I assured Katherine, more than once, that whatever the need for secrecy
so far as Lieutenant Langford was concerned, no necessity of the kind
existed in her case. She pleaded to be allowed to have her own way,
reminded me that Harry particularly desired that the fewest folk
possible should know, and eventually settled the question by informing
me, on the best authority, that her bank did not favour the assistance
of married girls.
"I make no promise," I said, "but I shall do what I think best."
"That will be quite good enough, aunt dear," she agreed. "And may
Providence reward you suitably by giving you a husband of your own."
"One might look upon that more as a punishment."
"Foolish scoffer!" she remarked.
Colonel Edgington came to Gloucester Place, and Mr. Hillier was glad to
see him, but the evening could not be reckoned a success, because the
caller harped upon an idea of obtaining for Mr. Hillier a soft job of
some kind in Whitehall, and Mr. Hillier declared himself well contented
with his present occupation. He gave details of this with great relish
to the visitor, and Colonel Edgington commented with disparaging
comments, such as,
"Bah!"
"Pooh!"
"Gah!"
"Brrrh!"
It seemed likely that friendship would diminish if meetings were to be
conducted on these lines, and in seeing the Colonel out, at the end, I
urged him not to call again for a week. Within that period I found a
three-quarter size billiard table in good condition, late the property
of a local club now, owing to the absence of youthful members, in need
of money. Katherine and I cleared out the half room, half conservatory
at the back of the rooms occupied by the Wintertons, and used by the
old couple as a lumber room for odd articles accumulated during a
lifetime, and of no use, as we managed to persuade them, of no use to
anybody. Apart, the Captain assured me he had been for years anxious
to destroy the rubbish, but feared this might pain his wife, and she
declared to me in private that her impression had always been that he
valued the collection dearly. We set up thick curtains over the glass,
arranged for the electric light to be fixed over the table, placed a
high long seat against the wall for the use of spectators, and when
Colonel Edgington paid his next visit, he and Mr. Hillier were taken
down to the newly furnished room, and the old sea captain, with great
importance, took up the position of marker. The game not only checked
conversation on a debatable subject, but brought the two chums into
something like their former terms of intimacy; each discovered an
excuse for the other when any failure occurred, and said,
"If you had been playing on a full-size table, that stroke of yours
would have come off!"
Captain Winterton was well intentioned at the scoring board, but
seldom remembered who was spot and who was plain, and his wife, with
many apologies for intruding upon the company of gentlemen, entered to
assist him in the perplexing task, with the result that one of the two
opponents, at the close of the game, was able to declare, upstairs,
that he would not have been the first to reach the two hundred if
the score had been correctly kept. The time came when Edward offered
to give lessons to the old captain, and this was self-denying on the
part of the lad, for no plan, however ingeniously devised--giving
eighty-five in a hundred, or three strokes to one--ever assisted
Captain Winterton to get near to a close finish. We encouraged him with
judicious flattery, and although he usually took about two minutes
to decide how to play a ball, he invariably declared that his one
fault was recklessness; this defect amended, he felt sure he would be
numbered amongst the experts. Meanwhile, he quickly adopted one method
of the billiard room by giving copious and truculent advice to Edward,
using for this a booming fog-horn voice, altogether different from his
normal tones.
"Play it off the cushion, my lad!" And "For Heaven's sake, don't pot
the red; the white's in baulk!" And "Chalk your cue, sir; damme, chalk
your cue!" The game over, and the result announced, he went back to the
usual manner of courtesy. One advantage gained from the presence of the
old gentleman was that as he still declined to argue about the war, or
to recognise that it existed, all of us, including Colonel Edgington,
decided to imitate this peculiarity.
Which did not mean that our minds were permitted, for long, to escape
the subject. From a customer, I heard that some exchanged men had
arrived at the Third London General Hospital at Wandsworth, and I went
over there on a Wednesday afternoon that Millwood was able to give to
the shop, to ascertain whether any of them had been in the camp from
which Master John's letters and post cards, with now and again an
alteration in number, or company, or barracks, were now dated. There
was some trouble at the gates because I had no permit, but I mentioned
I had come from Greenwich, and the sentry, remarking with pride that
his birthplace was Maze Hill, found a solution of the difficulty. "I'll
turn my back," he said, "and pretend to have a sudden fit of a cough:
you take advantage of my infirmity, and slip through."
