himself up, saluted, and marched out.

He marched out, the young scoundrel, with all the honours of war.

CHAPTER XXII

So, in drawing a bow at a venture, I had hit the mark. You may remember
that I had rapped out the word "blackmail" at Gedge; now Randall
justified the charge. Boyce was worth a thousand a year to him. The
more I speculated on the danger that might arise from Gedge, the easier
I grew in my mind. Your blackmailer is a notorious saver of his skin.
Gedge had no desire to bring Boyce to justice and thereby incriminate
himself. His visit to Sir Anthony was actuated by sheer malignity.
Without doubt, he counted on his story being believed. But he knew
enough of the hated and envied aristocracy to feel assured that Sir
Anthony would not subject his beloved dead to such ghastly disinterment
as a public denunciation of Boyce would necessitate. He desired to
throw an asphyxiating bomb into the midst of our private circle. He
reckoned on the Mayor taking some action that would stop the reception
and thereby put a public affront on Boyce. Sir Anthony's violent
indignation and perhaps my appearance of cold incredulity upset his
calculations. He went out of the room a defeated man, with the secret
load (as I knew now) of blackmail on his shoulders.

I snapped my fingers at Gedge. Randall seemed to do the same,
undesirable father-in-law IN PROSPECTU as he was. But that was entirely
Randall's affair. The stomach that he had for fighting with Germans
would stand him in good stead against Gedge, especially as he had
formed so contemptuous an estimate of the latter's valour.

I emerged again into my little world. I saw most of my friends. Phyllis
lay in wait for me at the hospital, radiant and blushing, ostensibly to
congratulate me on recovery from my illness, really (little baggage!)
to hear from my lips a word or two in praise of Randall. Apparently he
had come, in his warrior garb, seen, and conquered on the spot. I saw
Mrs. Holmes, who, gladdened by the Distinguished Conduct Medallist's
return, had wiped from her memory his abominably unfilial behaviour. I
saw Betty and I saw Boyce.

Now here I come to a point in this chronicle where I am faced by an
appalling difficulty. Hitherto I have striven to tell you no more about
myself and my motives and feelings than was demanded by my purpose of
unfolding to you the lives of others. Primarily I wanted to explain
Leonard Boyce. I could only do it by showing yo