Bertram Eastford had intended to pass the shop of his oldfriend, the curiosity dealer, into whose pockets so much of hismoney had gone for trinkets gathered from all quarters of theglobe. He knew it was weakness on his part, to select that streetwhen he might have taken another, but he thought it would do noharm to treat himself to one glance at the seductive window of theold curiosity shop, where the dealer was in the habit of displayinghis latest acquisitions. The window was never quite the same, andit had a continued fascination for Bertram Eastford; but this time,he said to himself resolutely, he would not enter, having, as heassured himself, the strength of mind to forego this temptation.However, he reckoned without his window, for in it there was an oldobject newly displayed which caught his attention as effectually asa half-driven nail arrests the hem of a cloak. On the central shelfof the window stood an hour-glass, its framework of some wood asblack as ebony. He stood gazing at it for a moment, then turned tothe door and went inside, greeting the ancient shopman, whom heknew so well. "I want to look at the hour-glass you have in the window," hesaid. "Ah, yes," replied the curiosity dealer; "the cheap watch hasdriven the hour-glass out of the commercial market, and we rarelypick up a thing like that nowadays." He took the hour-glass fromthe shelf in the window, reversed it, and placed it on a table. Theruddy sand began to pour through into the lower receptacle in athin, constant stream, as if it were blood that had been dried andpowdered. Eastford watched the ever-increasing heap at the bottom,rising conically, changing its shape every moment, as littleavalanches of the sand fell away from its heightening sides. "There is no need for you to extol its antiquity," saidEastford, with a smile. "I knew the moment I looked at it that suchglasses are rare, and you are not going to find me a cheapeningcustomer." "So far from over-praising it," protested the shopman, "I wasabout to call your attention to a defect. It is useless as ameasurer of time." "It doesn't record the exact hour, then?" asked Eastford. "Well, I suppose the truth is, they were not very particular inthe old days, and time was not money, as it is now. It measures thehour with great accuracy," the curio dealer went on--"that is, ifyou watch it; but, strangely enough, after it has run for half anhour, or thereabouts, it stops, because of some defect in the neckof the glass, or in the pulverising of the sand, and will not goagain until the glass is shaken." The hour-glass at that moment verified what the old man said.The tiny stream of sand suddenly ceased, but resumed its flow themoment its owner jarred the frame, and continued pouring withoutfurther interruption. "That is very singular," said Eastford. "How do you account forit?" "I imagine it is caused by some inequality in the grains ofsand; probably a few atoms larger than the others come together atthe neck, and so stop the percolation. It always does this, and, ofcourse, I cannot remedy the matter because the glass ishermetically sealed."
"Well, I don't want it as a timekeeper, so we will not allowthat defect to interfere with the sale. How much do you ask forit?" The dealer named his price, and Eastford paid the amount. "I shall send it to you this afternoon." "Thank you," said the customer, taking his leave. That night in his room Bertram Eastford wrote busily until alate hour. When his work was concluded, he pushed away hismanuscript with a sigh of that deep contentment which comes to aman who has not wasted his day. He replenished the open fire, drewhis most comfortable armchair in front of it, took the green shadefrom his lamp, thus filling the luxurious apartment with a lightthat was reflected from armour and from ancient weapons standing incorners and hung along the walls. He lifted the paper-coveredpackage, cut the string that bound it, and placed the ancienthour-glass on his table, watching the thin stream of sand which hisaction had set running. The constant, unceasing, steady downfallseemed to hypnotise him. Its descent was as silent as the footstepsof time itself. Suddenly it stopped, as it had done in the shop,and its abrupt ceasing jarred on his tingling nerves like anunexpected break in the stillness. He could almost imagine anunseen hand clasping the thin cylinder of the glass and throttlingit. He shook the bygone timemeasurer and breathed again moresteadily when the sand resumed its motion. Presently he took theglass from the table and examined it with some attention. He thought at first its frame was ebony, but further inspectionconvinced him it was oak, blackened with age. On one round end wascarved rudely two hearts overlapping, and twined about them a pairof serpents. "Now, I wonder what that's for?" murmured Eastford to himself."An attempt at a coat of arms, perhaps." There was no clue to the meaning of the hieroglyphics, andEastford, with the glass balanced on his knee, watched the sandstill running, the crimson thread sparkling in the lamplight. Hefancied he saw distorted reflections of faces in the convex glass,although his reason told him they were but caricatures of his own.The great bell in the tower near by, with slow solemnity, tolledtwelve. He counted its measured strokes one by one, and then wasstartled by a decisive knock at his door. One section of his brainconsidered this visit untimely, another looked on it as perfectlyusual, and while the two were arguing the matter out, he heard hisown voice cry: "Come in." The door opened, and the discussion between the government andthe opposition in his mind ceased to consider the untimeliness ofthe visit, for here, in the visitor himself, stood another problem.He was a young man in military costume, his uniform being that ofan officer. Eastford remembered seeing something like it on thestage, and knowing little of military affairs, thought perhaps thecostume of the visitor before him indicated an officer in theNapoleonic war.
