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Updated: August 23, 2024
Every day the flabby cheeks grew pastier and the pouches under the eyebrows heavier. But there was no dimming of the eagle flashes of the eyes, no weakening of the will. Last night Lanstron had turned as white as chalk when Partow staggered on rising from the table, the veins on his temples knotted blue whip-cords. Yet after a few hours' sleep he reappeared with firm step, fresh for the fray.
Lanstron dropped back to his seat and gazed at the brown roofs of the town. Thus they might continue their conversation as guest and gardener. "I didn't think you'd stick it out, but you wanted to try you chose," said Lanstron. "Come this afternoon now!" "This is best for me this to the end of the chapter!" Feller replied doggedly.
Then he half raised himself from his chair at sight of a Lanstron with eyes in a daze of brilliancy; a Lanstron with his maimed hand twitching in an outstretched gesture; a Lanstron in the dilemma of being at the same time lover and chief of intelligence. Should he let her make the sacrifice of everything that he held to be sacred to a woman's delicacy?
If Lanstron resigned he became chief. "Partow might have this dream before he won, but would he now?" asked the vice-chief. "No. He would go on!" "Yes," said another officer. "The world will ridicule the suggestion; our people will overwhelm us with their anger. The Grays will take it for a sign of weakness." "Not if we put the situation rightly to them," answered Lanstron.
After helping to send men to death I went under fire myself, and and that helped." She could be kind to Feller but not to Lanstron. He was not a child. He was Lanny, who, as she thought of him now, did nothing except by calculation. "Yes, that would help," he agreed, wincing as from a knife thrust. Her old taunt: sending men to death and taking no risk himself!
"Yes, we all prefer army biscuits!" "We wouldn't touch a home dinner!" Stransky, his eyes drawing inward in their characteristic slant, was well pleased with his company, and the scattered exclamatory badinage kept on until it was interrupted by the arrival of the mail. Partow and Lanstron, understanding their machine as human in its elements, had chosen that the army should hear from home.
Tell Feller how I have played his part, and, in the midst of all your responsibilities, remember to give him a chance." Lanstron was not thinking of war or war's combination when he hung up the receiver. "Yes, it is Gustave!" he thought. "I understand!" It was some moments before he returned to the staff room, and then he had mastered his emotion. He was the soldier again.
"Bully for you, Etzel!" Lanstron thought, as he started back to the aeroplane station. "You belong in the corps. We shall not let you return to your regiment for a while. You've a cool head and you'd charge a church tower if that were the orders." "Has he changed much?" Mrs. Galland asked, when she learned that Marta had seen Westerling.
It told of artillery concentrations three days old; it told only what the aeroplanes had already seen; it told what the Grays had done but nothing of what they intended to do. When word of Feller's defection came, Lanstron realized for the first time by Partow's manner that the old chief of staff, with all his deprecation of the telephone scheme as chimerical, had grounded a hope on it.
Young Lanstron, who wanted to see results, had to earn them. He realized in practice the truth of Partow's saying that there was nothing he had ever learned but what could be of service to him as an officer. What the acrobats had taught him probably saved his life on the occasion of his first flight across the range.
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