Manwitz smiled and nodded, but entirely without enjoyment. Cherriton's coolness in face of the terrible duty that lay before them filled him with both terror and envy.
CHAPTER XXIX
At six o'clock that same evening Colonel Treves issued from the front door of his fine Tudor residence at Freshwater, and made his way down the drive. The weather had cleared, there was a golden light in the west, and the Colonel, wearing a tweed suit, walked briskly towards the lodge-keeper's cottage. He told himself that he had come there entirely upon business—merely to give the man certain personal orders. The truth of the matter was, however, that he could no longer stay in the house. He was expecting his son; he was looking forward to meeting his boy Bernard with a keener and happier interest than he had felt for many years. During recent months all his old love for his only offspring had returned. He was an old man, and the son who for many years had disappointed him had now grown to be a real Treves, and a man of honour. A smile flitted across his fine, kindly face. He believed that he had at last discovered the reason of Bernard's altered behaviour. The boy who had been tragically cashiered from the army, who had, indeed, been almost proved guilty of cowardice in the face of the enemy, had righted himself; and not only had he won the confidence of his superiors, but he had been entrusted with delicate and difficult duties.
When Colonel Treves reached the lodge-keeper's single-storied abode, he held the man in conversation for some minutes, but his eyes turned incessantly towards the sloping road that led past his gate. When at last he saw a khaki-clad figure on a bicycle, he turned to his elderly employée:
"Adams," he said, "is that Mr. Bernard coming along?"
"Yes, sir," answered the man, after a minute or two's scrutiny.
When John reached the drive, the Colonel was at the gate to meet him.
"Well, Bernard, boy, so there you are," he exclaimed, gripping the young man's hand. "I just happened to be doing a little business here with Adams, and caught sight of you. Come in, boy, come in. How do you think Mr. Bernard's looking, Adams?" he said, turning to the old servant.
"He's looking fine, sir," answered the man. "I've seldom seen him looking so well."
"Leave your bicycle with Adams," said the Colonel; "you can take me up to the house. I am not quite so brisk as I used to be." And he slipped his arm through John's and went up the drive, talking happily and cheerfully as he went. John had always felt drawn towards him; it was impossible for him not to feel admiration and pity for this splendid old fellow. He experienced a sense of pleasure that his visit could give the old man such genuine delight.