Why the sigh? I asked. Oh, come now, I added, suddenly remembering. Fair exchange, you know. You havent told me what was worrying you.
My dear old fellow, dont be ridiculous, theres nothing worrying me.
I pressed him to no purpose. He refused to admit that he had a care in the world, and so we fell to talking of matters connected with the routine of army life, how long we should be before we got to the front, the sport we four should have in our rest time behind the trenches, our determination to stick together at all costs, etc. Suddenly Dennis sat bolt upright.
Gad! he cried savagely, if you beggars werent going, I could stick it. But you three leaving me behind, its
Leaving you behind? I echoed in astonishment. But why, old man? Arent you coming too?
I hope so, said Dennis bitterly; I hope so with all my heart, and I shall have a jolly good shot at it. But I know what it will be, worse luck.
But why, Dennis? I asked again. I dont understand.
Of course you dont, he replied, but youve got your own troubles, and theres no point in worrying about me, in any case.
I begged him to tell me; I pleaded our old friendship, and the fact that I had taken him into my confidence in the various vicissitudes of my own love affair. It struck me at the time that it was I who should have been indebted to him for his patient sympathy and help; and here he was, poor old fellow, with a real, live trouble of his own, refusing to bother me with it.
So youve just got to own up, old man, I finished.
Oh, its really nothing, said Dennis miserably. Im a crock, thats all. A useless hulk of unnecessary lumber.
How, my dear chap? I asked incredulously. Here was Dennis Burnham, who had put up a record for the mile in our school days, and lifted the public schools middle-weight pot, a champion swimmer, a massive young man of six-foot-two in his socks, calling himself a crock.
You remember that summer we did the cruise from Southampton to Stranraer?
Heavens! yes, I exclaimed, and we capsized the cutter in the Solway, and you were laid up in a farmhouse at Whithorn with rheumatic fever. Am I ever likely to forget it?
Im not, anyway, said Dennis, ruefully. That rheumatic fever left me with a weak heart. I strained it rowing up at Oxford, you remember, and that fever business put the last touches on it for all practical purposes.
Are you sure, old man? I asked. It seemed impossible that a great big chap like Dennis, the picture of health, should have anything seriously wrong with him.
Im dead sure, Ron; I wish I werent. Not that it matters much, of course; but just now, when one has a chance to do something decent for ones Motherland and justify ones existence, it hits a bit hard.
Is it serious? I asked really serious?
Sufficient to bar me from joining you chaps, though Ill see if I can sneak past the doctor. You remember about three weeks ago we were to have played a foursome out at Hendon, and I didnt turn up? I said afterwards that I had been called out of town, and had quite forgotten to wire.
Which was extremely unlike you, I interposed; but go on.
Well, as a matter of fact, I was on my way. I was a bit late, and when I got outside Golders Green Tube Station I ran for a bus. The rest of the day I spent in the Cottage Hospital. No, I didnt faint. The valve struck, and I simply lay on the pavement a crumpled mass of semi-conscious humanity till they carted me off on the ambulance. Its the fourth time its happened.
Of course you had good advice? I asked anxiously.
Heavens! yes, he exclaimed; any amount of the best. And they all say the same thing rest, be careful, no sudden excitement, no strain, and I may live for ever a creaking door.
My dear old Den, I said, for I was deeply touched. Why didnt you tell me?
Plenty of worries of your own, old man, he answered, more cheerfully; and, besides, it would have spoiled everything. You fellows would have been nursing me behind my back, to use an Irishism, and trying to prevent my noticing it. You know as well as I do that if you had known I should have been a skeleton at the feast.
You must promise me two things, I said presently. One is that you wont try to join the army; there is sure to be a rush of recruits in the next few days, and the doctors will be flurried, and may skip through their work roughshod. The other is that you will take care of yourself, run no risks, and do nothing rash while we are away.
The first he refused. He said he must do what he could to get through, if only to satisfy his conscience; but he made me the second promise, and solemnly gave me his word that he would do nothing that would put him in any danger. Then at last, at his suggestion, we turned in; he insisted that I had an all-night journey in front of me. And so eventually I fell asleep, saddened by the knowledge of my friends trouble, but somewhat relieved that I had extracted from him a promise to take care of himself.
