The Zeppelins Passenger | Page 9

him.
"If we are, we'll explain," Helen promised.
"In that case," the intruder begged, "perhaps you will excuse me."
He moved towards the door and softly turned the key, then he drew the
curtains carefully across the French windows. Afterwards he made his
way towards the tea-table. A little throbbing cry had broken from
Helen's lips.
"Philippa," she exclaimed, "it's from Dick! It's Dick's handwriting!"
Philippa's reply was incoherent. She was tearing open her own
envelope. With a well-satisfied smile, the bearer of these

communications seized a sandwich in one hand and poured himself out
some tea with the other. He ate and drank with the restraint of
good-breeding, but with a voracity which gave point to his plea of
starvation. A few yards away, the breathless silence between the two
women had given place to an almost hysterical series of disjointed
exclamations.
"It's from Dick!" Helen repeated. "It's his own dear handwriting. How
shaky it is! He's alive and well, Philippa, and he's found a friend."
"I know - I know," Philippa murmured tremulously. "Our parcels have
been discovered, and he got them all at once. Just fancy, Helen, he's
really not so ill, after all!"
They drew a little closer together.
"You read yours out first," Helen proposed," and then I'll read mine."
Philippa nodded. Her voice here and there was a little uncertain.
MY DEAREST SISTER,
I have heard nothing from you or Helen for so long that I was really
getting desperate. I have had a very rough time here, but by the grace of
Providence I stumbled up against an old friend the other day, Bertram
Maderstrom, whom you must have heard me speak of in my college
days. It isn't too much to say that he has saved my life. He has
unearthed your parcels, found me decent quarters, and I am getting
double rations. He has promised, too, to get this letter through to you.
=20
You needn't worry about me now, dear. I am feeling twice the man I
was a month ago, and I shall stick it out now quite easily.
Write me as often as ever you can. Your letters and Helen's make all
the difference.
My love to you and to Henry. Your affectionate brother, RICHARD.

P.S. Is Henry an Admiral yet? I suppose he was in the Jutland scrap,
which they all tell us here was a great German victory. I hope he came
out all right.
Philippa read the postscript with a little shiver. Then she set her teeth as
though determined to ignore it.
"Isn't it wonderful!" she exclaimed, turning towards Helen with
glowing eyes.=20 "Now yours, dear?"
Helen's voice trembled as she read. Her eyes, too, at times were misty:
DEAREST,
I am writing to you so differently because I feel that you will really get
this letter. I have bad an astonishing stroke of luck, as you will gather
from Philippa's note. You can't imagine the difference. A month ago I
really thought I should have to chuck it in. Now I am putting on flesh
every day and beginning to feel myself again. I owe my life to a pal
with whom I was at college, and whom you and I, dearest, will have to
remember all our lives.
I think of you always, and my thoughts are like the flowers of which
we see nothing in these hideous huts. My greatest joy is in dreaming of
the day when we shall meet again.
Write to me often, sweetheart. Your letters and my thoughts of you are
the one joy of my life.
Always your lover, DICK.
There were a few moments of significant silence. The girls were
leaning together, their arms around one another's necks, their heads
almost touching. Behind them, their visitor continued to eat and drink.
He rose at last, however, reluctantly to his feet, and coughed. They
started, suddenly remembering his presence. Philippa turned
impulsively towards him with outstretched hands.

"I can't tell you how thankful we are to you," she declared.
"Both of us," Helen echoed.
He touched with his fingers a box of cigarettes which stood upon the
tea-table.
"You permit? "he asked.
"Of course," Philippa assented eagerly. "You will find some matches
on the tray there. Do please help yourself. I am afraid that I must have
seemed very discourteous, but this has all been so amazing. Won't you
have some fresh tea and some toast, or wouldn't you like some more
sandwiches?"
"Nothing more at present, thank you," he replied. "If you do not mind, I
would rather continue our conversation."
"These letters are wonderful," Philippa told him gratefully. "You know
from whom they come, of course. Dick is my twin brother, and until
the war we had scarcely ever been parted. Miss Fairclough here is
engaged to