before me, each earning in a few minutes, as a valet, what it took them two days to earn as a soldier.
In a surprisingly short time, all were dressed and ready, the garde-chambre had swept up the dust and dirt that the men had brushed out from under the beds, and Corporal Dupré had been round to see that the beds were properly made and everything tidy. Then, following upon a shout of "Garde à vous," the Colour-Sergeant of the Company entered and inspected the room and the men.
All prayed that he might find no fault, for if he did, he would punish the Corporal, and the Corporal would punish the offenders tenfold.
In the French army, non-commissioned officers can, like prefects in our public schools, award punishments without reference to officers. They give the punishment, enter it in the livre de punitions, and there is an end of the matter--unless the officer, inspecting the book, increases the punishment by way of punishing the offender for getting punished.
The system enhances the power and position of the non-com. enormously, and undoubtedly makes for tremendous discipline--and some injustice and tyranny.
All was well this morning, however, and the great man's iron face remained impassive, and his hard mouth unopened.
We took our Lebel rifles from the rack, put our bayonets in their frogs, and clattered down to the parade-ground at five-thirty, on that glorious cold morning.
The battalion marched away to field-exercises, and the recruits were formed up, told off by escouades, each under a corporal, and taken out to the "plateau," a vast drill-ground near the village nègre, for physical training, which to-day was simply steady running. It was nothing much for young athletes like us three, but a little cruel for half-starved or out-of-condition men, who had not run for some time.
On other mornings the physical culture took the form of gymnastics, boxing, or a long route-march.
On our return to barracks, wet and warm, we had our morning meal of soupe and bread, and a quarter-litre of good wine. Tin plates and gamelles were rattled out of hanging-cupboards, and we sat at the long tables that occupied the centre of the big room. There was meat as well as vegetables in my excellent stew, and the bread, though grey, was palatable, and more than sufficient in quantity.
After a rest, the recruits had a lecture, and after that, squad and company drill, while the battalion did attack-formation exercise on the plateau.
After this we were set to work with brooms and wheel-barrows at tidying up around the barracks, and were then free to go to the lavabo to wash and dry our white uniforms.
At five o'clock we got our second meal, exactly like the first, and were then finished for the day, save in so far as we had to prepare for the next, in the way of cleaning and polishing the leather and metal of our arms and equipment--no small task, especially with stuff fresh from store.
Here the poverty of the Legion again helped us, for no man need do a stroke more than he wishes of this kind of work, while he has a halfpenny to spare.
We soon found that it was a real and genuine kindness to let a comrade have a go at our leather and brass, our rifles and bayonets, our dirty fatigue-suits and underclothing; for, to him, a job meant the means of getting a packet of caporal cigarettes, a bottle of wine, a postage-stamp, a change of diet, a piece of much-needed soap, or a chance to replenish his cleaning materials.
We three did not shirk our work, by any means, but very often, when weary to death, or anxious to go out of barracks, we gave our astiquage work to one of the many who begged to be allowed to do it.
The recruits progressed with astonishing speed, being practically all trained soldiers before they joined, and picked up the necessary Legion-French remarkably rapidly.
We three very soon became good soldiers, aided by our intelligence, strength, sobriety, athletic training, sense of discipline, knowledge of French, and a genuine desire to make good.
More fortunate than most, we were well-educated and had "background"; a little money (thanks to Michael's forethought), which was wealth in the Legion; good habits, self-control, and a public-school training; and we were inoffensive by reason of possessing the consideration, courtesy, and self-respecting respect for others proper to gentlemen.
Less fortunate than most, we were accustomed to varied food, comfortable surroundings, leisure, a great deal of mental and physical recreation, spaciousness of life, and above all, privacy.
But at first, everything was new and strange, remarkable and romantic; we were Soldiers of Fortune, we were together, and we were by no means unhappy.
But oh, how I longed to see Isobel!
And gradually, wondering thoughts as to the "Blue Water" and its whereabouts, retired to the back of my mind, for the world was too much with us altogether, for there to be time available for introspection or day-dreaming. Our days were too full and busy and our nights all too short for thought. They were scarce long enough for the deep dreamless sleep necessary to men who were worked as we were.
And how we blessed Sundays--those glorious life-saving days of complete rest.
On our first Sunday morning in the Legion, we three sat on Michael's bed and held a "Council of War," as we had so often done, in the days of the Band, at Brandon Abbas.
It was decided that I should write to Isobel, telling her where I was, and saying that I knew where Michael and Digby were, and could send them any messages or news.
Isobel was to use her discretion as to admitting that she knew where I was, but if she did admit it, she was to add--the simple truth--that she had not the slightest idea as to where the others were.
This plan was Michael's, and as he seemed keen on it, and neither Digby nor I saw anything against it, we adopted it, and I wrote a letter which she could show to Aunt Patricia, or not, as she liked.
I wrote as follows:--
"Légionnaire John Smith, No. 18896, 7th Company, Premier Étranger, Sidi-bel-Abbès, Algeria. Dear Isobel, A letter to the above address will find me. Michael and Digby know it also. I can send them any messages, or news, from Brandon Abbas. Neither of them is in England. Either of them will let me know if he changes his present address. I am in excellent health. I shall write again if I hear from you. I am so anxious to know what is happening at home. John."
Michael and Digby approved of this, as it opened up a line of communication with Brandon Abbas, but made no change in the situation.
From what we had learnt, after discreet enquiries of Boldini, we had quite come to the conclusion that the English police would take no steps in pursuit of the legionary, John Smith, so long as he remained in the Legion, even though there were strong reasons for suspecting him to be John Geste who had disappeared at the time of the jewel-robbery.
But I privately inserted a scrap of paper on which was a message of undying and unalterable love to my sweetheart. This she could destroy, and the letter she could produce for Aunt Patricia's information or not, as might seem best to her in whatever circumstances arose. . . .
On a Saturday night, a fortnight later, I got a private and personal love-letter that made me wildly happy and as proud as a peacock; and, with it, a long letter that I could send to Michael and Digby if I wished to do so.
This latter said that things were
