“But why in thunder do you want to do it? That’s what I want to know. No—no—I don’t,” the old man had suddenly flushed like a girl, “—didn’t mean that. None of my business.”
Traherne smiled again. “It isn’t for Mrs. Crespin that I want to do it, Colonel,” he said simply; “not half so much for her as for him.”
To cover his confusion, Agnew looked at his watch. When he had he swore.
“You’ve made me miss the mail,” he said hotly, “you’ve tricked me into it! I’ll wire. Do as well.”
“I did not try to make you miss the mail,” Dr. Traherne said, looking full in the other’s angry eyes.
“I beg your pardon,” Colonel Agnew said.
CHAPTER IX
Colonel Agnew got out of his chair heavily, and spoke to the man outside the door. “You needn’t wait,” he said.
“Traherne,” he said, as he sat down again, “don’t you think that I haven’t tried to help Crespin. I have again and again. I’ve tried all I knew. We all have. It breaks my heart to have one of my boys go wrong. My men are my sons—I’ve only Kathleen, you know—the regiment’s my sons. When Tony Crespin came out to us, he was only a boy. I fathered him, and, by God, I mothered him too. I never had a likelier subaltern—until——” Colonel Agnew broke off abruptly and sat drumming wretchedly on the table.
“He did well in the War, I’ve heard,” Traherne remarked, both to give the other time and to make a point for Crespin.