"Alone, Higgins?" asked the officer, with a hint of surprise in his voice.
"Yessir."
"I thought I heard voices."
"Only me 'ummin', sir."
"I see. All quiet?"
"Yessir! Nothin' doin' at all!"
"Well"—Second-Lieutenant Shaw had not yet shed his youthful pride at being in the thick of things, and puffed himself out a little and became most impressive—"you want to keep an extra sharp look-out from now until we stand-to at dusk. We've an idea that something's going to happen. Probably Fritz will try a raid. This quiet is very suspicious."
He passed on with the sergeant. As soon as he was well out of earshot, Alf recalled the spirit, who looked so hurt that his Master felt that an apology was due to him.
"Sorry, Eustace, but if the orficer 'ad seen you talkin' to me, there'd 'ave been trouble. Civilians ain't allowed in the trenches, 'cept with a special pass; so when anybody comes, you must 'op it without waitin' for orders. See?"
Eustace bowed gravely.
"Now, look 'ere," continued Alf, gazing earnestly over the parapet as he spoke, "I just binthinkin' about yer. If you could only get out o' this 'abit o' practical jokin' an' so on, you might be quite a useful sort o' feller. Now, tell me fair, what can you do? I don't mean larkin' with airyplanes, but serious things."
"My Lord hath but to command."
"Yes, it's easy enough to say that, but I can't think o' things.... Now, s'posin' ... that is.... Look 'ere, what I really want is something to keep me safe if the blighted Boche comes over. Now, what can you show me?"
"Master, I comprehend not thy speech."
"Lumme, I speak plain enough English, I 'ope. I say, what I want is something to keep me safe if the Boche comes over. The Boche, you know! Fritz! The 'Un! The fellers across there, you blinkin' image! The Germans!"
"My Lord desires protection from his enemies."
"That's better, Eustace. Think it out, and you'll get there in time."
"It shall be so. Behold!"
An object appeared in the Spirit's hand.
"Behold, O Lord of Might, the helmet of invisibility. Clad in this thou canst be seen of no mortal eye. So mayest thou move among the hosts of the enemy, seeing all, yet seen of none."
"By gum!" commented Alf, much impressed, "that's a bit of all right. Shouldn't mind doing daylight patrols with that on. Knocks a tin 'at all to blazes."
He pondered a moment and began to see the disadvantages of the idea.
"The trouble is," he explained, "the orficer seems to think the 'osts of the enemy is goin' to move aboutusjust now. Where should I be then? They'd all think I'd 'ad the wind up and 'opped it. An' then, 'ow about shell-fire? Just bein' invisible won't stop no Perishin' Percies. What I want is something—well, you know what I mean. Can't you get me something to keep off the bullets?"
"Verily that can I," said Eustace, with an air suggesting that Alf was simply wasting his time with niggling details. "Just such a thing as thou desirest was aforetime in the treasury of the great King Uz; my spirits shall procure it for thee. Whoso weareth this can come to no hurt through weapons forged by man."
"That's the ticket, if Mr. What's-'is-name won't be wanting it for 'isself. 'E's probably 'elpin' with this 'ere War somewhere or other."
"Uz hath been dead these many cycles—upon him be peace!" returned Eustace. He raised his hand, and, with an awesome clang, a cumbrous suit of armor, complete in every detail, fell into the trench. The djinn wore an expression of mild triumph. This time, he seemed to think, even this strange new master of his must be satisfied. He was not in the least prepared for Alf's reception of his performance.
"Take it away," shrieked Private Higgins, in anagony at the idea of having to explain away such a phenomenon to his superiors. "Take it away, you blinkin' fool, and 'op it yerself. What the blazes d'you think yer doin'? 'Ere, get out of it, quick. Somebody's comin'."
Somebody was.
The whole of Number Nine Platoon, awakened from its slumbers, came tumbling out of its dug-outs, adjusting its gas masks as it came. A horrible ghoul, dimly recognizable through the windows of its respirator as Sergeant Lees, came and gibbered at Alf.
"What's up, sergeant?" asked Alf in amazement.
"Gas!" replied the sergeant, removing his mouthpiece for a moment in order to speak more clearly. "Why the 'ell ain't you got yer mask on? Didn't you 'ear the gong?"
Higgins realized with horror what had happened. The clang of the armor had been mistaken for a gas-gong by a sentry in the next bay, who had promptly given the alarm. He tried feebly to straighten matters out; but it was too late now. The word had spread; the Boche, seeing the commotion in our lines, had sprung to arms; and both armies stood tense, each convinced that the other was going to make a surprise attack. A heavy fusillade with rifles and machine guns, rifle grenades and trench mortars began, and in its turn spread along the lines with great swiftness. Then somebody put up anS.O.S. flare, and the guns, which had only been waiting for this invitation, joined in. For the next few minutes the Messina earthquake or an eruption of Vesuvius would have been welcomed as quiet interludes by Richards, Allen & Co.
Further back, astonished Staff-Officers were springing to the telephone to demand by what right this intense but unauthorized warfare was taking place, and what it was all about, anyway. Further back still, troops in rest billets looked up from their magazines or their letters home and thanked Heaven that they were not in the shoes of the poor blighters in the line.
Then both sides seemed to discover that nothing much was happening after all, and the whole thing died away as suddenly as it had begun. But that night the sentries were doubled, and as Higgins sulkily performed his extra hours of duty, his feelings towards his well-meaning but tactless familiar were such that he nearly brought his adventures to an untimely close by cutting off the Button and flinging it over the parapet.
After this sudden burst of excitement had died away, a watchful calm descended on the front line. "C" Company were relieved next day by "B" Company, and went into close support. Here they were in a zone more subjected to shell-fire than in the front line itself; but this worried them very little, as for the most part they spent their four days snugly in dug-outs, listening to the occasional dull thud caused by an explosion up above, and waiting in readiness to turn out at any moment in the event of a raid. One or two parties were called out to carry rations up to "B" Company, but the only casualty was a man who was hit in the arm by a shell-splinter, and departed for "Blighty" openly exulting in his good fortune.
On the fourth day the battalion was relieved and went back into Brigade Reserve. Here they were to stay for eight days while the battalion in the line completed its duty. What might happen after that was a matter for speculation, known only to Providence—and possibly (though not very probably) the Staff. Anyhow, the events of so dim and distant a future were a matter of supreme indifference to the rank and file. It was enough for them thatfor a week or so at any rate they would have deep, warm dug-outs, well back from the line.
As soon as the company settled in, Bill Grant returned to the platoon, his services as extra runner being no longer required. Alf would have welcomed him under any circumstances; but on this occasion he was specially glad to have his pal back again. He was worried and needed advice. He had, in fact, decided to take Bill into his confidence on the subject of Eustace, and was now simply waiting for an opportunity of a private and uninterrupted conversation with him. Atête-à tête, especially if it entails a practical demonstration of oriental magic, is not the easiest thing on earth for two Tommies in the forward area to arrange.
