of the part.

Yet never in my wildest moments had I dreamt that he would try and get
into Germany in war-time, into that land where every citizen is
catalogued and pigeonholed from the cradle. But Red Tabs' oracular
utterance had made everything clear to me. Why a mission to Germany
would be the very thing that Francis would give his eyes to be allowed
to attempt! Francis with his utter disregard of danger, his love of
taking risks, his impish delight in taking a rise out of the stodgy
Hun--why, if there were Englishmen brave enough to take chances of
that kind, Francis would be the first to volunteer.

Yes, if Francis were on a mission anywhere it would be to Germany. But
what prospect had he of ever returning--with the frontiers closed and
ingress and egress practically barred even to pro-German neutrals? Many
a night in the trenches I had a mental vision of Francis, so debonair
and so fearless, facing a firing squad of Prussian privates.

From the day of the luncheon at the Bath Club to this very afternoon I
had had no further inkling of my brother's whereabouts or fate. The
authorities at home professed ignorance, as I knew, in duty bound, they
would, and I had nothing to hang any theory on to until Dicky Allerton's
letter came. Ashcroft at the F.O. fixed up my passports for me and I
lost no time in exchanging the white gulls and red cliffs of Cornwall
for the windmills and trim canals of Holland.

And now in my breast pocket lay, written on a small piece of cheap
foreign notepaper, the tidings I had come to Groningen to seek. Yet so
trivial, so nonsensical, so baffling was the message that I already felt
my trip to Holland to have been a fruitless errand.