battalion, and looking forward to being in at the finish with Brother
Boche. But this message jerked my thoughts on to a new road.
There might be other things in the war than straightforward fighting.
Why on earth should the Foreign Office want to see an obscure Major
of the New Army, and want to see him in double-quick time?
'I'm going up to town by the ten train,' I announced; 'I'll be
back in time for dinner.'
'Try my tailor,' said Sandy. 'He's got a very nice taste in red
tabs. You can use my name.'
An idea struck me. 'You're pretty well all right now. If I wire
for you, will you pack your own kit and mine and join me?'
'Right-o! I'll accept a job on your staff if they give you a corps.
If so be as you come down tonight, be a good chap and bring a
barrel of oysters from Sweeting's.'
I travelled up to London in a regular November drizzle, which
cleared up about Wimbledon to watery sunshine. I never could
stand London during the war. It seemed to have lost its bearings and
broken out into all manner of badges and uniforms which did not fit
in with my notion of it. One felt the war more in its streets than in
the field, or rather one felt the confusion of war without feeling the
purpose. I dare say it was all right; but since August 1914 I never
spent a day in town without coming home depressed to my boots.
I took a taxi and drove straight to the Foreign Office. Sir Walter
did not keep me waiting long. But when his secretary took me to
his room I would not have recognized the man I had known
eighteen months before.
His big frame seemed to have dropped flesh and there was a
<<BackPagesTo menuNext>>