The little party trooped out of the restaurant and made their way to a
corner of the lounge, where tables had already been prepared with coffee
and liqueurs. Geraldine Conyers and Captain Granet, who had lingered
behind, found a table to themselves. Lady Anselman laid her fingers upon
Major Thomson’s arm.
“Please talk for a few more minutes to Selarne,” she begged. “Your
French is such a relief to her.”
He obeyed immediately, although his eyes strayed more than once towards
the table at which Captain Granet and his companion were seated. Madame
Selarne was in a gossipy mood and they found many mutual acquaintances.
“To speak a foreign language as you do,” she told him, “is wonderful.
Is it in French alone, monsieur, that you excel, or are you, perhaps, a
great linguist?”
“I can scarcely call myself that,” he replied, “but I do speak several
other languages. In my younger days I travelled a good deal.”
“German, perhaps, too?” she inquired with a little grimace.
“I was at a hospital in Berlin,” he confessed.
Lady Anselman’s party was suddenly increased by the advent of some
acquaintances from an adjoining table, all of whom desired to be
presented to Madame Selarne. Major Thomson, set at liberty, made his way
at once towards the small table at which Captain Granet and Geraldine
Conyers were seated. She welcomed him with a smile.
“Are you coming to have coffee with us?” she asked?
“If I may,” he answered. “I shall have to be off in a few minutes.”
A waiter paused before their table and offered a salver on which were
several cups of coffee and liqueur glasses. Captain Granet leaned
forward in his place and stretched out his hand to serve his companion.
Before he could take the cup, however, the whole tray had slipped from
the waiter’s fingers, caught the corner of the table, and fallen with
its contents on to the carpet. The waiter himself--a small, undersized
person with black, startled eyes set at that moment in a fixed and
unnatural stare--made one desperate effort to save himself and then
fell backwards. Every one turned around, attracted by the noise of the
falling cups and the sharp, half-stifled groan which broke from the
man’s lips. Captain Granet sprang to his feet.
“Good heavens! The fellow’s in a fit!” he exclaimed.
The maitre d’hotel and several waiters came hurrying up towards the
prostrate figure, by the side of which Major Thomson was already
kneeling. The manager, who appeared upon the scene as though by magic,
and upon whose face was an expression of horror that his clients should
have been so disturbed, quickly gave his orders. The man was picked up
and carried away. Major Thomson followed behind. Two or three waiters
in a few seconds succeeded in removing the debris of the accident, the
orchestra commenced a favourite waltz. The maitre d’hotel apologised
to the little groups of people for the commotion--they were perhaps to
blame for having employed a young man so delicate--he was scarcely fit
for service.
“He seemed to be a foreigner,” Lady Anselman remarked, as the man
addressed his explanations to her.
“He was a Belgian, madam. He was seriously wounded at the commencement
of the war. We took him direct from the hospital.”
“I hope the poor fellow will soon recover,” Lady Anselman declared.
“Please do not think anything more of the affair so far as we are
concerned. You must let me know later on how he is.”
The maitre d’hotel retreated with a little bow. Geraldine turned to
Captain Granet.
“I think,” she said, “that you must be very kind-hearted, for a
soldier.”
He turned and looked at her.
“Why?”
“You must have been so many horrible sights--so many dead people, and
yet--”
“Well?” he persisted.
“There was something in your face when the man staggered back, a kind of
horror almost. I am sure you felt it quite as much as any of us.”
He was silent for a moment.
“In a battlefield,” he observed slowly, “one naturally becomes a little
callous, but here it is different. The fellow did look ghastly ill,
didn’t he? I wonder what was really the matter with him.”
“We shall know when Major Thomson returns,” she said.
Granet seemed scarcely to hear her words. A curious fit of abstraction
had seized him. His head was turned towards the corridor, he seemed to
be waiting.
“Queer sort of stick, Thomson,” he remarked presently. “Is he a great
friend of yours, Miss Conyers?”
She hesitated for a moment.
“I have known him for some time.”
Something in her tone seemed to disturb him. He leaned towards her
quickly. His face had lost its good-humoured indifference. He was
evidently very much in earnest.
“Please don’t think me impertinent,” he begged, “but--is he a very great
friend?”
She did not answer. She was looking over his shoulder towards where
Major Thomson, who had just returned, was answering a little stream of
questions.
“The man is in a shockingly weak state,” he announced. “He is a Belgian,
has been wounded and evidently subjected to great privations. His heart
is very much weakened. He had a bad fainting fit, but with a long rest
he may recover.”
The little party broke up once more into groups. Granet, who had drawn
for a moment apart and seemed to be adjusting the knots of his sling,
turned to Thomson.
“Has he recovered consciousness yet?” he asked.
“Barely,” was the terse reply.
“There was no special cause for his going off like that, I suppose?”
Surgeon-Major Thomson’s silence was scarcely a hesitation. He was
standing perfectly still, his eyes fixed upon the young soldier.
“At present,” he said, “I am not quite clear about that. If you are
ready, Geraldine?”
She nodded and they made their farewells to Lady Anselman. Granet looked
after them with a slight frown. He drew his aunt on one side for a
moment.
“Why is Miss Conyers here without a chaperon?” he asked. “And why did
she go away with Thomson?”
Lady Anselman laughed.
“Didn’t she tell you?”
“Tell me what?” he insisted eagerly.
Lady Anselman looked at her nephew curiously.
“Evidently,” she remarked, “your progress with the young lady was not
so rapid as it seemed, or she would have told you her secret--which,
by-the-bye, isn’t a secret at all. She and Major Thomson are engaged to
be married.”