The Second Chance
By Kathlyn Rhodes

       ÒIt is rather an odd situation, isnÕt it?Ó  Amory looked at the two men who sat at the table in more or less uncomfortable attitudes, and his voice was grim.  ÒIn thereÓ Ð he pointed to the ÒchickÓ of beads which hung over the opening to an inner room Ð Ó lies a dead man: killed by one of us three.  And only that one knows which of us is theÓ Ð he paused Ð Òthe murderer.Ó
       ÒOne moment, Amory.Ó  Captain Ross, who had been sitting scribbling absently on a sheet of paper, raised his head suddenly.  ÒAre you sure youÕre speaking correctly when you say Colonel Chalmers has beenÓ Ð there was the same pause before the word Ð Òmurdered?Ó
       ÒYes, Amory Ð are you sure?Ó  Dick Thornley spoke eagerly, hurriedly.  ÒMightnÕt the Colonel have shot himself?  He Ð we donÕt know what private worries he had, and he Ð he looked queer when he came in.Ó
       For a moment AmoryÕs grey eyes rested on the boyÕs twitching face; and young Thornley paled before the otherÕs gaze.
       ÒDonÕt look at me like that, Amory!  I know Ð I know you fellows think I did it.  But I didnÕt Ð before God youÕre wrong.  I Ð I never did it!Ó
       ÒNo one suggested that you did, Dicky.Ó  Ross spoke quickly.  ÒAs a matter of fact, it is not yet certain that anyone killed the Colonel.  He might conceivably have shot himself.Ó
       ÒNo.Ó  AmoryÕs voice was decisive.  ÒColonel Chalmers was killed Ð shot with a revolver Ð mine, by the way Ð which the murderer then carried over to the big sofa and hid under a cushion.  At leastÒ Ð he paused Ð ÒI took it from there not twenty minutes ago.Ó
       ÒYou found it?  But what made you look there?Ó  There was curiosity, but as yet no suspicion, in RossÕs voice.
       ÒI was a bit taken aback, as we all wereÓ Ð he spoke casually Ð Òon finding what had happened: and I sat down for a second to pull myself together.  And in so doingÓ Ð he smiled rather frigidly Ð ÒI felt the revolver.Ó
       ÒHe couldnÕt have put it there himself?Ó  ÒNo.  Quite impossible.  Death must have been instantaneous Ð and in any case, why should Colonel Chalmers commit suicide?  He had everything he wanted: a delightful home, money, promotion, andÓ Ð he paused Ð Òand a daughter whom he adored.  No, Ross.  Chalmers wasnÕt the man to lose all these by a revolver-bullet.Ó
       At the mention of the dead manÕs daughter both the other menÕs faces had changed oddly.  Into RossÕs square-chinned, blue-eyed, rather obstinate face came the look of the man who, having failed to attain his heartÕs desire, has determined to hide that failure by a resolute composure, a dogged cheerfulness which shall admit no possibility of defeat; and he unconsciously drew himself up and set his lips together as though to prove his indifference to the subject.
       But Dick Thornley, being younger and more undisciplined, showed all too plainly what the mention of the girl meant to him; and he flushed hotly, and his eyes flashed as Amory spoke so calmly of Miss Chalmers, as though he would fain have forbidden the speaker to take her name upon his lips.
       How the name affected Amory himself no one was at liberty to observe; and he was only too grateful to his companions for their absorption in their own private emotions.
       Presently Ross said, rather formally: - ÒWell, since you are so certain that Colonel Chalmers met his death at the hands of one of usÓ Ð Dick started nervously Ð Òwhat steps do you propose to take to clear up the matter?  WouldnÕt it be well to review the whole position from the beginning, and see if we can elicit any facts likely to be of value?Ó
       ÒQuite so.Ó  AmoryÕs voice was non-committal.  ÒBut before we start letÕs have a drink.  Dick, thereÕs a siphon over there, and hereÕs the whiskey.Ó
       Thus requested, Dick Thornley rose from his seat and crossed the room to the shelf on which the siphon stood.  He brought it back slowly, and the other men noted how his hand shook as he set it down, clumsily, on the table.  But the tragedy of the afternoon was enough to account for shaken nerves; and after all there was a certain pallor, an unusual tension, about each of the three men who were implicated in that tragedy.
