The solution of the duplicated address came, days later, when we had discussed fully the question of coincidences. A middle-aged clerk in Edward's office, invited to a wedding breakfast, had been cautioned that he would be expected to propose the health of the bride and bridegroom. Edward was called upon to listen to his colleague's recital of the same piece of eloquence from a shilling book called, "Speeches for Every Occasion."
CHAPTER XIII
Lieutenant and Mrs. Langford went off to town, and by nine o'clock the following morning Katherine was at the bank, her wedding ring in hiding and attached to a thin gold chain that hung around her neck; I am sure she found a keener delight in the secrecy than she would have discovered in the most elaborate publicity. Young Langford's battalion left Southampton with three rumoured destinations—France, The Dardanelles, Mesopotamia—and all we could say of these was that at least two were surely inaccurate; the dear girl came to London Street that evening and in the back room, and on my shoulder had a long cry, and, this over, gave no signs of depression or tears. We had good news one Sunday night of an advance by British troops south of La Bassée, and a victory by the French in the Champagne district; to hear folk talking of this near the railway station you would have guessed that the war was almost at an end. A few days later the casualty lists of our officers came in, and we knew then some of the expense of the small victory, and could guess at the total. The newspapers were in disagreement concerning the proposed landing of troops at Salonica. A quotation from a Paris journal was headed, "Help Mother First." My customers, at times, brought me their definite and resolute views on the conduct of the war, and seemed disappointed that I was prepared to go no further than admit relief in the thought that I had not to take a share in the direction.
"Women," they argued, "couldn't make a bigger muddle of it than men are doing."
"Nothing ever happened yet," I said, "that might not possibly have been worse. Let's keep cheerful. Peace will come along some day."
"And then," grumbled a woman from Plumstead, "there won't be near so much money to be earnt as what there is now."
Certainly there was no lack of critics at that period. A blind man who sold matches and boot-laces said to me one evening that he would very much like to occupy Kitchener's position for twenty-four hours. Four-and-twenty hours; no more, no less. He refused to disclose his scheme to me in full, but hinted that it included the dropping of a bomb full tilt on the helmet of the German Emperor. "The Government hasn't got gumption," he complained. "What it wants is the help of us business men. We'd soon stop these Zepps!"
There came another and a serious air-raid, and hearing a certain town spoken of in this connection, I hurried there to ascertain whether some small houses belonging to me had been damaged. There was a considerable amount of destruction there, but my little property was safe, and I managed to get away from the excited tenants, and escape some of the vivid details of the attack. Intending to alight at New Cross station on the Brighton line, I, absorbed in the evening newspaper, found myself carried on towards London Bridge. I wanted to reach home swiftly, because the private inquiry folk, whose services I had engaged immediately after my officer nephew's urgent appeal, had hinted that they expected to be able to send me a communication by an early post. There seemed few grounds for hoping that this would be satisfactory, and bewailing my stupidity in missing New Cross, and regretting the delay, I changed thoughts from self-reproach by composing a letter which would convey my regrets at the failure of the inquiry, sarcasm at the want of intelligence exhibited. To be candid, it was only for the sake of Herbert that I wanted to gain news of Muriel Hillier. We were a comfortable group now at Gloucester Place, and the return there of an authoritative and selfish-minded girl was not an alluring prospect.