“The event had a great effect on England,” he said. “And it helped to restore our shattered respect for a desperate enemy. The Hun commander didn't sink the transport, and he didn't shoot St. Alban. It's true there was a sort of gentleman's agreement among the enemies that hospital transports should not be sunk.
“But anything was likely to happen just then. The Hun had failed to subjugate the world, and he was a barbarous, mad creature. England believed that something noble in St. Alban worked the miracle.
“'You're a brave man!'
“Some persons on the transport testified to such a comment from the submarine commander. At any rate, he went back to his U-boat and the undersea.
“That's the last they saw of him. The transport came on into Dover.
“England thought the affair was one of the adventures of the sea. A chance thing, that happened by accident. But there was one man in England who knew better.”
“You?” I said.
The Baronet shrugged his shoulders.
“St. Alban,” he answered.
He got up and began to walk about the terrace. I sat with the cup of tea cooling before me. The big man walked slowly with his fingers linked behind him. Finally he stopped. His voice was deep and reflective.