       ÒThanks, Dick.Ó  Amory held out the whiskey bottle.  ÒHelp yourselves.  I feel that I can do with a stiff peg myself.Ó
       When the glasses were filled he began to speak again, looking ahead of him with expressionless eyes.
       
       ÒTo begin with, this is our bungalow, Ross, yours and mine.  Dick here dropped in to tiffin today, and after that, as it was confoundedly hot, and we none of us had any business on hand, we agreed to have a laze until tea-time, and then go down to the club.  ThatÕs so, isnÕt it?Ó
       ÒYes.  And just as we were settling down, in came Colonel Chalmers, looking very fagged, and said he didnÕt feel up to much, and would like a rest before going in to some show or other to meet his daughter.Ó
       ÒAnd so you advised him to go into your room and lie down for a bit.Ó
       ÒJust so, Dick.  He agreed, saying his head ached; and we proceeded to settle ourselves as we chose.  You, Dick, sat on here, smoking.  Ross, you went into your room, through mine; and I went, as usual, on to the veranda.Ó
       ÒThe result being,Ó said Ross, quietly, Òthat there was no entrance into the ColonelÕs room except through one of the two rooms in which Dick and I were sitting, and Ð Ò
       ÒAnd through the long door opening on to the veranda where I was sitting.  That sums up the situation as far as we are concerned.  Yet someone did get in; for when we rushed in, roused by the sound of a shot, we found the Colonel dead Ð shot through the heart.Ó
       Dick Thornley set down his glass noisily.
       ÒOf course someone got in.  I Ð IÕm certain no one came my way.  I was awake all the time.Ó  He stopped, bit his lips, then hurried on: ÒAt least, perhaps I was asleep, and if so someone might have passed me.Ó
       ÒNo, Dick, that wonÕt wash.Ó  Ross spoke kindly, though his worried eyes belied his smile.  ÒHow often have you lamented the fact that you canÕt sleep in the daytime!  IÕd back you to keep awake on the hottest afternoon.Ó
       ÒBut Ð but Ð Ò  The boy began to stammer out something, but Amory stopped him with a gesture.
       ÒNever mind that, Dick.  You say no one came past you.  Nor did anyone cross the veranda.Ó
       ÒHow do you know?  You might easily have closed your eyes for a minute.Ó
       ÒI might,Ó returned Amory, dryly.  ÒBut it so happened that I did not.  You see, I was writing a letter Ð an important letter.Ó
       ÒThen IÕm the only one left?Ó  RossÕs quiet voice was unruffled.  ÒAnd when I tell you that I slept peacefully until roused by the sound of a shot, youÕll agree with me that the whole thing is most mysterious.Ó
       ÒWell, what are we going to do about it?Ó  Dick reached for the siphon and squirted some soda, shakily, into his glass.
       ÒDo?Ó  Amory looked at him rather oddly.  ÒWhat can we do?  It seems to me that we are at a standstill.Ó
       ÒMy God, Amory!Ó  Dick set down the glass and sat glowering at his host.  ÒHow can you speak so calmly!  DonÕt you see what a devil of a mess weÕre in?  The Colonel comes here, to this bungalow, to spend a quiet hour or two, and he is murdered in his sleep.  There is no one here but us three, the servants are all away Ð gone off to some tomasha or other Ð and yet thereÕs a crime committed.  Well, it puts us all in a pretty serious hole, doesnÕt it?Ó
       ÒOf course it does.Ó  Ross took up the challenge.  ÒAnd for that reason, because one of us is guilty and two are innocent, the guilty one must speak.Ó
       ÒQuite so,Ó said Amory, quietly.  ÒBut which is the guilty one?Ó
       Ross shrugged his shoulders and threw his half-smoked cigarette irritably into the ashtray.