Little did I dream that he would break his promise to save one who was dearer to me than life itself, or that I should owe all my present and future happiness to poor old Denniss inability to join the army. Truly, as events were to prove, he did his bit.
CHAPTER II.
THE MAN GOING NORTH
We made Richmond about half-past eleven, and completed the necessary arrangements for the housing of the boats and the disposal of our superfluous fodder, as Jack called it, for by this time we had all made up our minds that the war was inevitable.
The bustle of mobilisation had already taken possession of the streets, and as we stepped out of Charing Cross Station we stumbled into a crowd of English Bluejackets and Tommies and French reservists in Villiers Street. We parted for the afternoon, each to attend to his private affairs, and arranged to meet again at the Grand Hotel Grill Room for an early dinner, as I had to catch the 7.55 from Kings Cross.
I dashed out to Hampstead to my flat, and packed the necessary wearing apparel, taking care to include my fly-book and my favourite split-cane trout rod in my kit. I should only be in Scotland for a couple of days, but I knew that I should be fishing with Myra at least one of them, and no borrowed rod is a patch on ones own tried favourite. I snatched an half-hour or so to write to the few relatives I have and tell them that I was joining the army after a hurried visit to Scotland to say good-bye to Myra. And then I got my kit to Denniss rooms in Panton Street, Haymarket, just in time to have a chat with him before we joined the others at the Grand Hotel. I found him hopefully getting things ready for a long absence, sorting out unanswered letters, putting away papers, etc. On the table was an open copy of a stores catalogue. He had been trying to find suitable presents for his two small step-sisters. Dennis invariably thought of himself last of all, and then usually at someone elses request.
Well, old man, I asked, how do you feel about it now?
Rotten, Ronnie, he replied, with a rueful smile. Ive been on the phone to my silly doctor chap, and he shouted with laughter at me. Still, I shall have a jolly good shot at it as soon as the thing is definite.
I only pray to heaven, I said seriously, that no slipshod fool of a doctor lets you through.
They wont let me in, old chap; no such luck. Its a ghastly outlook. What on earth am I to do with myself while the war lasts?
They wont let me in, old chap; no such luck. Its a ghastly outlook. What on earth am I to do with myself while the war lasts?
My dear chap, I exclaimed, it wont be as bad as all that. There will be thousands of men who wont go to the war. I shant be surprised if you see very little difference about town even when the wars in full swing. You cant go, although you want to, and its jolly bad luck, old man. Dont think I dont understand, but, believe me, you wont be the only man left in London by a million or two.
I know, he said penitently, Im grousing and worrying you. Sorry! But I can see you setting out for the Temple in the morning and leaving your house on fire. It wouldnt make it easier simply because you knew you werent able to do anything to put out the fire. In fact, it would make it a jolly lot worse. Still, well cut that and change the subject. When you get back from Invermalluch give me a look up. I expect I shall be here. And, of course, give my kindest regards to Miss McLeod oh, and the General, he added, as an afterthought.
I will, indeed, I promised readily, and Ill wire you the train Im coming back by. I should like you to meet it, and we can spend the few remaining days I have together. If you dont get past the doctor I should like you to keep your eye on one or two things for me while Im away.
Of course, anything you like. The more the merrier, he answered readily; and the poor fellow brightened visibly at the thought of being able to do something for a pal.
We taxied round the corner with my kit, and joined the others at the grill room. They were both in the highest of spirits, Jack, of course, in particular. He had been told that his intimate knowledge of motors and motor-cycles would be of great advantage to him, and he had been advised on all hands to join as a despatch-rider. In imagination he already saw himself up to the most weird pranks on his machine, many of which, much to the gratification of his friends, and just as much to his own astonishment, were proved later to have a solid foundation in fact. Over dinner we discussed the question of applying for commissions.
Oh, dash it, no, said Jack; Im going to Berlin on the old snorter.
Commissions are off quite out of the question, Tommy agreed with emphasis. To begin with, it means waiting, which is absurd; and in the second place I object to any attempt to travel first-class. Its silly and snobbish, to put the kindest construction on it. If Ive got to join this excursion Im willing to go where they like to put me, and if necessary Ill hang on behind.
