The Kingdom of the Blind | Page 5

tactful,
dear hostess," he murmured. "As a matter of fact, nothing but the
circumstance that it was your invitation and that Madame Selarne was
to be present, brought me here to-day. It is so hard to avoid speaking of
the great things, and for a man in my position," he added, dropping his
voice a little, "so difficult to say anything worth listening to about them,
without at any rate the semblance of indiscretion."
"We all appreciate that," Lady Anselman assured him sympathetically.
"Madame Selarne has promised to give us an outline of the new play
which she is producing in Manchester."
"If that would interest you all," Madame Selarne assented, " it
commences-so!"
For a time they nearly all listened in absorbed silence. Her gestures, the
tricks of her voice, the uplifting of her eyebrows and shoulders-all
helped to give life and colour to the little sketch she expounded. Only
those at the remote end of the table ventured upon an independent
conversation. Mrs. Cunningham, the woman whom her hostess had
referred to as being her particular friend, and one who shared her
passion for entertaining, chatted fitfully to her neighbour, Major
Thomson. It was not until luncheon was more than half-way through
that she realised the one-sidedness of their conversation. She studied
him for a moment curiously. There was something very still and
expressionless in his face, even though the sunshine from the broad
high windows which overlooked the Park, was shining full upon him.
"Tell me about yourself!" she insisted suddenly. "I have been talking
rubbish quite long enough. You have been out, haven't you?"
He assented gravely.
"I went with the first division. At that time I was in charge of a field
hospital."
"And now?"

"I am Chief Inspector of Field Hospitals," he replied.
"You are home on leave?"
"Not exactly," he told her, a shade of stiffness in his manner. "I have to
come over very often on details connected with the administration of
my work."
"I should have known quite well that you were a surgeon," she
observed.
"You are a physiognomist, then?"
"More or less," she admitted. "You see, I love people. I love having
people around me. My friends find me a perfect nuisance, for I am
always wanting to give parties. You have the still, cold face of a
surgeon--and the hands, too," she added, glancing at them.
"You are very observant," he remarked laconically.
"I am also curious," she laughed, "as you are about to discover. Tell me
why you are so interested in Ronnie Granet? You hadn't met him before,
had you?"
Almost for the first time he turned and looked directly at his neighbour.
She was a woman whose fair hair was turning grey, well-dressed,
sprightly, agreeable. She had a humorous mouth and an understanding
face.
"Captain Granet was a stranger to me," he assented. "One is naturally
interested in soldiers, however."
"You must have met thousands like him," she
remarked,--"good-looking, very British, keen sportsman, lots of pluck,
just a little careless, hating to talk about himself and serious things. I
have known him since he was a boy."
Major Thomson continued to be gravely interested.

"Granet!" he said to himself thoughtfully, "Do I know any of his people,
I wonder?"
"You know some of his connections, of course," Mrs. Cunningham
replied briskly. "Sir Alfred Anselman, for instance, his uncle."
"His father and mother?"
"They are both dead. There is a large family place in Warwickshire,
and a chateau, just now, I am afraid, in the hands of the Germans. It
was somewhere quite close to the frontier. Lady Granet was an Alsatian.
He was to have gone out with the polo team, you know, to America,
but broke a rib just as they were making the selection. He played
cricket for Middlesex once or twice, too and he was Captain of Oxford
the year that they did so well."
"An Admirable Crichton," Major Thomson murmured.
"In sport, at any rate," his neighbour assented. "He has always been one
of the most popular young men about town, but of course the women
will spoil him now."
"Is it my fancy," he asked, "or was he not reported a prisoner?"
"He was missing twice, once for over a week," Mrs. Cunningham
replied. "There are all sorts of stories as to how he got back to the lines.
A perfect young dare-devil, I should think. I must talk to Mr. Daniell
for a few minutes or he will never publish my reminiscences."
She leaned towards her neighbour on the other side and Major
Thomson was able to resume the role of attentive observer, a role
which seemed somehow his by destiny. He listened without apparent
interest to the conversation between Geraldine Conyers and the young
man whom they had been discussing.