The Kingdom of the Blind | Page 6

"I think," Geraldine complained, "that you are rather overdoing your
diplomatic reticence, Captain Granet. You haven't told me a single
thing. Why, some of the Tommies I have been to see in the hospitals

have been far more interesting than you."
He smiled.
"I can assure you," he protested, "it isn't my fault. You can't imagine
how fed up one gets with things out there, and the newspapers can tell
you ever so much more than we can. One soldier only sees a little bit of
his own corner of the fight, you know."
"But can't you tell me some of your own personal experiences?" she
persisted. "They are so much more interesting than what one reads in
print."
"I never had any," he assured her. "Fearfully slow time we had for
months."
"Of course, I don't believe a word you say," she declared, laughing.
"You're not taking me for a war correspondent, by any chance, are
you?" he asked.
She shook her head.
"Your language isn't sufficiently picturesque! Tell me, when are you
going back?"
"As soon as I can pass the doctors-in a few days, I hope."
"You hope?" she repeated. "Do you really mean that, or do you say it
because it is the proper thing to say?"
He appeared for the moment to somewhat resent her question.
"The fact that I hope to get back," he remarked coldly, "has nothing
whatever to do with my liking my job when I get there. As a matter of
fact, I hate it. At the same time, you can surely understand that there
isn't any other place for a man of my age and profession."
"Of course not," she agreed softly. "I really am sorry that I bothered

you. There is one thing I should like to know, though and that is how
you managed to escape?"
He shook his head but his amiability seemed to have wholly returned.
His eyes twinkled as he looked at her.
"There we're up against a solid wall of impossibility," he replied. "You
see, some of our other chaps may try the dodge. I gave them the tip and
I don't want to spoil their chances. By-the-bye, do you know the man
two places down on your left?" he added dropping his voice a little.
"Looks almost like a waxwork figure, doesn't he?"
"You mean Major Thomson? Yes, I know him," she assented, after a
moment's hesitation. "He is very quiet to-day, but he is really most
interesting."
Their hostess rose and beamed on them all from her end of the table.
"We have decided," she announced, "to take our coffee out in the
lounge."
CHAPTER II
The little party trooped out of the restaurant and made their way to a
corner of the lounge, where tables had already been prepared with
coffee and liqueurs. Geraldine Conyers and Captain Granet, who had
lingered behind, found a table to themselves. Lady Anselman laid her
fingers upon Major Thomson's arm.
"Please talk for a few more minutes to Selarne," she begged. "Your
French is such a relief to her."
He obeyed immediately, although his eyes strayed more than once
towards the table at which Captain Granet and his companion were
seated. Madame Selarne was in a gossipy mood and they found many
mutual acquaintances.
"To speak a foreign language as you do," she told him, "is wonderful.

Is it in French alone, monsieur, that you excel, or are you, perhaps, a
great linguist?"
"I can scarcely call myself that," he replied, "but I do speak several
other languages. In my younger days I travelled a good deal."
"German, perhaps, too?" she inquired with a little grimace.
"I was at a hospital in Berlin," he confessed.
Lady Anselman's party was suddenly increased by the advent of some
acquaintances from an adjoining table, all of whom desired to be
presented to Madame Selarne. Major Thomson, set at liberty, made his
way at once towards the small table at which Captain Granet and
Geraldine Conyers were seated. She welcomed him with a smile.
"Are you coming to have coffee with us?" she asked?
"If I may," he answered. "I shall have to be off in a few minutes."
A waiter paused before their table and offered a salver on which were
several cups of coffee and liqueur glasses. Captain Granet leaned
forward in his place and stretched out his hand to serve his companion.
Before he could take the cup, however, the whole tray had slipped from
the waiter's fingers, caught the corner of the table, and fallen with its
contents on to the carpet. The waiter himself--a small, undersized
person with black, startled eyes set at that moment in a fixed and
unnatural stare-made one desperate effort to save himself and then fell
backwards. Every one turned around, attracted by