Someone to watch over me

“Your wife said you should before we talk to Jack.”
    Mr. Prinney said, “Very well. Wait outside. I don’t want you hanging over my shoulder.”
    He didn’t really want to read the article. He’d been too old to go into the army and he’d been responsible for supporting his wife and growing family as well as his parents and a younger spinster sister at the time of the Great War. But he’d always felt guilty about not signing up. And he felt even worse when he lost a younger brother in Belgium, and three clients, who were also his friends, in France.
    He came out on the porch when he’d finished and said, “The boy did a damned fine job.”
    Lily had to force herself not to gasp. She’d never heard Mr. Prinney say such a strong word. “May we tell him so?“ she asked.
    “Please do. I’ll stop by his office shortly and have a talk with him about doing the paper on his own from now on. I didn’t think it was wise until a moment ago.”
    He hailed them as they started toward the Duesie.
    “Wait. I’ve been meaning to tell you two I’m glad you’re telling townspeople your situation. Honesty is always the best policy.”
    Lily was tempted to give the elderly gentleman a hug, but she was sure he’d be embarrassed if she did. Instead, she went back and shook his hand in quite a formal manner and said, “Robert and I agree. And we’re glad you’re pleased.”

    Jack already had two people in his office thanking him for publishing the article, an old farmer and his grandson. The old man had a beat-up straw hat in his hand and mud on his shoes. “You’re a good fella,“ he said. “I couldn’t go because we had a crop to get in and take care of until harvest, but I’m saving this here article and making my grandson read it every year or two so he’ll know what happened.”
    Robert and Lily waited politely while the farmer wrung Jack’s hand, waved his hat to them in acknowledgment of their presence, and took his grandson home.
    “He’s right, you know, Jack,“ Lily said. “This is outstanding. I’m glad now you didn’t show it to us earlier. I’d have been walking around town all weekend reading it aloud to anyone I could find to listen.”
    Jack, understandably, looked very pleased and hardly knew how to reply. But he didn’t have to because Robert had underlined in red pencil the phrases he’d liked best and read them back to the author.
    “Has Mr. Prinney seen it yet?“ Jack asked, when Robert ran out of compliments.
    “He has. And he’s as impressed as we are,“ Lily reported. “He’s finishing up someone’s will and said he’d be over to see you in a little while.”
    Robert pointed to the end of the piece. “What does this mean, ‘The Ones Who Were Lost’? The Voorburg men who were killed in the war or something else?“
    “The names of the Voorburg men who died in the war will follow the fourth section in a separate box. The second part is about three men who died or disappeared after the war. But it’s only a small element of the piece.”
    Robert rubbed his hands. “Good. I’m not asking to read the article until it’s on the stands, but would you tell me their names?”
    “Why?”

    “Because one of them might be my mummy.”
    Jack slapped his head. “I forgot to put that in this issue. You should have reminded me!“
    “But I couldn’t,“ Robert said. “You were temporarily among the lost yourself.”
    Jack grinned. “Okay, let me consult my notes.”
    Lily interrupted. “I’ve got to pick up asparagus for Mrs. Prinney. You two go over this and I’ll be back soon.”
    They didn’t act as if they’d heard her.
    Jack said, “One was Butch O’Dwyer. I don’t know his rank. He died on the second anniversary of the end of the war. Drank himself to death and dropped dead in Mabel’s. He’s not your man. The second was a former mayor, the town doctor, Major Oggleton. He went to the train station with a trunk and a suitcase, and took the southbound early one morning, and was never heard from again.“
    “When?“ Robert asked.
    Jack shrugged. “I have no date. You’ll have to ask the man who told me when he gets back home. He’s camped out in Central Park, as far as I know.“
    “Who was the third?“
    “A Captain VanZillen. A businessman who died in an accident of some sort out west. Drowned.“
    “So the one I need to find out about is this Oggleton chap,“ Robert said, jotting down the name in a little pocket notebook.
    “I suppose