A stark and lonely pillar of scorched brick marked
the entrance; beyond it was a chaos of matted
growth pierced by the pointing fingers of shattered

309



NOT ALL THE KING'S HORSES

walls. What was left of a privet hedge had risen
high against the sky and bore black fruit, shriveled
and rotting. Arms upthrown, he fell on his knees
and buried his face against the brick pillar. In that
moment he was all flesh, all suffering. '

"Oh, Madeleine!" he sobbed. "My baby! My'
own baby! Not all the king's horses!"

Far above him the two pickets on outpost duty
wagered a handful of beans against a dgso'ttte as
to which would hit him first. The cigarette won
and at the shock Digby turned suddenly calm. "Peo-
ples," he murmured, "sin collectively; they seldom
repay the individual, for life is short, the vengeance
of the Lord is long."

THE END



I



?.
