the fallen masonry. Private Thompson, who was unhurt
beneath the body, said that when the bricks began to come down
Mrs. Knight called to him to lie still and threw herself on him to
protect him. Then something heavy, he believed the stone coping of
a chimney, fell on her back and she uttered one word, he thought
it was a name, and was silent. Mrs. Knight, who was the only child
of the late Sir John Blake, Bart., the well-known shipowner, is
said to have been one of the richest women in England. She married
the late Colonel Knight some months ago, immediately before he was
sent to East Africa. Under the provisions of her will the cremated
remains of Mrs. Knight will be interred in the chancel of the
Abbey Church at Monk's Acre."

Godfrey read this awful paragraph twice and looked at the date of the
paper. It was nearly two months old.

"So she was dead when she came to me. Oh! now I understand," he
muttered to himself, and then, had not a passing native servant caught
him, he would have fallen to the ground. It was one of the ten thousand
minor tragedies of the world war, that is all.

Three months later, still very crippled and coughing badly, because of
the injury to his lung, he reported himself in London, and once more
saw the Under-Secretary who had sent him out to East Africa. There he
sat in the same room, at the same desk, looking precisely the same.

"I am sorry, Sir, that my mission has failed through circumstances
beyond my control. I can only add that I did my best," he said briefly.

"I know," answered the official; "it was no fault of yours if those
black brutes tried to murder you. Everything goes wrong in that cursed
East Africa. Now go home and get yourself fit again, my dear fellow,"
he went on very kindly, adding, "Your services will not be overlooked."

"I have no home, and I shall never be fit again," replied Godfrey, and
left the room.

"I forgot," thought the Under-Secretary. "His wife was killed in a
Zeppelin raid. Odd that she should have been taken and he left."

Then, with a sigh and a shrug of the shoulders he turned to his
business.

Godfrey went to the little house at Hampstead where he used to live
while he was studying as a lad, for here Mrs. Parsons was waiting for
him. Then for the first time he gave way and they wept in each other's
arms.

"We were too happy, Nurse," he said.

"Yes," she answered, "love like hers wasn't for this world, and more