A kindly Fate assisted them, however. The particular system of trenches they were inhabiting, like all systems constructed by that industrious mole, the Boche, was honeycombed with deep dug-outs—far more than the 5th Battalion could possibly use. It occurred to the two warriors that it would be an excellent plan to find a disused and secluded specimen for their own private use. In such a haven Alf could unfold his portentous secret without fear of interruption, while Bill, who objected on principle to being put on working parties and fatigues, felt that the best safeguard against inclusion in these treats was an alibi. After a search they discovered a snug retreat in which they intended to spend as much of their spare time as possible, returning totheir mates only at meal-times and other occasions when their absence might be noticed.
The afternoon was pleasantly mild, and for the first time the air seemed to contain a hint of Spring. Instead of retiring underground they sat in the entrance of their new home quietly smoking. As soon as their pipes were well alight, Alf broached the subject which was weighing so heavily on his mind.
"Bill," he asked. "D'yer believe in spirits?"
"Prefer beer."
"Not them sort o' spirits, I don't mean. I mean spooks. D'yer believe in spooks, Bill?"
"People what sees spooks," said Bill dogmatically, "is liars, or boozed."
Grant's attitude was unpromising, but Alf was determined to persevere.
"What would yer say if I told yer I'd seen a spook, Bill?" he demanded.
"I'd say you'd 'ad a drop too much," was the uncompromising reply.
"An' if I saw it when I 'adn't 'ad a drop at all?"
Bill turned and regarded him.
"Look 'ere, Alf 'Iggins," he remarked acidly. "Yer worse'n a bloomin' kid f'r asking yer blighted silly questions. If you got anything to say, for 'Eaven's sake spit it out an' 'ave done with it."
Thus adjured, Alf plunged into his story, omitting only his adventure with the aeroplanes, which he considered would be safer hidden even from Bill.
That gentleman heard him to the end without comment.
"I b'lieve it's up to me to take yer to the M.O.," he said at last seriously.
Alf was annoyed.
"Don't be a idjit. This is arealspook, I tell yer!"
"Garn! You bin sleepin' on yer back an' dreamt it all. Why, this 'ere Aladdin you talk about—there never was no sich feller. 'E's just a bloke in a fairy story."
"Dreamt it!" repeated Alf indignantly. "Dream be blowed. I couldn't dream meself pink all over, could I?"
"No, but you could catch scarlet fever an' 'ave delirious trimmings on top of it," said Bill caustically. "But you can't make me see this blessed spook o' yours, any'ow."
This was a direct challenge, and Alf rubbed his Button. Bill's tin hat fell off.
"Lor'!" he said, sitting up straight.
"What wouldst thou have?" enquired Eustace. "I am ready to obey thee as thy slave...."
"'Op it," replied Alf feebly. He had forgotten to think out any excuse for summoning the djinn, and could think of nothing else to say. Eustace, his opinion of Alf obviously lower than ever, disappeared.
"Lumme!" said Bill. He smoked in silence for some minutes, deep in thought.
"Where the 'ell does 'e come from, and what does 'e do?" he asked at length.
"'Oo?"
"That spook, o' course."
"I dunno. I rubs me Button, an' 'e bounces in an' asks for orders. 'Alf the time I don't want 'im at all. An' if I do tell 'im to do things, 'e gets 'em all wrong. 'E don't seem to lave no common sense, some'ow."
Bill was following out some train of thought.
"Look 'ere, Alf," he said. "What can you remember about this feller Aladdin? What 'appened to 'im in the panto?"
Alf considered.
"There was a bloke sang something about a rose growin' in a garden. Pathetic it was," he announced after deep thought.
"Blighted fool!" commented Bill with pardonable heat. "I don't meanthat. What 'appened to this chap, Aladdin, 'isself?"
"Oh, 'im! A bloomin' girl, 'e was, in the pantomime. I didn't take much notice what 'appened to 'im—married some one, I think."
"Yes, but 'oo?" asked Bill, with an air of playing his trump card.
"I dunno. Princess Something."
"That's what I remember. An' they 'ad palaces, an' jools, an' money, an' everything. An' 'ow did they get 'em, eh?"
"I dunno."
Alf was really being very dense. Bill tapped him impressively on the arm.
"Your spook brought 'em," he said.
"Eustace?"
"That what you call 'im? Yes, 'im."
They gazed at each other, Bill in triumph. Alf in astonishment; at last the latter found his voice.
"I never thought o' that kind o' thing!" he said.
"No, you're a proper thick-'ed," retorted Grant unkindly. "Now, you send for 'im an' make 'im do something useful for a change."
"What shall it be?"
"Mine," replied Bill, without hesitation, "is beer. Always was. An' mind, none o' that Govermint muck neither. Something with a bit o' body in it."
"Send'imforbeer?" whispered Alf in horror. He could not have looked more shocked if Bill had suggested sending the sergeant-major to buy him a paper. He had an instinctive feeling that Eustace was one to do things on a grand scale, and would resent being employed as a mere potman. He rubbed his Button nervously, and avoided Eustace's eye.
"Is it my Lord's desire that his servant should hop it?" asked the spirit, abandoning his usual formula. He was, he felt, just beginning to settle down to his new master's ways.
"No," said Alf, fixing his eyes on vacancy. "Bring me two beers, please, Eustace."
"Two biers, O possessor of wisdom?" repeatedthe djinn, wondering if his startled ears could have heard aright.
"Yes. Two beers, I said. And 'urry up."
Eustace bowed low, muttered "Thy wish is my command," and vanished. Almost immediately afterwards, with a dull thud apiece, two cumbersome and curiously carved stone sarcophagi fell side by side into the trench, which they blocked completely. Alf and Bill gazed open-mouthed first at the two sepulchers and then at one another.
"What the 'ell's this mean?" asked Bill at last.
Alf, mortified beyond measure at the failure of his attempt to impress his pal, gave a resigned gesture.
"What did I tell yer?" he asked. "That's the kind o' thing 'e's always doin'! No common sense."
"Well, p'raps 'e misunderstood yer. P'raps 'e thought you wanted...."
"Thought I wanted! Didn't I speak plain English? Ain't 'beer' plain enough for 'im? 'Ow can 'e 'ave misunderstood 'beer'?"
"Well, p'raps these 'ere things are called 'beer' in 'is language."
Alf snorted.
"I ask yer, do they look like it? No, it's just 'is fat-'eaded way."
He rubbed his Button fiercely.
"Take these blinkin' egg-boxes away, Eustace," he said. "An' pull yerself together. I askedyer for beer—stuff what you drinks, savvy?"
