“Specially,” said I.

“Consolation prize, I suppose, for losing my sight.  They had just time to get me away behind when the Germans counter attacked.  If I hadn’t brought the six men in, they wouldn’t have had a dog’s chance.  I did save their lives.  That’s something to the credit side of the infernal balance.”

“There can be no balance now, my dear chap,” said I.  “God knows you’ve paid in full.”

He lifted his hand and dropped it with a despairing gesture.

“There’s only one payment in full.  That was denied me.  God, or whoever was responsible, had my eyes knocked out, and made it impossible for ever.  He or somebody must be enjoying the farce.”

“That’s all very well,” said I.  “A man can do no more than his utmost—­as you’ve done.  He must be content to leave the rest in the hands of the Almighty.”

“The Almighty has got a down on me,” he replied.  “And I don’t blame Him.  Of course, from your point of view, you’re right.  You’re a normal, honourable soldier and gentleman.  Anything you’ve got to reproach yourself with is of very little importance.  But I’m an accursed freak.  I told you all about it when you held me up over the South African affair.  There were other affairs after that.  Others again in this war.  Haven’t I just told you I let my regiment down?”

“Don’t, my dear man, don’t!” I cried, in great pain, for it was horrible to hear a man talk like this.  “Can’t you see you’ve wiped out everything?”

“There’s one thing at any rate I can’t ever wipe out,” he said in a low voice.  Then he laughed.  “I’ve got to stick it.  It may be amusing to see how it all pans out.  I suppose the very last passion left us is curiosity.”

“There’s also the unconquerable soul,” said I.

“You’re very comforting,” said he.  “If I were in your place, I’d leave a chap like me to the worms.”  He drew a long breath.  “I suppose I’ll pull through all right.”

“Of course you will,” said I.

“I feel tons better, thanks to you, already.”

“That’s right,” said I.

He fumbled for the box of cigarettes on the bed.  Instinctively I tried to help him, but I was tied to my fixed chair.  It was a trivial occasion; but I have never been so terrified by the sense of helplessness.  Just think of it.  Two men of clear brain and, to all intents and purposes, of sound bodily health, unable to reach an object a few feet away.  Boyce uttered an impatient exclamation.

“Get hold of that box for me, like a good chap,” he said, his fingers groping wide of the mark.

“I can’t move,” said I.

“Good Lord!  I forgot.”

He began to laugh.  I laughed, too.  We laughed like fools and the tears ran down my cheeks.  I suppose we were on the verge of hysterics.

I pulled myself together and gave him a cigarette from my case.  And then, stretch as I would, I could not reach far enough to apply the match to the end of the cigarette between his lips.  He was unable to lift his head.  I lit another match and, like an idiot, put it between his fingers.  He nearly burned his moustache and his bandage, and would have burned his fingers had not the match—­a wooden one—­providentially gone out.  Then I lit a cigarette myself and handed it to him.