremony to disguise the rudeness of my errand.</p> - -<p class='c008'>I needed none to point me out the house of the le Fevres. On the crest -of a dark-wooded knoll at the south-east end of the one long village street, it -spread its cluster of grey gables, low and of a comfortable air. Fir groves -sheltered it to north and east. On the west gathered the cool, green ranks -of its apple orchard. Down the slope in front unrolled a careless garden—thyme -plots and hollyhock rows, gooseberry bushes and marigold beds, and -a wide waste of blossoming roses—all as unlike the formal pleasances of France -and England as garden-close could be, yet bewitching, like a fair and wilful -woman.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“It shall not be changed by so much as one gooseberry bush,” said I to -myself, highly pleased with the prospect. Then, rounding a lilac thicket, I -arrived at the open gate. And then, face to face, I met a girl.</p> - -<p class='c008'>The meeting was so sudden, and so closely did I confront her, that I felt -my coming a most uncivil intrusion. Moreover, she was most disconcerting -to look upon. Stammering apologies and snatching my hat from my head, -I flushed and dropped my eyes before her—which was not in accordance with -my custom. I dropped my eyes, as I say, but even then I saw her as clearly -within my brain as if my eyes were boldly resting upon her face.</p> - -<p class='c008'>The lady of the manor, evidently. I had heard there was a sister to the -recalcitrant young seigneur, one Mademoiselle Irene, over whose beauty and -caprices had more than one duel been fought among the gallants of Quebec.</p> - -<p class='c008'>The picture which, during those few heart-beats while I stood stuttering, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_182'>182</span>burned itself into my memory was one that not absence, years, or habitude -has any power to dull. The face was a face for which some men would die a -hundred deaths and dream all beauty in dying, while other men, blind fools, -and many women, of the envious sort, would protest it to be not even passable; -a face small, thin, clear, and very dark; the chin obstinate; the mouth full, -somewhat large, sorrowful, mocking, maddening, unforgettably scarlet; the -nose whimsical, dainty; the eyes of a strange green radiance, very large and -trustfully wide open, frank as a child’s, yet unfathomable; a face to trust, -to adore, yet not to understand. The hair black, thick, half curling, with a -dull burnish, falling over each side of the brow almost to cover the little delicate -ears. The figure, clad in some soft, whitish stuff descending only to the ankles, -was under middle height, slight to thinness, straight, lithe, fine, indescribably -alive—in some strange way reminding me of a flame. In narrow little shoes -of red leather the light feet stood poised like birds’. From one small nut-brown -hand swung a broad-brimmed hat of black beaver, with an ample black -feather at the side. Beside this entrancing picture I was vaguely conscious -of a wide, yellow pathway sloping upward through roses, roses, roses drenched -in sun.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Presently I heard the sound of my stammering cease, and a soft voice, -troubling me with a familiar note, said courteously: “You are very welcome -to Cheticamp, monsieur. My brother is away from home, unhappily, but in -his absence you must allow me the honour of taking his place as your host in -my poor way.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>I looked up and met her eyes fairly, my confusion lost in surprise, and -on the instant my heart signalled to me: “It is none other than the maid of -the window! Take care!”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Yes, I saw it plain. Yet I should never have known it but for a perception -somehow more subtle than that of ear and eye—for she had disguised her -voice the night before, and her dress had been that of a peasant maid, and -the bright riddle of her face had been in shadow. I perceived, too, that she -felt herself safe from discovery, and that it was for me to save her blushes -by leaving her security unassailed. In all this sudden turmoil of my wits, -however, I fear that I was near forgetting my manners.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“But, mademoiselle,” I demanded bluntly, “how do you know who I -am?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“It is the part of the conquered to know their conquerors, monsieur,” -she answered, in a manner that eluded the bitterness of the words. “But, -indeed, the place of an English officer, on duty that is doubtless official, is -here at the Seigneury and not at the village inn. We cannot let you put a -slight upon our hospitality.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>I was in sore embarrassment; and the parchment deed conveying to me -the Seigneury of Cheticamp began to burn my pocket. I felt a vehement -desire to accept the sweetly proffered hospitality of this enchanting witch. -The temptation dragged at my heartstrings. There was nothing to do but -take it by the throat rudely if I would save any shreds of honour. “Alas! -mademoiselle,” I said, avoiding her eyes, “I am here on a rough errand, and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_183'>183</span>your courtesy pierces me. I am here to arrest your brother and carry him -a prisoner to Halifax.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Monsieur, monsieur, what do you mean?” she cried, with a faintness -in her voice. But looking up suddenly, I saw that her surprise was a pretty -piece of feigning, though her agitation was real enough.