But he did not turn to his other
letters. He sat smoking his cigar, and looked out across the summer
country and listened to the sounds rising distinctly from the fields.
Sutch had read through all of his correspondence before Feversham spoke
again.
"I have been thinking," he said. "Have you noticed the date of the
month, Sutch?" and Sutch looked up quickly.
"Yes," said he, "this day next week will be the anniversary of our
attack upon the Redan, and Harry's birthday."
"Exactly," replied Feversham. "Why shouldn't we start the Crimean nights
again?"
Sutch jumped up from his chair.
"Splendid!" he cried. "Can we muster a tableful, do you think?"
"Let's see," said Feversham, and ringing a handbell upon the table, sent
the servant for the Army List. Bending over that Army List the two
veterans may be left.
But of one other figure in this story a final word must be said. That
night, when the invitations had been sent out from Broad Place, and no
longer a light gleamed from any window of the house, a man leaned over
the rail of a steamer anchored at Port Said and listened to the song of
the Arab coolies as they tramped up and down the planks with their coal
baskets between the barges and the ship's side.
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