"Good evening!" said the incomer. "May I introduce myself? I amLieutenant Sentore, of the regular army." "You are very welcome," returned his host. "Will you beseated?" "Thank you, no. I have but a few moments to stay. I have comefor my hour-glass, if you will be good enough to let me haveit." "Your hour-glass?" ejaculated Eastford, in surprise. "Ithink you labour under a misapprehension. The glass belongs to me;I bought it to-day at the old curiosity shop in FinchmoreStreet." "Rightful possession of the glass would appear to rest with you,technically; but taking you to be a gentleman, I venture to believethat a mere statement of my priority of claim will appeal to you,even though it might have no effect on the minds of a jury of ourcountrymen." "You mean to say that the glass has been stolen from you and hasbeen sold?" "It has been sold undoubtedly over and over again, but neverstolen, so far as I have been able to trace its history." "If, then, the glass has been honestly purchased by itsdifferent owners, I fail to see how you can possibly establish anyclaim to it." "I have already admitted that my claim is moral rather thanlegal," continued the visitor. "It is a long story; have I yourpermission to tell it?" "I shall be delighted to listen," replied Eastford, "but beforedoing so I beg to renew my invitation, and ask you to occupy thiseasy-chair before the fire." The officer bowed in silence, crossed the room behind Eastford,and sat down in the arm-chair, placing his sword across his knees.The stranger spread his hands before the fire, and seemed to enjoythe comforting warmth. He remained for a few moments buried in deepreflection, quite ignoring the presence of his host, who, glancingupon the hour-glass in dispute upon his knees, seeing that thesands had all run out silently reversed it and set them flowingagain. This action caught the corner of the stranger's eye, andbrought him to a realisation of why he was there. Drawing a heavysigh, he began his story. ***** "In the year 1706 I held the post of lieutenant in that part ofthe British Army commanded by General Trelawny, the supremecommand, of course, being in the hands of the greatMarlborough." Eastford listened to this announcement with a feeling that therewas something wrong about the statement. The man sitting there wascalmly talking of a time one hundred and ninety-two years past, andyet he himself could not be a day more than twenty-five years old.Somewhere entangled
in this were the elements of absurdity.Eastford found himself unable to unravel them, but the more hethought of the matter, the more reasonable it began to appear, andso, hoping his visitor had not noted the look of surprise on hisface, he said, quietly, casting his mind back over the history ofEngland, and remembering what he had learned at school:-"That was during the war of the Spanish Succession?" "Yes: the war had then been in progress four years, and manybrilliant victories had been won, the greatest of which wasprobably the Battle of Blenheim." "Quite so," murmured Eastford. "It was the English," Casper cried, "That put the French to rout; "But what they killed each other for, "I never could make out." The officer looked up in astonishment. "I never heard anything like that said about the war. The reasonfor it was perfectly plain. We had to fight or acknowledge Franceto be the dictator of Europe. Still, politics have nothing to dowith my story. General Trelawny and his forces were in Brabant, andwere under orders to join the Duke of Marlborough's army. We wereto go through the country as speedily as possible, for a greatbattle was expected. Trelawny's instructions were to capturecertain towns and cities that lay in our way, to dismantle thefortresses, and to parole their garrisons. We could not encumberourselves with prisoners, and so marched the garrisons out, paroledthem, destroyed their arms, and bade them disperse. But, great aswas our hurry, strict orders had been given to leave no strongholdsin our rear untaken. "Everything went well until we came to the town of Elsengore,which we captured without the loss of a man. The capture of thetown, however, was of little avail, for in the centre of it stood astrong citadel, which we tried to take by assault, but