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I mean that your brother, though succeeding to these estates under -protection of English law, and owing allegiance to the English Crown, is giving -aid to England’s enemies. He is supplying Louisbourg with grain and flax -and cattle from these lands of Acadia, which are now English. The Governor -has proofs beyond cavil. He has sent me to arrest your brother, mademoiselle, -not to be happy in the hospitality of your brother’s sister.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>And now, to my amaze, the merriest and most persuasive smile spread -a dazzle over my lady witch’s face.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Those proofs of your good Governor’s, monsieur,” she cried, with pretty -scorn, “I will show you what folly they are. You have all been deceived. You -must come with me now, and give me fullest opportunity to clear my brother’s -honour. And in any case it is my right, as well as my pleasure, to entertain -the Governor’s representative when he visits the place of my father’s people.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>But I was stubborn. That deed in my pocket weighed tons. Yet my -inclination must have shown in my eyes, plainly enough for one less keen than -Mademoiselle Irene le Fevre to decipher it. A little air of confidence flitted -over her face. Nevertheless, I shook my head.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Most gracious lady,” I protested, “you honour me too much. It will -delight me to learn that your brother has been maligned”—and in this, faith, -I spoke true, forgetting the contingent peril to my pocket—“but were he -never so innocent it would be my duty to take him to Halifax, for the Governor -himself to weigh the evidence. The irony of life has sent me as your foe, not -as your guest.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Then, monsieur, come as a foe who but observes the courtesies. Come -with your hands free to arrest my brother at any moment on his own hearthstone -(he is far away from it now, praise Mary!), or to arrest your hostess -either, if your duty should demand that unkindness. Come as one who -graciously accepts what he could, if he would, take as his right. Let us play -that you come here as our friend, monsieur—and give me the hope of winning -an advocate for my brother against the evil day that may bring him before -the cold English judges at Halifax.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Her strong, little eloquent hands were clasped in appeal—and who was -I to deny her? But I looked into her eyes; and I saw in their childlike deeps, -underneath the mocking and the feigning, a clear spirit, which I could not -bear to delude. I understood now very plainly her mad game of the night -before. She was unmasking a danger for her brother. I justified her in my -heart; for my own part in the folly I felt a creeping shame. How lightly -she must hold me. This thought, and a sense that I was about to hurt her, -brought the hot flush to my face; and I looked away as I spoke.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“But, mademoiselle—forgive me that I bear such tidings—the estates of -Monsieur Raoul le Fevre, Seigneur of Cheticamp, are confiscated to the Crown.”</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_184'>184</span>Lifting my eyes at the last words, I saw that the girl had grown very white -and was staring at me in a sort of terror. There was plainly no feigning here. -This blow was unexpected, unprepared for, something beyond her bright -young wit to deal with. I seemed to see in her heart a sudden, hopeless desolation, -as if all her world had fallen to ruin about her and left her life naked -to the storm of time. Not a word had she ready in such a crisis.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Mademoiselle,” I cried, more passionately, perhaps, than was fitting, -“do not misunderstand. The confiscation does not apply at once, of course, -and you are still absolute mistress here. If your brother be proved innocent, -the decree of confiscation may be revoked. So it will now be held in suspension. -You will, I am sure, permit me to go through the form of visiting your house, -to convince me, as the Governor’s emissary, that Monsieur le Fevre is not -there. Then I will return to the village and see to it that my men shall cause -you no annoyance or embarrassment. I dare not ask you to pity me for the -duty that has been put upon me.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>As I spoke I had been watching her face, without seeming to think of -anything but my own words. First the colour returned to cheek and lips; -then a wild anger was lighted in the great green eyes—anger with a fear and -appeal behind it. Then a resolved look—and I knew that she would force -herself to play out the game, setting her brother’s interest before all else. -And then, last of all, a most fleeting, elusive look of triumph at the back of -her eyes and at the bow of her lips, for the indeterminable fraction of a second. -I took note of this with some anxiety. Could it be possible that she felt sure -of her power over me? Could it be possible that she had, at all, any hold -upon me? No, she was too confident. She interested me amazingly. She -seemed to me the most beautiful thing that could have ever existed. But I -was not in love, and would not be swerved from my duty even if I were. Yet -all this was flashed instantaneously through my brain—she was speaking—and -I was yielding.