He had just acquired an inexplicable
but genuine enthusiasm for stockbroking when the War gave him the
opportunity of developing into a remarkably brilliant officer. Not
only did he attain his majority, but gathered a perfect chestful of
decorations, including all the common varieties and several which
leave civilians guessing.
Yet strange to say the man who has won these honours in war detests
soldiering with all his heart. He fought as a duty, and did his share
with furious energy in the hope of so shortening the War. His hatred
of the military profession is indeed equalled only by his love of
stockbroking and by his natural pride in having scrapped right on
from the word "Go!" till November 10th, 1918, when he was sent home
slightly wounded.
Now the tragedy of which he is the pathetic central figure is the
result of his remarkably youthful appearance. Every time his portrait
figures in _The Daily Scratch_, people say, "Why, he looks a mere
child! But then these Press photographs always do distort one so." Yet
in this instance people are unjust. Clayton-Vane, after a four years'
flirtation with death, has the face and figure of a careless chubby
schoolboy.
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