 CHAPTER 30 What a perfect summer's day, said Captain Boyd. As he tucked the rug round Miss Pym to keep off the dust and then climbed in beside her at a wheel, three officers sat behind, and away the car darted, along a fairly rough road, screened by poplars. They met lorries coming in. They passed lorries going out. They saw cottages and farmhouses, where sentries were marching up and down. Aeroplanes were flitting about overhead like dragonflies sunning themselves. Then, by and by, the happy cultivated land and peaceful green pastures were left behind, and they came to the land of Nevermore. Clear chaos was king, and his kingdom was desolation. Walls with gaping holes, where windows had looked out, doors opening into nothingness, sliding glaciers and avalanches of stone, bricks and plaster, deep holes dug by shells, everything had become without shape and void. This is the little town of Monserval. Beyond is hill sixty-four, and behind that is Röckfurt. It isn't quite such a ruin. We took them rather by surprise, and they had to run for it or be made prisoners. They blew up a few houses and had started cutting down the fruit trees. But as I say, we tickled them up, and they decamped. That little hill over there was wooded. Now it is just spiked with tree stumps. Ms. Pym gazed round her with a shutter. The country seemed so permanently ruined. And yet Captain Boyd assured her. The brave people of France had already commenced to clear the villages. Neat heaps of stone were being piled up on one side, yawning holes were being filled up with rubbish, wounded trees were bound up, and in time the country would be healed and blossom again. But the French people would never forget, and never forgive. The scars on the heart of the nation were ineffacable scars. The Chateau de Röckfurt was situated in a little valley, which seemed an oasis in the surrounding wilderness. The Chateau of Grey Stone appeared rather small, but it was a perfect sixteenth-century building of exquisite proportions, with delicate tourelle. It stood in a small courtyard which was at the same time a terrace, with beautifully carved stone parapets. This terrace overlooked a stream or moat reached by steps. There was no sign of a flower garden, but green fields and woods gently rose at the back of the Chateau. The car swept through wrought iron gates, up a short drive, and Miss Pym was received at the entrance by a little group of Frenchmen. She was introduced to Monsieur Le Préfet, and Monsieur Le Maire, and Monsieur Ribot, the notary. They were all dressed in very shiny black cloth, and received Miss Pym in silence, with many bowels. The notary was much cheered to find she could speak French. Yes, he said, talking very fast and eagerly, you are right, it is a mercy and a miracle that this gem of architecture was spared. But for the arrival of the English they would have destroyed it. We have evidence that they intended to blow it up. You will see inside how they wrecked it. Madame, it is unbelievable, I do assure you. When I came in here immediately after the miserable wretches had fled, the place looked as though it had been inhabited by powerful and degenerate maniacs. I hid every room photographed, but no photograph could convey the horror of the real scene, the filth, the stench, the destruction, and out there in front on the terrace all those bodies. Madame, Madame, and the notary threw up his hands and turned away. The little procession entered the hall, and the preffet, before opening one of the tall folding doors of a room, said, all the rooms have been cleaned and some order restored. You will not therefore see this house in the condition in which it was left. But still, Madame, you will see what it really means when you read. General Vismann and his staff occupied the Château de Rockfort. Miss Pym now entered a stately old French salon, dignified even in its ruin. The boiseries, tinted gray, still paneled the walls, but it was split and slashed, and perforated with bullet holes. The delicate carvings which inflamed charming paintings of cupids and shepherdesses, over doors and windows, were hacked off, and the pictures hung down in ribbons. Every table, chair, and sofa had been deliberately hacked to pieces. The wreckage had been collected and stacked in a corner of the room by the French authorities, after the photographer had taken a picture of the rooms as they were found. Every mirror in the house was starred by pistol shots. In the children's room, the pretty cradle, with muslin curtains, had been torn to bits, giving an impression that a herd of mad gorillas had disported themselves there. Miss Pym saw the wreckage of a doll's house. Six china dolls lay near the nursery fireplace. Each doll had been decapitated by a tap on the fender, and the six little china heads lay like marbles beside the six little bodies. Miss Pym knelt down and gathered them up almost reverentially. The baby house had been treated like the chateau. The tiny chairs and tables, the little cups and dishes, had been ground to bits under the Germans' heel. The image of the virgin over the children's beds was in many pieces. Miss Pym stood in the middle of the room and looked round sorrowfully. This pleasant nest of the little ones had been desecrated and torn to pieces in just the same way