Part 27 (1/2)

”If you'll pardon my curiosity,” he said, ”I should like to ask--”

I saw that I should be obliged to tell him who I was in the end. I told him at once, adding that I was a person of no importance whatever, and that I had no views of any kind on what he would no doubt want to call ”the situation.”

”May I ask you one question?” he said. ”Is Lord Moyne going to take the chair to-morrow?”

”Yes,” I said, ”he is. But if you're going to print what I say in any paper I won't speak another word.”

”As a matter of fact,” he said, ”the wires are blocked. There's a man in the post office writing as hard as he can and handing one sheet after another across the counter as quick as he can write them. n.o.body else can send anything.”

”c.l.i.thering, I expect.”

”Very likely. Seems to fancy himself a bit, whoever he is. n.o.body else can get a message through.”

He seemed an agreeable young man. Moyne had probably gone to bed and I did not want to spend a lonely evening.

”Have a gla.s.s of claret,” I said.

He sat down and poured himself off half a tumbler-full. Then it struck him that he owed me some return for my hospitality.

”My name,” he said, ”is Bland. I was with Roberts' column in the Orange Free State.”

”Ah!” I said. ”A war correspondent.”

”I did the Greek War, too,” he said. ”A poor affair, very. Looks to me as if you were going to do better here. But it's a curious situation.”

”Very,” I said, ”and most unpleasant.”

”From my point of view,” said Bland, ”it's most interesting. The usual thing is for one army to clear out of a town before the other comes in or else to surrender after a regular siege. But here--”

”I'm afraid,” I said, ”that our proceedings are frightfully irregular.”

”None the worse for that,” said Bland kindly. ”But they _are_ a bit peculiar. I've read up quite a lot of military history and I don't recollect a single case in which two hostile armies patrolled the streets of the same city without firing a shot at one another. By the way, have you been out?”

”Not since this afternoon,” I said.

”It would be quite worth your while to take a stroll round,” said Bland. ”There's not the slightest risk and you may never have a chance of seeing anything like it again.”

I quite agreed with Bland. The odds are, I suppose, thousands to one against my ever again seeing two hostile armies walking up and down opposite sides of the street. I got my hat and we went out together.

We were almost immediately stopped by a body of lancers. Their leader asked us who we were and where we were going.

”Press correspondents,” said Bland, ”on our way to the telegraph office.”

This impressed the officer. He allowed us to go on without ordering his men to impale us. I was glad of this. I am not particularly afraid of being killed, but I would rather meet my end by a sword cut or a bullet than by a lance. I should feel like a wild pig if a lancer speared me. No one could die with dignity and self-respect if he felt like a wild pig while he was pa.s.sing away.

”In ordinary wars,” said Bland, ”the best thing to say is that you are a doctor attached to the Ambulance Corps. But that's no use here.

These fellows don't want doctors!”

Then we met a party of volunteers. They stopped us too, and challenged us very sternly. Bland gave his answer. This time it did not prove wholly satisfactory.