In imagination he now had a gun. His hand made a movement of manipulation, head bent, eye sighting.
"How do you like that? You will like this one less! And here's another—but, no, no!" He dropped against the wall again; he drove his nails into his palms in a sort of castigation. "I am the same as a soldier now—a soldier assigned to a definite duty for my flag. I should break my word of honor—a soldier's word of honor! No, not that again!"
He snatched down the receiver to make sure that temptation did not reappear in too luring a guise, and still another Gustave Feller was in the ascendant.
"Didn't I say to trust it to me, Lanny?" he called merrily. "Miss Galland consents!"
"She does? Good! Good for you, Gustave!"
"Her second thought," Feller rejoined. "And, Lanny," he proceeded in boyish enthusiasm, using a slang word of military school days, "it was bulludgeous the way we brought down their planes and dirigibles! How I ache to be in it when the guns are so busy! With batteries back of the house and an automatic in the yard, things seem very homelike. I—"
"Gustave," interrupted Lanstron, "we all have our weaknesses, and perhaps yours is to play a part. So keep away from the fight and don't think of the guns!"
"I will, I swear!" Feller answered fervently. "One thought, one duty! I'll 'phone you when the house is taken, and if you don't hear from me again, why, you'll know the plan has failed and I'm a prisoner. But, trust me, Lanny! Trust me—for my flag and my country against the invader!"
"Against the invader—that justifies all! And get Miss Galland out of it. You seem to have influence with her. Get her out of it!"
"Trust me!"