"Richard Butler!" cried O'Moy. "He has surrendered to you?"

"Half-an-hour ago."

Sir Terence turned aside with a weary shrug. A little laugh that
was more a sob broke from him. "Poor Una!" he muttered.

"The tangle is a shocking one - lies, lies everywhere, and in the
places where they were least to be expected." Wellington's anger
flashed out. "Do you realise what awaits you as a result of all
this damned insanity?"

"I do, sir. That is why I place my resignation in your hands.
The disregard of a general order punishable in any officer is
beyond pardon in your adjutant-general."

"But that is the least of it, you fool."

"Sure, don't I know? I assure you that I realise it all."

"And you are prepared to face it?" Wellington was almost savage
in an anger proceeding from the conflict that went on within him.
There was his duty as commander-in-chief, and there was his
friendship for O'Moy and his memory of the past in which O'Moy's
loyalty had almost been the ruin of him.

"What choice have I?"

His lordship turned away, and strode the length of the room,
his head bent, his lips twitching. Suddenly he stopped and