"Yes, I see," Sutch agreed. "There is another view, a wrong view as I
know, but I thought for the moment it was your view--that Harry fancied
himself to be a brave man and was suddenly brought up short by
discovering that he was a coward. But how did you find out? No one knew
the whole truth except myself."

"I am engaged to Miss Eustace," said Durrance.

"She did not know everything. She knew of the disgrace, but she did not
know of the determination to retrieve it."

"She knows now," said Durrance; and he added sharply, "You are glad of
that--very glad."

Sutch was not aware that by any movement or exclamation he had betrayed
his pleasure. His face, no doubt, showed it clearly enough, but Durrance
could not see his face. Lieutenant Sutch was puzzled, but he did not
deny the imputation.

"It is true," he said stoutly. "I am very glad that she knows. I can
quite see that from your point of view it would be better if she did not
know. But I cannot help it. I am very glad."

Durrance laughed, and not at all unpleasantly. "I like you the better
for being glad," he said.

"But how does Miss Eustace know?" asked Sutch. "Who told her? I did not,
and there is no one else who could tell her."

"You are wrong. There is Captain Willoughby. He came to Devonshire six
weeks ago. He brought with him a white feather which he gave to Miss
Eustace, as a proof that he withdrew his charge of cowardice against
Harry Feversham."

Sutch stopped the pony in the middle of the road. He no longer troubled
to conceal the joy which this good news caused him. Indeed, he forgot
altogether Durrance's presence at his side. He sat quite silent and
still, with a glow of happiness upon him, such as he had never known in
all his life. He was an old man now, well on in his sixties; he had
reached an age when the blood runs slow, and the pleasures are of a grey
sober kind, and joy has lost its fevers. But there welled up in his
heart a gladness of such buoyancy as only falls to the lot of youth.
Five years ago on the pier of Dover he had watched a mail packet steam
away into darkness and rain, and had prayed that he might live until
this great moment should come. And he had lived and it had come. His
heart was lifted up in gratitude. It seemed to him that there was a
great burst of sunlight across the world, and that the world itself had
suddenly grown many-coloured and a place of joys. Ever since the night
when he had stood outside the War Offic