ad this advertisement over once and then, starting at
the beginning, read it over again. Gunner Barling... the name
conjured up a picture of a jolly, sun-burned man, always very
spick and span, talking the strange lingo of our professional
army gleaned from India, Aden, Malta and the Rock, the type of
British soldier that put the Retreat from Mons into the history
books for all time.

Advertisements like this; Desmond reflected dreamily, meant
legacies as a rule; he was glad of it, for the sake of Barling
whom he hadn't seen since the far-away days of Aldershot before
the war.

"Buzzer" Barling was the brother of one Private Henry Barling who
had been Desmond's soldier-servant. He derived the nickname of
"Buzzer" from the fact that he was a signaller. As the
vicissitudes of service had separated the two brothers for many
years, they had profited by the accident of finding themselves at
the same station to see as much of one another as possible, and
Desmond had frequently come across the gunner at his quarters in
barracks. Henry Barling had gone out to France with Desmond but a
sniper in the wood at Villers Cotterets had deprived Desmond of
the best servant and the truest friend he had ever had. Now here
was Henry's brother cropping up again. Desmond hoped that
"Buzzer" Barling would see the advertisement, and half asleep,
formed a mental resolve to cut out the notice and send it to the
gunner who, he felt glad to think, was still alive. The rather
curiously worded reference to difficulties with the military must
mean, Desmond thought, that leave could be obtained for Martin
Barling to come home and collect his legacy.

At this point the Daily Telegraph fell to the ground and Desmond
went off to sleep. When he awoke, the afternoon hush had fallen
upon the bath. He seemed to be the only occupant of the cubicles.
His clothes which had arrived from the shop during his slumbers,
were very neatly laid out on a couch opposite him.

He dressed himself leisurely. The barber was quite right. The
bath had made a new man of him. Save for a large bump on the back
of his head he was none the worse for Strangwise's savage blow.
The attendant having packed Bellward's apparel in the suit-case
in which Desmond's clothes had come from the club, Desmond left
the suit-case in the man's charge and strolled out into the soft
air of a perfect afternoon. He had discarded his bandage and in
his well fitting blue suit and brown boots he wa