"But they haven't done it yet, neither will they," went on the young fellow. "Thank Heaven the tables are being turned, and we are driving them back. No, by Jove, French's 'contemptible little Army' has given them something to do already. Even when the Kaiser poured the flower of his army upon them, when they were five to one at Mons, they couldn't break our ranks. Our chaps faced the fire without a squirm, and coolly told as afterwards that their shooting was rotten. For that matter I'm told by the German prisoners that but for the English they'd be in Paris before now."
"Have you talked with them?"
"Yes, I was admitted into one of the prisoners' camps. I know one of the men in authority. According to their account the soldiers themselves scarcely knew why they were fighting; but they were promised a sort of picnic. Instead of which the British gave them hell. Oh, they have tremendous respect for us now!"
"I wonder you haven't enlisted."
"Heavens, don't I wish I could! I've tried again and again, but my eyes are bad. I have to wear tremendously powerful glasses. When are you off?"
Bob did not reply. He would have given anything to say, "To-morrow," but he felt as though a weight were on his tongue.
He made his way to his chambers. It was still early—not more than half-past nine. He was excited beyond measure, and it was madness to think of going to bed. What should he do?
Looking around, he saw a parcel, on which was the label of the bookseller at whose shop he had called.
"It's the books I bought," he reflected. "I can't do any law work to-night; I'll read them." Almost feverishly he untied the parcel. A few minutes later he was reading hard.
The book he opened first was Germany and the Next War, by General von Bernhardi. He had heard it spoken of, but had no idea of its contents. At that time it was but little known. The publishers had just brought out a cheap edition, and although it was beginning to be talked about, the world at large was almost ignorant of it.