The Pomp of Yesterday Part 21

'Yes, but what have I?'

'Come now, get into those togs quick; we mustn't keep them waiting, you know; it would not be courteous on our part, after all their kindness, too.'

A sudden change swept across his face. 'You are right, Lus...o...b..,' he said; 'I'm ashamed of myself. After all---- I'll be ready in five minutes. There's one thing about a soldier's togs, it doesn't take long to put 'em on.'

It was a very quiet dinner party. The two Bolivick boys were away at the front, and Lorna was the only one of the children at home. Sir Thomas and Lady Bolivick were there, but beyond Norah Blackwater, Edgec.u.mbe and I were the only guests.

It was evident to me that Edgec.u.mbe was an entire stranger to Norah Blackwater. Her face did not move a muscle at his appearance; and although he sat next to her at table, she seemed to find no interest in his conversation. He was very quiet during dinner, and although Sir Thomas tried to draw him out, and make him describe some of the scenes through which he had pa.s.sed, he was peculiarly reticent.

As I sat at the opposite side of the table, I was able to watch his face closely, and I could not help being impressed by the fact that, although he was very quiet, he was evidently under great excitement. I saw, too, that sometimes for seconds together he, forgetful of Norah Blackwater, would gaze steadily at Lorna Bolivick, as though she fascinated him. I was afraid Sir Thomas did not like him, and as presently the conversation led to our experiences at the front, I determined that, although Edgec.u.mbe might feel uncomfortable, I would show the baronet the kind of man he really was.

'Talking about tight corners,' I said, 'I got out of one of the tightest corners ever I was in, in a peculiar way.'

'Do tell us, Captain Lus...o...b..,' cried Lorna, who had evidently been uncomfortable under Edgec.u.mbe's gaze. 'We have heard nothing about your experiences, and I should like to hear something.'

'It's a story of how one Englishman took thirty Germans prisoners,' I said with a laugh.

'One Englishman took thirty German prisoners!' cried the squire. 'Good old English bull-dog! But how did he do it? Man, it's impossible!'

'Nothing is impossible to a man who keeps his head cool, and has a ready wit,' was my answer. I thereupon, without mentioning Edgec.u.mbe's name, described how I had been taken prisoner, and how I found myself in the German trenches.

'But how did you get out of such a hole as that?' cried the squire.

'As I told you,' I said, 'I found myself with my sergeant in a huge dug-out with thirty Germans. Of course our position was apparently hopeless. They had got us, and meant to keep us. I had been unconscious for a long time owing to a nasty knock I had got, and therefore I was tremendously surprised when I presently heard an English voice talking to the Germans. Evidently another English prisoner had been brought in.'

'Then you were three against thirty,' laughed the squire.

'Three against thirty if you will,' I replied, 'but only one in reality. I was no good, and my sergeant had no other hope than to be buried in a German prison. The new-comer, however, evidently meant business. All the time the English guns were booming, and our explosives were tearing the Boches' trenches to pieces. As it happened, we were too deep for them to reach us, although the danger was that we might be buried alive. That gave this chap, whose face I could not see, his chance, and he began to tell the Germans what idiots they were to stay there in imminent danger of death, when they could get to safety. He described the jolly times which German prisoners had in England, and of the absolute certainty of their being licked on the battle-field. Of course at first the Germans laughed at him, but he went on talking, and in a few minutes he had got every one of them to surrender.'

'But that's impossible!' cried the squire.

'It's a fact,' I said. 'Never in my life had I realized the effect which a cool, courageous man could have upon a crowd of men. Call it a miracle if you like,--indeed I always shall think of it as a miracle,--but without once losing his nerve, or once revealing the slightest lack of confidence, he worked upon the fears and hopes of those Boches in such a way that he persuaded them to follow him, and give themselves up in a body as prisoners. It was one of the most amusing things you ever saw in your life, to see this one man lead those thirty Boches, while they held up their hands and cried "Kamerad."'

'By George, sir!' said the squire, 'that's great, great, sir! No one but an Englishman could do a thing like that. Ah, the old country is the old country still! But who was he, an officer or a private?'

'A private,' I replied.

'And he rescued you, and took the whole thirty Huns as prisoners? By Jove, I should like to know that man! Is he alive now?'

'Very much alive,' I laughed.

'Where is he, then?'

I nodded my head towards Edgec.u.mbe, who all the time had been sitting in silent protest.

But my story had done its work. The squire's apparent dislike was over, and, acting upon the generous impulse of the moment, he started to his feet and rushed to Edgec.u.mbe's side.

'Give me your hand, sir,' he cried; 'I am proud to know you, proud to have you sitting at my table!'

