“When I joined up in January, 1901⁠—just two years ago⁠—young Godfrey Emsworth had joined the same squadron. He was Colonel Emsworth’s only son⁠—Emsworth the Crimean V. C. ⁠—and he had the fighting blood in him, so it is no wonder he volunteered. There was not a finer lad in the regiment. We formed a friendship⁠—the sort of friendship which can only be made when one lives the same life and shares the same joys and sorrows. He was my mate⁠—and that means a good deal in the Army. We took the rough and the smooth together for a year of hard fighting. Then he was hit with a bullet from an elephant gun in the action near Diamond Hill outside Pretoria. I got one letter from the hospital at Cape Town and one from Southampton. Since then not a word⁠—not one word, Mr. Holmes, for six months and more, and he my closest pal.

“Well, when the war was over, and we all got back, I wrote to his father and asked where Godfrey was. No answer. I waited a bit and then I wrote again. This time I had a reply, short and gruff. Godfrey had gone on a voyage round the world, and it was not likely that he would be back for a year. That was all.