The silence was intense; they might have been away in the heart of the country, far from the rush and clamour of life. Had not Bob pa.s.sed through innumerable hordes of men, he would have thought himself in an uninhabited region.

A little clock on a kind of sideboard ticked distinctly, and as minute after minute pa.s.sed by, the ticking strangely affected his nerves. On his right hand and on his left, men on guard still stood silent, motionless.

Presently the lonely figure at the desk lifted his head and gave Bob a keen, searching glance. In so doing, although the young man was unable to distinguish any particular feature, he caught a glimpse of the face.

As far as he could judge, it was grave and deeply lined. He noticed, too, that the hair was grey, while over the temples it was nearly white.

But what impressed him most was the peculiar quality of the eyes--he did not remember ever having seen such eyes before; they were not large, neither was there anything particular in their colour--and yet, they held him like a magnet. Instinctively he knew that here was a master of men.

Those eyes which looked into his--not large, light, steely grey in colour--spoke of domination--of power; they seemed hard and glittering.

A second later he gave a nod to the officers on guard, whereupon they silently backed out of the apartment, leaving Bob alone with the grave, solitary figure at the desk.

CHAPTER XIX

"Your name is Robert Nancarrow?" The words came suddenly, not in the form of a question, but as an a.s.sertion.

The voice was light, almost thin; the eyes were the eyes of a commander; the face, to Bob, suggested weakness.

He spoke English almost as an Englishman might; there was scarcely the suggestion of a German accent.

"Yes, sir," was Bob's reply.

"You are under General Fortescue, and to-night were placed on outpost duty. By your quick, decisive action you gave your men alarm and frustrated the plans of those you call your enemy?"

"I'm very proud to think so, sir," replied Bob.

Again those piercing eyes rested on him. Bob felt a shiver run down his spine as he saw them. Evidently the man at the desk was reading him like an open book; he was estimating his quality--his position.

"You wear a lieutenant's uniform, I see?"

"Yes, sir."

"Were you trained as a soldier?"

"No, sir."

"How long have you been in the Army?"

"Only a few weeks, sir."

"And yet they made you a lieutenant?" and the suggestion of a smile pa.s.sed his lips--a smile that was almost a sneer.

"You may know, sir," said Bob, "that in England we have what is called an 'Officers Training Corps'; men who join that corps do not necessarily go into the Army, but they join it so that in time of need officers may be forthcoming. When I was at school at Clifton, I joined the Officers' Training Corps, and qualified. That accounts for what would seem a rapid promotion."

"I see; and you come from what is called a good family in England, I suppose?"

"I can claim to have that honour, sir," and again the lonely figure was silent, and appeared to be reexamining the papers before him. His face was still in the shade, but, as far as Bob could judge, he appeared to be thinking deeply. "Who is he, and what does he want with me, I wonder?" he reflected. "I am n.o.body; why have I been treated in this wonderful fashion?"

"You Englishmen think you are winning in this war, I suppose?"

Again the words came suddenly, and still in the same, almost light, weak voice.

"We do not think, sir--we are sure."

"Ah, how? why?"

For a moment Bob felt afraid to speak; the silence of the room, save for the ticking of the little clock, and the occasional rustle of papers, together with the experiences through which he had been pa.s.sing, almost unnerved him; besides, there was something uncanny, almost ghostly, about the silent, lonely figure there.

"You would have me speak freely, sir?"

"I command you to do so."

"We shall win, sir, because G.o.d is always on the side of right."

"G.o.d! Do you believe in G.o.d?"

"I believe in nothing else so much."

"Right! Then you think you are in the right?"

"What doubt can there be? We stand for liberty against tyranny; for faithfulness to our promises; but, more than all, we stand for peace against war,--that is why G.o.d will be on our side."

Again the lonely figure looked at Bob intently; the young man's words seemed to have caused him some surprise.

"Nonsense!" he said presently. "I suppose you are thinking of the Belgian Treaty? What do you English care about the Belgian Treaty?"

"Enough to risk our very existence, sir."

"Come, tell me frankly--of course, you cannot speak for your statesmen--but do you know anything of the English people as a whole?

I was informed just now that you seemed intelligent; perhaps you are.

It will be interesting to hear what you regard as the general feeling in England about this war."

"The English hate it, sir--hate it as they hate the devil; they think it is the greatest crime in history. The English are a peace-loving people; they want only peace."

"Ah, then they hate this war?"

"Bitterly."

"And, as a consequence, they do not support it."

"On the contrary, sir, never was so much enthusiasm shown about any war in the history of the nation as is shown about this."

"And yet they hate it. Why then are they enthusiastic?"

"Because they believe it to be war against war; against the spirit of war; against the doctrines that might is right, and that force is the will of G.o.d."