as had the other apartments, and the nestlings murdered with their parents down there on the terrace. "'If Madame will step here, she can read for herself what one of the demons wrote upon the wall,' said the mayor. And Miss Pym read the following verses written in German over the pale pink and white rose pattern of the wallpaper. When father comes home, comes home from the war, he'll bring me an Englishman's head, and will put it on high, and leave it to dry, and rejoice that the Englishman's dead. When father comes home, comes home from the war, he'll bring me a Frenchman's paw, and will put it on high, and leave it to dry, and rejoice that the Frenchman's no more, et cetera. "'I don't think I can bear to see anything more,' said Miss Pym, with the tears running down her cheeks. Ah, Madame, think of what the people of Röckfurt felt when they entered the chateau after the brigands had left. Madame Le Contesse, who had been the providence of the little village for so many years, and the young Contesse, who came here not eight years ago, a happy bride, and Le Conte himself, and his two babes, all murdered. The brutes had first entered the cellars under the terrace, and after becoming mad drunk had poured into the chateau with this result. Below, in the salamange, Miss Pym was introduced to the wife of Monsieur Le Maire, a stout peasant woman in black cashmere, and the wife of the notary, a thin nervous little woman also in black, and a rather pretty young woman who had taught the children of the village for three years in the underground cellar of a miller. On the dining-room table the only piece of furniture intact, some postcards were for sale, photographs of the rooms as they were found, and of the poor bodies on the terrace, photographs of the ribbled verses on the nursery wall, and the German verses found in an officer's pocketbook. Deutschland, Deutschland, overall, we live to see proud England fall, Prussian feet shall trample down, Britain's might and Britain's crown. Our all-highest Kaiser Lord, snatching up the German sword, shell by the power of his thrust, make Britain's people bite the dust, and all these streams of blood shall run to win our place under the sun. We'll never cease to burn and slay, until at last we see the day. Deutschland, Deutschland, overall, we live to see proud England fall. The notary now begged Miss Pym to describe what she has seen in the hamper, opened by her on the way to Aachen. She described the contents and repeated all she could remember of the letter, and was able to give the writer's name and address in Charlottenburg. After this some sweet wine was handed round in glasses, and Miss Pym turned to Captain Boyd, hoping they would now be able to motor back to headquarters. But Monsieur Le Maire, Rose, and with some ceremony informed Miss Pym and the officers that Dejeuner had been prepared for them at the house of the notary. The Dejeuner was a joint affair of the leading people of the village, given at the notary's house, because he had the largest salamance. Captain Boyd was restive, like most English officers, at the prospect of a meal amongst strangers. His knowledge of French was slight, and he was quite incapable of carrying on a sustained conversation. Miss Pym saw that he was going to refuse, so she hastened to assure the rather punctilious Maire that she accepted gladly for herself, and say Monsieur. All the village turned out to stare at the wonderful English going to Dejeuner at the notary's. The meal was excellent, cooked to perfection, and bottles of wine buried at the approach of the Germans were now produced, and the health of Miss Pym and the British Army was drunk with fervour. Miss Pym was introduced to a number of old Frenchmen and women who came in solemnly and sat down round the room, watching them as they ate, but taking no part at the festive board. The notary's wife, Madame Ribeau, told Miss Pym that an English woman at Valenciennes had saved many girls carried off by the Germans into the worst kind of slavery. Two of these girls had been taken from Ralchord, and not many days ago these girls had got home safe. The English woman had, so to speak, opened the cage door and bid them fly. Miss Pym blushed and was silent, for she was firmly resolved not to betray herself. At this juncture the Maire opportunely rose glass in hand, and proposed the toast of Great Britain and her king. After that he made a very flowery little speech, and called on Captain Boyd to respond. But this officer, with a malicious glint in his eyes, assured Monsieur Le Maire that Miss Pym was the only one of their party who knew French sufficiently well to make a speech. The Salomonchée, now inconveniently packed, became vociferous. Miss Pym was cheered, and the Maire's wife laughed noisily and nudged Miss Pym who felt quite alarmed. The Captain and the other officers, immensely amused, were just as insistent. Miss Pym felt that it would be best to try and say something. At all events she might still the clamour which put her nerves on edge. As she stood up, silence fell, that silence so alarming to a novice. She looked at the drawn, anxious faces all round her, faces of people who had been forced to live three years under the German heel, and who had suffered every sort of deprivation and humiliation. My