Maimed soldiers in blue uniforms were about on the sloping lawn that
went to the railway; some had groups of friends around them, and a few
were alone. I went past the main building, and entered a corridor that
took me past a number of wards, well ventilated, cheerful and with the
faint scent of anæsthetics, and to nurses I put an inquiry; for the
most part they could give no information, but one or two suggested C5.
Outside C5 I found two men who had no visitors, and they replied to my
question alertly and re-assuringly. They had said good-bye to Corporal
Hillier but five days previously. He had gone up for examination with
the others selected, but was sent back. They felt certain he would come
along in the next group. They said Corporal Hillier was bright and
well; his knowledge of French and German proved helpful. Being amongst
the wounded, he was not called upon to perform arduous tasks. Both said
the treatment was as good as one could hope for, excepting in regard
to food. "The food, miss, is absolutely--well, there's no word for it!
At any rate, not one that could be repeated to you." They agreed that
no British prisoner could keep alive unless he received parcels from
home, and assured me Corporal Hillier was more fortunate than many in
this respect. "He gets two a week, he does, regular, besides them from
his own family. Two a week, sent by a particular donah of his called
Weston. We've noticed her name on the labels." I was about to make
further inquiries, but a child's voice at the doorway of C5 called
"Daddie--Daddie. Don't you know me?" and one hobbled off to greet the
little girl; the other man was summoned by a Yorkshireman who, engaged
in writing a letter, needed some counsel in regard to spelling. On
my return I noticed in the wards of the corridor, one or two men in
their beds who looked dejected and tired of everything; a Sister was
explaining to some callers that these suffered from gas poison. For
the rest, they were so cheery, and good-spirited that you might have
thought--to look at their features, and to disregard their injured
bodies--that they had been taking a share in nothing more serious than
a rather exhilarating football match.
The times were all the more interesting because the age of miracles
re-appeared. In a local hospital which I visited, with Katherine, on
Sunday afternoons, there was a young soldier afflicted with loss of
speech, following upon shell-shock. He proved a ready student, and we
were gratified by the way in which, under our tuition, he picked up the
deaf and dumb alphabet. We might have saved ourselves the trouble. One
afternoon we called, and went directly to his corner, prepared to give
advanced lessons.
"Begun to think," he remarked, in a natural voice, "that you two were
going to give me the slip. What's delayed you?"
It appeared that on the Saturday, a group of amateurs had come to give
a harlequinade entertainment. One dressed as a clown, in going through
the ward, advanced playfully towards our soldier, holding out the red
painted poker that was to take a share in the acting. The youth started
back affrighted, and speaking for the first time for months, told the
clown to be careful, adding that he had no desire to find himself
burnt. From that moment, onwards, he made up by vivacious conversation
for the period of enforced silence.
Hospitals could scarcely be evaded by anybody, and you never knew
whom you might meet there. For instance, a customer of mine, after
declaring that she would add nothing to her collection of old
furniture on the grounds that money should be saved and lent to the
Government, discovered in a friend's house a Queen Anne tallboy chest,
and a craving for possession took hold of her. The friend resolutely
declined to sell; my customer came to me with an urgent appeal. I saw
an advertisement of one from a London square, and although I begrudged
the trouble of the journey, and the giving up of time, I went to town;
spent a brisk three-quarters of an hour in haggling with a gentleman
who knew more of the subject than I had ever attempted to learn; made
a feint of coming away and was re-called by him, to listen to a frank
statement of eagerness to sell. On this, I fixed upon an Adam elbow
chair, affecting to have lost all interest in the tallboy chest. I
eventually obtained the chest at less than the figure I had first
offered. On the best of terms now, he made me promise that before
returning to Greenwich I would inspect the glass windows, not far off,
which had been broken in an air raid of a few nights before.
