ed up from the paper he saw a face that was a mask, a
gentle, pleasant mask, and blue eyes looking quite steadily into his own
with a sort of well-established and dreamy fatalism.

"Nothing, sir," said Hugo respectfully.

Westerling frowned. Though a confession of guilt simplified everything,
perhaps he frowned to find no embarrassment in his presence in the
private; perhaps he apprehended impertinence in the soft blue eyes.

"You know what that means--the charges sustained?"

"Yes, sir!"

"And you have nothing to say?" Westerling's frown deepened. There was an
undercurrent of urgency in his tone. This mild culprit, waiting for the
wheels of justice to roll over him without a protest, gave him no light
as to a policy that should apply to other cases. He resented, too, any
suggestion of readiness for martyrdom No man of power who is anything of
a politician and not a fool likes to make martyrs. "Nothing?" he
repeated. "Nothing at all in your own behalf?"

A faint expression appeared on the mask. So insistently could Hugo's
mask hold attention that Westerling noted even a slight, thoughtful
drawing down of the brow and one corner of the mouth. He could not
conceive that the laws of gravity could be upset or that a private would
undertake to have fun at the expense of a chief of staff.

"Nothing, sir, unless I should make a long speech," he said. "Do you
want me to do that, sir?"

Westerling held his irritation in control and looked around at Marta. He
saw only wonder in her eyes as she intently regarded Hugo, which was his
own feeling, he suddenly realized.

"I have hardly time to listen to long speeches," he remarked.

"I thought not, sir," replied Hugo, unmoved. "That is why I said I had
nothing to say. And in want of a long speech the best that I could do to
explain would be to ask you to read certain books."

An explosion of his breath in astonishment saved Westerling from harsh
expletives. For one thing, he was piqued. Though he would not admit it
even to himself, he had, perhaps, fancied the idea of playing the gentle
and patient dispenser of justice before Marta A private on trial for the
greatest of military crimes seraphically advising a chief of staff to
read books! There were not enough words in the dictionary to rebuke the
insubordination of such conceit! The only way to look at the thing was
as a kind of grim jest. He retrieved his vexation with a laugh as he
turned to Marta.

She was smiling ir