"'What do you want?' I asked. "'Where the deuce is my eyeglass?' And the drawl seemed to catch horribly in his throat. "I put the rim of the eyeglass into his hand; the glass itself had gone. "'Must wear the damned thing,' he murmured, and he tried to raise it to his face--but his hand suddenly stopped half-way and fell, and he died." * * * * * There was silence in the club room for a minute or so, and the ticking of the clock was oppressively loud. Then Jepson raised his glass. "Gentlemen," he said. "Here's to the 'Knut,'" and gravely we drank to the toast. IX SHOPPING As the Captain sat down to breakfast, he turned to speak to me: "I propose ..." he began, but Lawson interrupted him. "Oh, John dear," he said, "this is so sudden." The Captain took no notice of the interruption. "... that you and I go shopping this afternoon." "Jane," I called to an imaginary maid, "please tell Parkes to bring the car round at eleven o'clock; we are going shopping in Bond Street, and lunching at the Ritz." "You all seem to think you're deucedly funny this morning," growled the Captain as he pushed aside a piece of cold bacon with the end of his knife. "The pure air of the billets seems to have gone to your heads so that I think a parade would suit you this afternoon." We sobered down at the threat. "No, seriously," I said, "I'd love to go if I can get anything to ride." "You can have the Company's pack horse. I'll order both beasts for two o'clock." Now the Captain's horse stands far more hands than any really respectable horse should, and the Captain is well over six feet in his socks; I, on the other hand, am nearer five feet than six, and the pack pony is none too big for me. Again, the Captain is thin and I am fat, so that even the sentry could scarcely repress his smile as we set forth on our quest--a modern Don Quixote, and a Sancho Panza with a hole in the back of his tunic. But we had little time to think of our personal appearances, for our way lay over the Mont Noir, and there are few places from which you can get a more wonderful view, for you can follow the firing line right away towards the sea, and your field glasses will show you the smoke rising from the steamers off Dunkirk. We paused a moment, and gazed over the level miles where Poperinghe and Dixmude and the distant Furnes lay sleepy and peaceful, but, even as we looked, a "heavy" burst in Ypres, and a long column of smoke rose languidly from the centre of the town. "We shan't do much more shopping in that old spot," said the Captain as he turned his horse off the road, and set forth across country to Bailleul. The Captain has hunted with nearly every pack of hounds in England, while I have hunted with none, so that I was hot and thirsty and uncommonly sore when we clattered into the town. Leaving the Captain to see the horses stabled at the Hotel du Faucon, I slipped off to get a drink.