I record this remark because it was the last that I ever heard poor Tommy Evans make in this connection; and I think the reader will agree it was just what one would have expected of him.
We said good-bye after dinner. They all wanted to come to the station to see me off, but I was anxious to be alone with Dennis.
The others in any case had plenty to do, and I could scarcely let them sacrifice their last few hours of liberty to come and see me off. I rather expected that the excitement of the war would have prevented a lot of people travelling, but the reverse was the case. There seemed to be more people than ever on the platform, and I could not get a corner seat even in the Fort William coach. I bundled my things into a carriage and took up as much room as I could, and then Dennis and I strolled about the platform until the train was due to start.
Strange mixtures of humanity you see on a railway platform, Dennis remarked presently.
Very, I agreed. I daresay there are some very curious professions represented here.
This chap, for instance, said Dennis, indicating a youth in a tweed jacket and flannel trousers. He might be anything from an M.P.s private secretary to an artists model, for all we know. I should say hes a journalist; he knows his way through a crowd as only journalists do.
A typical Yorkshire cattle-dealer in his Sunday best, I suggested, as we passed another passenger. And so we went the length of the platform making rough guesses as to the professions of my fellow travellers. Suddenly I noticed a tall man, wearing a tweed cap and a long covert-coat, his hands in his pockets, a stumpy cigar stuck in the corner of his mouth. His hair was gray, and his face bore signs of a tough struggle in early youth. His complexion was of that curious gray-yellow one sees frequently in America and occasionally in Denmark something quite distinct from the bronze-gray of many colonials. I nudged Dennis.
What did you make of that? I asked him after we had passed.
I should be much more interested to know what that made of us, he replied.
Nothing, I should think, I answered carelessly. Why, the mans eyes were nearly closed, he was half asleep. I bet he hasnt taken the slightest notice of anyone for the past ten minutes. You could commit a murder under his nose and he wouldnt see it.
I think not, said Dennis quietly. I fancy that if you took out a cigarette-case as you passed him he would be able to tell you afterwards how many cigarettes you had left in the case, what brand they were, and what the monogram on the front was. If youve any murders to commit, Ronnie, I should be careful to see that our American friend is some thousands of miles away.
Good heavens, you old sleuth! I exclaimed in astonishment. I never saw a more innocent-looking man in my life.
I hate innocent people, said Dennis emphatically; they are usually dangerous, and seldom half as innocent as they look.
But what makes you think this man is only pretending to look like a dreaming, unobservant idiot, and why do you call him American so definitely?
He may or may not be American; but we have to give him a name for purposes of classification, Dennis explained. In any case his overcoat was made in the States; the cut of the lapels is quite unmistakable. I knew an American who tried everywhere to get a coat cut like that over here, and failed. As to his being observant, you seem to have overlooked one important fact. There the man stands, apparently half asleep. Occasionally he displays a certain amount of life tucks his papers more tightly under his arms, and so on. Now, the man who has been dreaming on a station platform and is obviously going by the train would wake up to look at the clock, or glance round to see how many are travelling, and generally take an interest in the bustle of the station. But this man doesnt. Why? Because he only wakes up when his interest wanders, and that is only when he has seen all he wants to see for the moment. When we pass him the second time he will probably appear to be more awake, unless there is someone else passing him in the other direction, simply because he has seen us and sized us up and dismissed us as of no interest; or, more likely, stowed us away in his capacious memory, and, having no further use for us, he forgets to appear disinterested.
Good Lord, Dennis! I exclaimed, Id no idea you ever noticed things so keenly. What do you think he is a detective?
Either that or a criminal. They are the same type of mind. One is positive and the other negative, thats all. Well turn back and test him as we pass him. Talk golf, or fishing, or something.
So we commenced a half-hearted conversation on trout flies, and as we approached the American I was explaining the deadly nature of the Red Palmer after a spate and the advisability of including Greenwells Glory on the same cast. Unfortunately, as we passed our man there were three other people coming towards us, and he was gazing over the top of the carriage with the same dreaming look that had, according to Dennis, deceived me before. But we were hardly abreast of him when his stick shot up in front of us. His arm never moved at all; it was done with a quick jerk of the wrist.