"Eric--!" I began suddenly. Some inward monitor had jerked an
alarm-cord in my brain. Where had I heard that message before? And in
conjunction with what? I leaned across the table and stretched out my
hand; but already Eric had unfolded the second despatch, and was
smoothing it out with the wrist of his artificial arm. I noticed that a
covering slip was pinned to the despatch.
_Passed to you_, read Eric--_for immediate compliance, please.--J. E.
F._
"That was old Forrester, the Brigade Major. It sounds quite urgent; I
wonder what it is all about."
"Eric--!" I said again. Then, suddenly, I held my peace. Who was I, to
interfere with God?
"Hallo," continued Eric--"here's my name!"
_Lieutenant-Colonel E. F. B. Bethune, D.S.O., Commanding Second
Battalion Royal Covenanters--_
He stopped suddenly--as I knew he would. I looked up, and watched his
face go white, as he read the message to the end. I saw him re-read it,
again and again. Then he examined the date, and hour of despatch. Then
came a long, deathly silence.
At last he lifted his face to me--the face of a man suddenly aged. He
pushed the pink slip in my direction.
"Have you ever seen that before?" he asked, in a hoarse voice.
I read the message mechanically through, though I knew it by heart. It
said:
_Lt.-Col E. F. B. Bethune, D.S.O., Commanding Second Battalion, Royal
Covenanters, will return home forthwith, and report to War Office._
*CHAPTER XXIII*
*THE SOUL OF ERIC BETHUNE*
How long we sat there I do not know. But at last I was conscious that
Eric was speaking again.
"When did Roy Birnie get this?"
"Immediately after you had moved off with the battalion--that afternoon
at Caterpillar Farm, before the Somme show. He and I stayed to clear
up, you remember?"
"Yes, yes!" he muttered, staring at the paper. "I remember. But--but
why didn't he give it to me? Didn't he realise what it meant?"
"Yes, he realised all right. That was why he didn't give it to you."
Eric took up the despatch in his shaking hand.
"Roy Birnie deliberately held that back?" he said.