inty.
So excited did I become that, more than once, I longed with an intense
longing to join my persuasions to that of the stranger. But when I
tried to speak, no words came. It might have been as though some
magician were at work, or some powerful mesmerist, who mesmerized his
hearers into obedience.

'I say, you fellows,' said one of the Germans to his companions, 'what
do you say? Our life here is one prolonged hell,--what is the use of
it? Our officers tell us to hold on, hold on. And why should we hold
on? Just to become fodder for cannon? I had four brothers, and every
one of them is killed. Who's to look after my mother, if I am dead?'

Three minutes later he had accomplished the impossible. He was leading
the way out of the dug-out towards the open. Sergeant Smith and I went
with him like men in a dream.

When we came out in the open air, the night had again fallen. More
than twelve hours had elapsed since I had been taken prisoner; most
likely I had been unconscious a great part of the time. I did not know
where we were going. The guns were still booming, while the heavens
were every now and then illuminated as if by some tremendous fireworks.

'Sergeant,' I whispered, 'the man's a magician.'

'Never heard of such a thing in my life, sir. I'm like a man dreaming.
Who is he? He's got a Tommy's togs on, but he might be a field
marshal.'

All this time I had not once caught sight of our deliverer's face, but
the tones of his voice still haunted me like some half-forgotten dream.
I had almost forgotten the wonder of our freedom in the excitement
wrought by the way it was given to us.

When at length we entered the British trenches, and the German
prisoners had been taken care of, I saw the face of the man who had
wrought the miracle, and I recognized him as the stranger whom I had
met at Plymouth Harbour many months before, and who had adopted the
name of Paul Edgecumbe.[1]

[1] The incident related above is not an invention on the part of the
author. It was told me by a British officer, and it took place as
nearly as possible as I have described it.

CHAPTER VI

PAUL EDGECUMBE'S MEMORY

'You!' I exclaimed.

He stood like a soldier on parade, and saluted me.

'Yes, Captain Luscombe. I hope you are well, sir.'

He spoke as though nothing out of the ordinary had taken place.

'But--but--this is great!' I gasped. 'Tell me, how did you do it?'

But he had no time to answ