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She glanced at him. She prevaricated. “I am sure of it. I told the soldier how he must go by the passage, and he found it and brought it here. Under his arm he carried a thick, knotted crab-stick. The foremost, tall, clean-shaven, perfectly groomed, half extended his hand with a smile of recognition. There were two. A dark mass of wreckage, over which hung a slight mist of vapour, lay half in the ditch, half across the hedge, close under a tree from the trunk of which the bark had been torn and stripped. “Before I met you I was deluded into receiving upon friendly terms a man named Hill, who passed himself off as Meysey Hill the railway man, but who was in reality an Englishman in poor circumstances. I, too, want to understand—to walk with my head in the light.
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