much I can tell you, and you may be of great value to our cause.” He asked me a lot of questions about my past, which I answered with easy mendacity. Before we parted he made me promise to come one night to supper. 

 Next day I got a glimpse of Mary, and to my vexation she cut me dead. She was walking with a flock of bare-headed girls, all chattering hard, and though she saw me quite plainly she turned away her eyes. I had been waiting for my cue, so I did not lift my hat, but passed on as if we were strangers. I reckoned it was part of the game, but that trifling thing annoyed me, and I spent a morose evening. 

 The following day I saw her again, this time talking sedately with Mr Ivery, and dressed in a very pretty summer gown, and a broad-brimmed straw hat with flowers in it. This time she stopped with a bright smile and held out her hand. “Mr Brand, isn’t it?” she asked with a pretty hesitation. And then, turning to her companion—“This is Mr Brand. He stayed with us last month in Gloucestershire.” 

 Mr Ivery announced that he and I were already acquainted. Seen in broad daylight he was a very personable fellow, somewhere between forty-five and fifty, with a middle-aged figure and a curiously young face. I noticed that there were hardly any lines on it, and it was rather that of a very wise child than that of a man. He had a pleasant smile which made his jaw and cheeks expand like indiarubber. “You are coming to sup with me, Mr Brand,” he cried after me. “On Tuesday after Moot. I have already written.” He whisked Mary away from me, and I had to content myself with contemplating her figure till it disappeared round a bend of the road. 

 Next day in London I found a letter from Peter. He had been very solemn of late, and very reminiscent of old days now that he concluded his active life was over. But this time he was in a different mood. “I think,” he wrote, “that you and I will meet again soon, my old friend. Do you remember when we went after the big black-maned lion in the Rooirand and couldn’t get on his track, and then one morning we woke up and said we would get him today?—and we did, but he very near got you first. I’ve had a feel these last days that we’re both going down into the Valley to meet with Apollyon, and that the devil will give us a bad time, but anyhow we’ll be together.” 

 I had the same kind of feel myself, though I didn’t see how Peter and I were going to meet, unless I went out to the Front again and got put in the bag and sent to the same Boche prison. But I had an instinct that my time in Biggleswick was 

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