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“You are a generous enemy, a chivalrous enemy, monsieur,” she murmured, -in a low, earnest, slightly strained voice. Then she recovered her -lightness. “I am almost your prisoner, in a sense, am I not? A suspect, -certainly. If I accept your leniency, and profit by your permission to stay -here under my confiscated roof, do not make me die under this weight of favour. -Be my guest and let me feel that I am not the only one in debt.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Was this the same woman, this half-mocking, all-irresistible creature, she -whom I had seen grey-faced with hopeless trouble not three minutes before? -Said I to myself, “If I put my wits or my heart against hers it is all up with -me. Blank truth is my only hope.” Aloud I said, “I will be your guest, -mademoiselle, though the debt in which I so overwhelm myself is one from -which I can never again get free.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>For this acquiescence my reward was just a look of brilliancy that made -me catch my breath with pleasure. With a gesture that bade me to her side -she turned and moved slowly up the path, between the shining copiousness -of roses.</p> - -<div class='figcenter id001'> -<img src='images/p185.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic002'> -<p>“‘It is I who must ask forgiveness,’ she said softly, holding out her hand” (page 192).</p> -</div> -</div> - -<p class='c008'>“I will send a servant with your orderly to the inn, monsieur,” she said, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_186'>186</span>“to fetch your things. Our old walls will be glad to shelter again a soldier’s -uniform, even if the colour of it be something strange to them.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Almost you tempt me to wish that I had been born to the white uniform,” -I answered, in a daze with the nearness of her, the witchery of her, the nameless -charm of her movement, the subtle intoxication of her voice.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Almost you tempt me to regret,” she retorted, with gracious raillery, -“that the men of your cold and stubborn north cannot be moved to change -by a woman’s arguments.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“It is to unchangeableness we are moved by a woman, mademoiselle.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>I spoke with an exaggerated lightness, to avoid a too significant seriousness.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Is there ever, I wonder, a risk of such steadfastness growing tiresome?” -mused mademoiselle, turning contemplative.</p> - -<p class='c008'>The swift change discomfited me. I turned my words to platitudes on -the beauty of the house, the garden, the landscape. And presently I found -myself established, an honoured yet confessedly hostile guest, in the Seigneury -of Cheticamp.</p> - -<p class='c008'>A little old housekeeper, wizened and taciturn and omnipresent, kept -me under an inscrutable surveillance, but treated me civilly enough. My -chamber, very spacious, but with a low ceiling of broken slopes under the -eaves, its windows looking out over the rose-garden, the village, and the -sea, was furnished with a strange commingling of the luxury and daintiness -of Versailles with the rudeness of a remote, half-barbarous colony. One of -my men, my orderly, was entertained, much to his satisfaction, in the servants’ -quarters, and did me service as regularly as if we were at home at Goreham-on-Thames; -while the rest, lodging at the inn, came to me with daily reports, -which varied not at all in their trivial sameness. I breakfasted alone. Throughout -the morning I walked exploring the country for miles about and talking -with the inhabitants; or I investigated the roomy, irregular old house, whose -half-open doors and rambling corridors extended trustful invitation to my -curiosity; or I read and wrote in the small but well-stocked library, to which -stained glass from Rouen, a prayer desk, and a corner shrine lent the savour -and sanctity of a chapel. At one hour past noon precisely I dined with Mademoiselle -le Fevre, and afterwards either walked with her in the garden and -in the fir-woods, or, if the weather was unfavourable, conversed with her, -most pleasurably, in the book-room, while she wrought with more or less -affectation of diligence at a curious piece of tapestry, gold threads and scarlet -on a cloth of a soft dull blue. Before sunset we supped, and in the evening, -with doors and windows open and the scented breath of sea and rose and -meadow flowing through, she played to me on her spinet, or sang ballads of -old France, till candle-light and “good night” brought the day to a close.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Small wonder, being so gently occupied, that I was in no haste to force -events, to ask myself what I desired or expected should happen. The man -I was sent to seek was obviously not here. It was a plain and pleasant duty -for me to stay here and await him. Meanwhile, I was serving the King by -my presence, which was security that the Seigneury of Cheticamp should -<span class='pageno' id='Page_187'>187</span>render no assistance to the King’s enemies at Louisbourg. To be sure, it was -rendering continual assistance to Mademoiselle Irene le Fevre de Cheticamp, -but I could not bring myself to consider for a moment that the King could -be so unhappy as to count her among his enemies. And so the days slipped -by. I was not—as I should have sworn to myself in all honesty had one -suggested it to me—in the least in love with mademoiselle. I merely found -it unavoidable to think about her or dream about her all the time; impossible -to engage my interest in anything whatever that I could not connect with her. -For her part, she grew day by day more sweetly serious, more womanly courteous, -until our pretty masquerading that night at my window among the hop vines -came to be a remote, unbelievable dream.