t as
much--perhaps a bit more; they seem just as cheerful--but if you love
'em as I do you come to something which wasn't never there before.
They've been one of the pins. Lots of us 'ave been one of the pins,
Captain Vane; though we ain't been to France you can lose other things
besides your life in this world."

She nodded her head at him solemnly and waddled on, while Vane stood
for a moment looking after her. Assuredly this common old woman
possessed in her some spark of the understanding which is almost
Divine. . . . And Vane, with a quick flash of insight, saw the proud
planting of the pin on Rumfold Hall--a strategic advance, but the
casualty list had never been published. . . .

He strolled along the veranda and into the hall. Sir John with a very
small audience--mostly newcomers--around him was holding forth on the
new developments in France and Vane paused for a moment to listen.

"You mark my words, me boys," he was saying, "this is the big thing. I
put my trust in Foch: he's the fellow who's got my money on him. No
nonsense about Foch. Of course it's going to be costly, but you can't
have omelettes without breaking eggs. An old proverb, me boys--but a
true one."

"More than true, Sir John," remarked Vane quietly. "And one that from
time immemorial has proved an immense comfort to the egg."

He went on up to his room. It was too early yet to start for
Blandford, but Vane was in no mood for his own thoughts. They had
reached a stage, indeed, whence he preferred not to follow them
further. Doubtless by the time Margaret returned on leave, the beaten
track would have revealed itself; until then--_cui bono_? . . . .

He looked at his watch, and it occurred to him that he would just have
comfortable time to pay a visit to old John before starting on his walk
through the woods. From Robert he had found out where the old man was
living in the village, and, a few minutes later, he was strolling down
the drive towards his house. He found the little garden, just as
perfectly kept as had been the one at the Lodge: the white muslin
curtains in the front rooms were just as spotless. And old John
himself was watering a row of sweet peas as he came to the little
gate. . . .

"Ah! Mr. Vane, sir," he remarked, putting down his can and hobbling
forward. "I'm honoured to see you, sir." Then as he saw the three
stars on Vane's sleeve, he corrected himself. "Captain Vane, sir, I
should have said. . . .