       ÒWhich of us, eh?  Well, that remains to be seen.  But Ð I can quite understand that things look black against me.  You both know what a devil of a temper I have, and itÕs all over the place by now that the Colonel and I quarreled last night Ð at the club.  Oh, it was over the merest trifle Ð a personal matter, but we both got hot over it, and I admit I spoke a good deal more freely than I had any right to do.Ó
       ÒYes, yes, I heard youÕd quarreled.Ó  Dick spoke eagerly.  ÒSome fellow I met this morning told me about the row Ð and he said you were in no end of a rage afterwards, and letting off steam against the Colonel like anything.Ó
       ÒIÕd had some drink by that time,Ó said Ross, dryly.  ÒAnd no one pays attention to a drunken manÕs ravings.  But I realize that it puts me in a fix, for quite half-a-dozen fellows heard me letting myself go after the row.Ó
       ÒWhat about me?Ó  Dick sounded defiant.  ÒI was up before the Colonel this morning for one of his everlasting wiggings.  Everyone knows he hated me, because when I first came out Miss Chalmers was kind to me, and he didnÕt like it.  You both know how down heÕs always been on me, bullyragging me about every little thing.Ó
       ÒNonsense, Dick!Ó  To his surprise Amory spoke sharply.  ÒThe Colonel was a bit strict, but he was always just: and no one could resent his censure.  And you know you are a bit slack at times Ð oh, over non-essentials!Ó Ð he saw the boyÕs rage mounting Ð Ò and no C.O. likes to see his subs running into debt and spending too much time over racing and cards.Ó
       ÒI know one thing!Ó  Dick spoke passionately.  He wasnÕt fair to me Ð just because he knew I was in love with his daughter!  That was why he was always beastly to me.  Thought I wasnÕt good enough, I suppose, and pÕrÕaps I wasnÕt; but I can tell you his sneers Ð oh, in that beastly polite voice of his! Ð were jolly hard to bear, and I only put up with it because Ð because Ð Ò His anger fairly choked him, and he stopped short.
       ÒDonÕt be a fool, Dick!Ó  This time it was Ross who answered him, curtly enough.  ÒWeÕll keep Miss ChalmerÕs name out of this, and raving like that doesnÕt do you any good.Ó
       ÒNo.  And timeÕs passing.Ó  Amory glanced at his wrist-watch.  ÒWe canÕt hush this thing up much longer.  But we must find out who shot the Colonel.  Perhaps there are extenuating circumstances.Ó
       ÒOh, I know what you mean!Ó  DickÕs eyes blazed.  ÒYouÕve made up your mind itÕs I because there was always a feud between me and the Colonel.  But youÕre wrong, and itÕs simply cowardly to try to bully me into saying it was I who did it!Ó
       ÒThe cowardly deed was the murder, Dick.Ó  Amory spoke coldly.  ÒThe brave deed will be the owning up Ð Ò 
       ÒOwning up!Ó  Dick sprang from his chair and stood opposite the other man, his fists clenched, his whole body shaking from head to foot.  ÒIf youÕre so keen on owning up, why donÕt you own up yourself?  Why are you to be above suspicion?  Ross here says he quarreled with the Colonel last night Ð thereÕs a motive for you!  I was in trouble with him this morning Ð thereÕs my motive!  No suspicion is to rest on you, although it was your revolver that killed him!  Why not?  I ask you that!  Why shouldnÕt you have killed the Colonel just as much as Ross or I?Ó
       There was a pause before Amory replied to this challenge; and for a moment RossÕs blue eyes searched his face with, for the first time, a hint of suspicion in their depths.
