when Paul spoke of this conversation to him. "Many vicars and
deans are quite romantic people, but immediately they are presented with
a mitre they become uninteresting and often begin to write to the
_Times_. Besides, no one but Forbes Robertson could hope to look
impressive in a mitre. It is most unsuitable headgear for an elderly
gentleman."

V

Don remained in London for several months, performing light duties at
the War Office. No one but Paul ever knew how far he had penetrated into
the grim valley, how almost miraculous had been his recovery. And not
even Paul knew that if Flamby's heart had been free Don might never
have returned to France. In despite of his shattered health he refused
the staff appointment which was offered to him and volunteered for
active service, unfit though he was to undertake it.

"We don't seem to be able to realise, Paul," he said, "that the
possession of an artificial leg and a Victoria Cross does not constitute
a staff officer. My only perceptible qualification for the post offered
is my crocky condition. The brains of the Army should surely be made up
not of long pedigrees and gallant cripples, but of genius fit to cope
with that of the German High Command. A cowardly criminal with a
capacity for intrigue would probably be a greater acquisition than that
of the most gallant officer who ever covered a strategic 'withdrawal.'"

Poor Flamby smiled and jested until the very moment of Don's departure
and cried all day afterwards. Then she sat down at the little oak bureau
and wrote a long letter declaring that she had quite definitely and
irrevocably decided to forget Paul, and that she should have something
"very particular" to confide to Don when he returned. Whilst searching
for a stamp she chanced upon a photograph of Paul cut from a weekly
journal. Very slowly she tore the letter up into tiny pieces and dropped
them in a Japanese paper-basket. She went to bed and read _The Gates_
until she fell asleep, leaving the light burning.

The fear of which she had spoken to Don oppressed her more and more.
That Paul had grasped the Absolute Key she could not doubt, but it
seemed to Flamby that he had given life to something which had lain
dormant, occult, for untold ages, that he had created a thing which
already had outgrown his control. In art, literature and music disciples
proclaimed themselves. One of France's foremost composers produced a
symphony, _Dawn_, directly inspired by t