That Which Hath Wings: A Novel of the Day
No one but Raymond had overheard the curious, fierce colloquy. She felt
literally scorched by the hot look of anger. She knew an agony like the
tearing of the tissues of the flesh when Sherbrand passed her and went
out with that gloved hand of authority upon his arm.
"Women are the devil!" he thought bitterly, as he opened the door of the
runabout Ford to admit the French Staff Officer. "She'd had a shock in
being told the news so suddenly; but to ballyrag me--to make me look
such a thundering idiot before _him_!"
He swung the crank with violence and wrenched angrily at the levers when
he took the driving-seat. A gloved hand patted his arm, and Raymond's
voice said in his ear:
"Bah! You are chagrined, my friend, because a handsome woman has made
you a little drama. Think no more of it! I have forgotten, for my
part." He added, as they got out at the Aldebaran: "I propose to detain
you but a little while, _mon ami_. When we have completed arrangements
for the start to-morrow, you will be free to return and make your peace
with Mademoiselle."
"Thank you, sir. She was rattled at my telling her so suddenly about my
Commission," said Sherbrand, still beclouded. "Women are all like that,
I suppose?"
"Except in France," said the agreeable voice of Raymond, "where the love
of Country is stronger in our women than the love of lover or even of
child. It was so before 1870. They have remembered through the
centuries, as their sisters of Britain have not. They--the women of
England are patriotic--oh yes! but patriotism is not yet a religion to
them. It will cost millions of lives, and of blood an ocean to kindle
that flame within their souls. Then, they also will hold the bayonet to
the grindstone with their soft white hands and say: 'Become sharp, to
drink the blood of Germans!' And they will mend the soldier's ragged
breeches and clean the soldier's dirty rifle, and when they do they will
not be less womanly. No, by my faith! nor less beloved by men. Try one
of these. You will not find them too bad."
He offered Sherbrand a cigarette and took a light from him as they stood
under the Aldebaran's tall Corinthian portico.
"One should always be accurate. When I told you that in France there
lived no woman who was not patriotic, I was in error. Such a woman
existed since three or four days."
He blew out a puff of smoke and watched its mounting spiral. Then he
resumed:
"She was very young, very pretty, the bride of a month, and passionately
enamoured. When her husband received orders to proceed with his
Regiment of Chasseurs to the Belgian Front, she made him a scene of
desperation. She would do this and that mad thing if he did not take
her. Then she became calmer. She had exacted a promise from her doting
cavalryman. She should visit him at the Front at a suitable
opportunity. She chose her own moment, my faith!--and what a moment!
She appeared in her husband's quarters in the French cavalry camp near
Antoineville when the Germans were attacking Dinant. When the Cavalry
Division of the Prussian Guards, and the Cavalry of their First
Division, with some infantry battalions and machine-gun companies
crossed the Meuse, and we were to attack, she was lying in his arms, the
little idiot! He told her to go and she would not. Then he entreated
her--a fatal error that!"
The cigarette was burning crookedly, forgotten between Raymond's
fingers.
"Then he commanded her. She laughed, and kissed him. He gave back the
kiss, drew his revolver and shot her dead. Then he ran out--in time to
mount and wheel to his place as second in command of his squadron,
before the Regiment swept on to the charge. Fate was kind to him. He
charged like a Centaur, and died like a soldier of France the Beloved.
Tell the story to Mademoiselle Saxham. She is magnificently handsome,
but forgive me! not a patriot. And a woman without patriotism is--an
altar without a Sacred Host and a lamp without a flame."
They went into the hotel. When the Frenchman had secured a quiet
bedroom on the fourth floor, and intimated that no German was to serve
him, they went together into the dining-room.
"_Pfui_! It smells of soot, and petrol, and drainage, this London air
of yours," said Raymond, as he chose a table in a quiet corner. "You
will eat with me? No! Then smoke and share my wine." He ordered
cutlets, _petit pois_, a sweet omelette, and a bottle of Beaujolais,
and, filling his own glass and one for Sherbrand, touched brims gaily
and said with a smile: "To France and her Allies, Victory! On earth," a
clink, "by sea," a clink, "under the sea," another clink, "and in the
Air!"
He clinked three times, and emptied the glass thirstily. Sherbrand
asked:
"Was the battle near Dinant a big affair?"
"Not big." He broke a roll and munched bread. "Not on the grand scale.
A _spectacle tres interessante_, regarded from the--archaic point of
view. An example of the ancient _mode de bataille_ that will be dead as
the Dodo in three months. _Chasseurs a cheval_ and German Imperial
Guard Regiments charging and meeting with shocks like thunder. Much
slaughter. So fierce was the onslaught upon our side that the Germans
were driven back across the Meuse. Many missed the bridge and were
drowned. One French regiment followed them in pursuit for several
_kilometres_. They were led by the man of whom I have told you. A
glass to his memory--and _hers_!"
They touched full glasses and drank. Raymond went on.
"My Flying Centre was near Maubeuge on the 16th. Some _escadrilles_ of
my command were engaged that day near Dinant. My faith! those
_cotellettes_ are slow in arriving." He munched more bread, and his
blue eyes narrowed smilingly. "We had only the little bombs we used in
Morocco, but yes!--we did some good work with the _balles-bon_. Flying
low, at ordered distances--for to make War by Air successfully the
science of tactics must assist the aviator.... What says your great
Field Marshal, who has bent his neck to the collar-work of
Administration--who has conjured an Army of trained soldiers out of your
shops and counting-houses, and playing-fields,--and will make another
and another when the time comes?"
