“Well, then,” Humberstall continued, “come on this secret society business that I started tellin’ you about. When those two—’Ammick an’ Mosse—’ad finished about their matrimonial relations—and mind you, they weren’t radishes—they seldom or ever repeated—they’d begin, as often as not, on this Secret Society woman I was tellin’ you of—this Jane. She was the only woman I ever ’eard ’em say a good word for. ’Cordin’ to them Jane was a none-such. I didn’t know then she was a Society. ’Fact is, I only ’ung out ’arf an ear in their direction at first, on account of bein’ under instruction for mess-duty to this Macklin man. What drew my attention to her was a new Lieutenant joinin’ up. We called ’im ‘Gander’ on account of his profeel, which was the identical bird. ’E’d been a nactuary—workin’ out ’ow long civilians ’ad to live. Neither ’Ammick nor Mosse wasted words on ’im at Mess. They went on talking as usual, an’ in due time, as usual, they got back to Jane. Gander cocks one of his big chilblainy ears an’ cracks his cold finger-joints. ‘By God! Jane?’ says ’e. ‘Yes, Jane,’ says ’Ammick pretty short an’ senior. ‘Praise ’Eaven!’ says Gander. ‘It was “Bubbly” where I’ve come from down the line.’ (Some damn review or other, I expect.) Well, neither ’Ammick nor Mosse was easy-mouthed, or for that matter mealy-mouthed; but no sooner ’ad Gander passed that remark than they both shook ’ands with the young squirt across the table an’ called for the port back again. It was a password, all right! Then they went at it about Jane—all three, regardless of rank. That made me listen. Presently, I ’eard ’Ammick say——”
“’Arf a mo’,” Anthony cut in. “But what was you doin’ in Mess?”
“Me an’ Macklin was refixin’ the sand-bag screens to the dug-out passage in case o’ gas. We never knew when we’d cop it in the ’Eavies, don’t you see. But we knew we ’ad been looked for for some time, an’ it might come any minute. But, as I was sayin’, ’Ammick says what a pity ’twas Jane ’ad died barren. ‘I deny that,’ says Mosse. ‘I maintain she was fruitful in the ’ighest sense o’ the word.’ An’ Mosse knew about such things, too. ‘I’m inclined to agree with ’Ammick,’ says young Gander. ‘Any’ow, she’s left no direct an’ lawful prog’ny.’ I remember every word they said, on account o’ what ’appened subsequently. I ’adn’t noticed Macklin much, or I’d ha’ seen he was bosko absoluto. Then ’e cut in, leanin’ over a packin’-case with a face on ’im like a dead mackerel in the dark. ‘Pahardon me, gents,’ Macklin says, ‘but this is a matter on which I do ’appen to be moderately well-informed. She did leave lawful issue in the shape o’ one son; an’ ’is name was ’Enery James.’
“‘By what sire? Prove it,’ says Gander, before ’is senior officers could get in a word.
“‘I will,’ says Macklin, surgin’ on ’is two thumbs. An’, mark you, none of ’em spoke! I forget whom he said was the sire of this ’Enery James-man; but ’e delivered ’em a lecture on this Jane-woman for more than a quarter of an hour. I know the exact time, because my old Skoda was on duty at ten-minute intervals reachin’ after some Jerry formin’-up area; and her blast always put out the dug-out candles. I relit ’em once, an’ again at the end. In conclusion, this Macklin fell flat forward on ’is face, which was how ’e generally wound up ’is notion of a perfect day. Bosko absoluto!
“‘Take ’im away,’ says ’Ammick to me. ‘’E’s sufferin’ from shell-shock.’
“To cut a long story short, that was what first put the notion into my ’ead. Wouldn’t it you? Even ’ad Macklin been a ’igh-up Mason——”
“Wasn’t ’e, then?” said Anthony, a little puzzled.
“’E’d never gone beyond the Blue Degrees, ’e told me. Any’ow, ’e’d lectured ’is superior officers up an’ down; ’e’d as good as called ’em fools most o’ the time, in ’is toff’s voice. I ’eard ’im an’ I saw ’im. An’ all he got was—me told off to put ’im to bed! And all on account o’ Jane! Would you have let a thing like that get past you? Nor me, either! Next mornin’, when his stummick was settled, I was at him full-cry to find out ’ow it was worked. Toff or no toff, ’e knew his end of a bargain. First, ’e wasn’t takin’ any. He said I wasn’t fit to be initiated into the Society of the Janeites. That only meant five bob more—fifteen up to date.
“‘Make it one Bradbury,’ ’e says. ‘It’s dirt-cheap. You saw me ’old the Circus in the ’ollow of me ’and?’