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I have the honour to enclose herewith a sketch-plan of the village and the disposition of General Brounckers' laager. Trusting you may find it useful, "I have the honour to be, "On Secret Service, "Yours most obediently, "H. WRYNCHE." The sarcastic P. Blinders had appended an italicised comment: "His Honour considers the above sketch-plan remarkably faithful.
He took leave soon after, and went to his own quarters with the D.A.A.G., while her ladyship, with infinite relief, getting rid of her feminine guests, repaired with Captain Bingham Wrynche, familiarly known to a wide circle of friends as "Bingo," and several chosen spirits to the billiard-room, for snooker-pool, and whisky-and-soda.
"Never felt less inclined to be funny in my life. 'Pon my word, I assure you!" asseverates Bingo. "You're simply a bundle of irritable nerves, my dear chap, and that's the truth." "You wouldn't wonder if you knew ... Oh, damn it, Wrynche!" the young voice breaks in a miserable sob "I'm so thundering miserable.
Upon the second bed sits a big and stoutish man, whose large face, not pink just now, is hidden in his thick, quivering hands. It is Captain Bingo Wrynche, heavy Dragoon, and honest, single-hearted gentleman, to whom belongs the blown and muddy charger drooping in the loose-box outside. The telephone has summoned him in haste from Hotchkiss Outpost North, to see the last of a friend.
It had been Saxham's wish that Lady Hannah and Major Wrynche should be his wife's guests at Plas Bendigaid.
The card of Major Bingham Wrynche, C.B., was brought to Saxham one morning, as, his early-calling patients seen and dismissed, the Doctor was going out to his waiting motor-brougham. Bingo, following what he was prone to call his pasteboard, presented himself a large, cool, well-bred, if rather stupid-looking, man, arrayed in excellently-fitting clothes, saying: "You were goin' out?
Then she shrugged her shoulders, and rang up the Head Hospital, North Veld Road. "Who you-e?" It was the sing-song voice of the Barala hall-boy. "I'm Lady Hannah Wrynche. Is the Reverend Mother on duty in the wards to-day?" "I go see. You hang-e on." Lady Hannah hung on until her small remaining stock of patience deserted her.
"It never does take long, by Gad!" agrees Captain Bingo with fervour, "to do any of the things that can't be undone again." "Undone ...!" Beauvayse sits up suddenly and turns his miserable, beautiful, defiant eyes full on the large, perturbed face of his listener. "Wrynche, Wrynche! I've felt I'd gladly give my soul to be able to undo it, ever since I first set eyes on Lynette Mildare!"
This last communication proved a puzzling one. "You there?" "I am Lady Hannah Wrynche. Where are you?" There was a brief hesitation. A thickish man's voice said: "I don't know as that matters." "Who are you?" There was another hesitation. Then the stranger parried with a question: "You write them weekly screeds in the Siege Gazette?" "I am responsible for some of the social paragraphs.
"If I could believe that!" she sighed, and the ivory-backed hair-brushes played rather a tremulous fantasia upon her idol's head, "perhaps I might be induced to confide to you a piece of genuine Secret Intelligence." "Concernin' ?" "Concerning your wife, Hannah Wrynche." "Well, what of her?" She took him by the chin and began to part his hair.
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