It may be that my position gave me an advantage, otherwise they, being three, must have mastered me easily, although one of them was badly wounded; still, one desperate man can do much. I was thirty-nine years of age, and although not bred a soldier, I was an athlete. I was an old rowing blue, too, and that means good muscles and a strong heart. I weighed only a little over twelve stone, but I had not an ounce of spare flesh, and I was desperate. I had a little advantage in reach, too; I am over six feet in height, and long in limb. But it was an unequal battle, and I knew they were bearing me down. One of my arms was numb, too; I expect it was from a blow, although I never felt it. I saw the look of murder in their eyes, as little by little they pressed me back. Then a change came. It seems like a fantastic dream now, and the new-comer appeared to me more like a visitant from another world than tangible flesh and blood. I expect it was because my eyesight was failing me. My strength was gone, and I remember panting for life, while sparks of fire flitted before my eyes. I fell against the side of the trench, and watched the new-comer, who leapt upon two of the Germans, and hurled them from him as though they had been five-year-old children. It seemed to me that I had never seen such a feat of strength. A second later I knew that my antagonists would never fight again, and then my own senses departed. 'It's all right, sir, it's all right! You'll be as fresh as a daisy in a few minutes. There, that's better. You've fought a great fight!' The voice seemed to stir something within me, and I felt myself in my right mind with a flash. Moreover, he had taken me to a place of comparative safety. 'Edgecumbe!' I cried, 'how in Heaven's name----! 'I've turned up like a bad penny, sir, haven't I? I was just in the nick of time, too.' 'This is twice you've saved my life,' I said. 'That's nothing,' was his reply. 'I have found more than life.' I looked at him curiously. His clothes were torn and caked with mud; here and there I saw they were soaked with blood. His face looked haggard and drawn, too, but in his eyes was such a look as I had never seen before. The old wistfulness and yearning were gone; he no longer had the appearance of a man grieving because he had lost his past. Joy, realization of something wonderful, a great satisfaction, all revealed themselves in his eyes, as he looked at me. 'His memory has come back,' I said to myself. I did not think of what had become of him on the night I had dined with Springfield and St. Mabyn, that was not worth troubling about. His past had come back, and evidently it was a joyous past, a past which gave all sorts of promises for the future! 'I have great things to tell you!' he cried excitedly. CHAPTER XI EDGECUMBE'S STORY