</p> - -<p class='c008'>But the situation, seemingly so quiet and easy that it might aspire to last -for ever, was, in fact, a bubble of rainbow tissue blown to its extremes of tension -and ready to shatter at a breath. When the breath came it was a light one, -truly, yet how the face of the world changed under it. I awoke one morning -in the first rosiness of dawn with a kind of foreboding. I went to the window. -There in the misty bay, hove-to at a discreet distance from the wharves, was -a small schooner, signalling.</p> - -<p class='c008'>The signals were unintelligible to me, which meant it was my duty to be -concerned with them. I remembered that there was a flag-pole on the knoll, -behind the house. With a sudden leaden sinking at the heart I realised that -mademoiselle’s brother was at last in evidence, and I could imagine nothing -that would more embarrass me than that I should succeed in capturing him. -After watching the signals for some time, and wondering if it were mademoiselle -herself manipulating the unseen replies, I decided that there was -nothing to be done but parade my guard openly along the coast. Then, if -he should persist in stupidly running his neck into the noose, I would have -to do my duty and pull it.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Oh, why has she a brother!” I groaned, cursing him heartily, but straight -revoked my curse, remembering that but for his delinquencies I had never come -at all to Cheticamp.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Slowly I made my toilet, and before it was finished the little vessel was -under way again, beating out of the inlet against a light westerly wind. Both -to north and south of Cheticamp Harbour were little sheltered ports with -anchorage for such small craft as she; and I concluded that with this wind -she would seek the next haven northward. I resolved to send my men to -search the southerly coves. Then I stepped out upon the terrace and met -mademoiselle herself tripping through the dew, her hair dishevelled, her eyes -like stars, her small face one gipsy sparkle with excitement.</p> - -<p class='c008'>At sight of me an apprehension dimmed the sparkle for an instant. Then -she came forward to greet me with her usual courtesy. But now there was -a challenge deep in her eyes, and presently a return of the old subtle audacity, -as if I were a foe to be fenced with, bewildered, eluded. It hurt me keenly, -and I took no thought of the utter unreasonableness of my grievance.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Good morning, monsieur,” she cried gaily. “Have you a bad conscience -that you sleep so lightly and arise so early?”</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_188'>188</span>“Mademoiselle,” said I gravely, bending low over her cool brown fingers, -and noticing that they trembled, “I have been watching the signals from -yonder ship.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>The brown fingers were withdrawn nervously.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“They were quite unintelligible to me,” I continued, “but I readily infer -that your brother has returned and is on shipboard.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>A strange look—was it relief?—passed over her face. Then she nodded -her dark head as if in frankest acquiescence.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Allow me to say at once that I must try to capture him, but that I earnestly -hope that I shall not be so unfortunate as to succeed.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>At this her eyes softened upon me. Never had I seen anything, in life -or in dream, so beautiful as the smile upon her lips. But I went on: “My -men will patrol the coast; but they are few, and I cannot, of course, prevent -your messengers eluding their vigilance and communicating with Monsieur -le Fevre. I am glad I cannot prevent it. I doubt not you will warn him that -all this neighbourhood is strictly watched. My men would at once recognise -him, if they saw him, from the descriptions they have had.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Then, as I watched her face, my restraint was shaken. The love which I had -not till that day let myself realise laid mighty grasp upon me. The long-chained -passion crept into my voice, and it changed, trembling, as I continued:</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Oh, you can prevent him falling into our hands. I beseech you let not -that evil come upon me that your brother should be my prisoner.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Thank you, monsieur,” she said very simply, putting her hand in mine -with a confidence like a child’s. Her eyes searched my very heart for a second. -“I think, with such assistance, we can elude your vigilance, monsieur.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>But on the instant her look changed to one of the deepest gravity. As -I have so often thought of that look since, it was a surrender in part, in part -a sacrament.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“The South Cove at noon,” she said, with a sort of sob, and flushed and -ran hastily into the house.