his ideas. In another whirl of thought he
remembered those courtyards at the Abbey House, the loyal service of
his wife's family, the great personage who might have spoken up for
him. Oh, why hadn't he allowed Mavis to write a second time imploring
aid? "Gentlemen--" He echoed the word twice, and then was able to go
on. "My desire has ever bin to conduct the service smooth and
expeditious, and in strict accordance with the regulations--more
particularly as set out in the manual, which I can truly
ass-ass-assev'rate that I read more constant and careful than what I
do the Bible."

He knew that the crisis was close upon him. Now or never he must speak
the words that should convince and prevail; and instinct told him
that he would speak in vain. Nevertheless, he succeeded in stimulating
himself adequately for the last great effort. He would fight game and
he would die game.

"If," he said stoutly, "I am at liberty now to make my plain statement
of the facts, I do so. It was seven-thirty-five P.M. Miss Yorke was at
the instrument. I was here"--and he moved a step away. "The soldier
was there;" and he pointed. "The soldier began his audacity by--"

"But, good gracious," said Sir John, "you are going back to the very
beginning."

"For your proper understanding," said Dale, with determination, "I
must commence at the commencement. If, as promised, I am to be
heard--"

"But you _have_ been heard."

"Your pardon, sir. You have examined me, but I have made no
statement."

"Oh, very well." Sir John, as well as the other two, assumed an
attitude of patient boredom. "Fire ahead, then, Mr. Dale."

And, bowing, Dale plunged into his long-pondered oration. Their three
faces told him that he was failing. Not a single point seemed to
score. He was muddled, hopeless, but still brave. He struggled on
stanchly. With a throbbing at his temples, a prickly heat on his
chest, a clammy coldness in his spine--with his voice sounding harsh
and querulous, or dull and faint--with the sense that all t

William Babington Maxwell (18661938) was a British novelist. He was a son of novelist Mary Elizabeth Braddon. Though nearly 50 years old at the outbreak of the First World War, he was accepted as a lieutenant in the Royal Fusiliers and served in France until 1917.

Cyrus Townsend Brady (December 20, 1861 January 24, 1920) was a journalist, historian and adventure writer. His most well-known work is Indian Fights and Fighters. He was born in Allegheny, Pennsylvania, and graduated from the U.S. Naval Academy in 1883. He was also a deacon in the Episcopal church. His first wife was Clarissa Guthrie, who died in 1890. His second wife was Mary Barrett.

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