e, and Mrs. Green, and Binks. . . . They
were all there, and then gradually they faded into the great
darkness. . . . Everything was growing still, and peaceful--the rest he
wanted had come.

Then suddenly they came back again--the Boche and Baxter and the rest of
them--and started pulling him about. He cursed and swore at them, but
they paid no heed; and soon the agony he was suffering became almost
unbearable. In God's name, why could not they leave him alone? . . . He
raved at them, and sobbed, but it was of no avail. They went on
inexorably and the creaking of the oars in the rowlocks of the boat that
had picked him up seemed to him to be the creaking of his arms and
legs. . . .

CHAPTER XVIII

When Vane opened his eyes on reality again, he found himself in a
strange room. For a few moments he lay very still, groping back into a
half-world of grey shadows. He remembered the first torpedo, and then
the second one; but after that things seemed confused. A man opened
the door, and came over to his bed.

"Feeling better?" he remarked with a smile.

"As far as I can make out at the moment," said Vane, "I'm feeling
perfectly well. Where am I, and what happened? . . ."

"You're in a private hospital not far from Liverpool," answered the
man. "You were very nearly drowned in the 'Connaught,' and you've had
a nasty knock on the head as well. . . . Feel at all muzzy now?"

"Not a bit," said Vane, raising himself on his elbow. "I hope they
caught the swine."

"There was a rumour three or four days ago that they had."

Vane stared at the speaker. "What did you say?" he remarked at length.

"There was a rumour three or four days ago that the submarine was
sunk," repeated the other.

"May I ask how long I've been here?"

"Ten days," answered the doctor. "But I wired to your depot that you
were safe, so you needn't worry."

"With regard to the depot," remarked Vane grimly, "you may take it from
me that I don't. . . . Ten days . . . twelve--fourteen." He was
counting on his fingers. "Oh! Hell. . . ."

"They forwarded some letters for you," said the doctor. "I'll get them
for you. . . ."

"Thanks," said Vane. "When is the next train to London?"

"In about four days' time as far as you're concerned," laughed the
other.

He went out of the room, and Vane lay very still. Fourteen days. . . .
Fourteen days. . . .

The doctor returned and handed him about a dozen letters.

"They've be