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A few paces brought Rockingham and Headworth to brigade office. As they were about to enter, a dragon, its old-fashioned high-wheeled solid-tyred gun and limber hooked in behind, came clanking by.

“Do you see that contraption doing twenty miles an hour across a country?” scoffed the adjutant. “It’ll shake the blinking bundook to bits at ten. And what price the dial sights? We’re leaving them at home for the present.”

Rockingham smiled—Headworth knew perfectly well that the new Mark Five R. guns were to have sprung carriages and pneumatic tyres.

“Why don’t you ask for a transfer to the Tins?” he asked.

“They’ll be mechanising them next. This stink makes me want to vomit. Come on in.”

They went in, and stood by the fireplace.

“What do you want to see the old man about?” inquired Headworth. Having been given a rough outline of the case, he tapped his glossy boots with his plaited cane.

“I can’t see W.W. standing for that”, he said after a considerable pause. “He’s all for purity these days. But the chances are he’ll ride you off, and say he’ll talk to the C.R.A. about it. Between you and me and the gatepost, our policy from now onwards is going to be, ‘Don’t ruffle the Hawk’s feathers. Keep him informed about everything.’

“And not a bad policy either”, concluded Lieutenant-Colonel Wilbraham Lampson’s adjutant, turning his head to glance at the clock.

Two minutes more—and the colonel, driving himself this time, parked his car on the gravel, and came striding up the two wooden steps.

“Rockingham wants to speak to you, sir”, said Headworth; and withdrew to the outer room.

Lampson took off his cap, revealing hair as gray as his moustache. He sat down at his desk.

“Well?” he asked; and again Rusty Rockingham thought how little he really liked this man, with his veiled eyes and his general air of, “I’m out for myself and don’t you forget it”.

He looked at the “ballroom decorations” on the left breast of Lampson’s tunic before he spoke, picking his words carefully, stressing Godden’s efficiency, and the good report made on him by “Experimental Battery”. But his words, he knew, were having little effect.

“I don’t see how I can be expected to deal with a hypothetical case”, pronounced Lampson when he had finished. “The way I see it, this fellow’s trying to hold a pistol to our heads. You say he refused to tell you the woman’s name.”

“I didn’t ask him, sir.”

“Well, we’ll soon find out. Rogers!”

The shout brought the brigade clerk to the door.

“I want the list of N.C.O.s on courses”, ordered Lampson.

“Which of these men are married?” he asked, with the paper before him.

“Only Sergeant Botley, sir.”

Alone with Rockingham again, the colonel just bared his teeth in the smile which went so well with his nickname.

“That’s that”, he said. “Botley, one gathers, will not have a very pleasant homecoming. But that’s his trouble, and Godden’s. As far as I’m concerned—though I’ll put the matter up to the C.R.A. if you wish me to—I don’t feel myself called upon to make any decision for the present. Why should I? Would you, if you were in my position?”

Rockingham knew better than to answer the rhetorical question, and Lampson bared his teeth again as he concluded:

“What it really boils down to is that the fellow says, ‘I’ll apply to re-engage on the understanding that I’m allowed to do what I like with Botley’s wife. But if there’s going to be any trouble about my having the woman, then the army can’t have me.’ Don’t you agree that’s tantamount to putting a pistol at our heads, Rockingham?”

To this last question Lampson’s silence demanded an answer; and the commander of the Turban battery gave it.

“I can’t feel Godden intended us to take his request in that way, sir. It’s only natural that he should wish to know where he stands.”

Wily Wilbraham bared his slightly discoloured teeth for the third time.

“Quite”, he said. “So do I. And presumably I shall—when Botley returns to duty. Till then, I propose to suspend judgment.”

“Very good, sir. I’ll tell Godden that.”

“Do. And you might tell him something else—that there are still a few people left, even in this country, who do not regard adultery with much favour. I happen to be one of them. I trust I make myself clear. Is there anything else you wish to consult me about, Rockingham?”

“No, sir.”

Flushing with annoyance, O.C. Turban battery saluted; and went out.