entlemen to aid him lift them. So
not only must Buckhurst remain free as a lively black cricket in a
bog, but he must not be frightened if I could help it.

And to that end I leered at him knowingly, and presently bestowed a
fatuous wink upon him.

It was unpleasant for me to do this, for it implied that I was his
creature; and, in spite of the remorseless requirements of my
profession, I have an inborn hatred of falsehood in any shape. To lie
in the line of duty is one of the disagreeable necessities of certain
professions; and mine is not the only one nor the least respectable.
The art of war is to deceive; strategy is the art of demonstrating
falsehood plausibly; there is nothing respectable in the military
profession except the manual--which is now losing importance in the
eyes of advanced theorists. All men are liars--a few are unselfish
ones.

"You have given me your word of honor," said Buckhurst.

"Have I?" I had not, and he knew it. I hoped I might not be forced
to.

"Haven't you?" asked Buckhurst.

"You sneered at my word of honor," I said, with all the spite of a
coward; "now you don't get it."

He no longer wanted it, but all he said was: "Don't take unnecessary
offence; you're smart enough to know when you're well off."

* * * * *

I dozed towards sunset, waking when the Countess stepped back into the
carriage and seated herself by my side. Then, after a little, I slept
again. And it was nearly dark when I was awakened by the startling
whistle of a locomotive. The carriage appeared to be moving slowly
between tall rows of poplars and telegraph-poles; a battery of
artillery was clanking along just ahead. In the dark southern sky a
luminous haze hung.

"The lights of Strasbourg," whispered the Countess, as I sat up,
rubbing my hot eyes.

I looked for Buckhurst; his place was empty.

"Mr. Buckhurst left us at the railroad crossing," she said.

"Left us!"

"Yes! He boarded a train loaded with wounded.... He had business to
transact in Colmar before he presented himself to the authorities in
Paris.... And we are to go by way of Avricourt."

So Buckhurst had already begun to execute his programme. But the
abrupt, infernal precision of the man jarred me unpleasantly.

In the dark I felt cautiously for my diamonds; they were safe in my
left hip-pocket.

* * * * *

The wind had died out, and a fine rain began