He made a gesture of drinking. The djinn, with a sudden light of comprehension in his face, bowed and vanished with the sarcophagi, to reappear a moment later with an enormous tray on his head. From this he proceeded to deal out a great number of covered metal plates, exactly as a conjurer produces strange objects from a top hat. He set them down in the trench, and with a final flourish brought forth an enormous silver flagon and two heavily chased goblets. These he placed with the other things, and disappeared.
"Ah!" said Bill, smacking his lips in anticipation. "This looks more like it. Bit 'olesale in 'is ways, ain't 'e? Seems to take us for the Lord Mayor's Banquet."
He lifted the cover from one of the plates and smelt the contents.
"Fish o' some kind," he said dubiously. "Smells funny. Never could stand them foreign messes."
Alf did likewise to another dish.
"Muck," he said succinctly. "Give me good ole roast beef an' mutton every time. I likes to know what I'm eatin', I do. Pour the drink out, Bill."
Thus adjured, Bill filled the goblets and passed one to Alf.
"Good 'ealth!"
"Good 'ealth!" chorused both warriors. Their heads went back in unison; also in unison, they gave a tremendous splutter of disgust.
"My Gawd!" said Alf thickly, "I'm poisoned! What the 'ell is it?"
"Tastes like a mixture of 'oney an' ink, with a dash o' chlorate o' lime," said Bill, apparently trying to shake the remains of the nauseous mixture from the roof of his mouth. "'Ere, 'ave that blinkin' spook o' yours back again an' tell 'im orf."
Once more Alf rubbed the button and summoned his familiar.
"What wouldst thou have," said Eustace, appearing promptly, but with a trace of resentment in his face, "I am ready...."
"Stow it!" said Alf. "You're a lottooready, seems to me. Why d'yer want to bring us all this bloomin' lay-out? I didn't order no food, an' if I 'ad I wouldn't 'ave meant un'oly messes like that. You're too blinkin' 'olesale in yer ways. Take it all away. An' as for drink, you've 'arf poisoned us with the muck you've brought."
"Lord of might," said Eustace. "These are of the choicest of the meats and the wines of Arabia."
"Gawd 'elp Arabia, then. An' I asked for beer, B-E-A-R, beer. D'yer mean to say they don't 'ave it in Arabia?"
Eustace shook his head.
"Poor blighters!" put in Bill. "No wonder they're 'eathens."
"Now, look 'ere, Eustace," said Alf instructively. "Beer is—er—beer is—well, it's.... I say,Bill, 'ow the 'ell can yer explain beer to any one as doesn't know what it is?"
"Well," said Bill. "It's brown stuff, made from 'ops an' malt an' such, an' you get it in Blighty—that's England, you savvy—in barrels. Just you 'op over there, an' you'll see. Or any one'll tell you."
This lucid explanation sufficed Eustace, for this time he disappeared with the scorned banquet, and returned in a twinkling with two foaming tankards.
Alf and Bill smelt the contents with grave suspicion, which changed at once to a happy foaming smile apiece.
"That's the goods!" said Alf.
"Ah!" said Bill, smacking his lips with deep satisfaction. "Ole Aladdin knew a thing or two, 'e did. Let's 'ave another o' the same an' drink 'is 'ealth."
"No, Bill. It'll 'urt ole Eustace' feelings. If you was a spook what could build palaces an' sich in 'arf a tick, wouldyoulike to 'ave to go all the way to 'ell for two bloomin' pints? Besides we've kept 'im on the go pretty fair as it is."
"Make it 'ogs'eds, then."
But Alf was adamant.
"Very well, don't then," said Grant with sudden asperity. "But if yer won't oblige a pal in a little thing like that, w'y don't yer get on with it an'dosomething? Fat lot o' good you done so far withyer pet devil! W'y, yer mighter stopped the 'ole war by now."
"Might I? 'Ow?"
"Easy enough. All you gotter do is to send ole Eustace over to fetch the Kaiser 'ere, an' there yer are! Can't yer see it in all the papers—'Private Alf 'Iggins, V.C.—The 'ero as captured the Kaiser'?"
"Yes, I see meself gettin' it in the neck. I 'ope I knows my place better'n to go monkeyin' with kings.... Look out, the orficers!"
It was too late for them to gain the sanctuary of their dug-out, and they rose awkwardly to their feet as Shaw and Donaldson came along the trench. They had been out on an exploring expedition. Bill and Alf, seeing that neither Richards nor Allen was present, had hopes that they would not attract attention; but Donaldson, for all his sleepy appearance, was quick of eye.
"What's that in your hand, Grant?" he asked.
Bill, cursing inwardly the prying spirit to which he considered the commissioned ranks much too prone, reluctantly drew from behind him the tankard from which he had been drinking. Higgins did likewise, and the officers took one each.
"How awfully interesting," said Shaw. "Where did you find these, Grant?"
"In one of these 'ere dug-outs, sir."
"By Jove, Don!" Shaw turned to his companion. "Fritz does love to do himself well!"
He broke off in surprise. Donaldson had suddenly thrown off his air of boredom and was examining his tankard with an alert eye.
"Must be looted stuff," he said. "I'm a bit of an expert in these things. That's ancient oriental work, worth quite a bit."
"Excuse me, sir," put in Bill suavely. "But if this 'ere is any good to you as a souvenir, I don't set no partickler store by it."
"Nor me, sir," agreed Alf.
"Want to sell?"
"If you like, sir."
"Can't afford it. I'm not going to do you in. These mugs are probably worth a good bit."
"That's all right, sir. We'd much rather 'ave ten francs apiece now, sir. We didn't neither of us get much last time we 'ad a pay."
"Whose fault was that?" asked Shaw.
"I'll give you," Donaldson said, "twenty francs each—all I can manage."
"Thank you, sir."
"And mind, I expect to see some of this sent home when I censor the letters. I wouldn't give you so much all at once if we were in a place where we could get beer——"
"Aren't we, though," put in Shaw, pointing to a drop of amber liquid in the tankard he held. "Smell that!"
Donaldson sniffed.
"Beer, and good beer at that," he pronounced.He looked enquiringly at the two Tommies. Alf gave himself up for lost, but not so Bill.
"Yes, sir," he said easily. "I noticed that meself."
"I dare say," answered Donaldson grimly. "The point is, can you explain it?"
Bill's face grew preternaturally innocent.
"I expect, sir, Fritz left the mugs behind 'im in the Big Frost, sir, an' the drops got froze in. Prob'ly thawed again with the warmth of our 'ands."
Donaldson eyed the propounder of this ingenious theory gravely.
"Probably," he agreed. And relapsing into his customary taciturnity, he strode off down the trench with his two mugs, little Shaw trotting behind, still lost in wonder at the sudden discovery of an artistic side in old Don.
"'E don't believe yer," said Alf apprehensively.
