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in its foul act, glowered there, cravenly awaiting retribution. And Dickie, with some of the men, was missing.

I found him just in time. He'd got the Hotchkiss guns placed round the village. His voice, when he answered me, was choked with sobs-harsh dry sobs, such as you hear only on the battlefield or in close-up dressing-stations.

"Leave me alone, Major." He shook off my arm roughly. "I don't care about the filthy newspapers, or the bolshies at home. I don't care if they hang me, I'm going to wipe out the lot."

The fingers of the Mahomedan gunners, outraged to the deepest and most sacred core of their being by what they had seen, trembled on the triggers. At certain times certain things are difficult to explain.

with a gesture more eloquent than any words.

An hour later, when, in so far as in our power lay, we had done what had to be done, Dickie spoke again with indescribable bitterness.

"When Gandhi hears of this, I suppose he'll publicly knock off another glass of milk!"

And I, thinking of that en gaging little doctrinaire of infantile mentality who was play ing ducks and drakes with an Empire, could find no adequate reply.

". . . in saintliness of character, in loftiness of idealism, in love, in perfect love of Humanity, Gandhi has only once been surpassed in..."

The sonorous periods of the preacher recalled me from my mist of memories. Reaching for my hat, I glanced up at Chatham. I fancied that the

"No, Dickie; the law must marble features had set in still take its course. sterner lines.

"The law! " He gave a ghastly laugh, and pointed to the awful havoc around us

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And now to God the Father, God the Son . . ."

I left the Abbey.

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