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Updated: May 16, 2025
Helen explained, clapping her hands. "Philippa and I will have a new interest in life to make you fat." He laughed. "It won't be very difficult," he promised them. "I had several months of semi-starvation before the miracle happened. It was all just the chance of having had a pal up at Magdalen who's been serving in the German Army Bertram Maderstrom was his name. You remember him, Philippa?
"Maderstrom," he said, "we met last under different circumstances. I will admit that I cut a poor figure, but mine was at least an honourable imprisonment. I am not so sure that yours is an honourable freedom." Philippa laid her hand upon her brother's arm. "Dick, dear, do remember that they were starving you to death!" she begged. "You would never have lived through it," Helen echoed.
You, Lady Cranston, chafing and scolding your husband by night and by day because he isn't where you think he ought to be; you, so patriotic that you cannot bear the sight of him out of uniform; you the hostess, the befriender, the God knows what of Bertram Maderstrom! It will be a pretty tale when it's all told!"
"Be a sensible fellow, Maderstrom," Sir Henry said. "Remember that you can't do yourself or your adopted country a ha'porth of good by playing the Quixote." "Besides," Philippa continued, holding his hands tightly, "it is, after all, only an exchange. You have saved Henry's life, set Richard free, and brought us happiness. Why should you hesitate to accept your own liberty?"
Hamar Lessingham might provoke less comment." "Maderstrom," Philippa repeated. "You were at Magdalen with my brother." "For three terms," he assented. "You have visited at Wood Norton. It was only an accident, then, that I did not meet you." "It is true," he answered, with a bow. "I received the most charming hospitality there from your father and mother."
The conversation, never without its emotional tendencies, at once changed its character. Philippa, cold and reserved, with a threat lurking all the time in her tone and manner, became its guiding spirit. "We may enquire your name?" she asked. "I am the Baron Maderstrom," was the prompt reply. "For the purpose of my brief residence in this country, however, I fancy that the name of Mr.
"I'm hanged if I can see through this!" "You see," Lessingham explained gently. "I am a fatalist!" It was Helen who finally led her lover from the room. He looked back from the door. "Maderstrom," he said, "you know quite well how personally I feel towards you. I am grateful for what you have done for me, even though I am beginning to understand your motives.
For a few brief seconds no one seemed inclined to take upon themselves the onus of speech. Richard's amazement seemed to increase upon reflection. "Maderstrom!" he exclaimed. "Bertram! What in the name of all that's diabolical are you doing here?" "I am just a derelict," Lessingham explained, with a faint smile. "Glad to see you, Richard. You are a day earlier than I expected."
"I forgot that you enjoyed that sort of thing." "Once more, don't be a cat," Philippa enjoined. "If you want me to confess it, I will own up at once. You know what a simple little thing I am. I admire Mr. Lessingham exceedingly, and I find him a most interesting companion." "You mean," her friend observed drily "the Baron Maderstrom." Philippa looked around and frowned.
"Perfectly. I shall return by the afternoon train," was the despairing reply. "If you succeed," Hayter continued, "I shall see that you get the usual acknowledgment, but I will, if you wish it, ask for your transfer to another branch of the service. I am not questioning your patriotism or your honour, Maderstrom, but you are not the man for this work." "You are right," Lessingham said. "I am not."
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