could not.General Trelawny, a very irascible, hotheaded man, but, on thewhole, a just and capable officer, impatient at this unexpecteddelay, offered the garrison almost any terms they desired toevacuate the castle. But, having had warning of our coming, theyhad provisioned the place, were well supplied with ammunition, andtheir commander refused to make terms with General Trelawny. "'If you want the place,' said the Frenchman, 'come and takeit.' "General Trelawny, angered at this contemptuous treatment, flunghis men again and again at the citadel, but without making theslightest impression on it. "We were in no wise prepared for a long siege, nor had weexpected stubborn resistance. Marching quickly, as was our customheretofore, we possessed no heavy artillery, and so were at adisadvantage when attacking a fortress as strong as that ofElsengore. Meanwhile, General Trelawny sent mounted messengers bydifferent roads to his chief giving an account of what hadhappened, explaining his delay in joining the main army, and askingfor definite instructions. He expected that one or two, at least,of the mounted messengers sent away would reach his chief
and beenabled to return. And that is exactly what happened, for one day adusty horseman came to General Trelawny's headquarters with a briefnote from Marlborough. The Commander-inChief said:-"'I think the Frenchman's advice is good. We want the place;therefore, take it.' "But he sent no heavy artillery to aid us in this task, for hecould not spare his big guns, expecting, as he did, an importantbattle. General Trelawny having his work thus cut out for him,settled down to accomplish it as best he might. He quarteredofficers and men in various parts of the town, the more thoroughlyto keep watch on the citizens, of whose good intentions, if thesiege were prolonged, we were by no means sure. "It fell to my lot to be lodged in the house of BurgomasterSeidelmier, of whose conduct I have no reason to complain, for hetreated me well. I was given two rooms, one a large, low apartmenton the first floor, and communicating directly with the outside, bymeans of a hall and a separate stairway. The room was lighted by along, many-paned window, leaded and filled with diamond-shapedglass. Beyond this large drawing- room was my bedroom. I must saythat I enjoyed my stay in Burgomaster Seidelmier's house none theless because he had an only daughter, a most charming girl. Ouracquaintance ripened into deep friendship, and afterwardsinto----but that has nothing to do with what I have to tell you. Mystory is of war, and not of love. Gretlich Seidelmier presented mewith the hour-glass you have in your hand, and on it I carved thejoined hearts entwined with our similar initials." "So they are initials, are they?" said Eastford, glancing downat what he had mistaken for twining serpents. "Yes," said the officer; "I was more accustomed to a sword thanto an etching tool, and the letters are but rudely drawn. Oneevening, after dark, Gretlich and I were whispering together in thehall, when we heard the heavy tread of the general coming up thestair. The girl fled precipitately, and I, holding open the door,waited the approach of my chief. He entered and curtly asked me toclose the door. "'Lieutenant,' he said, 'it is my intention to capture thecitadel to- night. Get together twenty-five of your men, and havethem ready under the shadow of this house, but give no one a hintof what you intend to do with them. In one hour's time leave thisplace with your men as quietly as possible, and make an attack onthe western entrance of the citadel. Your attack is to be but afeint and to draw off their forces to that point. Still, if any ofyour men succeed in gaining entrance to the fort they shall notlack reward and promotion. Have you a watch?' "'Not one that will go, general; but I have an hourglasshere.' "'Very well, set it running. Collect your men, and exactly atthe hour lead them to the west front; it is but five minutes' quickmarch from here. An hour and five minutes from this moment I expectyou to begin the attack, and the instant you are before the westerngate make as much noise as your twenty-five men are capable of, soas to lead the enemy to believe that the attack is a seriousone.'
