Three minutes later he had accomplished the impossible. He was leading the way out of the dug-out towards the open. Sergeant Smith and I went with him like men in a dream. When we came out in the open air, the night had again fallen. More than twelve hours had elapsed since I had been taken prisoner; most likely I had been unconscious a great part of the time. I did not know where we were going. The guns were still booming, while the heavens were every now and then illuminated as if by some tremendous fireworks. 'Sergeant,' I whispered, 'the man's a magician.' 'Never heard of such a thing in my life, sir. I'm like a man dreaming. Who is he? He's got a Tommy's togs on, but he might be a field marshal.' All this time I had not once caught sight of our deliverer's face, but the tones of his voice still haunted me like some half-forgotten dream. I had almost forgotten the wonder of our freedom in the excitement wrought by the way it was given to us. When at length we entered the British trenches, and the German prisoners had been taken care of, I saw the face of the man who had wrought the miracle, and I recognized him as the stranger whom I had met at Plymouth Harbour many months before, and who had adopted the name of Paul Edgecumbe.[1] [1] The incident related above is not an invention on the part of the author. It was told me by a British officer, and it took place as nearly as possible as I have described it. CHAPTER VI PAUL EDGECUMBE'S MEMORY 'You!' I exclaimed. He stood like a soldier on parade, and saluted me. 'Yes, Captain Luscombe. I hope you are well, sir.' He spoke as though nothing out of the ordinary had taken place. 'But--but--this is great!' I gasped. 'Tell me, how did you do it?' But he had no time to answer the question, as at that moment orders came for us to report ourselves. Never had I seen a man so excited as the colonel was when the story was told to him. First of all he stared at us as though we were madmen, then laughter overcame his astonishment, and he fairly roared with merriment. 'The brigadier and the divisional general must hear of it at once!' he cried. 'Why, it is the greatest thing since the war began! And you did nothing, Luscombe?' 'Nothing,' I said; 'this man did it all.' And I enlarged upon the difficulties of the situation, and the way Paul Edgecumbe had overcome them. 'Well, Edgecumbe,' I said, when at length I had an opportunity of speaking to him alone, 'give me an account of yourself. Where have you been? what have you been doing? and how have things been going with you?' 'All right, sir. As to where I have been, and what I have been doing, it's not worth telling about.' 'You don't mind my asking you awkward questions, do you?' 'Not a bit. Ask what you like, sir.' 'Has your memory come back?' A shadow passed over his face, and a suggestion of the old yearning look came into his eyes.