friends began, Miss Pym timidly. I have seen enough in England and in France to realise what you have suffered. There is hardly a home in these countries which does not mourn for some beloved one. But you who have lived through these terrible years, cut off from France, under the cruel domination of the enemy, surely you have drunk the cup of bitterness to the dregs. Nevertheless you kept unwavering your faith in France and her ally, England. You believed in your deliverance, and it came to you, as it will come to the whole of France and Belgium, as it will come to the whole world, which was truly threatened by the wicked, arrogant Germans. This blessed deliverance extends to the future, which the allies will make secure against any recurrence of such an infamous, unprovoked war. America now has joined us. That great-hearted country is preparing to give the flower of her manhood, not only because America is friendly to France and sorry for France, but for a much bigger idea. She is going to fight for the freedom of the whole world. She gives her youth, her wealth, her energy, her very soul to this great cause. Whilst you were being tortured by the vile enemy, these great plans of deliverance were maturing. We are all groaning and travelling to that end, and the great dawn, I believe, is at hand. And your eyes shall behold the glory of the Lord, and your children, and your children's children, shall know a happy and abiding peace, one for them by the sons of France, by the dear, courageous English and American boys, and by the fiery, fearless Italians. Dear friends, I am proud to see France today. She has never been greater, never grander, and more entirely admirable. And we English are your brothers and sisters, henceforth and forever. Miss Pym sat down, feeling much shaken by her emotions, and agitated by her fear of breaking down. The cheers and bravows, however, quite reassured her. And again she turned to Captain Boyd, hoping they might slip away to the car at the chateau. Nothing loathed, Captain Boyd rose, and bowing to Miss Pym, the mayor and the assembled guests, said, Madame's and Monsieur's, Moponce-quilet-latam pour départir, Mons-chef-atan-moi-et-un-soudat-vous-à-vet-poudêtre-punctuel. Loud laughter and more applause greeted these brief remarks in impossible French of the bronzed young Englishman, and a procession was formed to escort them back to the chateau, the whole village forming up in fours. Miss Pym walked ahead on the arm of the mayor, who had begirt himself, with his treakler scarf of office, and advanced with much solemnity, almost goose-stepping. The officers walked behind Miss Pym, immensely amused at the whole proceeding. As they passed a small cottage, a young girl darted out, followed by her mother, and they threw themselves at Miss Pym's feet, lifting the hem of her skirt and kissing it. Miss Pym, much embarrassed, stooped to raise them. The whole procession stopped and closed round the mayor and Miss Pym. The woman could not explain herself for sobs, but the pretty, delicate girl of fifteen explained that she had recognized in Miss Pym her deliverer of Valenciennes. We only got back two days ago, Anne-Marie and myself. I was standing there when you passed. Anne-Marie is in bed with swollen feet. I believe all the girls escaped to their homes. We feared you had been killed. Anne-Marie said they would be sure to kill you. Our mothers thought we were dead, and their joy when they saw us was quite unbelievable. Anne-Marie's mother was also kissing Miss Pym's hands and weeping, and many women now began to cry, and Miss Pym was very near tears herself. The mayor saved the situation by seizing Miss Pym's arm, shouting, allons en font de la patrie. The crowd reformed, all singing the Marseillais, the two mothers joining at the top of their voices. This absurd procession only stopped at the Chateau gates. Miss Pym now breathless with trotting and laughing, her bonnet on one side, her crepe veils streaming behind her, was thankful to sink down in the car, and the mayor, begging Captain Boyd to wait a moment, dived into the Chateau, reappearing with a small parcel hastily wrapped in newspaper. A petit souvenir de Bosch, he said, putting it on Miss Pym's lap. And then, with hats off, bending low, these village-worthy's bade farewell to Miss Pym and the officers. When the curve of the road later brought them round to the front of the Chateau, Miss Pym could see the little group on the terrace, waving their arms and their hats. An awfully strenuous morning, Miss Pym, said Captain Boyd, putting on speed. Yes, it really was, but I wouldn't have missed it for anything. Carefully opening the parcel on her lap, she found the six little decapitated bodies of the dolls, and the six little china heads, like marbles. Even children's toys could not escape the savagery of the Germans. These must be kept in a glass case, labeled and dated, that generations to come may realize what manner of people they are, declared Miss Pym. On reaching the Hotel de la Poste, Miss Pym found that further excitements and emotions were in store. A letter from the Commander-in-Chief, in which he begged Miss Pym to hold herself in readiness on the morrow, to be presented to General Castagne, who came from the Commander-in-Chief of the French Army to present