The occasion was that of his meeting with Harkness outside the County Times office. Harkness was a captain of the battalion that had gone out who had been left behind owing to some illness. The British Expeditionary Force had been in action. There had been scraps of news of some heavy fighting. Harkness said dully, "Hullo, Sabre. I've just been in to see that chap Pike to see if he'd got anything. We've had some news, you know." He stopped. His face was twitching.
Sabre said, "News? Anything about the Pinks?"
Harkness nodded. He seemed to be swallowing. Then he said, "Yes, the regiment. Pretty bad."
Sabre said, "Any one—?" and also stopped.
Harkness looked, not at Sabre, but straight across the top of his head and began an appalling, and as it seemed to Sabre, an endless recitative. "The Colonel's killed. Bruce is killed. Otway's killed—"
"Otway...."
"Cottar's killed. Bullen's killed—"
Endless! The names struck Sabre like successive blows. Were they never going to end?
"Carmichael's killed. My young brother's—" his voice cracked—"killed. Sikes is killed."
"Sikes killed.... And your brother...."