at struck
familiarly on Desmond's ear. Somehow it reminded him of the
front. It brought with it dim memory of the awakening to the
early morning chill of a Nissen hut, the smell of damp earth, the
whirr of aircraft soaring through the morning sky, the squeak of
flutes, the roll of drums... why, it was the Grand Reveille,
that ancient military air which every soldier knows.

He stopped struggling and peered cautiously out into the dusk.
The time for darkening the windows must be at hand, he thought,
for in most of the houses the blinds were already drawn. Here and
there, however, an oblong of yellow light showed up against the
dark mass of the houses on the upper slopes of the hill. The
curtains of his bedroom at Mrs. Viljohn-Smythe's were not yet
drawn and the light still burned brightly above the bed.

The whistling continued with occasional interruptions as though
the whistler were about some work or other. And then suddenly
"Buzzer" Barling, holding something in one hand and rubbing
violently with the other, stepped into the patch of light between
the window and the bed in Desmond's bedroom.

Desmond's heart leaped within him. Here was assistance close at
hand. Mechanically he sought to raise his hand to open the
window, but an agonising twinge reminded him of his thongs. He
swiftly reviewed in his mind the means of attracting the
attention of the soldier opposite. Whatever he was going to do,
he must do quickly; for the fact that people were beginning to
darken their windows showed that it must be close on half-past
six, and about seven o'clock, Barling, after putting out
Desmond's things, was accustomed to go out for the evening.

Should he shout? Should he try and break the window? Desmond
rejected both these suggestions. While it was doubtful whether
Barling would hear the noise or, if he heard it, connect it with
Desmond, it was certain that Strangwise and Bellward would do
both and be upon Desmond without a moment's delay.

Then Desmond's eye fell upon the electric candle which had slid
to the very edge of the table. It was mounted in a heavy brass
candle-stick and the switch was in the pedestal, jutting out over
the edge of the table in the position in which the candle now
stood. The candle was clear of the mirror and there was nothing
between it and the window. Desmond's brain took all this in at a
glance. That glance showed him that Providence was being good to
him.

A couple of jerks of the chair