Miss Pym with a Croix de la Légion d'honneur. The ceremony would take place in the Place de la Mary at two o'clock. Sir Hugh Douglas hoped Miss Pym would make it convenient to be at the Mary at a quarter to two. Miss Pym felt quite faint at the prospect. Madame Dupont was most encouraging, and diverted Miss Pym's mind by commenting on her dress. The bullet holes must be darned. The Flanders mud must be washed out with petrol. Madame Waselle Pym must appear in Call me a faux mourning, and make as good an appearance as possible under the circumstances. The next day at a quarter to two, Miss Pym, in renovated garments, went timidly over to the Mary, accompanied by Madame Dupont in severe Sunday best. The Place de la Mary was beginning to fill. All around the soldiers were drawn up, and the civil population was pouring in from all the neighboring hamlets. At the Mary Miss Pym was greeted by the Commander-in-Chief, who looked very cheerful and friendly, and all the staff came round her eagerly. Allow me, Miss Pym, to present to you General Castaigne, said Sir Hugh. And Miss Pym looked up shyly into the face of an old French general, a lean wrinkled face, of the color of gingerbread, the darkness of the complexion, being enhanced by a large white moustache and close-cropped white hair. He bowed very low, and then jerked back as though pulled by a string. His black eyes searched Miss Pym's blue eyes, and looked them through. But in Croyab, what mademoiselle has done, she is bien hardy. He said, turning to Sir Hugh, Men and women, you English are prodigious, and this is the lady who got into Germany, interviewed the Kaiser and Hindenburg. Well, it is all very wonderful how you have the nerve to do it, passes me. Sir Douglas then drew the general aside, and the staff closed round Miss Pym. Now we really ought to hear something of this secret history. We are the initiated, you know. How did Kaiser Bill stand the fright, and Hindenburg, the Chief says old Hindenburg, spotted you were there, and when they caught you, you found you could not disappear. Some of the staff here won't believe you ever did disappear. They say we were all hypnotized by you. You couldn't hold a private séance at the hotel this evening. All the young officers talked at once. Miss Pym looked from one to the other, laughing. She was saved the trouble of replying, for at this juncture, the band struck up on the place. Partant pour la série, le beau et jeune d'une voix, Sir Hugh offered his arm to Miss Pym and led her to the entrance. There, on the top of the steps, she received a tremendous ovation. The English Tommies were enthusiastic and simply let themselves go. After Miss Pym came General Castaña's turn, they then ascended a little platform in the middle of the place. Sir Hugh made a short soldierly speech, introducing Miss Pym as a woman of great daring who had ventured into the enemy's country as secured important information, thereby saving an incalculable number of English and French lives. They had met there on a very great occasion to witness France doing signal honour to an English woman. General Castaña would now address them. The French General rose with a spring and made one of those brief exquisite speeches the peculiar gift of the Latin race, and then, turning to Miss Pym, he said, in a loud voice, Allow me, in the name of France, to pin this cross of the Legion of Honor over the heart of a noble and brave English woman. Miss Pym, pale and cold with emotion, stood facing the old Frenchman, who pinned the cross on her black jacket, and then gave her a resounding kiss on either cheek, on which the Tommies threw up their caps and began singing, For he's a jolly good fellow, and the French sang, Beaujure de Fette, Belle Marie, and the band played Tipperary. An aeroplane swooped low over the plass, and dropped great armfuls of roses over Miss Pym and the General. Miss Pym picked up a beautiful La France rose, and fastened it herself in the General's tunic, whose straight way embraced her again, and Miss Pym, redder than any rose, descended the platform on the arm of the Commander-in-Chief. At the door of the Mary she stopped and said, Sir Hugh, now tell me, when can I return to England? I knew you were eager to return, replied Sir Hugh. I have fixed everything up for tomorrow morning. A hospital ship crosses tomorrow afternoon. Being wounded, you are entitled to go on that ship. I will have a letter ready for you to take to Sir Robert Williamson. Carry that letter on you, in some safe place, and if I may address you as one of my own officers, report yourself at the War Office on arrival. Goodbye until tomorrow. The car will be ready for you at nine. Mon Dieu, what a beautiful day it has been, said Mère Dupont, carrying Miss Pym's bouquet, as they made their way to the Hotel de la Poste. Miss Pym, as she sank down in the faux tour, in her room overlooking the little kitchen garden, repeated to herself, Yes, what a beautiful, what a wonderful day. How blessed and privileged you have been, heard it of Pym. And then her thoughts turned to Koitsic, the brave German who understood his country's needs. Would he ever see the flaming dawn of liberty? As she gazed out, the sun majestically descended below the horizon, In a sea of crimson and gold, above the western sky was a