Lanser went on very quietly, “I hope the Leader knows. I hope he can read the minds of soldiers.” And then almost compassionately he said, “You should be greatly rewarded.” For a moment he sat quietly and then he pulled himself together and said, “Now we must come to exactness. I am in charge here. My job is to get coal out. To do that I must maintain order and discipline, and to do that I must know what is in the minds of these people. I must anticipate revolt. Do you understand that?”
“Well, I can find out what you wish to know, sir. As Mayor here, I will be very effective,” said Corell.
Lanser shook his head. “I have no orders about this. I must use my own judgment. I think you will never again know what is going on here. I think no one will speak to you; no one will be near to you except those people who will live on money, who can live on money. I think without a guard you will be in great danger. It will please me if you go back to the capital, there to be rewarded for your fine work.”
“But my place is here, sir,” said Corell. “I have made my place. It is all in my report.”
Lanser went on as though he had not heard. “Mayor Orden is more than a mayor,” he said. “He is the people. He knows what they are doing, thinking, without asking, because he will think what they think. By watching him I will know them. He must stay. That is my judgment.”
Corell said, “My work, sir, merits better treatment than being sent away.”
“Yes, it does,” Lanser said slowly. “But to the larger work I think you are only a detriment now. If you are not hated yet, you will be. In any little revolt you will be the first to be killed. I think I will suggest that you go back.”
Corell said stiffly, “You will, of course, permit me to wait for a reply to my report to the capital?”
“Yes, of course. But I shall recommend that you go back for your own safety. Frankly, Mr. Corell, you have no value here. But—well, there must be other plans and other countries. Perhaps you will go now to some new town in some new country. You will win new confidence in a new field. You may be given a larger town, even a city, a greater responsibility. I think I will recommend you highly for your work here.”
Corell’s eyes were shining with gratification.. “Thank you, sir,” he said. “I’ve worked hard. Perhaps you are right. But you must permit me to wait for the reply from the capital.”
Lanser’s voice was tight. His eyes were slitted. He said harshly, “Wear a helmet, keep indoors, do not go out at night, and, above all, do not drink. Trust no woman nor any man. Do you understand that?”
Corell looked pityingly at the colonel. “I don’t think you understand. I have a little house. A pleasant country girl waits on me. I even think she’s a little fond of me. These are simple, peaceful people. I know them.”
Lanser said, “There are no peaceful people. When will you learn it? There are no friendly people. Can’t you understand that? We have invaded this country—you, by what they call treachery, prepared for us.” His face grew red and his voice rose. “Can’t you understand that we are at war with these people?”
Corell said, a little smugly, “We have defeated them.”
The colonel stood up and swung his arms helplessly, and Hunter looked up from his board and put his hand out to protect his board from being jiggled Hunter said, “Careful now, sir. I’m inking in. I wouldn’t want to do it all over again.”
Lanser looked down at him and said, “Sorry,” and went on as though he were instructing a class. He said, “Defeat is a momentary thing. A defeat doesn’t last. We were defeated and now we attack. Defeat means nothing. Can’t you understand that? Do you know what they are whispering behind doors?”
Corell asked, “Do you?”
“No, but I suspect.”
Then Corell said insinuatingly, “Are you afraid, Colonel? Should the commander of this occupation be afraid?”
Lanser sat down heavily and said, “Maybe that’s it.” And he said disgustedly, “I’m tired of people who have not been at war who know all about it.” He held his chin in his hand and said, “I remember a little old woman in Brussels—sweet face, white hair; she was only four feet eleven; delicate old hands. You could see the veins almost black against her skin. And her black shawl and her blue-white hair. She used to sing our national songs to us in a quivering, sweet voice. She always knew where to find a cigarette or a virgin.” He dropped his hand from his chin, and he caught himself as though he had been asleep. “We didn’t know her son had been executed,” he said “When we finally shot her, she had killed twelve men with a long black hatpin. I have it yet at home. It has an enamel button with a bird over it, red and blue.”
Corell said, “But you shot her?”
“Of course we shot her.”
“And the murders stopped?” asked Corell.
“No, the murders did not stop. And when we finally retreated, the people cut off stragglers and they burned some and they gouged the eyes from some, and some they even crucified.”
Corell said loudly, “These are not good things to say, Colonel.”
“They are not good things to remember,” said Lanser.
Corell said, “You should not be in command if you are afraid.”
And Lanser answered softly, “I know how to fight, you see. If you know, at least you do not make silly errors.”
“Do you talk this way to the young officers?” Lanser shook his head. “No, they wouldn’t believe me.”
“Why do you tell me, then?”
“Because, Mr. Corell, your work is done. I remember one time—” and as he spoke there was a tumble of feet on the stairs and the door burst open. A sentry looked in and Captain Loft brushed past him. Loft was rigid and cold and military; he said, “There’s trouble, sir.”
“Trouble?”
“I have to report, sir, that Captain Bentick has been killed.”
Lanser said, “Oh—yes—Bentick!”
There was the sound of a number of footsteps on the stairs and two stretcher-bearers came in, carrying a figure covered with blankets.
Lanser said, “Are you sure he’s dead?”
“Quite sure,” Loft said stiffly.
The lieutenants came in from the bedroom, their mouths a little open, and they looked frightened. Lanser said, “Put him down there,” and he pointed to the wall beside the windows. When the bearers had gone, Lanser knelt and lifted a corner of the blanket and then quickly put it down again. And still kneeling, he looked at Loft and said, “Who did this?”
“A miner,” said Loft.
“Why?”
“I was there, sir.”
“Well, make your report, then! Make your report, damn it, man!”
Loft drew himself up and said formally, “I had just relieved Captain Bentick, as the colonel ordered. Captain Bentick was about to leave to come here when I had some trouble about a recalcitrant miner who wanted to quit work. He shouted something about being a free man. When I ordered him to work, he rushed at me with his pick. Captain Bentick tried to interfere.” He gestured slightly toward the body.
Lanser, still kneeling, nodded slowly. “Bentick was a curious man,” he said. “He loved the English. He loved everything about them. I don’t think he liked to fight very much. … You captured the man?”
“Yes, sir,” Loft said.
Lanser stood up slowly and spoke as though to himself. “So it starts again. We will shoot this man and make twenty new enemies. It’s the only thing we know, the only thing we know.”
Prackle said, “What do you say, sir?”
Lanser answered, “Nothing, nothing at all. I was just thinking.” He turned to Loft and said, “Please give my compliments to Mayor Orden and my request that he see me immediately. It is very important.”
Major Hunter looked up, dried his inking-pen carefully, and put it away in a velvet-lined box.
CHAPTER III
In the town the people moved sullenly through the streets. Some of the light of astonishment was gone from their eyes, but still a light of anger had not taken its place. In the coal shaft the workingmen pushed the coal cars sullenly. The small tradesmen stood behind their counters and served the people, but no one communicated with them. The people spoke to one another in monosyllables, and everyone was thinking of the war, thinking of himself, thinking of the past and how it had suddenly been changed.
In the drawing-room of the palace of Mayor Orden a small fire burned and the lights were on, for it was a gray day outside and there was frost in the air. The room was itself undergoing a change. The tapestry-covered chairs were pushed back, the little tables out of the way, and through the doorway to the right Joseph and Annie were struggling to bring in a large, square dining-table. They had it on its side. Joseph was in the drawing-room and Annie’s red face showed through the door. Joseph maneuvered the legs around sideways, and he cried, “Don’t push, Annie! Now!”