"Saying this, the general turned and made his way, heavy-footed,through the hall and down the stairway. "I set the hour-glass running, and went at once to call my men,stationing them where I had been ordered to place them. I returnedto have a word with Gretlich before I departed on what I knew was adangerous mission. Glancing at the hour-glass, I saw that not morethan a quarter of the sand had run down during my absence. Iremained in the doorway, where I could keep an eye on thehour-glass, while the girl stood leaning her arm against the angleof the dark passageway, supporting her fair cheek on her open palm;and, standing thus in the darkness, she talked to me in whispers.We talked and talked, engaged in that sweet, endless conversationthat murmurs in subdued tone round the world, being duplicated thatmoment at who knows how many places. Absorbed as I was inlistening, at last there crept into my consciousness the fact thatthe sand in the upper bulb was not diminishing as fast as itshould. This knowledge was fully in my mind for some time before Irealised its fearful significance. Suddenly the dim knowledge tookon actuality. I sprang from the door-lintel, saying:-"'Good heavens, the sand in the hour-glass has stoppedrunning!' "I remained there motionless, all action struck from my rigidlimbs, gazing at the hour-glass on the table. "Gretlich, peering in at the doorway, looking at the hour-glassand not at me, having no suspicion of the ruin involved in thestoppage of that miniature sandstorm, said, presently:-"'Oh, yes, I forgot to tell you it does that now and then, andso you must shake the glass.' "She bent forward as if to do this when the leaden windowsshuddered, and the house itself trembled with the sharp crash ofour light cannon, followed almost immediately by the deeperdetonation of the heavier guns from the citadel. The red sand inthe glass began to fall again, and its liberation seemed tounfetter my paralysed limbs. Bareheaded as I was, I rushed like onefrantic along the passage and down the stairs. The air was resonantwith the quickfollowing reports of the cannon, and the long,narrow street was fitfully lit up as if by sudden flashes of summerlightning. My men were still standing where I had placed them.Giving a sharp word of command, I marched them down the street andout into the square, where I met General Trelawny coming back fromhis futile assault. Like myself, he was bareheaded. His militarycountenance was begrimed with powder-smoke, but he spoke to me withno trace of anger in his voice. "'Lieutenant Sentore,' he said, 'disperse your men.' "I gave the word to disband my men, and then stood at attentionbefore him. "'Lieutenant Sentore,' he said, in the same level voice, 'returnto your quarters and consider yourself under arrest. Await mycoming there.'
"I turned and obeyed his orders. It seemed incredible that thesand should still be running in the hour-glass, for ages appearedto have passed over my head since last I was in that room. I pacedup and down, awaiting the coming of my chief, feeling neither fearnor regret, but rather dumb despair. In a few minutes his heavytread was on the stair, followed by the measured tramp of a file ofmen. He came into the room, and with him were a sergeant and foursoldiers, fully armed. The general was trembling with rage, butheld strong control over himself, as was his habit on seriousoccasions. "'Lieutenant Sentore,' he said, 'why were you not at yourpost?" "'The running sand in the hour-glass' (I hardly recognised myown voice on hearing it) 'stopped when but half exhausted. I didnot notice its interruption until it was too late.' "The general glanced grimly at the hour-glass. The last sandswere falling through to the lower bulb. I saw that he did notbelieve my explanation. "'It seems now to be in perfect working order,' he said, atlast. "He strode up to it and reversed it, watching the sand pour fora few moments, then he spoke abruptly:-"'Lieutenant Sentore, your sword.' "I handed my weapon to him without a word. Turning to thesergeant, he said: 'Lieutenant Sentore is sentenced to death. Hehas an hour for whatever preparations he cares to make. Allow himto dispose of that hour as he chooses, so long as he remains withinthis room and holds converse with no one whatever. When the lastsands of this hour-glass are run, Lieutenant Sentore will stand atthe other end of this room and meet the death merited by traitors,laggards, or cowards. Do you understand your duty, sergeant?' "'Yes, general.' "General Trelawny abruptly left the room, and we heard his heavysteps echoing throughout the silent house, and later, more faintlyon the cobble-stones of the street. When they had died away a deepstillness set in, I standing alone at one end of the room, my eyesfixed on the hour-glass, and the sergeant with his four men, likestatues at the other, also gazing at the same sinister object. Thesergeant was the first to break the silence. "'Lieutenant,' he said, 'do you wish to write anything----?' "He stopped short, being an unready man, rarely venturing farbeyond 'Yes' and 'No.' "'I should like to communicate with one in this household,' Isaid, 'but the general has forbidden it, so all I ask is that youshall have my body conveyed from this room as speedily as possibleafter the execution.'
