SOWING GLORY.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXVIII, Issue 21068, 30 December 1931, Page 15

SOWING GLORY.

By P. C. WREN. Author of "The Young Stager," "Dew and Mildew," "Father Gregory," " The Wages of Virtue." " Beau Ideal." etc., etc.

A MOST ENTERTAINING AND INTERESTING SERIAL.

BOOK 11. CHAPTER VI. —(Continued). * After ' retreat,' and the hauling down the Hag at sunset, I went into my hut, flung my 'kepi' on the table, sat down, and wondered how many times more I could bear to do just those things. " I buried my face in my hands and groaned. . . And, when I looked up, j tell you I looked hard, and rubbed jnv eyes, and looked again. •' For there, standing on the other side of my table, not ten feet away from me, 8S plain as any one of you, and ' le bon pieu' knows you're plain enough—was m an whom I did not know. "He was an absolute stranger. Neither one °f n\v garrison, nor a man whom I had evei seen before. " ' How the devil has he got here ?' I wondered. 'He can't have crossed the desert alone. Why was there no "Alerte" when his party was sighted? . . .' Ent, then, again, * How did he get into this room'!" I asked myself. ' For he wasn't there when I entered, and the idoor certainly hasn't been opened since [ gat down.' " And in the same second that these, thoughts ftoshed through my mind, I realised that, he was an ' adjudant,' and, gpringing to my feet, I saluted. "'Pardon, mon adjudant,' I said, and stared at him. "He was a rattier queer-looking chap; tall and thin; with a' gaunt, narrow face; g longish nose, that had been broken and turned slightly to one side; a forked beard; and, more noticeable than any of these things, a damaged eye. I wondered whether he could see out of it. It was half-closed, and like his nose, turned to one side. " There was a big scar above it, and I observed as I stared at him, that this was the same scar that crossed his nose. He'd had a frightful whack at some time or other. " And while I stared at him, he stared a t, me —and, he being my superior officer, I waited for him to speak first. "Well, he didn't .speak first; nor yet 6econd.

" He merely gazed at me with the utmost intentners, as though he had so much to say that he couldn't say it. " Well, that wa's his affair. I'd done the correct thing—apologised for not seeing him, and stood to attention. . . . And the next move was up to him.

" By and by I grew aware of three things. " First, that this was getting uncomfortable; second, that if he didn't soon say something I should have to, or else seem impudent; and, thirdly, that he was no longer there. " What do you think of that, ' mes amis ? ' I tell you that I sat down on that chair quicker than I had got up, and that had been quicker thafi lightning.

" I was the most puzzled man in the French Army, and that is saying something. . • ■' Aud then, for awhile, I felt rather queer. I had seen an ' adjudant ' of the Legion—complete to the last button, a real man, mark you, scar, damaged eye and all—where there was no adjudant ' of the Legion.

" He had appeared in iny room, and he had disappeared in my room. . . . " I was seeing things. . . .

"I, Aristide Cocteau, sober-drinking, hard-working, respected and responsible

sergeant of the Legion. - . • Seeing things. . . . " \Vas I also to become a crab, and wave six legs in 'the air while J fed myself with my claws?

" No. " Springing to my feet, I threw open my door and let a roar that roused four corporals and thirty-seven men, a large assortment of whom came running. *' ' Why wasn't I. called? I bawled at Corporal Anton, when he stood at the salute in front of me. " ' For what, rfion Sergeant ?' he asked, obviously puzzled. ' I don't understand.' " And it occurred to me that if I were going to see things, or become a crab, the less that was known about it in Fort Vigaud the better for the health and discipline of that salubrious spot. " ' Weren't the gates opened just now ?' I bawled. , " '• But no, mon Sergeant, Why 7

"' I thought I heard something out there,' I said, realising that I must be careful.

" ' No, mon sergeant. Nothing. . . . Brunelli was bawling in the cells that he wanted a litre of wine and a roast chicken , . . But I went in and—er—soothed him. .

