He had left his wife alone, with no explanation of his absence to offer to her friends, without even any knowledge of his whereabouts. There had been no other way, he still believed. But it was hard on Millie--undoubtedly it was hard. Stretton rose from the ground and set off towards the camp that he might write his letter. But he never wrote it, for as he walked along the lane towards the barracks a man tapped him on the shoulder from behind. He was still humming his song, and he stopped in the middle of it-- "Jus' look out an' see all de longin' in mah eyes, An' mah arms is jus' a-pinin' foh to hug you," he said, and turned about on his heel. He saw a stranger in European dress, who at once spoke his name. "Sir Anthony Stretton?" Stretton was no longer seeking to evade discovery. "Yes?" he said. The stranger's face became vaguely familiar to him. "I have seen you before, I think." "Once," replied the other. "My name is Warrisden. You saw me for a few minutes on the deck of a fish-carrier in the North Sea." "To be sure," he said slowly. "Yes, to be sure, I did. You were sent to find me by Miss Pamela Mardale." "She sends me again," replied Warrisden. Stretton's heart sank in fear. He had disobeyed the summons before. He remembered Pamela's promise to befriend his wife. He remembered her warning that he should not leave his wife. "She sent you then with an urgent message that I should return home," he said. "I carry the same message again, only it is a thousand times more urgent." He drew a letter from his pocket as he spoke, and handed it to Stretton. "I was to give you this," he said. Stretton looked at the handwriting and nodded. "Thank you," he said gravely. He tore open the envelope and read. CHAPTER XXV TONY STRETTON BIDS FAREWELL TO THE LEGION It was a long letter. Tony read it through slowly, standing in the narrow lane between the high walls of prickly pear. A look of incredulity came upon his face. "Is all this true?" he asked, not considering at all of whom he asked the question. "I know nothing, of course, of what is written there," replied Warrisden; "but I do not doubt its truth. The signature is, I think, sufficient guarantee." "No doubt, no doubt," said Stretton, absently. Then he asked-- "When did you reach Ain-Sefra?" "This morning." "And you came quickly?" "Yes; I travelled night and day, I came first of all to Ain-Sefra in search of you." "Thank you," said Stretton. He did not ask how it was that Warrisden had come first of all to Ain-Sefra; such details held no place in his thoughts. Warrisden _had_ found him, _had_ brought the letter which Pamela Mardale had written. That letter, with its perplexities and its consequences, obliterated all other speculations. "You have a camp here?" Stretton asked. "Yes." "Let us go to it. The news you have brought has rather stunned me. I should like to sit down and think what I must do."