himself and listened. The long belt of main road, which passed
within a few feet of him, seemed almost deserted. Once a cart came
lumbering by, and the man who lay there, watching, drew closely back
into the shadows. A youth on a bicycle passed, singing to himself. A boy
and girl strolled by, arm in arm, happy, apparently, in their profound
silence. Only a couple of fields away shone the red and green lights of
the railway track. Every few minutes the goods-trains went rumbling over
the metals. The man on the ground heard them with a shiver. Resolutely
he kept his face turned in the opposite direction. The night mail went
thundering northward, and he clutched even at the nettles which grew
amongst the grass where he was crouching, as though filled with a sudden
terror. Then there was silence once more--silence which became deeper
as the hour approached midnight. Passers-by were fewer; the birds and
animals came out from their hiding places. A rabbit scurried across the
road; a rat darted down the tiny stream. Now and then birds moved in the
undergrowth, and the man, who was struggling all the time with a deadly
faintness, felt the silence grow more and more oppressive. He began even
to wonder where he was. He closed his eyes. Was that really the tinkling
of a guitar, the perfume of almond and cherry blossom, floating to him
down the warm wind? He began to lose himself in dreams until he realized
that actual unconsciousness was close upon him. Then he set his
teeth tight and clenched his hands. Away in the distance a faint,
long-expected sound came travelling to his ears. At last, then, his long
wait was over. Two fiery eyes were stealing along the lonely road.
The throb of an engine was plainly audible. He staggered up, swaying a
little on his feet, and holding out his hands. The motor car came to
a standstill before him, and the man who was driving it sprang to the
ground. Words passed between them rapidly,--questions and answers,--the
questions of an affectionate servant, and the answers of a man fighting
a grim battle for consciousness. But these two spoke in a language of
their own, a language which no one who passed along that road was likely
to understand.

With a groan of relief the man who had been picked up sank back amongst
the cushioned seats, carefully almost tenderly, aided by the chauffeur.
Eagerly he thrust his hand into one of the leather pockets and drew
out a flask of brandy. The rush of cold air, as t