Lieutenant Sutch was brought back to the causes of the whole miserable business: the premature death of the mother, who could have understood; the want of comprehension in the father, who was left; and his own silence on the Crimean night at Broad Place.
"If only I had spoken," he said sadly.

He dropped the end of his cigar into his coffee-cup, and standing up, reached for his hat.

"Many things are irrevocable, Harry," he said, "but one never knows whether they are irrevocable or not until one has found out.

It is always worth while finding out." The next evening Feversham crossed to Calais.

It was a night as wild as that on which Durrance had left England; and, like Durrance, Feversham had a friend to see him off, for the last thing which his eyes beheld as the packet swung away from the pier, was the face of Lieutenant Sutch beneath a gas-lamp.