On the way I noticed that a hospital where wounded soldiers were
sunning themselves outside, announced a Pound Day and a grand
entertainment for the current date. Remembering the profit I was to
make out of the chest bargain, I went up the steps, put my sovereign on
the matron's table. I think it was the rare sight of gold that caused
the official lady to exhibit particular gratitude--there were several
notes there signed by Mr. Bradbury--and anyway I found myself taken by
her to the out-patient's department where a show was being given by a
first class set of good-natured theatrical folk. (There seemed to be no
limits to the kindness of their profession).
The matron caught sight of me as I was leaving, and dropped everything
in order to intercept. I had not signed her Visitor's Book. I must
undoubtedly sign her Visitor's Book. Her Visitor's Book would be
valueless without my signature. On the same page, and but a couple of
entries above, appeared the name of Herbert Millwood. It seemed my
nephew was upstairs visiting one of the men, and feeling myself well
repaid now for a burst of generosity, I waited outside for him.
"No, aunt," he said, when I made a suggestion concerning the raid as
we walked in the crowded main road. "Smashed glass belonging to other
people makes no call to me. Broken hopes belonging to myself are much
more important."
It appeared he was going back to duty that night, and had to catch a
train from Liverpool Street; I soon discovered that he had spent the
day in making one more effort to discover Muriel Hillier.
"I've no patience with her," I declared. "There can't be a good reason
for keeping her relatives in suspense. If I came across her now, I
should have a word or two to say to her."
"And I too," remarked Herbert. "Likely enough, though our words would
not be identical."
We turned into Red Lion Square to escape the crush.
"I know how difficult it is to give advice, my boy," I said, "in
matters of the kind, and I'm aware that it's next door to impossible to
get it accepted. But I wish you'd recognise that the situation has very
much changed since the time when you fell in love with her. You're a
lieutenant now. You're an officer in His Majesty's army. You've made a
good record. Whilst she--"
"I don't want to hear anything for her, aunt, or against her. I only
want to hear something of her."
"She may have found somebody--"
"'May,'" he echoed, impatiently, "'May' conveys nothing to me. The
truth is what I'm going to find out."
"How?"
"By all the means in my power. By all the means in other folk's power
that I can command with influence or money." He turned appealingly to
me. "You are clever at most things, aunt."
"If I lose a needle, my boy, I don't go searching for it in a bundle
of hay. I get a new one. And listen to me. You know how much I care
for you." For answer, he pressed my arm affectionately. "If I've been
able to do something for you since your dear mother went, why it has
been done, not only because it was my duty, but because I reckoned it a
pleasure. And to be quite plain and candid, I've no desire to see you,
when the war is over, going back to your ordinary career, hampered,
and crippled, and bothered by a selfish wife who, all the years I've
known her--"
"This," he interrupted, "is an admission that you haven't put your head
into the work. Be a good soul now, aunt, and do me a great favour. I
promise I'll never ask for another, so long as I live."
"That's a promise I hope you'll break."
"Find her!" he persisted. "Let me know she's safe and well, and you'll
place me so much in your debt that, whatever I do, I shall never be
able to repay you. Give me a kiss to seal the bargain."
There was no refusing when he put the case in this way. I guaranteed
that I would increase my efforts, assured him I would strain every
nerve to find her. We walked through the narrow passage to Red Lion
Street, and in Holborn, before taking a motor omnibus, he declared,
cheerfully, that he knew I would be sending him news ere the month was
out.
Young Langford received a hint that his regiment was to be ordered
abroad at an early date, and news of the engagement had to be announced
at Gloucester Place; this done, I took Katherine off to the registrar's
office, and made the necessary inquiries. It appeared that the official
there was used at the time to hastened ceremonies; he seemed to expect
that I, too, had an intention of getting married without delay. We
decided it was to be done by licence, and Katherine was able to state
that she had lived in the district for fifteen days; she felt justified
in declaring that there existed no legal impediment. It was fortunate
that we acted promptly. At home we discovered a telegram of reckless
extent from young Langford announcing that he was coming to town on the
morrow, and leaving England on the day which followed.
"I had intended," said Mrs. Hillier, smiling, "to read my little girl a
lecture, but there's no time for that now."
"It will be all hurry-scurry," I mentioned.
