“But you must know, you!” cried Jeanne, with a new fear in her eyes which Phineas could not bear to meet. “You promised to bring him back.”
“It was not my fault,” said Phineas. “He was out last night—no, the night before, this is morning—repairing barbed wire. I was not with him.”
“Mais, mon Dieu, why not?”
“Because the duties of soldiers are arranged for them by their officers, mademoiselle.”
“It is true. Pardon. But continue.”
“A party went out to repair wire. It was quite dark. Suddenly a German rifle-shot gave the alarm. The enemy threw up star-shells and the front trenches on each side opened fire. The wiring party, of course, lay flat on the ground. One of them was wounded. When it was all over—it didn’t last long—our men got back, bringing the wounded man.”
“He is severely wounded? Speak,” cried Jeanne.
“The wounded man was not Doggie. Doggie went out with the party, but he did not come back. That’s why I said no one knows where he is.”
She stiffened. “He is lying out there. He is dead.”
“Shendish and I and Corporal Wilson over there, who was with the party, got permission to go out and search. We searched all round where the repair had been going on. But we could not find him.”