       ÒQuite so, Dick.Ó  Amory spoke at last, quietly.  ÒWhy shouldnÕt I have killed the Colonel?  True, IÕd no apparent motive, but no one knows my business well enough to swear I wasnÕt at loggerheads secretly with him.  So what if I say that I did kill Colonel Chalmers?  It was my revolver, after all, that did the deed.Ó
       ÒNo, no, Amory.Ó  Ross spoke impulsively.  ÒYou didnÕt do it.  That IÕll swear.Ó
       ÒBut donÕt you hear what he says?Ó  DickÕs eyes shone with excitement.  ÒHe says he did Ð or as good as says so, anyhow!  And so Ð and so we must help him escape!Ó  He looked round him eagerly.  ÒCome, Ross, letÕs plan how to get him away.  We can keep the thing dark for hours yet, and he can have a good start Ð Ò
       ÒNo, Dick.Ó  AmoryÕs voice was quiet, and he looked the boy squarely in the eyes.  ÒIÕm not going to Ð escape.Ó
       ÒNot escape!  But why not Ð in HeavenÕs name, why not?Ó
       Still looking the other straight in the face Amory spoke quietly; and to Ross, who listened uncomprehendingly, his voice was oddly, almost terribly impressive.
       ÒBecause for the murderer there is no escape, Dick.  He may get away for a time, but do you think he is ever really a free man again?  No.  ThereÕs never an hour in the day that he doesnÕt feel a ghostly hand on his shoulder, that he doesnÕt expect to hear a voice in his ear saying, Thou art the man!Ó  ThereÕs never a night passes but he enacts again in his dreams the tragedy which has branded him with the brand of Cain.  When he is alone he feels that he must go mad or die Ð when he is in the midst of his fellow-men he is seized with an almost uncontrollable impulse to rise and shout his ghastly secret to the world.  Night and day the torture goes on and on; and at last he feels that death would have been a thousand times more merciful than this hell to which his own cowardice has condemned him.Ó
       ÒAmory Ð for GodÕs sake Ð Ò  It was Ross who spoke, hoarsely; but with his eyes fixed upon the boy, who cowered before him in an attitude of mortal terror.  Amory went on speaking: -
       ÒThatÕs why itÕs no use attempting to escape, Dick.  When a man has committed a crime like murder thereÕs no way out Ð but one.  Other men may have a second chance, thank God for it!  But the man who kills his brother is accursed.  Sooner or later the truth is bound to come out Ð and pray God itÕs not too late.Ó
       But now Dick had fallen into a chair and was hiding his face behind his shaking hands; and it was Ross who said, very quietly: -
       ÒToo late?  Amory, what do you mean?Ó
       ÒI mean ÐÒ AmoryÕs own face was ghastly, his brow beaded with drops of sweat ÐÒ pray God that no man calls upon his brother to pay the debt thatÕs his!  For that is the unforgiveable sin, Dick.Ó
       He went slowly across to the huddled figure in the chair; and then, while RossÕs blue eyes watched him tensely, he laid one hand on the boyÕs shoulder.
       ÒDick, are you going to let another man pay your debt?Ó
       Suddenly Dick Thornley shook off the heavy hand and sprang to his feet with blazing eyes.
       ÒMy God, Amory, donÕt go on!  I did it Ð of course I did it Ð but IÕll swear before God it was an accident!  I never meant to kill him Ð God knows I never meant it!  It was an accident, I tell you Ð the beastly thing went off in my hand.  I only meant to frighten him Ð Ò
       ÒYou Ð you did it, Dick?Ó  Now that the truth was out Ross knew he had suspected it all along.
       ÒYes.  IÕll tell you how it was.Ó  He seemed to find in speech relief from the terror which so plainly overwhelmed him.  ÒYou know how I was up before him this morning.  He was on about Ð about everything Ð cards, wine, racing.  You know I got into a mess with a moneylender in the Bazar last week, and heÕd heard about it Ð Ò
       He paused, gasping for breath; but in a moment he was off again wildly.
       ÒHe said IÕd have to send in my papers.  I begged him to give me another chance.  I said IÕd been a fool, but IÕd do better.  He wouldnÕt listen Ð said I was no credit to the regiment Ð and yet you fellows know I loved the regiment Ð and I meant to do better Ð Ò
       ÒBut that was this morning, Dick ÐÒ  The interruption came from Ross.
