Did Gardiner remember the tower? He remembered it so well, and saw Lettice beside it so vividly, that he fell silent, and let Denis tell the rest of his tale almost without question. They had stayed at the farm till Denis was fit to travel. Then, one wet evening, they set out to tramp across Belgium, he in Monsieur Hasquin's blouse and loose trousers, she in Madame's Sunday skirt. "She didn't like it one bit," said Denis, with a reminiscent smile. "Wanted to take her hair curlers in the bundle. Very annoyed with me because I wouldn't let her. It rankled for days." Denis in addition had his scarred face tied up to represent toothache. "We did look rather scalawags," he admitted. They lay up by day and walked by night, keeping mostly to the fields, and guiding themselves by Denis's pocket compass. Once the café where they were at supper was invaded by soldiers, who luckily took no notice of their ragged companions. Another time when they were sheltering in a barn some Brandenburgers came in to search for fodder. They did not search behind the patent reaper in the corner. Yet again they went to sleep in a copse, and woke to find they had chosen the exercising ground of a squadron of cavalry. That was near the Dutch frontier. Next night they crossed under cover of darkness, and were safe.
"Well, I consider it all most compromising for Lettice, and if you'd a spark of proper feeling you'd offer to marry her," said Gardiner, yawning with his arms above his head, "but of course you never think of that, selfish brute. Lord! I shall sleep like a pig to-night. Spoiled your beauty, Denis," he added, looking at the scar, red and puckered. Denis put up his hand to the place.
"That was our friend Fritz. He does sometimes score a bull's-eye."
"Well, it seriously detracts from your market value as a husband. On second thought, I'm not sure but Lettice had better put up with me after all." He hesitated. A point that had not escaped him was Denis's significant change of pronoun in the latter part of his narrative from "they" to "she." What in the world had they done with Dorothea? Left her behind at the farm? Anything was possible with that dear lunatic! He had no thought of tragedy. There seemed no room for it in Denis's straightforward tale, and no hint of it in his quiet, smiling manner. "I say, Denis, I've no wish to be indiscreet, and I'm not asking if I ought to hold my tongue—but Wandesforde said—"
"Yes," said Denis, "I was comin' to that. She died."
"Died!"
"Instead of me. I'd never have got off but for her. She put on my flying kit and led them away from the farm. She was always keen on dressin' up as a boy. Of course I'd have stopped it if I'd known, but I didn't; I was off my head. I can't tell you exactly what happened, but they shot her, and they hunted her, and finally they rounded her up in the fir wood. The officer in command was quite a decent boy, Lettice said; she'd have been all right if she'd given herself up. But that would have meant givin' me up, do you see, so she wouldn't do it. She crawled into one of those caves up there and refused to come out."
"Well?"
"They bombed her," said Denis simply. "Like clearin' a dug-out. So the whole place fell in. She must have counted on that. She knew it wasn't safe."
"That was pretty fine," said Gardiner under his breath. He could find nothing more. The contrast was too poignant. "The one shall be taken"—but Lettice was left.