"Soffit is a brave fellow. I heard that he was going to put up a memorial-stone—to him!"
Silence again. Denham had not stirred.
"He saved the Army and balked Napoleon. None except we who were there could know the true state of things—the hopeless inefficiency of the Spaniards. If he had had treble the number of men and enough money, England might have told a very different tale to-day. What could be done by mortal man, under such circumstances, he did."
Renewed silence. Jack watched the other seriously.
"You're not fit for any more of this. When did you hear last from home? So long! And you didn't know that Roy was in Spain? Smart young officer too. He came in more than once for particular notice." Jack found himself verging on another allusion to the name which filled their thoughts, and he turned to a fresh subject. "This Commandant of yours at Verdun—Wirion—must be a brute, judging from reports of him in the English papers."
"He—was."
"Not here now?"
"Courcelles is the present Commandant. Wirion went too far. There were some scandalous cases—young Englishmen fleeced to the tune of five thousand pounds."
"What a vile shame!"
"Some of us made a stir, and facts were carried to headquarters. Wirion was suspended, and he received a hint that he might as well put himself out of the way. He acted upon the hint."