       ÒYes.  But when you left me in here this afternoon, and he was in the other room, I Ð I went in to beg him to give me another chance.  I swore IÕd do better, IÕd turn over a new leaf.  But he wouldnÕt listen.  He said Ð oh, vile thingsÓ Ð he flushed scarlet at the memory of the words which had indeed stung his young manhood Ð Ò and at last I Ð I snatched up the revolver from the table and pointed it at him . . . he was sitting up on the bed, and I Ð I was seeing red by then, but I never meant Ð before God I never meant to do it.  But the beastly thing went off, and he fell back Ð dead Ð and I flung the revolver on to the sofa and covered it up and had just time to rush out so that I could come in again with you others.Ó
       ÒDick, as GodÕs your witnessÓ Ð Ross spoke earnestly Ð Òis that the truth?Ó
       ÒAs GodÕs my witness, yes!Ó  He raised (unreadable) young face, and both men knew he had spoken truly at last.  ÒBut Ð thereÕs no help for me, I suppose!  I did it, and IÕll have to bear the brunt.  But Ð oh my God, what will my mother say Ð what will she do when I Ð when IÕm Ð hanged Ð Ò
       ÒShut up, Dick!Ó  Amory spoke almost brutally in an attempt to check the boyÕs rising hysteria.  ÒPerhaps there may be a way out.  DonÕt speak for a moment Ð let me think what we can do Ð Ò
       ÒYou mean ÐÒ Dick turned to him eagerly, desperately.  ÒYou will help me Ð give me a chance?Ó
       ÒBut how, Amory!  HowÕs it to be done!Ó  Ross spoke impulsively, and Amory made a gesture of impotence.
       ÒI donÕt know Ð yet!  But we must do something, and Ð good God, whatÕs that!Ó
       There was a sound of hurrying footsteps, a call in a manÕs voice; and the next moment Captain Nicholls, the regimental doctor, burst into the room impetuously.
       The three men turned to him with one accord; but before anyone could demand an explanation of this sudden entrance he broke into voluble questioning.
       ÒAny of you fellows know where Colonel Chalmers is?  Is he here, by any chance?  Or has anyone seen him?Ó
       ÒColonel Chalmers?Ó  By common consent it was left for Amory to reply.  ÒWhat do you want with him, Nicholls?Ó
       ÒI want him because Ð I say, do you know where he is?Ó  He mopped his hot forehead with a handkerchief.  ÒIÕve had the very devil of a chase, and a shock, too.  But if heÕs not here Ð Ò
       He paused for a moment, his keen eyes riveted on Dick ThornleyÕs ghastly face.
       ÒI say, young fellow, whatÕs wrong with you?  You look pretty queer Ð are you ill?Ó
       ÒNo, sir.Ó  By a mighty effort Dick pulled himself together and spoke steadily.  ÒBut Ð do you want Colonel Chalmers?  He Ð isnÕt he at home?Ó
       ÒNo, he isnÕt.Ó  He rapped out the words abruptly.  ÒAnd I want to find him Ð quickly.  DonÕt any of you know where he is?Ó
       ÒNo.Ó  Amory spoke quietly.  ÒAt least Ð why do you want to find him so badly, doctor?  And Ð why should you expect to find him Ð here?Ó
       ÒI want him because Ð because Ð Ò  For the first time the doctor appeared to feel something unusual in the atmosphere which enveloped the three men.  He looked from one to the other with a suddenly awakened interest; and it did not need his trained psychological sense to realize that all of them had lately passed through some extraordinary emotional crisis which had left its trace in each of the three faces Ð though it was in Dick ThornleyÕs that he read the fullest ravages of an apprehensive dread which was hard to understand.
       ÒLook here.Ó  He spoke shortly.  ÒThereÕs something here I donÕt catch on to.  I ask you a perfectly simply question, and you all look like a lot of dummies.  WhatÕs wrong, eh?  Amory, youÕre a sensible fellow.  Is there something wrong?Ó
       For a moment even AmoryÕs nerve failed him.  He did not know how best to treat the situation; but while he hesitated RossÕs quiet voice broke in.
       ÒPerhaps there is something wrong, doctor.  But first, let us know what is the mystery concerning your desire to find Colonel Chalmers.Ó
       The doctor looked round again, and it was easy to see that he was considering what course of action to pursue.  But time was passing; and he made up his mind to speak openly.
