"I followed the Captain with me eye, gentlemen, and I'm blessed if he didn't walk straight across the open and over the support trench. Then he drops into a bit of a shell-hole and I lost sight of him. Well, I waited and waited and no sign of th' orficer. The rocket goes up and our lads begin to come back with half a dozen Huns runnin' in front of them with their hands up. Some of the chaps as they passed me wanted to know if I was a-goin' to stay there all night! And the Brigade buzzin' like mad to talk to the Captain.
"I sat in that blessed trench till everybody had cleared out.
Then, seeing as how not even the docket had brought th' orficer back, I sez to myself as how he must ha' stopped one. So I gets out of the trench and starts crawling across the top towards the place where I see the Captain disappear. As I got near the support line the ground went up a little and then dropped, so Igot a bit of a view on to the ground ahead. And then I sees the Captain here!"Buzzer Barling stopped. All had listened to his story with the deepest interest, especially Strangwise, who never took his eyes off the gunner's brown face. Some men are born story-tellers and there was a rugged picturesqueness about Barling's simple narrative which conjured up in the minds of his hearers the picture of the lonely signaller cowering in the abandoned trench among the freshly slain, waiting for the officer who never came back.
"It's not a nice thing to have to say about an orficer," the gunner presently continued, "and so help me God, gentlemen, Ikep' my mouth shut about it until... until..."He broke off and looked quickly at Desmond.
"Keep that until the end, Barling," said Desmond, "finish about the raid now!""Well, as I was sayin', gentlemen, I was up on a bit of hillock near Fritz's support line when I sees the Captain here. He was settin' all comfortable in a shell-hole, his glases in his hand, chattin' quite friendly like with two of the Gers. orficers, Ireckoned they was, along o' the silver lace on their collars. One was wearin' one o' them coal-scuttle helmets, t'other a little flat cap with a shiny peak. And the Captain here was a-pointin'
at our lines and a-wavin' his hand about like he was a-tellin'
the two Fritzes all about it, and the chap in the coal-scuttle hat was a-writin' it all down in a book."Barling paused. He was rather flushed and his eyes burned brightly in his weather-beaten face.
"Eighteen year I done in the Royal Regiment," he went on, and his voice trembled a little, "and me father a battery sergeant-major before me, and I never thought to see one of our orficers go over to the enemy. Fritz was beginnin' to come back to his front line:
I could see their coal-scuttle hats a-bobbin' up and down the communication trenches, so I crawled back the way I come and made a bolt for our lines.
"I meant to go straight to the B.C. post and report wot I seen to the Major. But I hadn't the heart to, gentlemen, when I was up against it. It was an awful charge to bring against an orficer, d'you see? I told myself I didn't know but what the Captain hadn't been taken prisoner and was makin' the best of it, w'en Isee him, stuffin' the Fritzes up with a lot o' lies. And so Ijes' reported as how th' orficer 'ad crawled out of the trench and never come back. And then this here murder happened..."Mr. Marigold turned to the Chief.
"If you remember, sir," he said, "I found this man's leave paper in the front garden of the Mackwayte's house at Laleham Villas, Seven Kings, the day after the murder. There are one or two questions I should like to put...""No need to arsk any questions," said Barling. "I'll tell you the whole story meself, mister. I was on leave at the time, due to go back to France the next afternoon. I'd been out spending the evenin' at my niece's wot's married and livin' out Seven Kings way. Me and her man wot works on the line kept it up a bit late what with yarnin' about the front an' that and it must a' been nigh on three o'clock w'en I left him to walk back to the Union Jack Club where I had a bed.
"There's a corfee-stall near their road and the night bein' crool damp I thought as how a nice cup o' corfee'd warm me up afore Iwent back to the Waterloo Bridge Road. I had me cup o' corfee and was jes' a-payin' the chap what has the pitch w'en a fellow passes by right in the light o' the lamp on the stall. It was th'
orficer here, in plain clothes--shabby-like he was dressed--but Iknew him at once.
"'Our orficers don't walk about these parts after midnight dressed like tramps,' I sez to meself, and rememberin' what Iseen at the Hohenlinden Trench I follows him...""Just a minute!"
The Chief's voice broke in upon the narrative.