"'Course not. 'E's no fool, isn't Don, for all 'e looks 'arf asleep. But 'e's a sport, an' 'e likes a good lie. You'll see, 'e'll say no more about it. Let's 'ave another."
Alf, whose throat was parched with all he had been through, this time let no consideration for the feelings of Eustace deter him.
For the next day or two Alf found life very hard. Bill's appetite for beer increased by geometrical progression; and Eustace's possible indignation at being constantly summoned merely to supply Private Grant with large bitters filled Alf with the liveliest apprehension. He felt that Bill—who, under the influence of unlimited liquor, was losing his moral sense—was not playing the game. He even descended to the level of intimidating Higgins, when he declared himself unprepared to risk the djinn's displeasure any longer, by the use of threats.
"Stop me beer, will yer?" said Grant. "Very well, then. We'll just see what the R.S.M. 'as to say about yer goin's on. 'E won't 'arf tell yer orf, I don't think!"
The regimental sergeant-major isex officiothe most terrible individual of a battalion from the point of view of the private soldier. True, the colonel is greater than he, in that from that officer the R.S.M. takes his orders; but the colonel—so far as Higgins and his peers were concerned—was a mere abstraction. The R.S.M. overshadowedhim much as, in the eyes of unimaginative heathens, the priest overshadows the deity whose minister he is.
The R.S.M. of the 5th Middlesex Fusiliers, too, was a martinet of the most approved Regular Army type. His horizon was bounded on the one side by King's Regulations and on the other by the Manual of Military Law; and if he should become aware that a private of his battalion was so lost to the meaning of military discipline as to keep an unauthorized familiar spirit, the only possible result would be an explosion of wrath too terrible even to contemplate. Of this threat, therefore, Bill Grant made shameless use; and day by day he became more bibulous, Eustace more displeased, and Alf more miserable.
Alf racked his rather inadequate brains in the hope that Necessity would acknowledge her reputed offspring, Invention, and find him a way out of his troubles. But in the end Bill brought about his own undoing. He had a lively and, in his cups, a lurid imagination; and by giving it too free rein, he suggested to Alf a counter-threat.
"'Ow'd it be, ole f'ler," said Bill thickly, on the second day, after having kept Eustace almost continuously employed for several hours, "to 'ave old Eustish up again 'n tell 'im to turn the R.Esh.M. into a rhinosherush?"
To Alf this remark seemed not so much humorous as blasphemous; but it was also most illuminating.It opened his eyes to an aspect of his new powers which, left to himself, he would never have thought of.
"Look 'ere, Bill Grant!" he said, in suddenly confident tones. "That'll be about enough from you, see? Not another drop o' beer do you get till I says so. 'E'smyspook, Eustace is; an' if I 'as any more o' yer nonsense I'll take an' tell 'im to changeyouinto something. 'Ow'd yer like to be a—a transport mule, eh?"
Bill, suddenly smitten into something approaching sobriety, had no word to say. Alf, following up his advantage, continued his harangue.
"Not one drop more do yer get," he reiterated. "Eustace 'as been gettin' that fed up, I've been expectin' 'im to give me a month's notice any minute. An' nice we'd look if 'e started playin' monkey tricks on 'is own. All this beer business, you know; it ain't what 'e's been brought up to."
"'E can't do nothin', not without you tells 'im," said Bill, with a certainty he was far from feeling.
"Ah, an' 'ow do we know that? 'E might break loose an' then where'd we be? I've fair got the wind up, I tell yer. What we wanted to do is to 'umor the blighter."
"'Ow?"
"I dunno. 'Ow'd it be to give 'im something to do as 'e'd really enjoy—a decent job just to put 'im in a good temper again?"
"Buildin' palaces was 'is old line," mused Bill.
"Aye, but buildin' palaces 'ere would be just a blighted waste o' time," replied Alf, with strong common sense. "Can't you think o' nothin' else?"
Bill pondered deeply.
"Tell 'im," he suggested at last, "to bring us a girl. I'm fair sick for the sight of a pretty face."
"Dunno if that's much good. 'E mayn't care for females."
"Well, it is part of 'is peace-time job, anyway. Don't I tell yer 'e brought Aladdin a princess?"
"I'll try it. Any'ow, it'll be a change for 'im arter all that beer."
Eustace, it was obvious, approved of the idea. This new command was completely in accord with his ancient tradition.
"A maid fair as the dawn, great Master! It shall be so!" he said.
"Yes, and"—Alf suddenly remembered a recent abortive attempt to dally with a pretty French girl in an estaminet, and determined to run no further risks—"a English one."
"'Ere," put in Bill. "Make it two."
But the djinn had vanished.
"All right, Bill," Higgins said soothingly. "We'll send 'im back for one for you. Wonder what 'e'll bring for me—one of the 'Ippodrome chorus, I 'ope."
* * * * * * *
Lady Margaret Clowes and Isobel FitzPeter were walking together along the edge of the Row inHyde Park. Margaret was wearing the workman-like, if unbeautiful, Red Cross uniform, for she was a hard-working V.A.D. at a private hospital. Isobel was a dainty vision, rivaling the lilies of the field.
"Did I tell you I'd had another letter from my cousin at the front?" asked Margaret.
"Which one?"
"Denis. Denis Allen. He sent you his kind regards. He's a nice boy. Do you remember him?"
"Hardly at all. He played cricket at Dunwater once or twice when I was a child. Really, Peggy, I'm getting fed up with men. Since those ridiculous papers took to publishing my photograph, every silly boy I've ever spoken to seems to want me to write to him."
"Why do you let them do it?" asked Margaret.
"I can't stop them writing to me, if they know my address."
"The papers, I mean. It's all very well calling them ridiculous, but you know that you give them every assistance."
"Rubbish!" Isobel's voice sounded scornful, but a sudden blush gave her away. Margaret, who had just come off duty after an unusually exacting spell, was rather out of patience with field-lilies. She returned to the attack.
"It isn't rubbish. And I don't think you ought to talk about the boys who write to you as you do. You make me very angry. After all, they arerisking their lives, which is more than you can say."
"Well, how can I? I've often told you I'd love to go to the front," Isobel protested.
"Yes—in a spirit of vulgar curiosity, I suppose, just to have a look round. Iso, I could shake you, you're so self-satisfied, and so futile."
"Well, I think you're horribly rude. If you can't be more amusing, I'm going home. I've my part to learn for...."
"Oh—look! there's a horse bolting!" interrupted Margaret. She ran to the railings and watched breathlessly, while the mounted policeman on duty, who seemed to regard the whole affair as being in the day's work, caught the runaway and averted what might have been a very nasty accident. When she turned to speak to her companion, Isobel was no longer there.
"Temper!" thought Margaret to herself. "I suppose I was rather cross—but really Isobel's enough to try a saint sometimes. She must have gone off pretty quickly, too. However...."