"I went the rounds. Then I paraded every man in the ' poste,' and, while they stood at attention, I made a tour of inspection of the whole place. I don't know why, nor what I expected to find. But I just felt like .it. I was very upset. . . . There was a man in the ' poste ' •whose -face I had never seen before —and I didn't like his .habits. . . . He came and went too suddenly for my comfort. . ■ • And I was both puzzled and worried. " Well wouldn't our Commandant here be, if he suddenly taw a stranger in his room this evening; a superior officer whom he didn't know, and who vanished I while he stared a't him —and no miserable herring gutted ghost that he could see through, either, but a proper man, with ! forked beard, a scar, a swivel-eye and ; two decorations? Wouldn't he? "Next day I should think ' les legion--1 naires ' must have thought I d got news that we were going to be attacked, or i else that I'd got 'le cafard ' in a i funny form, for I kept them fairly on the jump. | "Of course I'd heard of 'legionnaires dressing up and playing tricks, often enough I expect even you youngsters have heard of Meier and Rosenbach who ' went 'on pump,' and came back a, few \ days later, correctly dressed as Pomeranian Grenadiers of the Eighteenth Century? Rosenbach had been a tailor, and I they'd cut their uniforms about until jj * they'd got them pretty correct. The guard nearly fainted when they saw two : of Frederick the Great's men marching ji up to the gate. ' . [i "... But as I kept telling myself, if i some rogue—whq'd been an actor, say l| —could make his face up so that I !j didn't recognise him, and had faked up jf an adjudant's badge of rank, how could he suddenly appear in my hut like that . | And, what was more interesting, how I could he suddenly disappear, while I was ji staring »t him ? | " But then, as 1 told myself again, People don't appear and disappear belt' fore your eyes like that. It's all non- - sense. I must be going dotty. A plain |i- c ase of I le cafard,' and I must watch ®yself. No playing crabs for me—with * f6rt and forty-one men on my hands. 5 " Nevertheless I left no stone unturned, I though there were precious Jew stones I to turn m Fort.'Vigaud. And when I i| Razed upon the foolish faces of four | corporals, and those thirty-seven rascally I 'legionnaires,' I knew in my bones that | lot one of them, be he the cleverest ||; ®etor from Paris, could have got himself I to look like that man who had apfeared to me in my room.

(COPTRIGET.)

After giving them all such a busy day thai three of them found themselves in cells for thinking it was too busy, I followed by regular routine and after the au drapeau ' salute, I went into my room as usual

Closing the door, I seated myself in my chair and looked round the room. No chance of anyone hiding there, and stepping out from concealment to play a trick on me. There, was nothing in that room but myself; the chair and the table; a small locked box containing papers; a pair of camel-bags; my bed, under which I could see; and the shelf above it, upon which were folded my spare uniforms. Nothing in the room but rjust that and my ' bidon, musette,' and so on, hanging from nails. " There, couldn't be a dog hidden in the room, much less a man. And there he was. "He was standing exactly where he had stood the night before, an ' Adjudant of the Legion, with a scarred face, damaged left eye, forked beard, and two decorations. And with the same curious look or expression on his face—anxioufc and troubled—something like a dumb man with a frightful lot to say. "I am not good at words, but there, is one that expresses it. How shall I say? . . . Yearning? . . Yes . . . that, perhaps, is as good as another. " Well, there was I, and there was Monsieur I'Adjudant, and from f?heer force of habit—or is it instinct—l sprang to my feet, saluted, and stood at attention " ' Bon soir, mon Adjudant,' I said, respectfully, and then I felt foolish and very cold, and a little afraid. For, stare at him as I might; examine him as I would; he was not one of my men dressed up. He was an Adjudant of the Legion in a place where there was no Adjudant of the Legion—not within a hundred miles. And supposing, just supposing, there had been a visiting patrol, an Inspector Officer, or new man come to take over command, would he have come alone across two hundred kilometres of desert ? " Would no sentry have uttered a sound ? Would he have been admitted silently to the fort? Would he have appeared before me suddenly, through a closed door or a barred window high up in the wall ? "No! And there he stood. And there I stood. " 1 tried to speak again, but somehow, do you know, mes amis, I was not very fluent . . . nor very ready-witted. " ' rfas Monsieur l'Adjudant come to take over command V I stammered, when I couldn't bear the staring silence any longer. " He made no reply. " Taking my eyes from his face for a moment, I drew my chair to one side. " ' Will you be seated, mon Adjudant ?' I said, and looked up to discover that he wouldn't, for he was no longer there. . . . "Now how would you feel, mes en-fant-s, if, looking clown, at this moment, you perceived that you had no feet, that your legs ended at the knees ? Difficult to describe, hein ? Well, that's how I felt. And it certairly is difficult to describe. ...

