"And if I hadn't been?"

"Gone on somewhere else, I suppose."

Jack tried to help himself to a whisky and soda, but the soda flew out all over his shirt-front like a fountain, and he was forced to make a small remark. Then he made another.

"What about prison?"

Frank smiled.

"Oh! I've almost forgotten that. It was beastly at the time, though."

"And ... and the Major and the work! Lord! Frank, you do tell a story badly."

He smiled again much more completely.

"I'm too busy inside," he said. "Those things don't seem to matter much, somehow."

"Inside? What the deuce do you mean?"

Frank made a tiny deprecating gesture.

"Well, what it's all about, you know ... Jack."

"Yes."

"It's a frightfully priggish thing to say, but I'm extraordinarily interested as to what's going to happen next--inside, I mean. At least, sometimes; and then at other times I don't care a hang."

Jack looked bewildered, and said so tersely. Frank leaned forward a little.

"It's like this, you see. Something or other has taken me in hand: I'm blessed if I know what. All these things don't happen one on the top of the other just by a fluke. There's something going on, and I want to know what it is. And I suppose something's going to happen soon."

"For G.o.d's sake do say what you mean!"

"I can't more than that. I tell you I don't know. I only wish somebody could tell me."

"But what does it all amount to? What are you going to do next?"

"Oh! I know that all right. I'm going to join the Major and Gertie again."

"Frank!"

"Yes?... No, not a word, please. You promised you wouldn't. I'm going to join those two again and see what happens."

"But why?"

"That's my job. I know that much. I've got to get that girl back to her people again. She's not his wife, you know."

"But what the devil--"

"It seems to me to matter a good deal. Oh! she's a thoroughly stupid girl, and he's a proper cad; but that doesn't matter. It's got to be done; or, rather, I've got to try to do it. I daresay I shan't succeed, but that, again, doesn't matter. I've got to do my job, and then we'll see."

Jack threw up his hands.

"You're cracked!" he said.

"I daresay," said Frank solemnly.

There was a pause. It seemed to Jack that the whole thing must be a dream. This simply wasn't Frank at all. The wild idea came to him that the man who sat before him with Frank's features was some kind of changeling. Mentally he shook himself.

"And what about Jenny?" he said.

Frank sat perfectly silent and still for an instant. Then he spoke without heat.

"I'm not quite sure," he said. "Sometimes I'd like to ... well, to make her a little speech about what she's done, and sometimes I'd like to crawl to her and kiss her feet--but both those things are when I'm feeling bad. On the whole, I think--though I'm not sure--that is not my business any more; in fact, I'm pretty sure it's not. It's part of the whole campaign and out of my hands. It's no good talking about that any more. So please don't, Jack."

"One question?"

"Well?"

"Have you written to her or sent her a message?"

"No."

"And I want to say one other thing. I don't think it's against the bargain."

"Well?"

"Will you take five hundred pounds and go out to the colonies?"

Frank looked up with an amused smile.

"No, I won't--thanks very much.... Am I in such disgrace as all that, then?"

"You know I don't mean that," said Jack quietly.

"No, old chap. I oughtn't to have said that. I'm sorry."

Jack waved a hand.

"I thought perhaps you'd loathe England, and would like--And you don't seem absolutely bursting with pride, you know."

"Honestly, I don't think I am," said Frank. "But England suits me very well--and there are the other two, you know. But I'll tell you one thing you could do for me."

"Yes?"

"Pay those extra bills. I don't think they're much."

"That's all right," said Jack. "And you really mean to go on with it all?"