ll the patients who
could move, and most of those who couldn't, were lying on the floor
beside their beds.

Gradually the explosions became fewer and fewer; though the earth still
shook and throbbed like a living thing, and at last it seemed to Vane
that the raid was over. He was lifting himself on his elbow
preparatory to going outside and exploring, when an ominous whistling
noise seemed to pierce his very brain. He had just time to throw
himself on to the girl beside him so that he partially covered her,
when the last bomb came. He heard the top of the marquee rip: there
was a deafening roar in his ears: a scorching flame enveloped him. He
lay stiff and rigid, and the thought flashed through him that this was
the end. The next moment he knew he was safe, and that it was merely
another close shave such as he had not been unaccustomed to in the
past. The bomb had burst in the tent, but the Fate which ordained
things had decided it should miss him. It had done so before, and Vane
laughed to himself . . .

"Close, my lady, very close," he whispered--"but not quite close
enough." With a quick, savage movement he turned Margaret's face
towards him, and kissed her on the lips. For a while she clung to him,
and then he felt her relax in his arms. She had fainted, and as he
realised this, he felt something pressing down on him. With his sound
arm he fumbled above his head, and found it was the canvas of the tent.

Tugging and scrambling, he half dragged, half carried Margaret through
the entrance which still remained intact, and laid her down on the
grass outside. Men and nurses were moving about in the darkness,
stumbling over guy ropes and tent pegs. For the moment every one was
too intent on his own affairs to bother over a mere faint, and Vane
left her lying against the side of the tent. Then he cautiously felt
his way round to investigate the damage. A great crater midway between
Number 13 and the next tent showed where the first close one had
fallen, but he had no wish to explore that any further. He stumbled
round the edge and went on. Then in the faint light given by the moon,
he saw what had happened when the last bomb had burst. It was nothing
worse than many similar sights he had seen, but Vane as he looked at
the wreckage cursed bitterly and fluently. And then of a sudden he
stopped cursing, and drew a deep breath. . . . Staring up at him in
the cold white light was what was left of the Gunn