A little way down the street he paused and turned. Then he came back a pace or two stealthily. His face was mottled and he was tilting his chin, mysterious and confidential. "Never hear e'er a word from the Captain?" he asked, in a hushed voice. Ruth flashed a terrible white and her bosom surged. "I do times," continued the tormentor, and bustled on his way with a malignant chuckle. CHAPTER V THE CREEPING DEATH One evening at the club, Mr. Trupp asked the Colonel what had happened to Captain Royal. "He went through the Staff College, and now he's at the War Office, I believe," the other answered curtly. "Ever hear from him?" asked Mr. Trupp, warily. "No," said the Colonel. "He's not a friend of mine." And to save himself and an old brother-officer for whom he had neither liking nor respect, he changed the conversation to the theme that haunted him. Mr. Trupp might chaff the Colonel about his _idée fixe_, but he, too, like most men of his class, had the fear of Germany constantly before his eyes and liked nothing better than to discuss the familiar topic with his friend over a cigar. "Well, how are we getting on?" he asked encouragingly. "Not so bad," the Colonel answered through the smoke. "Haldane's sent for Haig from India." "Who's Haig?" puffed the other. "Haig's a soldier who was at Oxford," the Colonel answered. "You didn't know there was such a variety, did you?" "Never mind about Oxford," grunted the great surgeon. "Oxford turns out as many asses as any other institution so far as I can see. Does he know his job? That's the point." "As well as you can expect a soldier to know it," replied the other, still in the ironic vein. "Sound but slow's his reputation. He and Haldane are the strongest combination there's been at the War Office in my time." He added more seriously--"They ought to get a move on between 'em, if anybody can." "In time?" asked Mr. Trupp. The Colonel, in spite of the recurrent waves of despair, which inundated him, was at heart an unrepentant optimist. "I don't see why not," he said. "Bobs says Germany can't strike till the Kiel Canal's open for battleships. That won't be till 1912 or so." The old doctor moved into the card-room with a cough. "Gives you time to get on with your job, too, Colonel," he said. "I wish you well. Good-night."