had met in London a couple of months before. As it tells its own
little story, I transcribe it.

"Dear Major Meredyth:

"I should like to confirm by the following anecdote, which is going the
round of the Brigade, what I recently told you about our friend Boyce.
I shouldn't worry you, but I feel that if one has cast an unjustifiable
slur on a brother-officer's honour--and I can't tell you how the thing
has lain on my conscience--one shouldn't leave a stone unturned to
rehabilitate him, even in the eyes of one person.

"There has been a good deal of scrapping around Ypres lately--that
given away by the communiques; but for reasons which both the Censor
and yourself will appreciate, I can't be more explicit as to locality.
Enough to say that somewhere in this region--or sector, as we call it
nowadays--there was a certain bit of ground that had been taken and
retaken over and over again. B.'s Regiment was in this fighting, and at
one particular time we were holding a German front trench section. A
short distance further on the enemy held a little farm building,
forming a sort of redoubt. They sniped all day long. They also had a
machine gun. I can't give you accurate details, for I can only tell you
what I've heard; but the essentials are true. Well, we got that
farmhouse. We got it single-handed. Boyce put up the most amazing bluff
that has ever happened in this war. He crawls out by himself, without
anybody knowing--it was a pitch-black night--gets through the barbed
wire, heaven knows how, up to the house; lays a sentry out with his
life-preserver; gives a few commands to an imaginary company; and
summons the occupants--two officers and fifteen men--to surrender.
Thinking they are surrounded, they obey like lambs, come out unarmed,
with their hands up, officers and all, and are comfortably marched off
in the dark, as prisoners into our trenches. They say that when the
German officers discovered how they had been done, they foamed so hard
that we had to use empty sandbags as strait waistcoats.

"Now, it's picturesque, of course, and being picturesque, it has flown
from mouth to mouth. But it's true. Verb. sap.

"Hoping some time or other to see you again,

"Yours sincerely,
"R. DACRE,
"Lt. Col."

I quote this letter here for the sake of chronological sequence. It
gave me a curious bit of news. No man could have performed such a feat
without a cold brain, soundly beating heart, and nerves of steel.