The Red Planet

which a man would have dined happily with Beelzebub. A fresh-coloured boy, with fair crisply set hair and a little moustache a shade or two

tion of Delft, I had the pair all to myself, one on each side; and in this way I was able to read exchanges of glances whence I might form sage conclusions. Bella, spruce parlour-maid, waited deftly. Sergeant Marigold, when not occupied in the mild labour of filling glasses, stood li

at he had been a Natural Science scholar at Trinity College, Cambridge, where he had taken a first-class degree-specialising in geology; that by profession (his father's) he was a mining-engineer, and, in pursuit of his vocation, had travelled in Galicia, Mexico and Japan;

from his entrance scholarship at the University to the word of special commendation which his company had received from the General of his Division at last week's inspection. Yes, he was the modest, clean-bred, simple En

r coffee. Mrs. Marigold, as a soldier's wife, I announced, had a world of invaluable adv

d port. It has been known before now to sepa

or a few seconds befo

is very simple, after all. Every generation does exactly the same beautiful, fo

ing your great-gr

r?" he asked, re

e watched the disappearing skirt

aid he, flushing and helping himself to wine. "I

her opened the door for her to pass out, she w

a sip. "But those days did not produce Betty Fairfa

so far as went his heart's intention and his soul's strength to assure it, I had no fear for Betty's happiness. He

; but Betty Fairfax, whom I had known intimately for as many years as she could remember, puzzled me exceedingly. I defy anyone to have picked a single fault in her demeanour towards her husband of to-morrow. She lit a cigarette for him in the most charming way in the world, and when he guid

n. A sensible woman, Miss, lets him go on priding of himself, poor creature. It sort of helps his dign

to eat out of my han

n doing it for

they're married-so Mrs. Marigold

terposed, "it depends on what yo

vered a bit

wered, "they'll be alwa

ckles resting on the leathern seat, her silver-brocaded, slender fee

he isn

full of nast

play Gounod's "Death March of a Marionette." She played it remarkably well. When she had ended, Connor wal

, Betty, what put that thin

or two, without looking al him. "And I thought we ought to give

s very tenderly

scat,"

the two resonant chords of an "Amen,

m my benediction. Presently, Betty, fur-coated, came running in alone. She flung herself down, in her im

discuss strategy with Sergeant Marigold in the hall, till I come. Well-you tho

, "that you are marrying a very gallant English gentlem

oung face near mine-and looked at me-I hesitate

a woman's life counts as much as that of a mosquito." She freed an arm and snapped her fingers. "But to the woman herself, her own life can't help bein

arnestly. No longer was I mystified. I remembered her ta

ted such a man to "eat out of her hand," she knew that never out of her hand would he eat save that which she should give him in honourable and wifely service. She knew that. She was exquisitely anxious that I should know it too. Floodgates of relief were ex

ng, dear," she said, "and to-morrow I'

the most fervent

oking very young and princess-like, her white thr

gnificance of your Dead March of a Marionette

e of passion, looking, for the

omeone had written the

, and went out in a whir

meditate in front of the fire. I knew all about it-or at any rate I thought I did, whi

rmae-she had cast Boyce aside. But for all her splendid surrender of her womanhood to Willie Connor, for the sake of her country, she still loved Leonard Boyce. Or, if she wasn't in love with him, she couldn't get him out of her head or her senses. Something like that, anyhow. I don't pretend

with an irritable gesture and

a matter of fact, I knew-and was one of the very few who knew-of a black mark against him-the very blackest mark that could be put against a soldier's name. It was a puzzling business

lity, commanded implicit obedience. But both glance and voice would soften caressingly and his manner convey a charm which made him popular with men-brother officers and private soldiers alike-and with women. With regard to the latter-to put things crudely-they

ngly said a little while ago, a trained judge of men, should doubtless have fallen, like most other people, under the spell of his fascination.

