The following morning the papers contained lengthy reports of the meeting, and spoke in no sparing terms of the influence of Edgecumbe's words on the great crowd. He appeared to be depressed, however.

'It may be only a passing sensation,' he said. 'Still, I couldn't help doing what I did.'

We had barely finished breakfast when a telegram was brought to me,

'Come at once and bring your friend. Wire time I may expect you.—BOLIVICK.'

'There,' I said, passing it to Edgecumbe, 'there's dispatch for you.'

A few minutes later we were in a taxi, on our way to Paddington, and a few hours later we arrived at Bolivick.

We had barely alighted from the conveyance when Edgecumbe gave a start.

'Look,' he said, 'both Springfield and St. Mabyn are there.'

'Yes,' I replied lightly, 'and Lorna too. Don't you see her in her nurse's uniform?'

His face was set and rigid as the greetings took place; but he had evidently put a strong check upon himself, and spoke naturally.

'Glad to see you, Luscombe,' cried Sir Thomas, 'and you too, Major Edgecumbe. Let me congratulate you on your wonderful career. It's almost like a fairy story!'

'Let me add my congratulations,' cried Springfield. 'I pay my tribute, not only to the soldier, but to the orator.'

I could not fail to detect the sneer in his voice, even although he seemed to speak heartily. A copy of The Times was lying on the lawn, and I imagined that Edgecumbe's speech had been read and discussed.

'We shall be quite a party to dinner to-night,' said Sir Thomas to me presently. 'Of course you must expect scanty fare, as we are carrying out the rationing order to the very letter. But it's an important occasion all the same. Lord Carbis is coming by the next train. Please don't say anything about it. No one knows but my wife and myself. I want to give a surprise to both Lorna and Springfield.'

My heart became as heavy as lead, for I knew what he had in his mind, and I looked towards Edgecumbe, wondering if he had heard anything. It was evident he had heard nothing, however; he was talking to Norah Blackwater, who was again a visitor to Bolivick.

'By the way,' went on Sir Thomas, 'that fellow Edgecumbe has developed wonderfully, hasn't he? Of course what he said last night was so much nonsense. I quite agree that it's very sad about—that—is—some of the things he talked about, but as to the rest,—it was moonshine.'

'You wouldn't have said so if you'd been there, Sir Thomas,' I ventured.

'Something's going to happen, Luscombe,' Edgecumbe said to me as presently we found our way to our rooms.

'Why do you say so?'

'I don't know. But there is. It's in the air we breathe. I know I'm right.'

'What's the matter with you?' I asked, looking at him intently.

'Nothing. Yes there is though. I'm feeling mighty queer.'

'Are you ill?'

'No, nothing of the sort. But I'm nervous. I feel as though great things were on foot. The air is charged with great things. Something big is going to take place.'

He was silent a few seconds, and then went on, 'I had a long talk with a doctor in France a few days ago.'

'What doctor? What did he tell you?' I asked eagerly.

'One of our men out there. He had a big practice as a consulting physician in Harley Street until a few months ago, when he offered himself to the Army. He is a nerve specialist, and years ago paid great attention to brain troubles. He was so kind to me, and was such an understanding fellow that I told him my story. He was awfully interested, and said that he never knew but one case where loss of memory had continued so long as it had with me.'

'Did he give you any hope?' I asked.

He shook his head doubtfully. 'He would not say anything definite. He seemed to think that as my general health had been good for so long, and as my memory had not come back, it might be a very long time before there was any change. All the same, he felt sure that it was only a matter of time. He seemed to regard my trouble as a kind of artificial barrier which divided the past from the present, but that time would constantly wear away the barrier. He also said that if some very vivid and striking happening were to take place, something that was vitally connected with my past, it might suddenly pierce it—tear it aside, and let in the light.'

'And—and——?'

'No, Luscombe,' he interrupted, as if divining my thoughts, 'I know of nothing, I remember nothing. But there was something else he told me which makes me have faith in him. It was so true.'

'What was that?'

'That loss of memory often gave a kind of sixth sense. He said he should not be surprised if I had very vivid premonitions of the future. That I had a kind of knowledge when something out of the common were going to happen. That's what makes me afraid.'

'Afraid?'

'Yes, afraid. I seem to be on the brink of a great black chasm. I feel that I am able to save myself from falling, only I won't. I say, what's that?'

'It's a motor-car,' I replied. 'Sir Thomas told me he had other guests coming.'

'What guests? Who are they?'

'How can I know?' I replied, for I feared to tell him what our host had told me about Lord Carbis's relations to Springfield, and that probably Lorna's engagement might be announced in a few hours.

We were both dressed ready for dinner a quarter of an hour before the time announced, and together we found our way downstairs into the reception hall. Early as we were, we found that not only was Lorna Bolivick there, but George St. Mabyn was also present and was talking eagerly to Norah Blackwater. Springfield also came a few seconds later, and went straight to Lorna's side and spoke to her with an air of proprietorship.

I felt that Edgecumbe and I were de trop, and I moved away from them, but Edgecumbe went to St. Mabyn and Norah Blackwater, as if with the purpose of speaking to them. I thought, too, that there was a strange look in his eyes.

'You are not much like your brother Maurice,' he said suddenly.

'My brother Maurice!' said St. Mabyn, and I thought his voice was hoarse. 'What do you know of him?'

'What do I know of him?' repeated Edgecumbe, and he spoke as though his mind were far away.

'Yes. You can know nothing of him. He's dead.'

'No,' replied Edgecumbe, 'he's not dead.'

'Not dead!' and St. Mabyn almost gasped the words, while his face became as pale as ashes. 'Not dead! You must be mad!' Then he laughed uneasily.

'Oh, no,' and Edgecumbe still spoke in the same toneless voice. 'I knew him well. He was—where did I see him last?'

Before we could recover from the effect of what he said, I knew that we were joined by others. In a bewildered kind of way I noticed that Sir Thomas and Lady Bolivick were accompanied by a tall, distinguished-looking man about fifty-five years of age, by whose side stood a sweet-faced, motherly-looking woman.

'Lorna, my dear,' said Sir Thomas, 'I want you to know Lord and Lady
Carbis.'

Lorna moved forward to speak to her visitors, but they did not notice her. Both of them had fixed their gaze on Edgecumbe, who stood looking at them with a light in his eyes which made me afraid.

'John!' cried Lady Carbis, her voice almost rising to a scream. 'Why, it's Jack! our Jack!'

Never shall I forget the look on my friend's face. He seemed to be in agony. It might be that he was striving to keep himself from going mad. His eyes burnt with a red light, his features were drawn and contorted. Then suddenly he heaved a deep sigh, and lifted his shoulders, as though he were throwing a heavy weight from him.

'Mother!' he said hoarsely. 'Mother! When——? that is—— Why, I'm home again!—and the little mater——'

Unheeding the fact of his damaged arm, he held out both his hands and staggered towards her.

A second later, unconscious of watching eyes, they were in each other's arms, while Lady Carbis murmured all sorts of fond endearments.

'My dead boy come back to life!' she cried. 'My little Jack who—who—oh, thank God, thank God! Speak to me, Jack, my darling, speak to your mother! Oh, help! What's the matter? Can't you see that——'

I was only just in time to keep my friend from falling heavily on the floor, and when a few seconds later I succeeded in lifting him to a sofa, he lay like a dead man.