       ÒLook here, you fellows, IÕll tell you something; but it is to go no farther.  I want to find the Colonel because IÕm afraid that unless I do there will be a tragedy.Ó
       ÒA tragedy?Ó  Dick Thornley echoed the words in amazement.
       ÒYes.  The facts are these.  This morning Colonel Chalmers came to consult me about his health, about which it seems he had been uneasy for some time.  To cut a long story short, I found that he was in the grip of an incurable disease, could not live more than a few months at the outside, and would suffer excruciatingly most of the time.  I told him the truth Ð he would have it; and he thanked me quietly and went out.  An hour ago I got this note, which by a postscript I find should not have been delivered till to-night.Ó
       He brought a crumpled paper out of his pocket and unfolded it.
       ÒIn this note he tells me that on thinking matters out he could not bring himself to face the inevitable end, and so heÓ Ð the doctorÕs voice faltered Ð Òhe intended to Ð to take matters into his own hands.  He didnÕt want his daughter to know, of course; so he was going to try to make it appear an accident.Ó
       ÒBut Ð how was he going to do it?Ó  The question was AmoryÕs.
       ÒShoot himself in the jungle somewhere, to-night.Ó
       Through the minds of the listening men flashed the same thought.  He had come here, to the bungalow, to rest a while before setting out on the last tragic journey of his gallant life; and here, at the hands of a passionate boy, he had won the release for which he longed, with no discredit to his heroic soul.
       ÒAnd soÓ Ð the doctorÕs voice went on, a little urgently now Ð Òyou see how important it is for me to find Colonel Chalmers at once.Ó
       There was a silence, during which Amory and Ross, at least, thought hard and furiously.  But before either of them could speak, Dick Thornley stepped forward slowly.
       ÒIf you want Colonel Chalmers, sir, he is Ð in there.Ó  He pointed to the inner room.
       ÒIn there?Ó  The doctor stared at him.  ÒBut Ð what do you mean?  If heÕs there, why doesnÕt he come ÐÒ He stopped suddenly.  Then: ÒGood God, you donÕt mean to say heÕs done it already Ð that IÕm too late?Ó
       Between Amory and Ross there passed a look of quick mutual comprehension.  Then the latter detained the doctor, who was moving towards the ÒchickÓ of beads, with a hand on his arm.
       ÒWait a minute, doc.  Have a drink before you go in.  ItÕs been a shock, and youÕre upset.  And you knowÓ Ð he was filling a glass as he spoke Ð ÒthereÕs no hurry Ð now.Ó
       And Dick Thornley, his face like chalk, was hearkening to AmoryÕs whispered instructions.
       ÒListen, Dick.  Go out on to the veranda, and into the room, and put the revolver on the floor by the bed, as though it had dropped.  Quickly, mind, and donÕt bungle.Ó  He sank his voice still lower.  ÒRemember, Dick Ð itÕs the second chance Ð and itÕs up to you to make the best of it.Ó
       Without a word the boy disappeared on to the veranda; and Amory turned to the others with an explanatory word.
       ÒThought I heard someone coming.  Better wait a second and be sure weÕre alone.Ó
       He paused, as though listening; and as the doctor set down the empty glass Dick re-entered to the room through the long door opening on the veranda.
       ÒNo one there.Ó  He spoke rather hoarsely, but after all agitation was natural in the circumstances; and Amory turned to Nicholls at once.
       ÒWill you come and see him now?  YesÓ Ð he was holding aside the bead curtain and did not look at the other man Ð Òshot himself in there.  Like a fool IÕd left my revolver out, and I supposeÓ Ð he hesitated Ð Òthe temptation was too great.Ó
       When the doctor and Amory had disappeared, Ross turned to Dick.
       ÒDick.Ó  His voice was solemn.  ÒYou have got off well Ð but for GodÕs sake let this be a lesson to you.  Remember, itÕs only because you swore it was an accident that weÕre lying like this, to save you.Ó
       ÒIÕll never forget, sir.Ó  The boyÕs voice trembled, but Ross was satisfied and neither of them spoke again until the doctor and Amory re-entered the room.
