A. Merritt's Fantasy Magazine, February 1950 — page 104: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

104 A. MERRITT’S FANTASY veils of the subconscious. Here, when even a thousandth part is gathered, will be work for the psychological analyst for twenty years.” “And the boundaries of this region?” asked McAndrews. “Boundaries?”’ Hawtry plainly was perplexed. McAndrews for a moment was silent. Then he drew from his pocket a yellow slip of paper, a cablegram. “Young Peter Laveller died today,” he said, apparently irrelevantly. ‘Died where he had set forth to pass—in the remnants of the trenches that cut through the an- cient domain of the Seigniors of Tocque- lain, up near Bethune.” “Died there!” Hawtry’s astonishment was profound. “But I read that he had been brought home; that, indeed, he was one of your triumphs, McAndrews!” “T said that he went there to die,” re- peated the surgeon slowly. So that explained the curious reticence of the Lavellers as to what had become of their soldier son—a secrecy which had puzzled the press for weeks. For young Peter Lavaller was one of the nation’s heroes. The only boy of old Peter Lavel- ler—and neither is that the real name of the family—for like the others, I may not reveal it—he was the heir to the grim . old coal king’s millions, and the secret, best beloved pulse of his heart. Early in the war he had enlisted with the French. His father’s influence might have abrogated the law of the French Army that.every man must start from the bottom up—I do not know—but young Peter would have none of it. Steady of purpose, burning with the white fire of the first Crusaders, he took his place in the ranks. Clean-cut, blue-eyed, standing six feet in his stocking feet, just twenty-five, a bit of a dreamer, perhaps, he was one to strike the imagination of the poilus, and they loved him. Twice he was wounded in the perilous days, and when America came into the war he was transferred to our expeditionary forces. It was at the siege of Mount Kemmel that he received the wounds that brought him back to his father and sister. McAndrews had ac- companied him overseas, I knew, and had | patched | him together—or go all thought. What had happened then—and why had Laveller gone ome to France, to die, as McAndrews put. it? He thrust the cablegram back into his pocket. “There is a boundary, John, ” he ad to Hawtry. “Laveller’s was a borderland case. I’m going to tell it to you.” He hesitated. “I ought not to, maybe; and yet I have an idea that Peter would like it told; after all, he believed himself a discoverer.” Again he paused, then def- initely made up his mind, and turned to me. “Merritt,” you may make use of this if you think it interesting enough. But if you: do so decide, then change the names, and be sure to check description short of any possibility of ready identification. After all, it is what happened that is im- portant—if it is important—and those to whom it happened do not matter.” I promised, and I have observed my pledge. I tell the story as he whom I call McAndrews reconstructed it for us there in the shadowed.room, while we sat silent until he had entered... poe stood behind the parapet of a first-line trench. It was night— an early April night in northern France— and when that is said, all is said to those who have been there. Beside ‘him was a trench periscope. His gun lay touching it. The periscope is practically useless at night; so through a slit in the sand-bags he peered out over the three-hundred-foot-wide stretch of No Man’s Land. Opposite him he knew that other eyes lay close to similar slits in the German parapet, watchful as his were for the least movement. There were grotesque heaps scattered about No Man’s Land, and when the star- shells burst and flooded it with their glare these heaps seemed to stir, to move— some to raise themselves, some to gesticu- late, to protest. And this was very horri- ble, for those who moved under the lights — were the dead—French and English, Prussian and Bavarian—dregs of a score of carryings to the red wine-press of war set up in this sector. There were two se bn on the entangle- ments ;’ ‘killed Scots, ne ‘colandered by Dm COMmic aoa S CO iin