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Updated: May 4, 2025
Only yesterday, in want of occupation, as she thought, she had cleaned the chimney and trimmed the wick. It seemed as if Lanny's fingers were lighting it now; as if he were leading the way as he had on her first visit to the telephone. After her hastening steps had carried her along the tunnel to the telephone, she set down the lantern and pressed the spring that opened the panel door.
What about old Lanny's chosen men of the air, without boasts or oaths, offering their lives in no wild charge, but coolly, hand on lever, concentratedly, scientifically, in sane, twentieth-century fashion, just to keep our positions secret! Now now for it!"
The Grays would find themselves in the trap of Partow's and Lanny's planning. Turning her back to the range for the moment, she saw the twinkle of the lights of the town and the threads of light of the wagon-trains and the sweep of the lights of the railroad trains on the plain; while in the foreground every window of the house was ablaze, like some factory on a busy night shift.
In her ears were the haunting calmness and contained force of Lanstron's voice over the telephone. She was pleased to think that she had not lost her temper in her talk with the staff-officer. No, she had not flared once in indignation. It was as if she had absorbed some of Lanny's own self-control. Lanny would approve of her in that scene with an officer of the Grays.
An orderly despatched to the chief of intelligence with the news returned with the order: "Drop everything and report to me in person at once." "For this I have made my sacrifice!" Marta thought. "The killing goes on by Lanny's orders, not by Westerling's, this time."
The upper part of the town, which the Browns still held, was in darkness; the lower part, where the Grays were, was illuminated. "Another one of Lanny's plans!" thought Marta. "He would have them work in the light, while we fire out of obscurity!" Soon all the town was in darkness, for the Grays had cut the wire in the main conduit shortly after she had heard the groans of the wounded man.
Her revulsion at the bald statement was relieved by the memory of Lanny's word over the telephone after breakfast that the Browns had lost only five thousand. Four to one was a wide ratio, she was thinking. "Then the end then peace is so much the nearer?" she asked. "Very much nearer!" he answered earnestly, as he dropped on the bench beside her.
Its tone was Lanny's, in the old days of their comradeship. It gave her strength. All true! "Yes, an end a speedy end!" said Westerling with a fine, inflexible emphasis. "That is your prayer and mine and the prayer of all lovers of humanity." "He is not thinking of humanity, but of individual victory!" whispered another voice, which had the mellow tone of Hugo Mallin's deliberate wisdom.
He aimed to smile soothingly in the helplessness of man in presence of feminine fury. "It is an old custom," he was saying, but she had turned away. "Picking flowers! What mockery! Lanny's plan mow them down! mow them down! mow them down!" she went on, more to herself than to him, as she dropped the chrysanthemums on the veranda table.
"Frontier closed last night to prevent intelligence about our preparations leaking out Lanny's plan all alive the guns coming," he went on, his shoulders stiffening, his chin drawing in, his features resolute and beaming with the ardor of youth in action "troops moving here and there to their places engineers preparing the defences automatics at critical points with the infantry field-wires laid field-telephones set up the wireless spitting the caissons full planes and dirigibles ready search-lights in position"
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