As he walked briskly along the path towards the Springs, he was conscious of a feeling of extreme dissatisfaction and uneasiness. There was at the back of his mind some apprehension which he had not yet acknowledged. He felt that a further revelation was to come and that within himself, unadmitted to his thoughts, was the knowledge of what it would be. The air of the little Maori song came back to him and with it, like a chain jerked out of dark waters, sprang the sequence of ideas he was so loath to examine.

It was with a sense of extreme depression that he finally reached the house.

The dining-room was in darkness but a light shone faintly round the edge of the study window. The Colonel’s blackout arrangements were not entirely successful. Dikon could hear the drone of voices—the Colonel’s, he thought, and Dr Ackrington’s—and he tapped at the door and the Colonel called out in a high voice: ‘Yes, yes, yes? Come in.’

They sat together, portentously, after the manner of elderly gentlemen in conclave. They seemed to be distressed. With a trace, or so Dikon thought, of his old regimental manner, the Colonel said: ‘Come to report, Bell? That’s right. That’s right.’

Feeling rather like a blushing subaltern, Dikon stood by the desk and gave his account. The Colonel, as usual, stared at him with his eyes wide open and his mouth not quite closed. Dr Ackrington looked increasingly perturbed and uncomfortable. When Dikon had finished there was a long silence and this surprised him, for he had anticipated that from Dr Ackrington, at least, there would be a display of wrath in the grand manner. Dikon waited for a minute and then said: ‘So I thought I’d better come straight back and report.’

‘Exactly so,’ said the Colonel. ‘Perfectly correct. Thank you, Bell.’ And he actually gave a little nod of dismissal.

‘This,’ thought Dikon, ‘is not good enough,’ and he said: ‘The whole affair seemed so very suspicious.’

‘No doubt, no doubt,’ said Dr Ackrington very quickly. ‘I’m afraid, Bell, you’ve merely been afforded a momentary glimpse into a mare’s nest.’

‘Yes, but look here, sir…’

Dr Ackrington raised his hand. ‘Mr Falls,’ he said, ‘has already informed us of this incident. We’re satisfied that he acted advisedly.’

‘Quite. Quite!’ said the Colonel, and touched his moustache. Again with that air of dismissal, he added: ‘Thank you, Bell.’

‘This is not the army,’ Dikon thought furiously, and stood his ground.

Dr Ackrington said: ‘I think, Edward, that perhaps Bell is entitled to an explanation. Won’t you sit down, Bell?’