The Lambertville record. [volume] (Lambertville, N.J.) 1872-1968, 1918-04-11
Copyright, The Frank A. Munsey Co.


The sun, after long struggle with
the smoky fog, skunk down in his
course. The light changed to a dull
gray, kindly shutting out the sight of
red blotches on greenish-yellow grass,
a hideous contrast. There we're no
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 long, narrowing
patch of haze, for the moon had not
yet risen to its vain task of trying 10
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 gray
veil and more like the film of a 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, l believe" he
said.
No." said the visitor in a dull
voice, SAY, rather, neutral"
Indeed" said the war master. "Is
not Corsica loyal to France?"
After mans death" said the
visitor, Ibis politics and fealties dc
not change; they merely disappear"
81 am pleased to hear that, Herr"
IN 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.
81 wonder" he began, and then
ceased to speak.
You wonder" said the visitor, smil-
ing, whether | am not real. / beg
to assure your majesty that | am not
real | understand, of course, the
trend of your thoughts. 1t has oc-
CURED to you, as it would occur to
most trained men under similar cir
output of the wizardry of war-an i'm
palpable man, free to come and go
among the tents of the enemy. / saw
the brief fash of annoyance when it
came into your mind that II 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"
1.-THE speed of thought is one of
the few human things at which | still
may marvel" pursued the Corsican.
You revolved in your mind not only
that possibility, but dozen ways in
which the magic might be used, There
is nothing contra in the rules of war,
| believe"
The war master raised his brows in
mock modesty.
"a dozen ways!" he repeated. you
latter"
NO" said the Corsican, at least
a dozen, perhaps a score. know.
should have thought of fifty"
with such talent began the war
master, your total of successes"
Let me save your voice." inter
posed the Corsican blandly you
would remind me that where l 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 war
master, laughing. He had risen as
if to end the interview. 1t was a
habit, and he did not realize his error
until he saw the Corsican smiling at it.
mo, not warming" said the visi-
tor. at was idle chatter, mere words,
But you see | have the whole evening
for my errand. Perhaps l expected a
more cordial meeting. l thought to
be formal, as people were long ago"
"You were not famed for formality,"
suggested the war master.
Il had no time for it" returned the
Corsican a bit sadly. But l have
plenty now"
Then you have the advantage of
me-" said the war master What
is your errand? To ask questions?"
A patient smile crossed the face of
the Corsican.
The war master turned upon his
visitor with almost savageness.
"Who-who sent your" he cried.
Jan Bedanow" replied the Corsi-
can. The war masters shoulders,
raised in suspense, fell to their nor
NAL angle.
Il do not remember him." he said
"You never knew him." said the Cor