He joined Merryon, and received the latter's report, grimly taciturn.
They talked together for a space of needs and expediencies. The fell
disease had got to be checked somehow. He spoke of recalling the
officers on leave. There had been such a huge sick list that summer that
they were reduced to less than half their normal strength.

"You're worth a good many," he said to Merryon, half-grudgingly, "but
you can't work miracles. Besides, you've got--" He broke off abruptly.
"How's your wife?"

"That's what I don't know, sir." Feverishly Merryon made answer. "I left
her last night.

She was well then. But since--I sent down an orderly over an hour ago.
He's not come back."

"Confound it!" said the colonel, testily. "You'd better go yourself."

Merryon glanced swiftly round.

"Yes, go, go!" the colonel reiterated, irritably. "I'll relieve you for
a spell. Go and satisfy yourself--and me! None but an infernal fool
would have kept her here," he added, in a growling undertone, as Merryon
lifted a hand in brief salute and started away through the sodden mists.

He went as he had never gone in his life before, and as he went the
mists parted before him and a blinding ray of sunshine came smiting
through the gap like the sword of the destroyer. The simile rushed
through his mind and out again, even as the grey mist-curtain closed
once more.