Indeed she had already entertained ambitions for the stage; but though her dead father would hardly have stood in her way, these ambitions were not encouraged by the three dolts, her uncles, who now supposed themselves to control her future.  A glorious actress is lost to the world in my wife.

She had no secrets from me and I soon learned of her expectations; but it was not the prospect of the Redmayne money that shortened her uncles’ lives.  Jenny and I were never man-eaters; and, while my youthful experience in murder attracted her and increased her admiration for my qualities, it was not at that time in our minds to anticipate events or quarrel with her relations.

Her grandfather still lived, when first I met her, and the extent or disposition of his wealth seldom entered our calculations.  For we were then far too much in love to ponder the value of money, and our temperaments proved so distinguished that no sordid calculation ever wasted a moment of our time.

But a year passed; Jenny was ready to wed me and begin life as my twin star; while I longed for her with a great longing.  The situation cleared; her grandfather died; she would presently be the possessor of ample means and I already enjoyed an income from the business of Pendean and Trecarrow.

Then came the war and the sentence of death incidently pronounced by that event upon the brothers Redmayne.  Their own folly and lack of vision were alone responsible.  The facts are familiar, but not the tremendous and shattering emotions I endured on being branded a coward and traitor to my country by these three patriotic idiots.  I did not argue with them; it was enough that Jenny swiftly awakened to even a bitterer hatred and a deeper fury of resentment than myself.  They had roused the sleeping tempest and our lightning now became only a question of time.

Was I the man to make carrion of myself in national quarrels!  Was I the man to sacrifice my glorious life because besotted and third-rate minds, blinded by their own ignorance and fooled by cleverer statesmen than themselves, had suffered England to drift into war with Germany?  Was I a sheep to be slaughtered for a government of Nonconformists?  Should I consent to be mangled by the Boches because my fatuous country willed to trust the old gang?  No!

I had long understood that war was certain; I had already ascended public platforms with that little company who warned the Empire and were derided for their pains by the ruling bats and moles.  But to die for the salvation of this diplomatic trash, to suffer untold torments and ultimate extinction for that myopic crew of hypocrites known as the British government—­Never!

I evaded active service with a heart drug, as did some thousands of other intelligent men.  I kept a whole skin, stopped at home and received for my share the Order of the British Empire instead of a nameless grave.  It was easy enough.