flame, and even the purpling east caught a flush from the glory of that setting. Miss Pym sat there in meditation until night stole up and overwhelmed the last traces of the sun. End of Chapter 30 Chapter 31 of Miss Pym's Camouflage This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Miss Pym's Camouflage by Lady Dorothy Stanley. Chapter 31 At last, now for England and home, Miss Pym said to herself as she stepped on board the great hospital ship, Most of the wounded men were already lying in their white cots, thinking with joy of blighty. Miss Pym felt rather lonely. She had said good-bye to her kind escort after a delightful luncheon at a first-class restaurant. And here she was quite alone on this stately ship without a friend or acquaintance. Excuse me, but are you not Miss Pym? Said a pleasant voice. Miss Pym turned quickly and saw a lady in uniform with the red cross on her arm. I am the matron here. We have been expecting you ever so long. Indeed, my patients are becoming quite restive. The commander-in-chief telegraphed that you were crossing on our ship and that you are returning to England to receive the VC. Will you visit the men's board first? And then the officers? By the way, Captain Murcott is on board, and he wants you to have tea with him. Miss Pym was indeed delighted. Tell me, she asked, is Colonel Murcott very seriously injured? We are afraid that he must lose his left leg, above the knee, said the matron. But when that is done the doctors think he will completely recover. Of course the pain has been great and constant, but amputation will stop all that. And he will get quite strong again, we hope. All my cases this voyage promise well. The men were very eager to see Miss Pym. She stopped beside each cot and asked them about their wounds. They were very interested to see the quad on her. Ah, you are going to blighty for the Victoria Cross, said one boy with a bandaged head. I shall wear my decoration all my life, under the left eye. The matron then led Miss Pym to the officers' quarters. Some were lying flat, looking very pale, in very white cots. Others sat up with bandaged arms or bandaged heads. Miss Pym came to Colonel Murcott's bed, where he sat propped up with pillows, his leg covered by a cradle. Miss Pym would not have recognized the pale, drawn face and sunken eyes. Four days of acute suffering had left so deep an impress on that handsome countenance. My deliverer, at last, and a hot, nervous hand grasped hers. Now this is too wonderful, both going to blighty together. But for you, I should have been tortured and killed by the Germans. I am to have the privilege of giving you tea here, or rather you will give me tea whilst I look at your soothing face. Do you know? Seeing you has eased the pain already. Miss Pym, I believe I could write a good article on pain. Do you remember when last I saw you, I said that pain, once past, could not be remembered? Well, I think, I almost think, I shall remember this pain. I feel as though it could never be effaced. It has engaged my whole attention since it occurred. Since I was smashed up, it has been so insolent, so insistent, so damned German. Do you think pain like this can ever be forgotten? The one thing which relieves me is the thought of this leg coming off. I wish they had taken it off at the dressing-station. You see what this beastly business has reduced me to, talking of myself and this unpleasant subject of pain. I am really ashamed of myself. You must put it down to the fact that I am only half, no only a quarter, of my original self. I have lost my balance and small wonder. A one-legged chap hasn't much balance till he gets to crutches. But don't look so woe-begone. It doesn't suit you one bit. You are to look normal, to look your steady, calm, even self. And I shall feel better and better as I look at you. Ah, here's the tea and all manner of good things. Over the tea and toast, the jam and biscuits. Miss Pym told him her adventures, and really succeeded in diverting his mind from the aching nerves. Tell me now, said Colonel Mercott, smiling, how you got through to our trenches. Even invisible it must have been terribly risky. But I was not invisible, Miss Pym replied with a sigh as she recalled that awful experience. I think the bullet which grazed my neck somehow disturbed the particular adjustment or balance which enabled me to become invisible. Anyhow, the power has left me. Is it possible? exclaimed Colonel Mercott, clasping his hands. You crossed that ground visible, knowing you were a particularly good target. Really, your nerves must be of steel. You are truly amazing. Not a bit of it, said Miss Pym shaking her head. I was as frightened as a rabbit. But enough of Purdy to Pym. I want to hear many things about the future. Are you anything of a prophet? Yes, when I know, replied the Colonel, lighting a cigarette. Well, then, about the Americans. I have misgivings, said Miss Pym. Misgivings? Surely not about the American army. Why, as fighters, they are second to none in the world. And I know what I am talking about, said the Colonel, cropping himself on his elbow and talking eagerly. Now really, Miss Pym, have you ever read anything about the American Civil War? No, I thought not. But you have heard, of course, of Grant, Lee, Sherman, Stonewall, Jackson, and