       ÒStone dead, of course, poor chap.Ó  Nicholls looked preternaturally grave.  ÒSee here, this must be hushed up as much as possible.  Luckily itÕs known his heart was a bit rocky, and there is no need to let out how he died.  I will certify that the cause of death was heart failure, consequent on the shock of discovering, suddenly, the seriousness of his condition; and I donÕt anticipate any difficulty.  The only man we must take into our confidence is his own servant, Peters, whoÕs been with him thirty years; and heÕll manage everything satisfactorily.Ó
       ÒThereÕs no doubt he did it himself?Ó  Ross asked the question stolidly, and Captain Nicholls looked at him rather sharply.
       ÒNo reasonable doubt.  The shot was fired at very close quarters, and the revolver was on the ground where it had dropped from his hand.  But, of course, if you are not satisfied Ð Ò
       ÒBut, I am.Ó  He spoke apologetically.  ÒForgive me, doc.  This has been a bit of a shock to us all, you know.  And I am wondering who is to break the news to Miss Chalmers.Ó
       ÒTo Rosamund, eh?Ó  Nicholls bit his lip.  ÒIÕd forgotten the girl.  But she mustnÕt learn the truth.  ItÕs bad enough for her to know her father is dead ÐÒ
       ÒFor GodÕs sake, sir, be quiet!Ó  It was Dick who hissed the words in his ear; and when, startled, Nicholls swung round to face him he understood the speakerÕs meaning all too plainly.
       For there, in the doorway leading to the veranda, stood Rosamund Chalmers, and the white gown she wore was not less devoid of colour than was her charming face.  For a moment she said nothing, but stood staring at them all with dilated blue eyes and parted lips.  Then, as still the silence held, she made one step forward and asked the fatal question which each man dreaded.
       ÒIs my father here?  Captain AmoryÓ Ð it was to him, finally, she appealed Ð Òhas Daddy been here this afternoon?  I Ð IÕm feeling anxious about him.Ó
       He moved towards her and nerved himself to face her bravely.
       ÒWhy are you feeling anxious, Miss Chalmers?  And why should your father be Ð here?Ó
       ÒIÕm anxious because he didnÕt come in to lunch.Ó  Her blue eyes roved from one fact to another as she spoke, yet came back to rest on Amory in the end.  ÒHe saw Captain Nicholls this morning, didnÕt he?Ó  She appealed to him, but did not wait long for a reply.
       ÒAnd when he came in, for a moment, he said he had had bad news Ð that he was ill Ð and he looked so queer, so grey, just as he did when he had a heart attack Ð and naturally I felt anxious.  And when he didnÕt come in again, I began to wonder Ð Ò
       She broke off again, as though something in the menÕs silence struck her as sinister; and turning to Captain Nicholls she questioned him fearfully.
       ÒYou though Daddy was ill, didnÕt you?  But it wasnÕt Ð it wasnÕt he you were talking of as I came in just now?Ó
       ÒWere we talking of someone?Ó  He did not know how to parry this direct attack.
       ÒYes.  But you said,Ó she put her hand on his arm imploringly, Òyou said that someone was dead Ð someoneÕs father.  You Ð you didnÕt mean my father, did you?Ó
       In his silence, in the silence of them all, she read the answer; and for a second she swayed beneath the blow.  Then, with the courage which came from a long line of fighting ancestors, she stood erect before the four men and spoke calmly.
       ÒYou mean Daddy is dead?  But how Ð when Ð Ò
       ÒColonel Chalmers died Ð in that room Ð a couple of hours ago, Miss Chalmers.Ó  Amory answered her.  ÒHe had had bad news about himself, and Ð you know his heart was weak, that a shock was bound to be disastrous?  Well, it was too much for him; and his heart gave out beneath the strain.Ó
       Quietly, convincingly, he lied; and the girl accepted his story unquestioningly.  Only she turned even paler than before, and her blue eyes filled with a look of dreadful desolation which wrung the hearts of the three men who, each in his own way, loved her.
