"The consequences of which falsehood," continued the doctor, "culminated in my asking Miss Lynden to marry me. . . . I've been thinking--wondering--whether that lie was justifiable. And I've given up the problem. But I respect your motive in telling it. It's a matter for you to settle privately with yourself and your Maker. I'm no Jesuit by nature; but--well--you've played a man's part in the life of a young and friendless girl who has become to me the embodiment of all I care for in woman. And I thank you for that. I thank you for giving her the only thing she lacked--a chance in the world. Perhaps there were other ways of doing it. I don't know. All I know is that I thank you for giving her the chance." He ceased abruptly, folded Ins arms, and gazed musingly into space. Then: "Phil, have you ever injured a man named Eugene Hallam, Captain of your troop in the 8th Lancers?" Berkley looked up, startled; and the hot colour began to fade. "What do you know about Captain Hallam?" he asked. "Where is he?" "Probably a prisoner. He was taken at the cavalry affair which they now call Yellow Run." "You saw him taken by the enemy?" "No. I saw him--surrender--or rather, ride toward the enemy, apparently with that design in mind." "Why don't you say that Hallam played the coward--that he deserted his men under fire--was even shot at by his own colonel?" "You seem to know about it," said Berkley in a mortified voice. . . . "No man is anxious to reflect on his own regiment. That is why I did not mention it." "Yes, I knew it. Your servant, the trooper Burgess, came to Paigecourt in search of you. I heard the detestable details from him. He was one of the detachment that got penned in; he saw the entire performance." "I didn't know Burgess was there," said Berkley. "Is he all right?" "Wears his left wrist in a sling; Colles's fracture; horse fell. He's a villainous-looking party; I wouldn't trust that fellow with a pewter button. But he seems devoted to you." "I've never been able to make him out," said Berkley, smiling. The doctor thought a minute. "I saw two interesting people at Paigecourt. One was Miss Dix, an old friend of mine; the other chanced to be Surgeon General Hammond. They were on a tour of inspection. I hope they liked what they saw." "Did they?" "I guess not. . . . Things in the hospitals ought to go better now. We're learning. . . . By the way, you didn't know that Ailsa Paige had been to Paigecourt, did you?" "When?" "Recently. . . . She's another fine woman. She never had an illness worse than whooping cough. I know because I've always been her physician. Normally she's a fine, wholesome woman, Berkley--but she told a falsehood. . . . You are not the only liar south of Dixon's damnable Line!" Berkley straightened up as though shot, and the doctor dropped a heavy hand on his shoulder.