at you for any love of England, for
any patriotic reason. That's not it. Don't bother about that. Man alive,
don't mix them up in what you feel about these things. Don't go
cheapening what you think about England. Theirs is another reason." He
said very slowly, "I never told you, perhaps I ought to have told you at
the time, that I was refused for the Army some while ago."

Mr. Fortune's watch slipped through his fingers to the full length of
his chain. Twyning got up and went over to a bookcase and stared at it.

Mr. Fortune heaved in the line with an agitated hand over hand motion.
"I'd no idea! My dear fellow, I'd no idea! How very admirable of you!
When was this? After that big meeting in the Corn exchange the other
day?"

"Don't tell them when it was," said Sabre's mind. He said, "No, rather
before that. I was rejected on medical grounds."

"Well, well!" said Mr. Fortune. "Well, well!" He gave the suggestion of
being unable to array his thoughts against this surprising turn of the
day. "Most creditable. Twyning, do you hear that?"

Twyning spun around from the bookcase and came forward. "Eh? Sorry, I'm
afraid I wasn't listening."

"Our excellent Sabre has offered himself for enlistment and been
rejected."

Twyning said, "Have you, by Jove! Jolly good. What bad luck being turned
down. What was it?"

Sabre moved across to his room. "Heart."

"Was it, really? By Jove, and you look fit enough, too, old man. Fancy,
heart! Fancy--Jolly sporting of you. Fancy--Oh, I say, old man, do let's
have a look at your paper if you've got it on you. I want to see one of
those things."

Sabre was at his door. "What paper?"

"Your rejection paper, old man. I've never seen one. Only if you've got
it on you."

"I haven't got one."

"Not got one! You must have, old man."

"Well, I haven't. I was seen privately. I'm rather friendly with them up
at the barracks."

"Oh, yes, of course. Wonder they didn't give you a paper, though."

"Well, they didn't."

"Quite so, old man. Quite so. Funny, that's all."

Sabre paused on the threshold. He perfectly well understood the
villainous implication. Vile, intolerable! But of what service to take
it up?--To hear Twyning's laugh and his "My dear old chap, as if I
should think such a thing!" He passed into his room. The thought he had
had which had arrested his anger at Mr. Fortune's hints, revealing this
incident in another light, was, "They want to get rid of me."

V

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