"Yesterday morning," said Durwent dully, "I was to have been shot. I was
drunk in the line, and deserved it. It"s no use trying to excuse myself.
I fancy my nerves were a bit gone after what we"d been through the last
few months, but---- Well, I suppose I am simply a failure, as that chap
said in London--there isn"t much more to it than that. By a queer deal
of the cards, Mathews was on guard, and helped me to escape. It was
rotten of me to let him take the chance; but it"s been that way all
through. Even at the end of everything--after being a waster and a
rotter since I was a kid--I have to drag this poor chap down with me.
Promise, Selwyn, if you come out of this alive, that you"ll fight his
case for him."