Hurry-scurry it was, but Mrs. Hillier and I agreed that the day was
not to be exempt of formality, and we all resolved that the dear girl
should not go without wedding presents. So there was shopping to be
done, food to be ordered, and Captain Winterton was directed to be
ready to stand by in case Mr. Hillier proved unable to obtain leave
from his work at the Arsenal. I had given assistance to a next door
neighbour of mine in London Street at a period when he was experiencing
domestic anxiety, and, after the baby came, and all was well at home,
he mentioned to me that if I wanted anyone, at any time, to look
after my shop for a few hours, he would be offended unless the choice
fell upon him. Katherine wrote to the bank to say a slight attack
of neuralgia made it advisable that she should remain indoors for
twenty-four hours; she added a dutiful apology. Edward declared that
the question of his leave of absence was an easy matter: if necessary,
he proposed to seek audience of Sir Charles Barrett himself and explain
the reason. He found the idea received with screams of protest.
"Thoughtless infant!" cried Katherine.
"Foolish lad," I ejaculated.
Edward, reminded of the demands of secrecy, admitted he had come near
to putting his foot deep into disaster, and took some credit for having
enabled us to give a warning.
It is certain that no one took such a keen relish of anticipation in
the ceremony as Captain Winterton. His habit was to walk the pavement
of Gloucester Place on fine mornings as though he were pacing a deck;
the residents knew that when he crossed and made the tour of The
Circus, exercise was nearing its finish. Generally for this promenade
he was apparelled in a blue serge reefer suit and a peaked cap: on the
great day, the old sea captain wore a silk hat with a crescent-shaped
brim that, despite good condition, marked its age; he had lavender
trousers, yellow waistcoat, a frock coat of the style of the eighties,
a malacca cane. Always courteous in acknowledging salutations, he now
stopped to chat with tradesmen and neighbours, feeling perhaps that
an explanation of his splendour was due to them. We had to thank the
Captain for the fact that a small crowd of ladies began to assemble
near the house, very hardly tried in the endeavour to pretend that each
was there by accident; from the balcony I could hear those who had come
in pairs bewailing the circumstance that the wedding was not to take
place at a church.
"Seems such a skimpy way of getting married," they declared.
Young Langford arrived in good time, and shewed exuberant spirits when
he found that the arrangements were complete and satisfactory. "Ought
to have known I could rely upon you, Miss Weston. And I've been in
a most frightful agony of mind in the train; you've no idea. Eleven
o'clock? Right-o. This is absolutely topping!" Mr. Hillier did not
return from the Arsenal, and he had told us to avoid waiting for him.
The four of us went down the stairs, found Captain Winterton in the
hall.
"I know, my love," said his wife to Katherine, coming out of her room,
"that it doesn't go with your costume, but, just to please me, wear
this piece of lace. It brought me happiness, and I've got the notion
into my foolish old head that it may bring good luck to you. It's
valuable," she added, nodding her head, "in more senses than one."
"I'll take every care of it," promised Katherine, "and you shall have
it back in less than an hour."
"You're to keep it all your life, dearie. And I've some other bits for
you, later on, to go with it."
It was but a short walk from Gloucester Place to Trafalgar Road, but
we gained enough attention to satisfy any craving in that respect. The
sight of old Captain Winterton, arm-in-arm with Miss Katherine in
itself attracted notice; I wanted the party to stroll along informally,
but he begged me to allow him to superintend this detail, and his joy
in thus leading the procession was something it would have been a pity
to hurt. Arrived, he marshalled us two deep, and went into the office
to make inquiries. Returning, he appeared to have bethought himself
of the fact that this was to be a quiet wedding, for he beckoned in
a mysterious way, spoke in a whisper assuring us all was in order.
Within, his deportment was that of a devout person in church; the
discreet manner in which he gave half-sovereigns to everyone about
the place willing to accept tips, suggested an anxiety to make the
ceremony as legal and binding as possible. The two young people made
a good-looking couple as they stood at the table, and they were
extraordinarily composed; for myself, I can restrain tears, with no
difficulty, at a funeral, but at a wedding--well, the one incident
comes, as it were, at the end of the story, and there is nothing
more to be found out concerning it: in the second, you cannot help
speculating, and wondering, and sometimes fearing in regard to the
coming chapters.