rvation I have made above-and to this

g Boer combatants. The excursion was a mere matter of routine-of humdrum commonplace. As usual it was made at night, but this was a night of full dazzling moon. The farm lay in a hollow of the veldt, first seen from the crest of a kopje. There it lay below, ramshackle and desolate, a rough wall

rgeant, the next man to Boyce, fell dead, shot through the brain. The me

re like a silly servant girl's looki

r and lose his legs. A corporal rushed up, thinking he was hit, and, finding him whole, rose, in order to leave him there, and, in rising, got a bullet through the neck. Thus there were four men killed, and the Comm

ld man with a couple of Mauser rifles,

s reports brought the dead bodies of their comrades into the house and laid them out decently, together with the body of the white-bearded Boer. After that they mounted their hors

break-neck speed. When he had left the moon rode high in the heavens; when he returned it was dawn-and he had a bloody tunic and the face of a man who had escaped from hell. He threw himself from his horse and

s the

d out, sir. The w

a direction opposite to safety, and after a couple of hours had fallen in with a straggling portion of a Boer Commando. Refusing to surre

few moments. Then he turned abruptly and stood toweringly over th

ppen now?" he asked, in h

"I must leave th

a long time. A scheme of salvation w

self remained. We broke into the house and did for the old Boer, who, however, unfortunately did for the Sergeant. Then I alone went out in search of my men and followin

e having me shot for running away. I could t

ld belie

d the situation. It also was ready for the alte

traight look at Boyce. "A mess for both of us,

nt Oldham. You remained faithful when the others bolted. You and I tackled the old Boer and you got wounded. You

uple of hun

that, dead or alive, the Boers have accounted for them. If you'll agree to this report, we can r

at I can do anything else. But to hell with the stripes under fals

nruffled. "Provided we understa

st; but an officer who loses his whole troop in the military operation of storming a farm-house garrisoned by one old man does not find peculiar favour in the eyes of his Colonel. Boyce took a s

uted the story as soon as I heard it, and I withered up young Dacre for daring to bring such abominable slander within my Rhadamanthine sphere. I dismissed the calumny from my mind. Providentially, (as I heard later), the news came of Boyce's "mention

give them. They are necessary for a conception of the character of a remarkable man to whom I have every reason and every honourable desire to render justice. It is necessary, too, that I

y Dacre up Adderley Street, dun with kahki, when he met his brother Reginald, who was promptly introduced

ther, "who was with Boyce through t

idly. "I know Captain Boyce-he is a near neighbour of mine at home

him. He led a dog's life till he was knocked out, and he has been leading a worse one since. I don't call it fair." He looked at me squarely out of his yo

ad nothing to do, and the bo

or the first time. We entered the hospital, sat by the side of the man's bed, and he told us the story of Vilboek's Farm which I hav

appeared in the full current of English life. Perhaps he is with our armies now. It does not matter. What matters is my memo

which would stain the honour of the army. Besides, Boyce had made good. They have kept their promise like honest gentle

an like Somers, but a great, hulking, bull-necked gladiator-should have been paralysed with fear by one shot coming out of a Boer farm, and thereby demoralised and incapacitated from taking command of a handful of men; that, instead of blowing his brains out, he should have imposed his Mephistophelian compact upon the unhappy Somers and carried off the knavish business successfully-I could not believe i

with ridicule; but officially, also, he had retrieved his position by distinguished service. After all, it was not his fault that his men had run away. On the other hand...well, you cannot but appreciate the vicious circle of my thoughts, when Betty, in her frank way, came and told me of her engagement to

f that year he went off salmon fishing in Norway. On the outbreak of war he returned to England and luckily got his job at once. He did not come back to Wellingsford. His mot

old e

?" sa

ht you r

thought I ought to have r

o (and every visitor to Cairo knows Hatoun) gave it me as Baksheesh; it is, however, a genuine bit from a p

ving replica of it-

n hour," said I, "

, sir," sa

ssion of my reflections. They all went any

-morrow. I suppose I've got a

"But your last silk hat you gave to Miss Alth

did,"

pleased to imagine. I wanted to wear at the live Betty's wedding the ceremonious thing w

ght have known that I should want it some day or

"didn't you or I, sir, or many

re all damned

ith his great inexorable tenta

out the hat,