aw he was a
subaltern, though a middle-aged man. The fellow was very drunk, and did
little else than stutter curses in which the name of our Lord was
frequent.

Peter pulled at his arm, and Louise stooped to help him. Once up, he got
his arm round him, and demanded where he lived.

The man stared at them foolishly. Peter gave him a bit of a shake, and
demanded the address again, "Come on," he said. "Pull yourself together,
for the Lord's sake. We shall end before the A.P.M. if you don't. What's
your camp, you fool?"

At that the man told him, stammeringly, and Peter sighed his relief.
"I know," he said to Louise. "It's not far. I'll maybe get a taxi at the
corner." She pushed him towards a doorway: "Wait a minute," she said.
"I live here; it's all right. I will get a fiacre. I know where to find
one."

She darted away. It seemed long to Peter, but in a few minutes a horn
tooted and a cab came round the corner. Between them, they got the
subaltern in, and Peter gave the address. Then he pulled out his purse
before stepping in himself, opened it, found a ten-franc note, and
offered it to Louise.

The girl of the street and the tavern pushed it away. "La!" she
exclaimed. "Vite! Get in. Bon Dieu! Should I be paid for a kindness? Poor
boy! he does not know what he does. He will 'ave a head--ah! terrible--in
the morning. And see, he has fought for la patrie." She pointed to a gold
wound-stripe on his arm. "Bon soir, monsieur."

She stepped back and spoke quickly to the driver, who was watching
sardonically. He nodded. "Bon soir, monsieur," she said again, and
disappeared in the doorway.

CHAPTER IX

A few weeks later the War Office--if it was the War Office, but one gets
into the habit of attributing these things to the War Office--had one of
its regular spasms. It woke up suddenly with a touch of nightmare, and it
got fearfully busy for a few weeks before going to sleep again. All
manner of innocent people were dragged into the vortex of its activities,
and blameless lives were disturbed and terrorised. This particular
enthusiasm involved even such placid and contented souls as the
Chaplain-General, the Principal Chaplain, their entire staffs and a great
many of their rank and file. It created a new department, acquired many
additional offices for the B.E.F., dragged from their comfortable billets
a certain number of high-principled base officers, and then (by the mercy
of Providence) flickered out almost