Margaret was quite undisturbed—even a little amused at her friend's departure. She and Isobel often had fierce little quarrels, but these never had any lasting effect on their friendship. She would see Isobel to-morrow, and the whole thing would be forgotten. For the present, she continued her walk alone.
An old gentleman sitting on a seat near by, who had chanced to be looking at Isobel at the momentwhen Eustace (having awarded her the prize in his private beauty competition) swooped down and carried her off, was the only actual spectator of her disappearance. Doubting the evidence of his senses, he waited anxiously until Margaret should find out what had happened; he looked for her to scream or faint, or show her horror by some emotional upheaval; when she simply walked on as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened, he was smitten with panic. He dashed home and went straight to bed.
* * * * * * *
Isobel's surprise and alarm when she found herself unexpectedly face to face with two tinhatted and unwashed Tommies in a subterranean cavern, lit only by a feeble gleam of daylight from the roof, was obvious; but she was too well bred to allow her emotions to master her. For a moment, conscious thought seemed to be suspended in her. Then, as the objects about her took shape, she decided that she must be dreaming.
At once all sense of fear left her. If it was only a dream, she argued to herself, it could not matter what happened to her. She waited with a kind of amused expectancy to see what turn events would take.
Alf and Bill, on the other hand, were not a little disturbed. They had realized at once that Eustace, in his ignorance, had committed an awful social solecism. Even the resourceful Bill's imaginationboggled at the idea of explaining to this dainty vision how she came to be in her present surroundings. They stood before her, embarrassed and tongue-tied. Alf thought of recalling the djinn and telling him to take her straight back; but his very real and increasing fear of offending his familiar forbade. Besides, his visitor was very lovely, and filled his jaded masculine eye with a lively sense of satisfaction.
After a while the silence became oppressive and Isobel spoke.
"Where am I?" she asked. "Who are you?"
Bill, who had been making a surreptitious and feline toilet in the gloomy recesses of the dug-out, stepped forward and saluted.
"Don't be frightened, miss," he said soothingly, "but this 'ere's a dug-out in France, on the Western Front."
"That proves it," said Isobel to herself, with a certain satisfaction. "Itisjust a vivid dream. Perhaps it's telepathy or levitation or something. Anyway, the great point to remember is that I'm not really here at all."
The two men watched her anxiously. Both had expected her to be terrified at the news. Her air of unruffled serenity alarmed them, because neither could understand it.
"Now let me see," she continued her train of thought—"a few minutes ago, I was in the Park with Peggy—but perhaps I dreamt that, too. Infact I must have.... I don't remember going to bed, though.... Oh, well, it's no good worrying, it'll be all right when I wake up. A dug-out?" She echoed Bill's words uncertainly.
"Yes, miss. I'm very sorry, miss. If you please, it's all a mistake. We didn't mean no 'arm. If you'll just wait a minute, we'll send you back again to London quite all...."
But Isobel's usual spirit returned to her at this point. Whether this was dream or miracle, she determined to see it through.
"Send me back?" she said. "No, indeed you shan't! I've always longed to see the front. They won't let me in real life, and now you're trying to spoil it in a dream. If you only knew how I've tried to get leave to come over! It's too absolutely divine for anything—I wouldn't miss it for worlds. And I'm sure you'll be very kind and show me round, Mr...."
"'Iggins—Private Alfred 'Iggins, 5th Middlesex Fusiliers. An' this is me pal, Private Grant."
"Pleasetermeacher!" mumbled Bill, saluting.
"Well, you will, won't you?" Isobel smiled at them suddenly and beseechingly. Alf capitulated.
"'Appy to, miss," replied the infatuated youth. "What is it you wants to see?"
"Everything. I want to see just how you live and what you do. I want to see a shell burst, and—oh, everything."
"Better not bother with shells, miss," said Bill grimly; "one might 'it you."
"Oh, but that doesn't matter in a dream! Is this the way up?"
She climbed up the steep and difficult staircase, gallantly assisted by Alf. Bill followed gloomily, his mind busy with wondering first what would happen if a stray long-distance shell did injure Isobel, and second what Sergeant Lees or any of his superiors would say if he saw them.
The same thought struck Alf as they reached the trench above.
"Company 'Edquarters is up there," he said, with a jerk of the thumb. "We'd best go the other way."
Isobel, making shameless play with her eyes, laid a hand for one moment on Alf's arm.
"Whatisa Company Headquarters?" she asked. "I want to see it."
A subtle, faint perfume reached Alf's nostrils and thrilled him all through. Now that she was in the full light of day, he could take in her exquisite quality. Her clothes, though obviously expensive, were too plain to suit Bill's untutored eye, but Alf, possessing by some queer freak of nature an unexpectedly true taste, saw in her the apotheosis of all that was most admirable in women. By all the laws of probability his tastes should have been for bright colors and nodding feathers, but suchdecorations left him cold, while this girl struck him dumb. She was simply the embodiment of his ideal.
"Now I'm here," she went on, "I want to see for myself just what you poor men have to put up with. How awful it must be to live in a trench like this. And can't you show me a German?"
She smiled up into Alf's face.
That smile galvanized him as before, into a display of rash gallantry.
"So you shall, miss," he said. "Just step along the trench 'ere, and we'll show you all we can."
Isobel surveyed the trench doubtfully and then looked down at her delicately shod feet.
"Couldn't we walk along the top?" she asked. "It all seems so quiet and peaceful—surely there'd be no danger. We must be a long way from the Germans, aren't we?"
"It's not Fritz, miss," interposed Bill earnestly. "It's our sergeant. 'E mustn't see us with you. A fair terror, 'e is."
"Oh," said Isobel easily, feeling that she could deal with these dream-people of hers as she pleased. "I'll see you don't get into trouble. This issuchan opportunity—I mustn't waste it ... here's a flight of steps, if you'll give me your hand again and...."
She reached the top and her voice ceased as suddenly and uncannily as a voice ceases when it is cut off in the middle of a word on the telephone. She stood staring dumbly across the old No-Man's-Land,making in her dainty furs the strangest picture that battle-scarred strip of land had seen. Alf and Bill, one on each side of her, gazed, too.
"There ain't much to see 'ere, I'm afraid, miss," said the latter apologetically. According to his lights, Bill spoke the truth. To his accustomed eyes there was nothing to be seen worthy of special mention; but to Isobel—pitch-forked straight from her sheltered, mindless life into the very heart of the battle area—it was far otherwise.
