Tombstone epitaph., 1915-04-25
Copyright. The Frank A. Munsey Col

 course. The light changed to dull gray. kindly shutting out the sight of red blotches on greenish-yellow grass, a hideous contrast. There were TO sounds except those muffled clicks and snaps that tell when an army is going to rest for the night.
 The war master sat in a field tent, gazing down the trampled hill to the meadows where his hopes-for the day-had been realized. Tomorrow No human being was near, unless one could count as human the rigid figures of the imperial guard. These statues, formed in squares and lanes. were as still as the night.
 One lane was a long. narrowing patch of haze, for the moon had not yet risen to its vain task of trying to shine through the murk. And in this lane, as the war master watched with eyes that were focused on nothing at all, something appeared. At first it seemed like a gray veil, floating in the outline Of human form.
 And now. still without salute or chal- lenge, the silent thing. less like a gray veil and more like the film of man. came to the tent slowly and entered. Entered confidently. with the air of an equal. and bowed, but only from the neck and not from the hips. There was no mistaking the cut of the cloak and the cock of the hat.
 The war masters eyes were cold, too, returning the bow. but not so calm. A sheer. whether in word or look, is the easiest fashion of covering surprise-or alarm. The war master did not rise.
 One of the allies, I believe" he said.
 Mo-" said the visitor in a dull voice. say, rather, a neutral"
 "Indeed," said the war master. "Is not Corsica loyal to France?'
 After a mans death said the visitor, his politics and fealties do not change; they merely disappear"
 T am pleased to hear that, Herr"
 "M Bonaparte, if you will, or even Mister. became accustomed to hear. ing the latter title aboard the Bel lerophon."
 The war master did not seem to be listening. He was watching his visi- tor narrowly.
 T wonder" he began, and then ceased to speak
 You wonder" said the visitor. smil- inc "uhafbpr am not raal fap to assure your majesty that I am not real. I understand, of course, the trend of your thoughts. It has oc- cured to you, as it would occur to most trained men under similar cir cumstances, that I might be some new output of the wizardry of war-an i'm palpable man, free to come and go the brief flash of annoyance when it came into your mind that if there was any such deviltry possible your gentle. men of the laboratories should have discovered it first"
 Such said the war master ar rogantly, lis our custom" The speed of thought is one of the few human things at which I still may marvel" pursued the Corsican. You revolved in your mind not only i that possibility, but a dozen ways in | which the magic might be used. There is nothing contra in the rules of war I believe"
 The war master raised his brows in mock modesty.
 "A dozen ways," he repeated. You fatter!"s
 "No," said the Corsican, "at least a dozen, perhaps a score. l know. should have thought of fifty"
 With such talent" began the wal master, your total of successes"
 Let me save your voice." inter posed the Corsican blandly. You would remind me that where I ended in failure at that very spot you began with success. But would remind you that any town is Waterloo where Wa terloo is found"
 "A ghostly warning" said the wal master, laughing. He had risen as if to end the interview. It was a habit. and he did not realize his errol until he saw the Corsican smiling at it
 'No. not warning" said the visi tor. Tt was idle chatter. mere words But you see have the whole evening for my errand Perhaps I expected 2 more cordial meeting. I thought tc be formal. as people were long ago" You were net famed for formality,' suggested the war master.
 'I had no time for it." returned the Corsican a bit sadly. But I have plenty now"
 Then you have the advantage o me-" said the war master. "Whai is your errand? To ask questions?'
 A patient smile crossed the face O the Corsican.
 The war master turned upon hi: visitor with almost savageness.
 "Who-who sent you?" he cried.
 "Jan Bedanow," replied the Corsi can. The war masters shoulders raised in suspense. fell to their nor nal angle.
 'T do not remember him." he said.
 "You never knew him." said the Cor