The registrar--I knew him by sight as well as anything, and had always
guessed, incorrectly, he had to do with a picture palace--the registrar
shook hands, gave over the certificate, and told the bridegroom (first
inquiring anxiously whether he had seen this week's _Punch_) an
anecdote concerning a drill-sergeant. I think old Captain Winterton
was rather pained at this secular demeanour, for he escorted us out,
sorted us into couples, and gave orders. "The wife," he whispered to
me, "will be desirous of knowing that everything has gone off well." In
Gloucester Place, some of our neighbours did an act that I shall always
remember to their credit; from the balconies they threw down flowers as
the young soldier and his bride came near. I recollect that Katherine
picked all of them up, and smiled at the givers, and blew a kiss to an
infant, who, held by his nurse, was clapping his chubby hands.
The meal was, for Edward's sake, taken early; the lad seemed concerned
at the possibility of disastrous happenings at the head offices during
his absence, and assured his new brother-in-law that railway life
exacted, in these days, and under Government control, a strain that
military men with their comparatively simple duties could scarcely
estimate. Langford appeared to be in no humour to dispute or argue with
anybody.
"People say I look worried," remarked Edward. "What do you think?"
Langford had not observed this, but if it existed, felt sure there was
every reason.
"You wouldn't imagine I was not much more than fifteen, would you?"
Langford had, it appeared, estimated the other's age as higher than
this; Edward showed gratification.
"By-the-bye, there was something I meant to ask when I saw you--I have
such a lot to think about that--I know what it was. Your unmarried aunt
whom we met at Aldeburgh. Keeping well, I hope?"
Langford was able to give re-assuring information.
Mrs. Winterton came up to the meal, bringing her present of more lace,
and the rest of us exhibited our purchases. The gifts were all of a
simple nature, but the young couple showed rapture over each article;
Katherine reproached me with forgetting that the baby grand in the
corner had always been looked upon as a wedding gift, in advance.
Everything would have proceeded smoothly but that Edward, coming out of
a fit of abstraction remarked suddenly:
"Wish Muriel had been here!"
Captain Winterton broke the silence which followed, by adjusting the
plates and glasses before him, pulling at collar, clearing voice,
running fingers through his white head of hair. Standing up, he bowed
to Mrs. Hillier. He rose, he said, on this happy occasion--this
festive, domestic and matrimonial occasion, he might say--to propose
a toast, one which, he felt sure, we should all join heart and hand
in drinking. It was a happy toast, and this was a happy occasion. He
loved a wedding, and during his somewhat lengthened progress through
life--and he had had his fair share of bunions: yes, we might laugh,
but he was speaking the truth--as he said, he loved a wedding; he had
been to many, and hoped to go to many more. Captain Winterton spoke for
five minutes, and closed with these lines,
"_The toast, the toast, the toast's the thing
To make hands tingle, and glasses ring_."
The old chap seemed greatly relieved to get the speech over: it
occurred to me the style of it was somewhat away from his usual manner.
Lieutenant Langford said, "Thanks, ever so much!" and we were chatting
freely when the bell rang at the front door. I ran down. Colonel
Edgington. He had brought a square parcel for Katherine, and was about
to leave it, with his compliments, when I told him the wedding had
just taken place. He bustled up the stairs, upbraided Mrs. Hillier
for not informing him of the date, kissed the bride, took a chair,
and declining other food, ate an orange with considerable fierceness.
Katherine filled his glass, and he stood up, and frowned at us.
"I rise," he said, in a loud, determined voice, "on this happy, and I
might say, festive, domestic and matrimonial occasion, to propose a
toast which, I feel sure, you will all join heart and hand in drinking.
It is a happy toast, and this is a happy occasion. I love a wedding,
and during my somewhat lengthened progress through life, and I have had
my fair share of bunions--oh yes, you may laugh, but I am speaking the
truth--" The Colonel finished with,
"_The toast, the toast, the toast's the thing
To make hands tingle, and glasses ring_."
The solution of the duplicated address came, days later, when we had
discussed fully the question of coincidences. A middle-aged clerk in
Edward's office, invited to a wedding breakfast, had been cautioned
that he would be expected to propose the health of the bride and
bridegroom. Edward was called upon to listen to his colleague's recital
of the same piece of eloquence from a shilling book called, "Speeches
for Every Occasion."