" However, I was out of that room in a flash, and round that ' poste ' at a gallop. It would have been a dark and dismal dav for any man I d seen wearing a crooked nose, scarred face, swivel eye and a forked beard —not to mention an * adjudant's ' uniform. " It would very probably have been his last day, too. But I found no such person. " I found four inefficient corporals and thirty-seven worthless ' legionnaires, of whom five were in the cells —one of them. Brunelli, crawling on as many of his six legs as would function, while with his claws he sought for food upon nis ocean bed.

" No, this vanishing adjudarit performance was no trick of a ' cafard stricken ' legionnaire,' even had thing been possible. . . . " And then an idea occurred to me—a reasonablv foolish one, I admit.

" Supposing they'd sent a new Commanding Officer—and Adjudant—from the base at Oued-el-Kebir, and, on the way, what with a touch of the sun and a shortage of water —he had got a little more than a touch of ' le cafard ' himself ? " Or, while one was about it, suppose he'd been lost for a week or two in the sand-dunes, and had gone hopelessly and incurably mad, as some folk do in those circumstances. . t " And suppose he'd arrived at ' siesta time, when I and everybody else except the sentries were asleep; and had ridden up to the sentry at the gate, and, as his superior officer, had ordered him to admit him and say nothing. " And then suppose he was hiding in the fort, and spying on my conduct as temporary Commandant. , "Yes," said I, "and suppose my grandmother were the Minister for War, what an i.mprovement there would be, not only in my prospects, but in> the general management of the military affairs of France."

" Suppose and suppose. ... " And even admitting that this theory of a ' cafard ' stricken adjudant was for one moment tenable, fcow could he appear and disappear like a thrice-accursed jack-in-the-box? , -\nd I shrugged my shoulders, and told * mvself that, if he" appeared to me again, I'd see whether a bullet from my revolver would do him any good. " And then, ' Yes, Aristide Cocteau, I said to myself, ' yes, and a pretty state of affairs that will be, wont it? When the acting-Commandant of Fort Vigaud not only sees things, but staitS shooting them up! .... They'd say, at Headquarters, that what I saw was pirtk rats, the illegitimate offspring of my brain and absinthe. And reduce me to the ranks once more. " No, that would no£ do. I must face the fact, and face it alone—that I was haunted. Haunted by the ghost of some dead adjudant who had died of his wounds in that very room. Or more likely been murdered there by his own was I, alone, being haunted by him ? Might not some of the others have seen this apparition? I must find out. Shouldn't I look a fool, though, saying to that fatheaded calf of a Corporal Schmidt: «• « Ei—by the way, corporal, havo you noticed the ghost of an adjudant of the Legion promenading himself, at all Among other things he wear? a forked beard, a scar, one eye and two decorations.' " Wouldn't the news go round pretty quickly that Sergeant Cocteau had got ' lo cafard ' ?' "No better idea. I wouldn tdo that. I'd ask each of the corporals, casually, if he knew Adjudant Somebody who was killed here in Fort Vigaud. I d pretend I'd forgotten his name for the moment, but knew him so well that I could describe him quite fully. Then, if one of them had seen this ghost he would surely say so. "Yes, undoubtedly he would say: " ' Why, that description tallies exactly with the man I thought I saw last night. (To be continued daily.)