if he had known what would take place. He was that sort. In a
way, too, it was a glorious death. By his pluck and foresight he made
the whole job easy, and put down what might have been a big rebellion.
But that isn't quite how I look at it. I lost a pal, the best pal a
man ever had. His death bowled me over, too, and I wasn't fit for
anything for months. Poor old Maurice!'

I must confess that I was moved by the man's evident feeling. He had
not struck me as an emotional man,--rather, at first, he gave me the
impression of being somewhat hard and callous. His deep-set eyes, high
cheek-bones, and tall gaunt form, suggested one of those men who was as
hard as nails, and who could see his own mother die without a quiver of
his lips.

'Forgive me, Luscombe,' he said, 'I'm not a sloppy kind of chap as a
rule, and sentiment isn't my strong point. I have seen as much hard
service as few men, and death has not been a rare thing to me. I have
been in one or two little affairs out in India, and seen men die fast.
It is no make-belief over in France, either, although I have seen no
big engagement there. But to lose a pal is---- I say, shall we change
the subject?'

After this, we went out into the grounds, and talked of anything rather
than war or soldiering, and I must confess that Springfield talked
well. There was a kind of rough strength about him which impressed me.
That he was on good terms with George St. Mabyn was evident, for they
called each other by their Christian names, and I judged that their
friendship was of long standing.

After I had been there a little over an hour, and was on the point of
telling the chauffeur to take me back to Granitelands, George St. Mabyn
informed me that he and Springfield were going there to lunch. I was
rather surprised at this, as no mention of it had been made before, and
I wondered why, if they had arranged to be at Granitelands, I should
have been asked to visit them that morning. Still, I did not give the
matter a second thought, and before one o'clock St. Mabyn appeared in
the seventh heaven of delight, for he was walking around the grounds of
Granitelands with Norah Blackwater by his side.

I left soon after lunch, but before I went I had a few minutes' chat
with Lorna Bolivick.

'You will remember your promise, won't you?' and she looked eagerly
into my face as she spoke.

'What promise?'

'You know. The promise, you made about that man, Paul Edgecumbe.