Part 18 (1/2)

”I didn't mean that,” replied the colonel. ”I mean this Waterman business is not at an end yet.”

”No, sir,” said Tom, ”of course you will shoot him.”

”He deserves a worse death than that,” replied the Colonel grimly, ”but you will have to give evidence against him.”

”Yes, sir,” replied Tom.

”Will you be well enough to come to-morrow night?”

”Yes, sir.”

The Colonel knew he was not acting according to strict regimental rules and regulations in speaking to a private in this fas.h.i.+on, but it was no ordinary case, and Colonel Blount was not a man to be tied down to military etiquette. Private though Tom Pollard was, he had rendered, as he had said, a signal service, not only to the Army, but to the British Nation.

The next evening Tom found himself in a large room amongst a number of officers, and standing at one corner, carefully guarded, was Waterman.

CHAPTER IX

The evidence against Waterman was so clear, so overwhelming, that there was not the slightest doubt about the verdict which would be pa.s.sed upon him. He had been caught practically red-handed in his deed of treachery; but this was not all. Tom Pollard's action had led to a number of other facts coming to light. He had by many cunning devices been in communication with the enemy; he had constantly made known the plans which he had learnt at the Divisional Headquarters, and had thus prepared the Germans for many of the attacks which we had made.

Tom could not help being impressed by the fact that even although Waterman's guilt was as clear as daylight, it was the evident desire of those who tried him to act fairly, and even generously, towards him.

Everything that could be said in his favour was carefully listened to, and noted; and on the faces of more than one present was a look of concern almost amounting to pain. This, however, did not hide the truth that every man regarded him with horror, almost amounting to loathing. They respected an enemy who fought openly and fairly, but for a man who was a staff officer in the British Army and who consequently learnt many of the plans of that Army; for a man who had taken the oath to be faithful to his King and Country, and yet to act as he had acted, was ignominy too vile for expression.

But Waterman seemed to have no shame, no sense of guilt; he uttered no word of regret, but stood erect and almost motionless. His face was hard and set, in his eyes was a steely glitter; it seemed as though he defied his judges to do their worst, and to mock at their evident disgust.

Tom gave his evidence clearly, and without any waste of words.

”You knew him before you went into the Army, then?”

”Yes, sir,” replied Tom.

”Tell us where.”

Whereupon Tom told of Waterman's a.s.sociation with him in Brunford, and of the conversations he had had with the prisoner.

”I didn't quite understand at the time,” said Tom, ”why he seemed so sure of the Germans getting the best of it. He seemed to be glad when he told me of the tremendous strength of the German army, and the preparations they had made. He said he had been to Germany to school, and had lived there a long time; that was how he came to know so much about it. I could never quite make it out how an Englishman who loved his country could be so sure that the Germans would win. Besides, he didn't talk about it as though it would be a calamity, but something he would be proud of; but I don't know that I thought much of it at the time, especially when he told me he was going to receive a commission in our Army; but later on, when I found out the Germans knew what we were going to do, I wondered how they'd found out, and that led me to put one thing to another.”

This was not strict evidence, and the officers knew it, but they allowed Tom to tell his story his own way.

”That was why I determined to watch him,” went on Tom, ”and--well, sir, that was how things turned out as they did.”

When Tom's evidence came to an end he was told to retire. The lad was sorely grieved at this, because he would have liked to remain to the end; but after all, he was only a private, and he was there simply to give his evidence.

”Shooting's too good for him,” thought Tom as he left the room. ”What a look he did give me! If a look could murder a man I should not be alive now!”

”Now then,” said the President to Waterman, when Tom had gone, ”what have you got to say for yourself?”

”Nothing,” replied Waterman. He was no longer respectful or polite.

His every word suggested insolence.