Her first feeling was that her dream had suddenly turned to horrible nightmare. Surely nothing but distorted fancy could have produced the scene before her eyes! It was as though the earth had been some stricken monster, which had stiffened into death in the very midst of the maddened writhings of its last agony. For the most part it was a land without landmarks—a land featureless, but torn and tortured, poisoned and pulverized, where the eye could find no certain resting-place and the mind no relief. On every side lay the same desolate waste, pockmarked with shell-holes, each of which was half filled with stagnant and stinking water, on the surface of which was an oozing and fetid scum. Here and there the ragged remains of a barbed-wire entanglement stood out above the general welter; here and there—but very rarely—a few scattered stones indicated where once had stood a cottage; here and there fluttered decayed rags of blue or khaki or field-gray.... Cartridge-cases, bits ofequipment, bully-beef tins—all kinds of abandoned rubbish were scattered about.
On the right ran the main road—the one feature of the whole pitiful panorama which still retained some individuality. Once it had been famous for its avenue of tall trees. Those trees still flanked the roadway, but now the tallest of them was a ravaged stump standing a bare four feet above the ground, and the same gun-fire that had smitten them down had smashed the road itself into a sickly yellow pulp.
Once, no doubt, the road had run between fields green with grass or young corn; but now it seemed to Isobel beyond imagining that life could ever again come near to it. Even the vilest weed might shudder to grow on earth's dead body, mangled and corrupted and shamefully exposed....
Alf's voice broke the silence.
"It's a bit dull 'ere, miss," he said, with cheerful bathos. "There ain't much to show yer. But see yon mound over there on the left? That was a church once, that was. But you can 'unt all day and never find nothing of the buildin', all except the church bell;—on'y it's too far to walk in them boots. One of our C.T.'s—communication trenches, I should say—runs right underneath it."
Isobel gave no answer, unless a sound something between a gulp and a sob can be so described. Depths seemed to be stirring in her nature that she had not hitherto been conscious of possessing. Shefelt mean and small and bitterly humbled. She had desired to see the front out of mere heedless curiosity, as a child might wish to visit a slaughter-house. She had had her desire, and her eyes had seen unimaginable horrors—horrors which had become so much a commonplace to the men who passed their lives in this shambles that they apologized for its lack of greater horrors. Compared with what they had seen, there was "nothing much" here for her curious eye. Only a strip of ground fought over a month before—its dead buried, its wounded carried away to a smiling land where such as she were flattered and praised in the public press because out of their useless lives they deigned to devote an occasional hour to those same wounded.
A sudden horror came over her lest she should see a dead man. She covered her eyes with her hands and gave a convulsive shudder.
"Don't—don't take me over there!" she said, and climbed down the steps again into the trench.
Bill and Alf, much concerned to understand what could possibly have upset their visitor, were on the point of following, when there was a sound of squelching mud, and a figure appeared round the angle of the trench.
"Lumme!" said Bill's voice in an appalled whisper. "The orficer!" With one accord the two Tommies turned and fled as their platoon commander approached.
Lieutenant Allen had been tramping about all theafternoon, reconnoitering the approaches to the front line in case of trouble. Muddy and hungry and dog-tired, he was now plodding mechanically back to his hole in the ground, while his thoughts wandered vaguely and wistfully to home and his people—and Isobel. At the sound of Bill's whisper he looked up and stopped dead. Clearly his nerves must be beginning to give way, for he seemed to see the subject of his thoughts standing before him in the trench.
"My God!" he exclaimed—"Isobel!"
She stared at the muddy figure before her for a long moment. Then recognition dawned slowly in her eyes.
"You!" she said at last, and her voice seemed to Allen to hold in it all that he most longed for in the world.
"Isobel! am I mad or dreaming?"
"Oh," she cried, with a sob—"it's a dream. It must be a dream. If it isn't, I can't bear it. It's too awful."
The sight of a face she knew had added to the scene the last touch of horror for her. She stood there, the tears glistening in her eyes, passionately pitiful, passionately lovely. The pretty fool ofThe Tatlerpictures had ceased to be, and this glorious woman had risen like the phœnix from her ashes. Denis held his breath for fear his vision would fade....
Meanwhile, the two Tommies had regained theshelter of their dug-out with more speed than grace.
"Quick!" said Bill, in a trembling voice. "'Urry up, or she'll give us away, for sure. What a mug you was to tell 'er our names."
With a feverish hand, Alf rubbed the Button....
Denis Allen started and rubbed his eyes.
"Isobel!" he said once more. But she was gone.
* * * * * * *
Denis leaned against the side of the trench for support. His heart was thumping against his ribs, and his throat had a strained, parched feeling. He was very badly scared.
Strange things do happen to men at the front; small hallucinations, induced by the ceaseless strain on the nerves and senses, are of common occurrence. The eyes play queer tricks sometimes on sentry-go, so that a tuft of grass becomes a lurking sniper. Allen himself could remember one occasion when he had actually seen German infantry advancing stealthily to the attack, and had given the alarm; only to be severely told off by an irate Company Commander for having interrupted his evening meal for nothing.
But this was different. This way madness lay. He had not known that his nerves had reached this state; he must pull himself together, get back at once to his dug-out and sleep. If he climbed out of the trench and went across the open, he would cut off a big corner; accordingly he did so. Just at thismoment a German battery saw fit to drop a long-range shell at a venture into the British rear lines. It exploded only a few yards from Denis. He felt a tremendous thump in the chest, and rolled over, coughing and fighting for breath. Then a black curtain seemed to shut down over his eyes, and for a few moments he lost consciousness. Then he was hazily aware of voices, and a hand loosening his collar, fiddling about with his shirt and finally applying a field-dressing to a wound high up in his chest. He moved convulsively.
"Lie still, sir," said a voice. "It's Private 'Iggins, sir. Private Grant's gone for stretcher-bearers. You'll be all right, sir—it's only a little 'ole. Just lie still."
By the time the stretcher arrived he had more or less come to himself. He could see once more, and he was conscious only of two things, namely, that his feet were horribly, cruelly cold, and that he was done with the front for a time. Slowly and gently he was carried across the rough ground to the battalion aid-post, where the Battalion M.O. received him.
"Hullo, Sniggles!" said Denis weakly.
"Well, young man," answered Sniggles, enthusiastically cutting all Denis's expensive clothing to pieces with a large pair of shears. "Let's see what they've done to you. Ah!"
He removed the bandage. Denis listened for his verdict, in dread lest his wound should be seriousenough to be fatal, or not serious enough to give him his heart's desire.
"Shall I be all right?" he asked at last.
"Think so, old man."
"Good. Is it a Blighty one all right?"
"Sniggles" smiled at the eagerness in his tone.
"A Blighty one? I should think it is. A long holiday from the Army for you, my lad."
Denis gave one grin of pure happiness, and then the haziness came over him again. He lay for some time waiting for the ambulance. Occasionally a dim form bent over him; once he heard the colonel's voice speaking his name. For a second or two his brain cleared, and he understood a word or two.
" ... sorry to lose him, but he's earned a rest...."
