allel roads in every conceivable kind of
resting-place, from ancient bathing-vans to broken-down railway-trucks.
But there were trees along the canal and reeds and grass, so that there
were worse places than Donovan's camp in Le Havre.

Peter found his friend surveying the endeavours of a gang of boys to
construct a raised causeway from the officers' mess to the orderly-room,
and he promptly broached his object. Donovan was entranced with the
proposal, but he could not go. He was adamant upon it. He could possibly
have got off, but it meant leaving his something camp for a whole day,
and just at present he couldn't. Peter could get Pennell or anyone.
Another time, perhaps, but not now. For thus can the devil trap his
victims.

Peter pushed back for home on his bicycle, but stopped at the docks on
his way to look up Pennell. That gentleman was bored, weary, and inclined
to be blasphemous. It appeared that for the whole, infernal day he had
had to watch the off-loading of motor-spares, that he had had no lunch,
and that he could not get away for a day next week if he tried. "It isn't
everyone can get a day off whenever he wants to, padre," he said. "In the
next war I shall be ..." Peter turned hard on his heel, and left him
complaining to the derricks.

He was now all but cornered. There was nobody else he particularly cared
to ask unless it were Arnold, and he could not imagine Arnold and Julie
together. It appeared to him that fate was on his side; it only remained
to persuade Julie to come alone. He pedalled back to mess and dinner, and
then, about half-past eight, strolled round to the hospital again. It was
late, of course, but he was a padre, and the hospital padre, and
privileged. He knew exactly what to do, and that he was really as safe as
houses in doing it, and yet this intriguing by night made him
uncomfortable still. He told himself he was an ass to think so, but he
could not get rid of the sensation.

Julie would be on duty till 9.30, and he could easily have a couple
of minutes' conversation with her in the ward. He followed the
railway-track, then, along the harbour, and went in under the great roof
of the empty station. On the far platform a hospital train was being made
ready for its return run, but, except for a few cleaners and orderlies,
the place was empty.

An iron stairway led up from the platform to the wards above. He
ascended, and found himself on a landing with the door of the theatre
ope