the risk of speaking to the C.O. about it.

"The C.O. of No. 97 General at that time was an oldish man, who suffered
from suppressed gout, which is the regular medical name for unsuppressed
temper. He said emphatically that Private Binny was reported dead,
marked dead, removed from the hospital books, and must stay dead. The
whole system of the R.A.M.C. would break down, he said, and things would
drift into chaos if dead men were allowed to come to life again whenever
they chose.

"The surgeon was a plucky young fellow in his way. Remembering how
pretty the V.A.D. looked when she cried, he pressed Binny's case on
the C.O. The old gentleman said he might have done something two hours
sooner; but the hospital returns had gone to the D.D.M.S. and couldn't
possibly be got back again or altered. In the end, after a lot more talk
about regulations and discipline, he said he'd telephone to the D.D.M.S.
office and see if anything could be done. It is greatly to his credit
that he did telephone, explaining the case as well as he could over a
faulty wire. The staff colonel in the office was perfectly civil, but
said that the returns had been forwarded by a motor dispatch rider to
G.H.Q. and could not be recalled by any possibility. The C.O., who seems
to have begun to realize the horrible position of Binny, asked advice as
to what he ought to do. The staff colonel said he'd never come across a
case of the kind before, but it seemed plain to him that Binny was dead,
that is to say, officially dead. The Chaplain's Department, he thought,
might be able to do something for a man after he was dead. If not nobody
could.

"That," said O'Byrne with a smile, "is where I came in. The C.O. sent for
me at once."

"I suppose," said Mackintosh, "that you straightened the whole thing out
without difficulty?"

Mackintosh is always irritated at a suggestion that anyone connected
with the medical profession can possibly make a mistake. When irritated
he is apt to attempt a kind of heavy sarcasm which O'Byrne sucks in with
obvious delight.

"No," said the padre, "I couldn't straighten it out. But I did the best
I could. I went to see poor Binny. He was in the mortuary by that time.
I found him sitting up in his coffin crying like a child. I comforted
him as well as I could."

"Poor devil," said Mackintosh. "Not that I believe a word of this story.
It couldn't have happened. But you may as well go on and tell us what
you did. Sang hymns to