many others. I tell you those were men. If you look at photographs of the time, officers and men of the Northern and Southern armies, you cannot fail to be struck by the nobility and power depicted on those faces. The American soldier of today is every bit as splendid. Heavens, how I wish I could go back to the front and fight side by side with the Yanks. Misgivings, indeed, and the Colonel thumped his pillow. But they don't really like us, said Miss Pym hesitatingly. And you remember those lines beginning. I didn't raise my boy to be a soldier. That is not a war-like spirit. Colonel Murcott laughed and, with a twinkle in his eye, said, Miss Pym, don't you know that that was what the Kaiser said when he heard of Little Willie's successive defeats at Burdon? The true American feeling is shown in the revised version. It's time for every boy to be a soldier, to put his strength and courage to the test. It's time to place a musket on his shoulder and wrap the stars and stripes around his breast. It's time to shout those noble words of Lincoln and stand up for the land that gave you birth that the nation of the people by the people for the people shall not perish from the earth. As were the anti-English spirit in America. The Irish Americans and the German Americans are alone responsible. But this war is going to make us known to each other. The Americans are beginning to realize what that sort of Irish really are and what we British really are. We shall soon become blood brothers, as they say in Africa. At this juncture a nurse came down to say that the cliffs of England were in sight and that she must prepare her patient for the hospital train. I will write and tell you where I shall be, somewhere in London, and perhaps you will come and see me," said Colonel Murcott. Miss Pym assured him that she would pay him a weekly visit and they parted regretfully. Miss Pym went up on deck and saw the cliffs growing bigger and clearer. Beloved country, she whispered to herself, buttressed by those white walls, Dear England, it is for you all those glorious English boys are fighting and dying. And here Miss Pym's adventures end. We all know how she was acclaimed and honored in England, how she received the Victoria Cross from His Majesty King George V at Buckingham Palace in recognition of her great services to the country and the extraordinary courage she had shown. The newspapers were full of it. The only thing wanting was Miss Pym's portrait in the picture papers and reports of interviewers describing Froghurst Manor and Miss Pym at home, but she was of a modest and retiring disposition and refused to allow her kindly average face to appear in the papers or to grant interviews to flattering pressmen. True history would not be complete. Did I not mention that some ten days after her return Miss Pym read in the Times the following from the North German Gazette. The well-known Professor Koitsich, once a pronounced socialist, has just died at the front, recognizing the folly of his earlier views he threw up journalism. He was attached to the machine-gun corps. He chose it because he knew it was a weapon to Germany by Almighty God and the War Council to destroy the British in thousands. Indeed Professor Koitsich was so attached to his gun he could not be persuaded to leave it, but was found dead beside his well-loved gun in the very first line of trenches. The same day Miss Pym received a letter from the Foreign Office, Madam, we are requested by an agent of ours in Germany to send you the enclosed, which we decoded. Should you wish to send the writer of reply we shall be very pleased to transmit it. Miss Pym read the following Charming and accomplished lady, I knew by our prearranged signal that you had succeeded and I have heard since that you secured the correspondence and caused the most terrible commotion. You are a very wonderful woman. It seems a great pity that two such remarkable people as myself and yourself should live apart. Will you become my wife on the termination of this war? I have extensive lands in Silesia. I would spend six months of the year in your country and you would spend the other six months in my feudal castle. I lay my heart at your feet. Miss Pym smiled. She really could not help being amused. She wrote a short note to the Foreign Office acknowledging the receipt of the decoded letter and added, there is no reply. Leslie, of course, was delighted to have her aunt back. The wedding was to take place in a fortnight and there was much to think of and decide. Miss Pym was glad to find Leslie entirely taken up with her own affairs and so Auntie Peur escaped all awkward questions. Everyone says you were wonderful remarked Leslie, her head on one side, trying to decide which shade of blue sacks would suit her best for going away dress. But she continued, as I said to George, no one who really knew you could believe you would do anything wonderful. Now, if only George had been sent, what might he not have achieved? Backed as you were by the War Office, not counting the Commander-in-Chief himself, Auntie Peur, you can't deny it. You had phenomenal luck. But Miss Pym did not hear Leslie. She was listening to a voice. Was it her father's saying, Well done, my little Purdy to Pym, V.C. End of Chapter 31 End of Miss Pym's Camouflage