a club while a revolution was
in full swing under the windows. People ought to be serious
immediately after battles.

"Oughtn't we to be doing something?" I asked.

"Doing what?"

"Well, I don't know. Seeing after the wounded, perhaps."

Attending to wounded men is properly speaking work for women; but both
Lady Moyne and Marion were in London.

"There are sure to be a few somewhere," I said. "They've been fighting
all over the town, and I don't suppose the soldiers were as careful
everywhere else as they were here."

"Are you a surgeon as well as a lord?" asked Bland.

"Oh no. I don't know anything about surgery. My idea--"

"Then I expect the wounded, if there are any, would rather you left
them alone. Besides, a town like this must have hundreds of doctors in
it. They'll all be out after the wounded by this time as keen as
vultures. It isn't every day that an ordinary practitioner gets the
chance of gouging out bullets. They wouldn't let you interfere with
their sport even if you paid them. There won't, as a matter of fact,
be nearly enough wounded to go round the profession. They'd hate to
have an amateur chipping in. Let's forage about a bit and get some
food."

It was not very easy to find food in the club, and the only surviving
waiter was still undressing Clithering. But Bland is a good forager.
He found two dressed crabs somewhere, and then came upon a game pie. I
let him have the dressed crabs all to himself. He is a much younger
man than I am and is a war correspondent. He ought to be able to
digest anything.

I fully intended to eat three helpings of game pie, for I was very
hungry; but before I had finished the first of them I was interrupted.
Crossan stalked into the room. He was the last man I wanted to see.
His appearance and manner are, at the best of times, tragic.
Clithering had been with me, off and on, most of the day, so I had got
rather tired of tragedy.

"I think it right to inform your lordship," said Crossan, "that Mr.
Godfrey D'Aubigny has just been arrested in the streets."

"Good!" I said. "I hope that whoever has him won't let him go."

"He's to be tried by court martial," said Crossan, "on suspicion of
being a spy."

Godfrey actually haunts me. No sooner have I achieved a moment's
peace and quietness--with the greatest difficulty in the middle of a
rebellion--than Godfrey breaks in on me. How he came to be in Belfast
I could only dimly guess. It seemed likely that, havi