"There you are, Sir William." He turned triumphantly to the doctor. "Still perhaps you're right. Where's the young rascal? Give me a kiss, you scamp--and look after your mother while I'm away. I'll be back soon." He went down the steps and into the car. "And very likely he will, Mrs. Latimer. Keep your spirits up and never despair." Sir William patted her shoulder paternally, but over her bent head I saw his eyes. "God knows," he said reverently to me as he followed Hugh. "The brain is such a wonderful thing; just a tiny speck and a genius becomes a madman. God knows." * * * * * Later on I too went away, carrying in my mind the picture of a girl--she was no more--holding a little bronze cross in front of a laughing baby--the cross on which is written, "For Valour." And once again my mind went back to that little plot in Flanders covered with wooden crosses. CHAPTER VIII JAMES HENRY James Henry was the sole remaining son of his mother, and she was a widow. His father, some twelve months previously, had inadvertently encountered a motor-car travelling at great speed, and had forthwith been laid to rest. His sisters--whom James Henry affected to despise--had long since left the parental roof and gone to seek their Fortunes in the great world; while his brothers had in all cases died violent deaths, following in the steps of their lamented father. In fact, as I said, James Henry was alone in the world saving only for his mother: and as she'd married again since his father's death he felt that his responsibility so far as she was concerned was at an end. In fact, he frequently cut her when he met her about the house. Relations had become particularly strained after this second matrimonial venture. An aristocrat of the most unbending description himself, he had been away during the period of her courtship--otherwise, no doubt, he would have protected his father's stainless escutcheon. As it was, he never quite recovered from the shock. It was at breakfast one morning that he heard the news. Lady Monica told him as she handed him his tea. "James Henry," she remarked reproachfully, "your mother is a naughty woman." True to his aristocratic principle of stoical calm he continued to consume his morning beverage. There were times when the mention of his mother bored him to extinction. "A very naughty woman," she continued. "Dad"--she addressed a man who had just come into the room--"it's occurred." "What--have they come?" "Yes--last night. Five." "Are they good ones?" Lady Alice laughed. "I was just telling James Henry what I thought of his Family when you came in. I'm afraid Harriet Emily is incorrigible." "Look at James!" exclaimed the Earl--"he's spilled his tea all over the carpet." He was inspecting the dishes on the sideboard as he spoke. "He always does. His whiskers dribble. Jervis tells me that he thinks Harriet Emily must have--er--flirted with a most undesirable acquaintance."