"'Very good, lieutenant,' answered the sergeant. "After that, for a long time no word was spoken. I watched mylife run redly through the wasp waist of the transparent glass,then suddenly the sand ceased to flow, half in the upper bulb, halfin the lower. "'It has stopped,' said the sergeant; 'I must shake theglass.' "'Stand where you are!' I commanded, sharply. 'Your orders donot run to that.' "The habit of obedience rooted the sergeant to the spot. "'Send one of your men to General Trelawny,' I said, as if I hadstill the right to be obeyed. 'Tell him what has happened, and askfor instructions. Let your man tread lightly as he leaves theroom.' "The sergeant did not hesitate a moment, but gave the order Irequired of him. The soldier nearest the door tip-toed out of thehouse. As we all stood there the silence seeming the deeper becauseof the stopping of the sand, we heard the hour toll in the neareststeeple. The sergeant was visibly perturbed, and finally hesaid:-"'Lieutenant, I must obey the general's orders. An hour haspassed since he left here, for that clock struck as he was goingdown the stair. Soldiers, make ready. Present.' "The men, like impassive machines levelled their muskets at mybreast. I held up my hand. "'Sergeant,' I said as calmly as I could, 'you are now about toexceed your instructions. Give another command at your peril. Theexact words of the general were, 'When the last sands of thishour-glass are run.' I call your attention to the fact that theconditions are not fulfilled. Half of the sand remains in the upperbulb.' "The sergeant scratched his head in perplexity, but he had nodesire to kill me, and was only actuated by a soldier's wish toadhere strictly to the letter of his instructions, be the victimfriend or foe. After a few moments he muttered, 'It is true,' thengave a command that put his men into their former position. "Probably more than half an hour passed, during which time noman moved; the sergeant and his three remaining soldiers seemedafraid to breathe; then we heard the step of the general himself onthe stair. I feared that this would give the needed impetus to thesand in the glass, but, when Trelawny entered, the statusquo remained. The general stood looking at the suspended sand,without speaking. "' That is what happened before, general, and that is why I wasnot at my place. I have committed the crime of neglect, and havethus deservedly earned my death; but I shall die the happier if mygeneral believes I am neither a traitor nor a coward.'
"The general, still without a word, advanced to the table,slightly shook the hour-glass, and the sand began to pour again.Then he picked the glass up in his hand, examining it minutely, asif it were some strange kind of toy, turning it over and over. Heglanced up at me and said, quite in his usual tone, as if nothingin particular had come between us:-"'Remarkable thing that, Sentore, isn't it?' "'Very,' I answered, grimly. "He put the glass down. "'Sergeant, take your men to quarters. Lieutenant Sentore, Ireturn to you your sword; you can perhaps make better use of italive than dead; I am not a man to be disobeyed, reason or noreason. Remember that, and now go to bed.' "He left me without further word, and buckling on my sword, Iproceeded straightway to disobey again. "I had a great liking for General Trelawny. Knowing how he fumedand raged at being thus held helpless by an apparently impregnablefortress in the unimportant town of Elsengore, I had myself studiedthe citadel from all points, and had come to the conclusion that itmight be successfully attempted, not by the great gates that openedon the square of the town, nor by the inferior west gates, but byscaling the seemingly unclimbable cliffs at the north side. Thewall at the top of this precipice was low, and owing to the heightof the beetling cliff, was inefficiently watched by one lonesentinel, who paced the battlements from corner tower to cornertower. I had made my plans, intending to ask the general'spermission to risk this venture, but now I resolved to try itwithout his knowledge or consent, and thus retrieve, if I could, myfailure of the foregoing part of the night. "Taking with me a long, thin rope which I had in my room,anticipating such a trial for it, I roused five of my picked men,and silently we made our way to the foot of the northern cliff.Here, with the rope around my waist, I worked my way diagonally upalong a cleft in the rock, which, like others parallel to it,marked the face of the precipice. A slip would be fatal. Theloosening of a stone would give warning to the sentinel, whose slowsteps I heard on the wall above me, but at last I reached a narrowledge without accident, and standing up in the darkness, my chinwas level with the top of the wall on which the sentry paced. Theshelf between the bottom of the wall and the top of the cliff wasperhaps three feet in width, and gave ample room for a man carefulof his footing. Aided by the rope, the others, less expert climbersthan myself, made their way to my side one by one, and the six ofus stood on the ledge under the low wall. We were all in ourstockinged feet, some of the men, in fact, not even havingstockings on. As the sentinel passed, we crouching in the darknessunder the wall, the most agile of our party sprang up behind him.The soldier had taken off his jacket, and tip-toeing behind thesentinel, he threw the garment over his head, tightening it with atwist that almost strangled the man. Then seizing his gun so thatit would not clatter on the stones, held him thus helpless while wefive climbed up beside him. Feeling under the jacket, I put myright hand firmly on the sentinel's throat, and nearly choking thebreath out of him, said:--