       ÒThen,Ó her voice was low, ÒIÕm all alone now!  But,Ó she turned to Amory, Òthis is your bungalow, isnÕt it?  And Ð there will be arrangements to make Ð may I go in there and see Ð him?Ó
       ÒDonÕt worry about that, Miss Chalmers,Ó he said, quickly.  ÒWe will make all the arrangements, and I think Ð I think you should wait to see your father until we Ð we bring him home.Ó
       ÒYes, that will be much the best thing to do,Ó said Nicholls, quickly.  ÒYou had better go home now, Miss Chalmers, and one of the ladies of the Station will come and look after you for a bit.  How did you get here Ð you walked, in all this heat?Ó
       ÒIÕve got my pony cart here, Miss Chalmers!Ó  It was Dick who spoke, pressing forward, eagerly.  ÒLet me take you home Ð please!Ó
       He ventured to lay a hand on her arm, but she turned to him gently, with a refusal on her lips.
       ÒNo, please, Dick.  I Ð IÕd rather go alone.  I Ð I want to be alone!Ó
       ÒItÕs getting late, Miss Chalmers.Ó  RossÕs quiet voice followed her impulsive cry.  ÒI donÕt think you must go alone.  May I take you?  The car can be round in a minute.Ó
       For a moment she stood among the men, an appealing, sorrowful figure in her white gown; and at the moment even Nicholls, confirmed bachelor though he was, told himself it was small wonder that all the men in the Station were in love with Rosamund Chalmers.  He wondered, with a trace of cynicism, which of these three, if any, was the favoured lover; and even as the wonder lingered in his mind he knew the answer to his own unuttered question.
       For Rosamund did not heed Captain RossÕs offer Ð did not, or so it seemed, even hear it.  It was Amory to whom she turned, with the instinct of the loved one who knows she may call upon her lover; and as her blue eyes sought his face, he started forward as though she had spoken to him.
       ÒI may take you home, Rosamund?Ó  He did not notice his user of her name Ð a use made familiar to him through his thoughts of her; but the others noted it; and Dick Thornley turned away with a face grown suddenly old.
       Into RossÕs blue eyes there sprang a look of defeat; but he said nothing, only fumbled mechanically with his cigarette-case; and it was left to Nicholls to break the silence which followed AmoryÕs words.
       ÒYes, take Miss Chalmers home, Amory.Ó  He put his hand on the girlÕs arm and gently piloted her towards the door.  ÒAnd IÕll ring up Mrs. FareyÓ Ð her best friend in the Station Ð Ò and ask her to drop in presently.Ó
       Without demur Rosamund accepted the position; and although she looked in the direction of the other men, murmured a vague word of farewell, they knew she did not really see them.  Only Amory, the man she loved, was real to her in this last moment of stress; and Ross, at least, accepted the position with a quiet acquiescence which was not far removed from heroism.
       When they had gone, followed down the veranda steps by the doctor, Ross turned slowly to Dick Thornley, who had fallen into a chair and was hiding his face in his hands.
       ÒDick!Ó  At the tone the boy looked up, and his eyes were haunted.  ÒRemember, youÕve got to make good Ð now.Ó
       ÒMake good Ð me?Ó  He stammered rather than spoke.  ÒBut how can I make good - ?Ó
       ÒYou can, Dick, and you must.Ó  RossÕs tone was bracing.  ÒGod in His mercy has given you a second chance, and itÕs your part to make the best you can of it.Ó
       For a moment the boy said nothing.  Then, suddenly, he sprang to his feet, and into his haggard young face there flashed the light of a great resolve.
       ÒBy God, Ross, youÕre right!Ó  There was a ring of hope in his voice.  ÒIÕll do it!  IÕll make good yet!Ó
       ÒSee that you do, Dick.Ó  Ross put his hand for a second on the otherÕs shoulder.  ÒRemember, few men who do what you have done get the opportunity to make good.  But you have god it; and if youÕre a man at all, Dick Thornley, youÕll go home and thank God with all your soul that He has given you a second chance.Ó
       And Ð 
       ÒI will,Ó said Dick Thornley, humbly.