</p> - -<p class='c008'>For a moment or two I stood staring after her in utter bewilderment. -The dominant feeling, which sent great gushes of light and warmth through -heart and brain and nerve, was that she loved me, that she had revealed -herself to me on a swift, inexplicable impulse. This set me reeling in a kind -of intoxication. But underneath, clamouring harshly to be heeded, was the -problem she had thrust upon me. She had forced me to know just what I -had striven so desperately not to know. For the moment, however, I did -not think. I simply let myself feel; and, turning mechanically, I walked -in a daze down the winding road through the rose garden.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Of course,” said I to myself, and half aloud to the roses, “she means -that I am to act upon her word and take my men safely out of the way to -South Cove before noon, leaving the North Harbour, where the ship has gone, -perfectly secure. She knows that I can act with a clear conscience on so -definite a piece of information as that. She knows that there is nothing else -for me to do. She sees that I love her. She trusts me. And she trusts my -wit to comprehend her subtle devisings. Irene! Irene!”</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_189'>189</span>And I swung gaily down towards the village through an air more light and -sweet, through a sunshine more radiant and clear, under a sky more blue, than -ever before my travelled senses had encountered.</p> - -<p class='c008'>I breakfasted at the inn. By the time my messengers had got hold of -my scattered men and given them my orders to report to me at South Cove, -it wanted but an hour of noon. To South Cove was an hour’s brisk walking, -and I set out, with my orderly at my heels. He was a trusty, discreet fellow, -with whom I was wont to talk not a little; but to-day my dreams were all-sufficient -to me, and I would not let the lad so much as stir his tongue. Arriving -at the point where the upland dipped down to South Cove, a narrow inlet thickly -screened with woods, I noted the hour as exact noon. Then, liking well the -look of the leafage below me, with the glint of water sparkling through, and -craving no company but my own and my thoughts, I bade my man wait where -he was and watch the roads both ways, and halt the others as they should -come up.</p> - -<p class='c008'>The path down through the trees was green-mossed, winding, and steep. -I went swiftly but noiselessly. Near the foot, as I was just about to emerge -upon the beach, the sound of voices below caught my ear. I essayed to stop -myself, slipped, crashed through a brittle screen of dead spruce boughs, and -came down, erect upon my feet but somewhat jarred, not ten paces from the -spot where a lady and a cavalier, locked in one another’s arms, stood beside -a small boat drawn up upon the shingle.</p> - -<p class='c008'>It was mademoiselle, and the man was her brother, as I saw on the instant -from the likeness between them. They had unlocked their arms and turned -towards me, startled at the sound of my fall. Mademoiselle’s face went white, -then flushed crimson, and, drawing herself up, she confronted me with a look -of unutterable scorn, mingled with pain and reproach. Apprehension and -amusement struggled together in the face of the young seigneur.</p> - -<p class='c008'>For my own part, I had realised on the instant the whole enormity of -my mistake. Mademoiselle had told me the plain truth, staking everything -on my love, trusting me utterly. My heart sinks now as I recall the anguish -of that moment. I had but one thought—to justify myself in her eyes. I -sprang forward, stammering.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Forgive me, mademoiselle, I did not understand—I quite misunderstood. -Believe me, I never dreamed——”</p> - -<p class='c008'>But, shaken and humiliated as she was, she did not lose her presence of -mind. She played another card boldly.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Captain Scott,” she said, as if this were the most ceremonious meeting -in the world, “this is my fiancé, Monsieur de St. Ange.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>By great good fortune I had wit enough to seem to believe her. In fact, -perhaps my belief was too well simulated, for the expressions that passed -over her face in the next few seconds were inexplicable to me and mightily -increased my confusion. But toward this “Monsieur de St. Ange” I felt most -cordial.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Delighted, monsieur, I am sure,” I exclaimed, bowing low, while he bowed -with equal ceremony, but in silence.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_190'>190</span>“I congratulate you,” I went on, terribly at a loss. Then I looked at -mademoiselle, who had turned away white and indifferent.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“There has been some mistake,” I continued desperately. “That you -should wish to see your betrothed is, of course, to me sufficient explanation -of your presence here. But others might think I should inquire more searchingly -into an enemy’s purpose in visiting a place like this. My men are in -the neighbourhood; I will go at once and withdraw them. But I beg you, -monsieur, to withdraw yourself as speedily as possible.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>I backed away, striving in vain to win a look from mademoiselle. As for -her brother, he was most civil.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I thank you for your great courtesy, monsieur,” he answered, the corners -of his mouth restraining themselves from mirth. “Much as it would be to -my pleasure to know you better, I am aware that I might find it inconvenient. -I shall comply as speedily as possible with your most reasonable request.