"'Your life depends on your actions now. Will you utter a soundif I let go your throat?' "The man shook his head vehemently, and I released myclutch. "'Now,' I said to him, 'where is the powder stored? Answer in awhisper, and speak truly.' "'The bulk of the powder,' he answered, 'is in the vault belowthe citadel.' "'Where is the rest of it?' I whispered. "'In the lower room of the round tower by the gate.' "'Nonsense,' I said: 'they would never store it in a place soliable to attack.' "'There was nowhere else to put it,' replied the sentinel,'unless they left it in the open courtyard, which would be quite asunsafe.' "'Is the door to the lower room in the tower bolted?' "'There is no door,' replied the sentry, 'but a low archway.This archway has not been closed, because no cannon-balls ever comefrom the northern side.' "'How much powder is there in this room?' "'I do not know; nine or ten barrels, I think.' "It was evident to me that the fellow, in his fear, spoke thetruth. Now, the question was, how to get down from the wall intothe courtyard and across that to the archway at the southern side?Cautioning the sentinel again, that if he made the slightestattempt to escape or give the alarm, instant death would be metedto him, I told him to guide us to the archway, which he did, downthe stone steps that led from the northern wall into the courtyard.They seemed to keep loose watch inside, the only sentinels in theplace being those on the upper walls. But the man we had capturednot appearing at his corner in time, his comrade on the westernside became alarmed, spoke to him, and obtaining no answer, shoutedfor him, then discharged his gun. Instantly the place was in anuproar. Lights flashed, and from different guard-rooms soldierspoured out. I saw across the courtyard the archway the sentinel hadspoken of, and calling my men made a dash for it. The besiegedgarrison, not expecting an enemy within, had been rushing up thestone steps at each side to the outer wall to man the cannon theyhad so recently quitted, and it was some minutes before a knowledgeof the real state of things came to them. These few minutes wereall we needed, but I saw there was no chance for a slow match,while if we fired the mine we probably would die under thetottering tower. "By the time we reached the archway and discovered the powderbarrels, the besieged, finding everything silent outside, came to arealisation of the true condition of affairs. We faced them withbayonets fixed, while Sept, the man who had captured the sentinel,took the hatchet he had brought with him at his girdle, flung overone of the barrels on its side, knocked in the head of it,
allowingthe dull black powder to pour on the cobblestones. Then filling hishat with the explosive, he came out towards us, leaving a thicktrail behind him. By this time we were sorely beset, and one of ourmen had gone down under the fire of the enemy, who shot wildly,being baffled by the darkness, otherwise all of us had beenslaughtered. I seized a musket from a comrade and shouted to therest:-"'Save yourselves', and to the garrison, in French, I gave thesame warning; then I fired the musket into the train of powder, andthe next instant found myself half stunned and bleeding at thefarther end of the courtyard. The roar of the explosion and thecrash of the falling tower were deafening. All Elsengore wasgroused by the earthquake shock, I called to my men when I couldfind my voice, and Sept answered from one side, and two more fromanother. Together we tottered across the debris-strewncourtyard. Some woodwork inside the citadel had taken fire and wasburning fiercely, and this lit up the ruins and made visible thegreat gap in the wall at the fallen gate. Into the square below wesaw the whole town pouring, soldiers and civilians alike comingfrom the narrow streets into the open quadrangle. I made my way,leaning on Sept, over the broken gate and down the causeway intothe square, and there, foremost of all, met my general, with acloak thrown round him, to make up for his want of coat. "'There, general,' I gasped, 'there is your citadel, and throughthis gap can we march to meet Marlborough.' "'Pray, sir, who the deuce are you?' cried the general, for myface was like that of a blackamoor. "'I am the lieutenant who has once more disobeyed your orders,general, in the hope of retrieving a former mistake.' "'Sentore!' he cried, rapping out an oath. 'I shall have youcourt- martialled, sir.' "'I think, general,' I said, 'that I am court-martialledalready,' for I thought then that the hand of death was upon me,which shows the effect of imagination, for my wounds were notserious, yet I sank down unconscious at the general's feet. Heraised me in his arms as if I had been his own son, and thuscarried me to my rooms. Seven years later, when the war ended, Igot leave of absence and came back to Elsengore for GretlichSeidelmier and the hour-glass." As the lieutenant ceased speaking, Eastford thought he heardagain the explosion under the tower, and started to his feet innervous alarm, then looked at the lieutenant and laughed, while hesaid:-"Lieutenant, I was startled by that noise just now, and imaginedfor the moment that I was in Brabant. You have made good your claimto the hour-glass, and you are welcome to it." But as Eastford spoke, he turned his eyes towards the chair inwhich the lieutenant had been seated, and found it vacant. Gazinground the room, in half somnolent dismay, he saw that he was indeedalone. At his feet was the shattered hour-glass, which had fallenfrom his knee, its bloodred sand mingling with the colours on thecarpet. Eastford said, with an air of surprise:-"By Jove!"