to abolish that terror which loomed over
Europe--and which might very well lay its sinister hand on America, if
the Germans were capable of these things, and if the German's military
power prevailed over France and England. When he envisaged Canada as
another Belgium his teeth came together with a little click.

He clambered out of the _Alert's_ cockpit to the float.

"Tell Mr. Ashe I changed my mind about going over with him," he said
abruptly, and walked off the float, up the sloping bank to the street,
got in his car and drove away.

As he drove he felt that he had failed to keep faith with something or
other. He felt bewildered. Those little children, shorn of their
hands--so that they could never lift a sword against Germany--cried
aloud to him. They held up their bloody stumps for him to see.

CHAPTER XXV

--AND THE BOMB THE FUSE FIRED

It took Thompson approximately forty-eight hours to arrange his affairs.
He managed things with a precipitancy that would have shocked a sound,
practical business man, for he put out no anchors to windward nor
troubled himself about the future. He paid his bills, transferred the
Summit agency to his head salesman--who had amassed sufficient capital
to purchase the stock of cars and parts at cost. Thus, having
deliberately sacrificed a number of sound assets for the sake of being
free of them without delay, Thompson found himself upon the morning of
the third day without a tie to bind him to Vancouver, and a cash balance
of twenty thousand dollars to his credit in the bank.

He did not know how, or in what capacity he was going to the front, but
he was going, and the manner of his going did not concern him greatly.
It mattered little how he went, so long as he went in the service of his
country. A little of his haste was born of the sudden realization that
he had a country which needed his services--and that he desired to
serve. It had passed an emotional phase with him. He saw it very clearly
as a duty. He did not foresee or anticipate either pleasure or glory in
the undertaking. He had no illusions about war. It was quite on the
cards that he might never come back. But he had to go.

So then he had only to determine how he should go.

That problem, which was less a problem than a matter of making choice,
was solved that very day at luncheon. As he sat at a table in a downtown
cafe there came to him a figure in khaki, wearing a short, close-fitting
jacket with an