And there had been so much else to think
of, just then! His offer of introductions to specialists for Brian had
appealed to me more than a vague suggestion of service to myself "some
day."
But now, through the darkness of night, a ray like a searchlight struck
clear upon his cryptic hint.
Somehow, Herter hoped to get across the frontier into Germany! His
question, whether I had loved Jim Beckett, was not an idle one. He had
not asked it through mere curiosity, or because he was jealous of the
dead. His idea was that, if I had deeply cared for Jim, I should be glad
to know how he had died, and where his body lay. Germany was the one
place where the mystery could be solved. I realized suddenly that Doctor
Paul expected "some day" to be in a position to solve it.
"He's going into Germany as a spy," I said to myself. "He's a man of
German Lorraine. German is his native language. Legally he's a German
subject. He'll only have to pretend that he was caught by accident in
France when the war broke out--and that at last he has escaped. All that
may be easy if there are no spies to give him away--to tell what he's
been doing in France since 1914. The trouble will be when he wants to
come back."
I wished that I could have seen the man again, to have bidden him a
better farewell, to have told him I'd pray for his success. But now it
was too late. Already he must have set off on his "mission," and we were
to start in the morning for Verdun.
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