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>At the foot of the path, finding that mademoiselle was quite oblivious to -my presence, I turned and made all haste from the calamitous spot. When -I found my men, I hurried them off toward Cheticamp with an eagerness that -hinted at a fresh and important clue. From the inn I sent them in parties -of two, on errands of urgency that would take them as far as possible from -South Cove. Then, hurrying back to the Seigneury, I awaited, in sickening -suspense, the return of mademoiselle to a belated meal.</p> - -<p class='c008'>At the suggestion of the wizened old housekeeper, I ate the meal alone—or, -rather, I put some dry, chip-like substances into my mouth, which chose -to collect themselves in a lump some little way below my throat. The old -lady seemed as ignorant as I of the reason of mademoiselle’s delay, though -once and again, from the shrewd scrutiny which I caught her bestowing upon -my countenance, I suspected that she knew more than she would confess. -The afternoon went by in that misery of waiting that turns one’s blood to gall. -I would go out among the roses, but cursing them for their false, disastrous -speech, I found them not contenting company. Then I would go back into -the library and spend the sluggish minutes in jumping up, sitting down, trying -this book, rejecting that, while every sense was on the rack of intensity to -catch some hint of her presence in the house. But all in vain. The stillness -seemed unnatural. There was a menace in the clear pour of the afternoon -sun. When at last, toward sundown, the humpbacked old gardener went -by the window with a watering-pot, I was startled to see that the affairs of -life were going on as usual. There was somehow a grain of comfort, of reassurance, -in the sight of the old humpback. I left the library and went to -find the housekeeper, determined to put her through such an inquisition as -should in some way relieve my suspense.</p> - -<p class='c008'>I found her in the supper-room, putting flowers on a table that was set -for—only one.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Supper is served, monsieur,” she said, as I came in.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“For me alone?” I gasped, feeling that the world had come to an end.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“For monsieur,” she answered.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Tell me”—and the tone made her look at me quickly with a deference -<span class='pageno' id='Page_191'>191</span>not before observable in her manner—“tell me at once where Mademoiselle -le Fevre is gone.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Certainly, monsieur, certainly. There is no desire to deceive monsieur. -Mademoiselle and her maid have removed to the inn at Cheticamp, where -mademoiselle intends to reside till she can join monsieur her brother at Louisbourg.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>I heard her through, then rushed from the room, snatched up my hat, and -sped down to the inn of Cheticamp. I fear that the civil salutations of the -villagers whom I passed went outrageously unregarded.</p> - -<p class='c008'>My demand was urgent, so within a very few minutes of my coming I was -ushered into mademoiselle’s parlour, and with a thrill of hope at the omen I -noted that it was the same room which I had occupied on the night of my -arrival at Cheticamp, the same dear room through whose hop-garlanded window -I had made such bold and merry counterfeit with mademoiselle in her disguise. -But not nourishing to hope was mademoiselle’s greeting. I had not dreamed -so small a dame could ever look so tall. Her slim figure was in the gown of -creamy linen which she had worn when I had met her in the rose-garden. -Her small, strange, child-like face was very white, her lips set coldly and less -scarlet than their wont, and her eyes—they were fearfully bright and large, -with a gaze which I could not fathom.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“To what do I owe this honour, monsieur?” she asked. “It is much——”</p> - -<p class='c008'>But I was rude in my trouble.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Why have you fled from me, mademoiselle?” I interrupted passionately. -“Why have you left your own home in this way? I will leave it at once—for -you shall not be driven from it.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“My home, monsieur? It is your house. I will not be a pensioner on -your bounty.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>How had she found this out? I was in confusion.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“What—what do you mean, mademoiselle?” I stammered.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I mean, monsieur,” she said, with ice and fire contending in her voice, -“that all these days, when I thought I was playing the hostess, in a home -belonging either to my brother or to the English Government, I have been but -a beggar living on your charity. I know that you are the owner of Cheticamp -House and all in it, it having been taken from us to give to you.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>I was in despair over this further complication; but this was not the -time for finding out the betrayer of my secret.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I had hoped that you would never know, mademoiselle,” I protested. “But -it is not of that I would speak. Forgive me, I beg you on my knees, for the stupid -mistake, the unpardonable mistake I made this morning. And oh, count it -something that I did my best to remedy the error, so that no harm came of it.