My chief feeling for the moment was one of pride that I had been able so far to evade the strong hand of the law, and I redoubled my determination to cheat it to the end. The ambulance was long delayed, and I passed the time plotting and planning my future movements. Suddenly I remembered a capital error. It was an absurdly trivial matter, but much might turn upon it. Had I got rid of my empty cartridge? For the life of me I could not remember ejecting it. I foresaw the examination of my rifle – almost certainly blood-stained. How did the marks come there if I had left it behind me before I was wounded? And what was the explanation of the empty case? For the moment I could think of no better answer to the first question than blank ignorance. Perhaps I had leaned against the rifle on my return to the dug-out. As for the empty cartridge, most opportunely I remembered the rumour of attack two hours before midnight. The battalion in the front line had opened rifle-fire on what proved afterwards to have been merely a German patrol.
