In all the time I've known the Chief,
I've never heard him talk so much about one man before. Do you
know," Barbara went on, looking up at Desmond, "I think you've
made the Chief feel a little bit ashamed of himself. And that I
may tell you is a most extraordinary achievement!"
"Do you think you're strong enough to hear some news?" asked
Desmond after a pause.
"Of course," replied the girl. "But I think I can guess it. It's
about Strangwise, isn't it?"
Desmond nodded.
"He was shot yesterday morning," he replied. "I'm glad they did
it in France. I was terrified lest they should want me to go to
it."
"Why?" asked the girl with a suspicion of indignation in her
voice, "he deserved no mercy."
"No," replied Desmond slowly, "he was a bad fellow--a Prussian
through and through. He murdered your poor father, he shot Rass,
he instigated the killing of the maid, Marie, he was prepared to
sacrifice his own wife even, to this Prussian God of militarism
which takes the very soul out of a man's body and puts it into
the hands of his superior officer. And yet, and yet, when one has
soldiered with a man, Barbara, and roughed it with him and been
shelled and shot at with him, there seems to be a bond of
sympathy between you and him for ever after.
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