a moment, Alphonso! I have forgotten those condemned
machine-gunners, as usual. _Strafe_ them! Come on! Once more into the
breach, Alphonso! There is a little side-alley down here that we have
not tried."

The indefatigable Cockerell turned down the Rue Gambetta, followed by
Alphonso, faint but resigned.

"Here is the very place!" announced Cockerell almost at once. "This
house, Number Five. We can put the gunners and their little guns into
that stable at the back, and the officer can have a room in the house
itself. _Sonnez_, for the last time before lunch!"

The door was opened by a pleasant-faced young woman of about
thirty, who greeted Cockerell--tartan is always popular with French
ladies--with a beaming smile, but shook her head regretfully upon
seeing the _billet de logement_ in his hand. The inevitable duet with
Alphonso followed. Presently Alphonso turned to his superior.

"Madame is ver' sorry, sair, but an _officier_ is here already."

"Show me the _officier_!" replied the prosaic Cockerell.

The duet was resumed.

"Madame say," announced Alphonso presently, "that the _officier_ is
not here now; but he will return."

"So will Christmas! Meanwhile I am going to put an _Emma Gee_ officer
in here."

Alphonso's desperate attempt to translate the foregoing idiom into
French was interrupted by Madame's retirement into the house, whither
she beckoned Cockerell to follow her. In the front room she produced a
frayed sheet of paper, which she proffered with an apologetic smile.
The paper said:--

_This billet is entirely reserved for the Supply Officer of this
District. It is not to be occupied by troops passing through the town.

By Order_.

Lieutenant Cockerell whistled softly and vindictively through his
teeth.

"Well," he said, "for consummate and concentrated nerve, give me the
underlings of the A.S.C.! This pot-bellied blighter not only butts
into an area which doesn't belong to him, but actually leaves a chit
to warn people off the grass even when he isn't here! He hasn't
signed the document, I observe. That means that he is a newly joined
subaltern, trying to get mistaken for a Brass Hat! I'll fix _him_!"

With great stateliness Lieutenant Cockerell tore the offending
screed into four portions, to the audible concern of Madame. But the
Lieutenant smiled reassuringly upon her.

"_Je vous donnerai un autre, vous savez_," he assured her.

He sat down at the table, tore a leaf from his Field Se