Harry took his brother’s arm and they clambered up and over together. He felt the air move against his face as machine gun fire zipped across. Francis was sagging, but Harry kept hold of his arm. They flailed and staggered on as it erupted and tore all around them. Francis’s footing seemed to go again and suddenly he was ahead of Harry and facing him. Harry stared at his brother’s face inches from his own. He put his hands to Francis’s shoulder, wanting to push him away, to pull him back and put himself between him and danger, but Francis had dropped his rifle and was now spreading out his arms. Harry watched his brother’s pupils dilate. He felt him sigh against his cheek. He also felt the bullets’ thrust. It surprised him, the volume of the violence in that jolt. Francis convulsed and slumped. Harry fell to the ground with the weight of his brother in his arms.

Part II

Part II

Chapter Fifty-Two: Harry

Chapter Fifty-Two

Harry

Amiens, September 1921

YOU DON’T LOOK WELL,” SAYS CASSIE. “NOT AT ALL.”

“I’m all right.” Harry pulls out the chair for her and puts his hand up for the waiter.

“Are you sure? You didn’t sound it on the telephone.”

He had called, as arranged, on the fifteenth. He had meant to talk to Ralph about Francis, but had ended up telling Cassie about Edie. Facing her questions and her concern, he had crumbled and spoken it all into the telephone receiver. The voice that had replied was calm and kind, but now she is sitting across the table from him. There are Japanese pagodas in the print of Cassie’s blouse and ostrich feathers in her hat and she is staring at him from under its brim.

“So she’s gone?”

“Disappeared. Might never have been here. I might as well have imagined her.”

“Oh, dear,” Cassie says and looks disappointedly down at the hat, which is now in her lap. She absentmindedly strokes the feathers as if they are a cat. “I am sorry to hear that, Harry. Really sorry. And I have to pass on Ralph’s apologies too: he apologizes for not being here and for having drawn a blank.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing at all beyond what you already know. He made a lot of telephone calls, wrote several letters, pulled on all his strings of contacts, but he found nothing beyond what you’ve already been told. There’s no grave with your brother’s name on it, but neither does he seem to have surfaced anywhere alive.”

“I can’t say that I’m too surprised. I’m coming to the conclusion that we’ll never get beyond this point, that this is it: this is as much information as we are ever going to have.”

“I’m sorry that I haven’t brought you any answers. You must despair of what direction to go in next.”