I could see the eager questions in his eyes, so I went on. 'I can't tell you anything yet, Edgecumbe; it would not be fair to you, and it might not be fair to others. It may be I'm only following the will-o'-the-wisp of my fancies; all the same I want you to stay with me at least an hour. I think it will be the safest plan. I will send a note with you that will answer all questions, and meanwhile I'll get these shutters closed.' It was quite midnight when he left me, and I watched him as he walked away from my billet. He had not gone more than two minutes when I heard the sound of angry voices, and as far as I could judge they came from the spot where he was likely to be. Then coming from the same locality there was the sound of a pistol shot. Without hesitating a second, I ran towards the spot from which I thought the sound came. It was not a very dark night, but there was not light enough to discern anything very plainly. For half an hour I searched and listened, but I could discover nothing. I tried to persuade myself that what I had heard was only fancy, nevertheless I did not sleep well that night. As soon as morning dawned I hurried to the spot again, but if there had been a struggle the rain which had fallen had washed the traces away. Neither was there anything suspicious to be seen. Later in the day, however, news came to me that Private Edgecumbe was missing, and as he had last been to my billet, I was to be questioned as to whether I knew anything of his whereabouts. As may be imagined when these questions were asked I could give no satisfactory answers. I could not say that I suspected foul play without giving my reasons, and those reasons were not good enough to give. I could only say that he had come to me bringing a message from Captain Wilkins, that he had left me about midnight bearing my reply. That about two minutes after he had left I heard the sound of angry voices, as well as a pistol shot, but beyond that nothing. 'Have you no idea where he is?' I asked anxiously. 'Not the slightest. I have made every inquiry--in vain. The fellow has disappeared as though he had deserted.' 'He hasn't done that,' I replied. 'He's not that sort.' 'Then what's become of him?' I shook my head. I was very anxious, but I could say nothing. I dared not impugn two brother officers on such evidence as I had. Nevertheless, as may be imagined, I thought a great deal about what had taken place. CHAPTER X THE STRUGGLE IN THE TRENCHES