What Edgec.u.mbe would have said, I do not know. He had been protesting all the time as much as a man could protest with his eyes, and I knew that like all men of his cla.s.s he hated to have such deeds dragged into the light of day, although I had done it with a set purpose. But as it happened, there was no need for him to say anything. At that moment the butler came behind Lady Bolivick's chair and spoke to her.

'Captain Springfield!' she cried, 'and Charlie Buller. Oh, I am so glad. Charlie's evidently better, then. He wrote, telling me, when I asked him to come over to-night, that he was afraid he wouldn't be well enough.'

I do not know why it was, but at that moment I looked towards Lorna Bolivick, and I saw her face flush with excitement. Evidently the mention of the new-comers' names meant a great deal to her.

Then I looked at Edgec.u.mbe, and I saw that he too had been watching her.

CHAPTER XVII

A NEW DEVELOPMENT

Charlie Buller, as Lady Bolivick had called him, was a young fellow about twenty-four years of age, and was first lieutenant in the Devons.h.i.+re yeomanry. He had been wounded in France, and some time before my return to England had been in a hospital in London. Only a few days before he had been discharged from the hospital, and had now returned to his Devons.h.i.+re home on leave. He was the only son of a squire whose lands joined those of Sir Thomas Bolivick, and was, as Norah Blackwater told me during the evening, a suitor for Lorna Bolivick's hand.

'I think it is as good as settled,' she said to me, 'although no engagement has been announced. He will be a splendid match for her, too, and owns one of the finest estates in Devons.h.i.+re. Didn't you see how excited Lorna became when she heard that he had come?'

This was the first time I had seen Springfield since I had helped Edgec.u.mbe to dig him from under a heap of rubbish in France.

They had both dined early, they said, and the night being fine, had motored over, Charlie Buller's home being only four miles from Bolivick.

Buller was a good-looking boy, fresh-coloured, curly-haired, and although in no way remarkable, quite likeable. Springfield I liked less now than when I had first seen him. His face looked paler and less wholesome than ever. The old scar which I had noticed on our first meeting revealed itself more plainly, while his somewhat sinister appearance repelled me.

Sir Thomas, however, gave him a hearty greeting, and welcomed him to his house with great cordiality. Sir Thomas had dined well, and was by this time in great good humour.

'This is splendid!' he cried, 'four men in khaki here all together!

Ah, don't I wish my boys were at home to complete the party! But there, never mind, please G.o.d they'll come back.'

Springfield was introduced to Edgec.u.mbe as though he were an entire stranger, and neither of them gave the slightest indication that they had ever met before. I wondered, as I saw them, whether Springfield had been aware of the name of the man who had, in all probability, saved him from death. I did not quite see how he could have been ignorant of it, and yet, from the way he greeted Edgec.u.mbe, it might have been that he was in entire ignorance.

But one thing was evident to me. He hated him, and what was more, feared him. I could see his face quite plainly, and there was no mistaking the look in his eyes. The conversation I had heard while lying in that copse in France months before flashed back to my mind, and I knew that in some way the life of Captain Springfield was linked to that of Edgec.u.mbe, and that if the truth were known evil forces were at work. What they were, I could not divine, but that they existed I had no doubt whatever.

I soon realized, too, that he exercised a great influence over young Buller. That ruddy-faced, fair-haired young fellow was but as wax in his hands. There seemed no reason why I should be disturbed at this, but I was. I was apprehensive of the future.

Another thing struck me, too. In a way, which I could not understand, he was wearing down Lorna Bolivick's former repugnance to him. As my readers may remember, she had greatly disliked him at their first meeting, and had told me in confidence that he made her think of snakes. Now she listened to him eagerly, and seemed fascinated by his presence. I had to admit, too, that the fellow talked well, and although he was anything but an Apollo in appearance, he possessed a charm of manner which I could not deny.

I must confess that I felt angry at this. In spite of my admiration of his strength, I disliked him intensely. I was sure he wore a mask, and that some dark mystery surrounded his life. So angry was I, that I determined if possible to turn the tables upon him. And so, at the close of one of his stories, I broke in upon the conversation.

'Yes, Captain Springfield,' I said, 'what you say is quite true. The quiet heroism shown by fellows whom the world regarded as entirely commonplace is simply wonderful, and a great deal of it has never come to light. By the way, you wouldn't have been here to-night but for the heroism of a man whose action you seem to have forgotten.'

'Is that so?' he asked. 'It is quite possible, although I am not aware of what you are thinking.'

'Surely you must be aware of it?' I replied.

He looked at me curiously, as though he were in doubt whether I was friendly disposed towards him.

'I wish you'd tell me exactly what you mean,' he said.