Sherbrand quoted the words uttered by the great voice now quenched for
ever in the bitter waters of the North Sea.
"_Until aviators learn to fly, manoeuvre, and attack in regular
formation, the Fifth Arm will remain a useless limb._"
"_Tonnerre de Dieu!_ but that goes to the point," said Raymond,
"straight and sharp as a thrust from his sword. If we possessed that man
we should make use of him. He should be Marshal of France, or President
or Emperor--all we should ask of him would be to lead us. _Notr'_
Joffre would not be jealous--they would agree like the hilt and the
hand. But I was telling you of an attack by the _flechette_.... You
may imagine how the Uhlans loved that rain of steel. It changed the
retreat to a rout. Only it spoiled so many German horses. Right
through the man, you understand, into the animal! ... Sieves on four
legs are useless as Remounts for French Chasseurs."
"And the German Field Flight?" Sherbrand interrogated.
"Their Fifth Arm was represented," said Raymond, sipping his burgundy,
"by many Taubes and Aviatiks armed with the machine-gun and some
ordinary bombs of _schrapnel_,--also a dirigible of 'Parsifal' type
dropping big bombs. We were hampered in our offensive by a prejudice
which does not trouble the Germans. To throw bombs upon friend and foe
alike--that is not our idea of War. It annoyed me, and I wasted on that
flatulent brute of a 'Parsifal' all my remaining _flechettes_ and little
Morocco bombs. Aha, the _cotelettes_!"
A waiter set them before him. He tucked his napkin under his chin, and
helped himself, and said:
"Thus, though I had damaged her steering-gear and riddled her outer
envelope, and the Flying Pig wallowed in difficulties below me, I could
not pursue the advantage I had got. When the pilot of an Aviatik
launched himself to the rescue, all the ammunition of my carabine was
exhausted. I had one cartridge left in my automatic revolver, and not a
single bomb with which to return the compliments of the German's
_mitraille_. My petrol-tank had been perforated. My single bullet
missed him. The duel was too unequal, so I withdrew from the field,
leaving him to cavalier the Flying Pig. We may meet again upon terms
more equal, when French military aviators fight with machine-guns. And
now to business. It concerns your gyroscopic stabiliser, the patent of
which my Chiefs desired to buy for the use of our _Service
Aeronautique_. You demanded, according to M. Jourdain's statement,
L8,000 and a royalty for the world-patent. We will buy it of you
outright for L12,000. Is it agreed?"
Sherbrand straightened in his chair, and said, looking the other
squarely in the eyes:
"No, sir, thank you! You see, though the War Office wouldn't have
anything to say to me----"
"It occurs to you that now you may find a market for your invention?"
_To the devil with this smug young British tradesman!_ thought Raymond
behind his knitted brows. "Come!" he said. "Another proposal. Will you
make and supply us with your hawk-hoverer? Or sell us the right to
manufacture a thousand for the sole use of the S. Ae.? Name your
price--I shall not be frightened. It is not State money, but my private
fortune that I draw upon--with the approval of my Chiefs. It has been
my whim to lavish on my _escadrille_ what other men hang in jewels upon
their mistresses. Efficiency is my vice. I have heard of worse!" He
scrawled some invisible figures with a polished finger-nail upon the
tablecloth and exclaimed, with a laugh and a shrug: "_Sapristi_! At
even a hundred pounds apiece you would soon be a millionaire, even
without the fortune you expect from your War Office! Upon occasion it
pays to be a patriot. Decide, Monsieur, lest my patience run dry before
my purse!"
"I've not asked you a hundred, sir," Sherbrand said with his disarming
simplicity. "I can make and sell the hoverers at a profit for L60.
It's the cutting and welding of the horizontal flanged screws with the
acetylene flame that eats up that money. But for the cost of the
process, hang it!--I'd have had more than seventy ready by me now."
"You have seventy, you say, laid by in readiness?"
"Laid by in grease," said Sherbrand, "at the aerodrome."
"Waiting the moment when the authorities at Whitehall awaken to the fact
that you are a genius, _mon ami_! _A la bonne heure_! We buy your
seventy equilibrisers!"
"I'll sell you ten," said the British tradesman doggedly. "And I'll give
the Belgian Government another ten, if you think they'd honour me by
accepting them?"
"_Parole d'honneur_! I can guarantee they will. And of the other
fifty?"
"They are for England to take or leave," said Sherbrand. "No doubt I'm
an ass, but a man must act according to his lights."
"They are stars, your lights," said Raymond with a crackling oath, "and
they point the path of Honour!" He pulled a cheque-book and a
fountain-pen from a pocket within his tunic and wrote a cheque on the
Credit Lyonnais for the price of the ten stabilisers, their packing,
carriage and duty, saying as he signed, and tossed the lilac slip of
paper across the tablecloth: "Your endorsement is my receipt. For the
stabilisers--they must be sent not later than to-morrow. I would give
something if I could fly back to France with a couple in my valise. But
patience! In a week at most we will give the Germans news of us.
Perhaps I shall have the good fortune of a _rencontre_ with my Boche
pilot-aviator. For--listen, lieutenant! He too possessed the device