Next, he felt himself lifted and placed, still on his stretcher, in a motor-ambulance. Most of the officers seemed to be standing about, to see him off. There was a chorus of "Good-by, old man—and good luck!" He gave a feeble smile in return, and then his journey began.
All next day Bill Grant was conscious that Alf was not his usual self. He seemed strangely preoccupied and absent-minded; and when even dinner-time failed to arouse him, Bill became seriously alarmed.
As soon as the midday meal was done the two men sought their private retreat. They lit their pipes and smoked for some time in a silence, broken at last by a heavy sigh from Alf.
"What's up with yer?" demanded Bill suddenly. "Is it yer stummick?"
"I'm all right," answered Alf in a voice of hopeless dejection.
There was another long silence, once more terminating in a sigh.
"Look 'ere," said Bill, getting up in disgust, "if you feel as bad as all that, for 'eving's sake 'ave a good cry and get it over, an' let's 'ave the old 'ome 'appy once again. What the 'ell's up?"
Alf did not answer this question, except by asking another.
"Bill," he asked with a forced lightness of tone which quite failed to conceal the earnestness itcovered. "What did yer think of Eustace's taste in females?"
Bill turned and looked at him with a suddenly comprehending eye. Alf wriggled uneasily under his gaze.
"So that's it, is it?" commented Bill. "Poor old Alf!" He gave a long whistle.
"What'd you think of—of 'er, Bill?"
"Well," was the honest reply, "that kind o' fine lady ain't my style at all. I like a girl as can back-answer yer a bit. But she was a reg'lar daisy for looks."
Alf heaved another tremendous sigh.
"Gawd!" he exclaimed. "I can't 'elp thinkin' 'ow awful it'd 'ave been if that shell as 'it Mr. Allen 'ad come over a bit sooner an' done'erin!"
He fell silent, lost in contemplation of this terrible idea. Bill was thinking deeply. He fixed a far-away gaze on Alf, reducing that warrior, very self-conscious in the unaccustomed rôle of love-sick swain, to the last pitch of embarrassment. When at last Bill came back to earth his words were startling in the extreme.
"Well," he said casually. "If that's 'ow you feel, why don't you marry the girl?"
"What?... Me?... Marry 'oo?"
"Eustace's female, whatever 'er name is."
"You're barmy! Might as well tell me to marry a royal princess straight orf."
"Well, an' why not, if you want to?" Bill wasquite unmoved. "Eustace fixed it up for Aladdin—why not for Alf 'Iggins?"
"Yes, but—Aladdin, 'e was a prince 'isself."
"Not to start with 'e wasn't, an' if you married a princess you'd be a prince, too. Prince 'Iggins—it'd look fine on a brass plate. Now look 'ere, Alf, my lad, yer just wastin' yer time. You don't seem to 'ave no idea what a lot you could do with Eustace. IfI'ad a pet spook I'd use 'im a sight better'n what you do. Why don't you stop the blinkin' war? Get Kaiser Bill over 'ere, and...."
"Once an' for all," interposed Alf with firmness, "I ain't goin' to mix meself up in nothing o' that sort. I knows enough to keep clear o' what's too 'igh for me. I'm a plain man, I am. Besides, Eustace ain't to be trusted. 'E'd be sure to make a muck of it an' get me into trouble some'ow."
Bill abandoned this topic for the time being with reluctance; the idea of kidnaping the Kaiser was the cherished child of his brain. But he knew that Alf when obstinate was quite impervious to argument; he therefore returned to the original question.
"Any'ow," he said. "If you want to marry that girl, Eustace'll manage it for yer. It was 'is job in peace-time—'e'll thank yer for a chance to get back to it. As I says, Aladdin married a princess, an' 'e wasn't no great specimen of a man any more'n what you are. I remember 'is mother was a washerwoman by the name o' Twankey, in the pantomime."
"Really?" asked Alf with sudden interest."Why, my good ole mother takes in washin', too."
He seemed much cheered by this striking similarity between himself and his prototype. For the first time he seemed to realize that Bill's suggestion might be something more than idle verbiage.
"S'posin' you was me, then," he asked. "'Ow'd you set about the business? I ain't got no idea of this 'ere game."
"Well, I ain't exactly thought it out meself, but the first thing to do's to get back to Blighty."
"That does me in for a start," said Alf hopelessly.
"Not a bit. What about our month's re-engagement leave? It's five years next month since you an' me joined the Terriers, an' the Captain says 'e's applied for it, an' we'll get it in time. May be a month or two late, but we'll get it all right. Tell yer what I'll do, though. There's a ole lady in Blighty what sends me books an' papers an' things. I'll get 'er to send me the book about Aladdin, an' we'll see 'ow 'e worked the trick. P'raps we'll pick up a 'int or two that way. But you trust to Eustace an' me. We'll put it all right for you, as soon as we get our leave."
Accordingly a letter to the old lady in Blighty was composed and dispatched that same afternoon.
The glittering prospect before him filled Alf with as much apprehension as elation. The passion inspired in him by Isobel was a desire of the moth for the star—a distant worship of a goddess whohad vouchsafed him one brief vision of her beauty and had then vanished beyond his ken forever. But Bill's practical common sense had changed all that. Alf found himself called upon to readjust his mental horizon, and to gaze upon a new prospect in which his goddess appeared suddenly changed to mortal form and proportions.
He could not accustom himself all at once to the new conditions. He felt sure that there must be "a catch" in the idea somewhere.
"Look 'ere," he said, after profound cogitation. "D'you mean to tell me as anything that Eustace can do'll make'erwalk out withme?"
"'Course I do," said Bill confidently. "Look 'ere, now; s'pose you go to 'er an' say, 'I'm a millionaire, an' I've got palaces an' jools, an' 'orses, an'—oh, everything I want'—d'yer think any female's goin' to refuse all that, if you was as ugly as sin? Not on yer life. She'll eat out of yer 'and, you'll see."
But Bill Grant's cynicism failed to convince Alf, who shook his head despondently. Then, with characteristic philosophy, since none of these strange and wonderful things could begin to happen to him until his month's leave (itself only a happy possibility) came through, he dismissed the whole affair from his mind for the time being.
The battalion finished its turn in the trenches without further casualties, and once more prepared to move back to rest billets. The future wasuncertain; but it did not seem likely that this respite would be of long duration. The battle of Arras had begun, and all along the line there was work to be done. At any moment the division might be called upon to trek to the Arras district, or to fill some unexpected gap elsewhere; so Colonel Enderby, on the day before the 5th Battalion marched out, sent a certain Sergeant Oliver before them with orders to make arrangements whereby his battalion on leaving the line might lose no time in making itself clean and tidy once more. To put it more simply, he told him to rig up some baths.
In "C" Company Lieutenant Allen's disappearance had caused few actual changes, although Captain Richards missed his cheery help and sound judgment at every turn. No officer had appeared from England as yet to fill his place, and No. 9 Platoon was now under the sole charge of Sergeant Lees, who ruled it with a rod of iron.