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>The anger that flamed into her eyes was of a beauty that did not delight me.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Doubtless you did your duty, monsieur, as a servant of your Government. -Doubtless honour required that you should betray the trust so foolishly -reposed in you by a silly girl. You would have taken my brother, and through -his sister’s folly. I cannot feel any very keen gratitude for the generosity -which suffered my fiancé, whom you did not seek, to go free.”</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_192'>192</span>Light began to struggle in upon the darkness of my brain.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Your fiancé!” I returned quickly. “Could you think for one moment -I did not know that he was your brother?”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Her face changed marvellously at this declaration.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I knew your purpose then,” I went on. “But forgive me, forgive me -for not understanding you before. I was not worthy of the simple trust you -placed in me. I thought you meant me to understand that I should take -my men to South Cove at noon to have them out of the way. I thought it -was a piece of your daring strategy, and I was proud because you trusted -my stupid wits to follow your plan. I thought it was to save me the embarrassment -of openly letting your brother go. I thought—oh, I thought myself -so wise, and I was so cheaply careful of my duty. Can you forgive me? You -know, you must know, in the light of what I did afterwards, that if I had -only understood your words in all their uncalculating faith no power on earth -would have prevented me keeping myself and my men as far as possible from -South Cove.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>Her tense attitude relaxed. Her figure seemed no longer so portentously -tall.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“It is I who must ask forgiveness,” she said softly, holding out her hand. -I seized it in both of mine and dared to kiss it fiercely, hungrily, and marvelled -to find that it was not at once withdrawn from such an ardour.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I am not so wise, I am not so subtle, as you think me,” she continued. -“It was a clever device, indeed, that you credited me with, and so much -more considerate and fine in every way than my poor little thoughtlessness -which threw the responsibility upon you. But you are mistaken, monsieur, -if you think that I am at all clever or subtle.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>She was looking down, watching, but not seeming to see, how my hands -held both of hers. For myself, I knew that the joy of life had come to me; -but I could find no word to say, so wildly ran my blood. After a moment’s -silence she said musingly:</p> - -<p class='c008'>“I don’t think I ever could deceive any one. I am sure I never did deceive -any one in my life—but once; oh, yes, once.” And here she lifted up her -face and flashed upon me a challenge of dancing eyes and mocking mouth.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“No, indeed,” said I. “The maid who came to my window did not deceive -me for a moment when afterwards I met her in the rose-garden.”</p> - -<p class='c008'>“Oh!” she gasped with a little sob, while her face grew scarlet. “You -knew all the time? It was horrid of me—too horrid to think of. Oh——”</p> - -<p class='c008'>At this point it seemed to me that she was looking for a spot to hide her -face, and, taking base advantage of her confusion, I drew her into my arms -and let her blushes fly to cover against my coat. Never before, in my opinion, -had the King’s uniform been so highly honoured.</p> - -<p class='c008'>“To my window you came that night, my lady,” I whispered, “but it -was to the door of my heart you came.”</p> - -<div class='nf-center-c1'> -<div class='nf-center c020'> - <div><i>Printed in Great Britain by Hazell, Watson & Viney, Ld., London and Aylesbury.</i></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c003'>Transcriber’s Notes</h2> -</div> -<p class='c007'>Illustrations which were line-drawings had page numbers which were not printed; illustrations which were more complex had no numbers and had facing blank pages. This accounts for the oddities in page numbering.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Obvious typographical errors have been corrected silently. Less obvious ones which were changed are:</p> -<div class='lg-container-l c021'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>page <a href='#Page_9'>9</a>, latter was replaced by letter</div> - <div class='line'>page <a href='#Page_18'>18</a>, drawing-toom was replaced by drawing-room</div> - <div class='line'>page <a href='#Page_153'>153</a>, Twen- at end of a line and not finished on next line was replaced by Twentieth</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's The Times Red Cross Story Book, by Various - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TIMES RED CROSS STORY BOOK *** - -***** This file should be named 51142-h.htm or 51142-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/1/4/51142/ - -Produced by Malcolm Farmer, Elizabeth Oscanyan and the -Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law 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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