The Washington times., 1914-01-05
THEHOUR OF CONFLICT
CHAPTER xxV.-(cOntiuued.)
By A. HamiItOn-GibbS
Author of "CheadIe & Son" etc.

ChAHIEk AAN.-(ConunueQ.)
/(TINE ball, sir" said the pro-
~ fessional, and the two went
across the bridge over the bit
of water in front of the tee.
face up to the sun. A Great Western
express roared past on the raised en-
banlqment to the right, and when it had
gone there was only the sleepy whine
Of the moving machine in the distance
and the faint click of the clubs on the
backs of the caddies as they followed.
To the ,left and in front and just be-
hind, the horizon was bounded by trees
waving gently in the soft breeze that
made the leaves whisper to each other
like-like- Everard wondered what il
was that II reminded him of. He came
up to his drive, only a few yards be-
hind that of the professional, and
played his second with a mashie on to
the green.
What did that rustic remind him of?
II was so vague and elusive. He walked
on trying to place it, and, suddenly, he
was once more on the links at
Wimereux, and the faint rustic was the
Iushes leaning over in the sea wind.
There was the Cafe Tardot in front of
him, and at the window of his room
the maid appeared, the little servant
with the abortive giggle and the spec
Iacies, and beyond that the sea was
sparkling and dancing, and a tiny pun
Of smoke to the light told of England.
A mischievous chuckle broke out be-
hind him. Everard turned quickly and
brushed his hand over his eyes. No, il
was not Marthe, There were only the
Two dirty English bows with cheap
ciSarettes dangling from their mouths
ana their heads together as they wnis-
pered something.
There seemed to be a cloud over the
nan. or q film before his eyes, for when
ne took his putter the bail shot about
ten yards over the hole into the rough.
lie lost his hole, and thu next and
tion fell on deaf ears, until at length he
glanced curiously at his companion and
kept silent
"Arother of those sidey oxford Ineu"'
and he shifted.
If only it had been side" As it was.
the sound of Toinette's laugh was in his
ears and his thoughts raced II French,
and every time he addressed the ball
Toinette's face floated before his eyes
Side! Every stroke was an agony.
every whisper of the leaves a note that
tore his heart. Cain, Cain, what hast
thou done with thy brother His hands
were less clean than those of Cain. The
eye Of remOrse burned into mis- soul
At last he could stand ii no longer.
Let's chuck it," he said. II can't
play today"
lie turned quickly on his heel and
walked away-anywhere to get away
from people, away from himself away
from what he had done
But though he walked for Lours hat
less in the sunny Middlesex lanes, see
ing nothing of the birds that scurried
out Of hedges at the crunch of his feet
and flew away over seas of green cab
bages; nor the far-off CLINT of water as
some bubbling streamlet flSshed for a
second as il twisted around a bank!
nor yapping dogs that barked at him
from cottage yards: he was no. alone.
The spirit of TOinette kept pace for
pace with him under the elm trees. and
leaned by his side when at last he
leaned his arms on a white farmyard
gate. miles from anywhere, and breath
ed her name into the empty silence with
an inarticulate cry for forgivCness.