Before going out, I scribbled a line to Lorna Bolivick, telling her of my meeting with Edgecumbe, and of the wonderful way he had helped me to escape from the German trenches. It was true that, according to St. Mabyn, she was in France, but I imagined that her letters would be forwarded to her. After that, several days elapsed before I had opportunity to pay my promised visit to St. George Mabyn. It was a case of every man to the wheel, for we were making huge preparations for the great Somme push which took place immediately afterwards. Still, I did at length find time to go, and one evening I started to walk there just as the day was beginning to die. It had been very hot and sultry, I remember, and I was very tired. St. Pinto was well behind the lines, but I could hear the booming of the big guns away in the distance. I had no difficulty in finding the house where St. Mabyn was billeted, for, as he said, it was the first house of importance that I came across on the outskirts of the village. I was disappointed, however, in finding that neither he nor Springfield was in. I could not complain of this, as I had not sent word that I was coming. But being tired, and having decided to walk, I did not relish the thought of my tramp back, especially as I had not taken the trouble to change my heavy field boots. Not a breath of wind blew, and the air was heavy and turgid. On my way back, I had to pass a little copse which lay in a dell, and having noticed a little stream of water, I climbed over the fence in order to get a drink. Then, feeling deadly tired, I stretched myself at full length on the undergrowth, and determined to rest for an hour before completing my journey. I think I must have fallen asleep, for presently I suddenly realized that it was quite dark, and that everything had become wonderfully still. The guns no longer boomed, and it might seem as though the conflicting armies had agreed upon a truce. I imagine that even then I was scarcely awake, for I had little consciousness of anything save a kind of dreamy restfulness, and the thought that I needn't hurry back. Suddenly, however, I was wholly awake, for I heard voices close by, and I judged that some one was standing close to where I was. I was about to get up, and make my way back to my billet, but I remained quite still. I was arrested by a word, and that word was 'Edgecumbe.' I did not realize that I was playing the part of an eaves-dropper, and even if I had, I doubt if I should have made my presence known. Anything to do with Edgecumbe had a strong interest for me. The murmur of voices continued for some seconds without my being able to detect another word. Then some one said distinctly: 'You say he has been down at our place to-night?' 'Yes,' was the reply, and I recognized St. Mabyn's voice; 'he called about an hour before I got back.' 'What did he come for?' It was Springfield who spoke.