ould never release it, and that Mary's
face had grown very pale. If I delayed another second I should have
howled, for Mary's lips were trembling and Peter had eyes like a
wounded stag. 'God bless you,' I said hoarsely, and as I went off I
heard Peter's voice, a little cracked, saying 'God bless you, my old
friend.'

* * * * *

I spent some weary hours looking for Westwater. He was not in the big
clearing station, but I ran him to earth at last in the new hospital
which had just been got going in the Ursuline convent. He was the most
sterling little man, in ordinary life rather dry and dogmatic, with a
trick of taking you up sharply which didn't make him popular. Now he
was lying very stiff and quiet in the hospital bed, and his blue eyes
were solemn and pathetic like a sick dog's.

'There's nothing much wrong with me,' he said, in reply to my question.
'A shell dropped beside me and damaged my foot. They say they'll have
to cut it off ... I've an easier mind now you're here, Hannay. Of
course you'll take over from Masterton. He's a good man but not quite
up to his job. Poor Fraser--you've heard about Fraser. He was done in
at the very start. Yes, a shell. And Lefroy. If he's alive and not too
badly smashed the Hun has got a troublesome prisoner.'

He was too sick to talk, but he wouldn't let me go.

'The division was all right. Don't you believe anyone who says we
didn't fight like heroes. Our outpost line held up the Hun for six
hours, and only about a dozen men came back. We could have stuck it out
in the battle-zone if both flanks hadn't been turned. They got through
Crabbe's left and came down the Verey ravine, and a big wave rushed
Shropshire Wood ... We fought it out yard by yard and didn't budge till
we saw the Plessis dump blazing in our rear. Then it was about time to
go ... We haven't many battalion commanders left. Watson, Endicot,
Crawshay ...' He stammered out a list of gallant fellows who had gone.

'Get back double quick, Hannay. They want you. I'm not happy about
Masterton. He's too young for the job.' And then a nurse drove me out,
and I left him speaking in the strange forced voice of great weakness.

At the foot of the staircase stood Mary.

'I saw you go in,' she said, 'so I waited for you.'

'Oh, my dear,' I cried, 'you should have been in Boulogne by now. What
madness brought you here?'

'They know me here and they've taken me on. You couldn't expect