On the morning of the move the autocrat was in high good humor.
"Pack yer traps up, boys," he said. "It's good-by to the line to-day. Please 'Eaven, you'll all get a 'ot bath to-morrow."
"'Ear that, Bill?" asked Alf in delight. "I'm just about fed up with the line. Think o' gettin' into a billet again!"
"Umph," said Bill. "We won't be any better orf in a billet than in our dug-out, anyway. On'y thingIwanter get back for is to 'ave something todrink, since you're so mean with Eustace. IfI'ad a pet spook I wouldn't be that way, I can tell yer."
"I can't 'elp it," said Alf, resenting the imputation of meanness, but adamantine in his determination not to risk Eustace's displeasure again.
"Huh!" said Bill. There was a world of meaning in this monosyllable, and none of it was complimentary to Alf.
The 5th Battalion was far enough back from the front line to be safely relieved by daylight. In consequence, the relieving battalion arrived up to time, and Alf and Bill were well on their way by eleven o'clock. So long as it was in the shelled area, the battalion marched by platoons, with a space of about a hundred yards between each body and the next. Once the danger limit was passed, however, it was closed up again for economy of road space.
At about four-thirty in the afternoon, worn and weary, the men approached a pleasant village and sighed contentedly to see a little group of four khaki figures awaiting them. These were the company quartermaster-sergeants, whose job is to look after the feeding of their companies at all times and their housing when out of the line. "Quarters" is by training an autocrat and by hereditary reputation a scoundrel, but when he is seen waiting to show his men into its happy but temporary homes at the end of a long march, he is the most popular man in the company.
As Captain Richards rode in at the head of hiscohort, C.Q.M.S. Piper came up and explained to him what splendid billets he had secured, what enormous trouble he had had to secure any billets at all, and how well his own compared with those of the other companies. Along the road, the other C.Q.M.S.'s might have been seen, each giving his own company commander precisely similar information. Each platoon was then settled into its particular mud barn by its own officer, while little Shaw, as subaltern of the day (otherwise known as Orderly Dog), bustled round to the traveling cookers to ascertain from the sergeant cook how soon a hot meal would be forthcoming.
When this repast was over Alf and Bill found themselves told off as units in a blanket-carrying party, after which they turned in and slept the sleep of the thoroughly unjust for about twelve hours.
Next morning, after breakfast, Captain Richards paraded his company, and as usual after coming out of the line, lectured them on their appearance.
"However," he concluded, "you'll have no excuse if you turn up to-morrow dirty. Sergeant Oliver has got some baths going in the back yard of the 'Rayon d'Or' in Aberfeldy Street; and you'll go down there by sections, beginning at ten o'clock. And I'll hold a dam' strict inspection at half-past three—so look out!"
In due course, Corporal Greenstock paraded his section, containing Privates Higgins and Grant, and marched it down Dunoon Street, through PiccadillyCircus into Aberfeldy Street. There in a cloud of steam they found Sergeant Oliver, whose military career at the front was divided between improvising baths for the battalion when it came out of the line, and supplying facilities for the drying of socks when in it. The bath on this occasion was an enormous wooden tub, capable of holding four men at a time. The sergeant and his satellites were busy keeping a veritable furnace going beneath a boiler which several gloomy defaulters constantly refilled from a well nearby. One clean fill of water was the allowance for each section, and by the time the water was emptied out it had become only less thick than the mud of the trenches they had just left.
The whole arrangement reflected the greatest credit on Sergeant Oliver, considering that when he had arrived at the "Rayon d'Or" neither tub nor boiler had been there. Whence and by whose permission they had been procured were questions which the colonel had carefully refrained from asking. But the sybaritic soul of Bill Grant clamored for something better still. He drew Alf on one side and whispered. Alf shook his head. Bill became more earnest; Higgins hesitated—and was lost. Both men slipped quietly out of the bath-house while Corporal Greenstock, taking the best of the water by right of seniority, was performing his ablutions.
It was a very quiet village, sparsely inhabited. Alf and Bill soon found a large farmyard in which, remote from public view, stood a dilapidated barn.
"This'll do fine!" said Bill. "There's nobody living in the 'ouse—we'll be as safe as the Pay Corps 'ere."
"I don't know," objected Alf. "What about that 'aystack in the loft? That must belong to some one."
"Well, 'ooever it belongs to, they don't live 'ere, an' we can keep a look-out in case any one comes. Go on, ring up ole Eustace. You won't find a better place."
Alf rubbed his Button.
"See that barn, Eustace?" he asked, before the djinn had time to begin his usual formula. "Well, put us a real nice bath inside it."
"O Master, behold, it is done!"
Eustace vanished, looking pleased. "Real nice baths" were entirely in accordance with the Aladdin tradition.
The two Tommies turned towards the barn, and stood lost in amazement. The building was outwardly as dilapidated as before, but inside it was all light and color and perfumed magnificence. Marble pillars veiled by silken hangings stood just inside the broken mud walls, and through the hangings could be seen just so much as to hint at further splendors beyond.
"Lumme!" said Alf, as soon as he could speak. "Why is 'e always so blinkin' 'olesale? 'E'll be givin' the 'ole show away, one o' these days. What's to be done now, Bill? 'Ave 'im come back again an'make 'im clear away the 'ole caboodle, I s'pose?"
"I s'pose so," said Bill reluctantly. "I s'pose so. Seems a pity, but ... 'ullo!"
He broke off.
The silken hangings had been suddenly drawn back by two enormous negroes, clad in sumptuous and glittering uniforms; a spacious hall was thus revealed, in which a crowd of beautiful female slaves in marvelous though rather scanty oriental draperies was waiting.
"Goo' Lord! The 'Ippodrome Chorus!" said Grant in an awed voice, his protests forgotten. The most beautiful of the slaves came forward, and paused just inside the pillared entrance, a smile of invitation upon her lips.
"'Ere," said Bill. "This is goin' to be a bit of all right. We mustn't miss this. One of us'll 'ave to keep guard while the other 'as 'is bath. Toss for 'oo goes first, see?—You call!"
"'Eads," said Alf.
"Tails it is," replied Bill with great satisfaction. "I'm goin' to bath first. 'Arf an hour each, see?"
He entered the building, and the slaves clustered about him. Then the negroes drew the curtains, and Alf saw him no more.
Bill, highly gratified by his reception, was led through the entrance hall into another lofty chamber, wonderfully built of different-colored marbles. From one end of this chamber came the pleasant sound of running water, where a little fountainflowed into a bath sunk into the floor, and entered by a flight of marble steps. By some invisible device sufficient water was allowed to flow out to keep the bath always full to a uniform depth. From it arose a faint cloud of steam, fragrant and scented.