Sinopsis

October 21st, London. It was not without a sense of relief that we watched
the hands of the station clock move on to the stroke of six, heard the train
doors slam, and cast a last look at the anxious little group of friends who
clustered round the carriage doors to bid us farewell and God-speed.
To be quite frank, their cheering savoured somewhat of mourning and
much of onition.
Were we not the tattered remnants of a once-flourishing Red Cross
detachment, whose energies and equipment alike had been left behind at
the enforced evacuation of Ostend? Were we not about to face all kinds of
undreamed-of perils?
So they whispered to us; but as we relapsed into our seats, to the
ac...