Considering the crowded state of the waiting-room and the number
of highly important people who were there for the same purpose,
Surgeon-Major Thomson seemed to have remarkably little difficulty in
procuring the interview he desired. He was conducted by a boy scout into
a room on the second floor of the War Office, within a few minutes of
his arrival. A tall, grey-haired man in the uniform of a general looked
up and nodded with an air of intimacy as soon as the door had been
closed.
“Sit down, Thomson. We’ve been expecting you. Any news?”
“I have come to you for that, sir,” the other replied.
The General sighed.
“I am afraid you will be disappointed,” he said. “I received your report
and I went to a certain official myself--saw him in his own house before
breakfast this morning. I had reports of three other men occupying
responsible positions in the city, Thomson, against whom there was
really tangible and serious evidence. Our friend had the effrontery
almost to laugh at me.”
There was a little glitter in Thomson’s eyes.
“These damned civilians!” he murmured softly. “They’ve done their best
to ruin Great Britain by crabbing every sort of national service during
the last ten years. They feed and pamper the vermin who are eating away
the foundations of the country, and, damn it all, when we put a clear
case to them, when we show them men whom we know to be dangerous, they
laugh at us and tell us that it isn’t our department! They look upon us
as amateurs and speak of Scotland Yard with bated breath. My God! If I
had a free hand for ten minutes, there’d be two Cabinet Ministers eating
bread and water instead of their dinners to-night.”
The General raised his eyebrows. He knew Thomson well enough to be aware
how unusual such an ebullition of feeling on his part was.
“Got you a bit worked up, Major,” he remarked.
“Isn’t it enough to make any man’s blood boil?” the other replied.
“The country to-day looks to its army and its navy to save it from the
humiliation these black-coated parasites have encouraged, and yet even
now we haven’t a free hand. You and I, who control the secret service
of the army, denounce certain men, upon no slight evidence, either, as
spies, and we are laughed at! One of those very blatant idiots whose
blundering is costing the country millions of money and thousands of
brave men, has still enough authority to treat our reports as so much
waste paper.”
“I am bound to say I agree with you, Thomson,” the General declared,
a little hopelessly. “It’s the weakest spot of our whole organisation,
this depending on the civil powers. Two of my cases were absolutely
flagrant. As regards yours, Thomson, I am not at all sure that we
shouldn’t be well-advised to get just a little more evidence before we
press the matter.”
“And meanwhile,” Thomson retorted bitterly, “leave him a free hand to
do what mischief he can. But for the merest accident in the world, the
night before last he would have learnt our new scheme for keeping the
Channel communication free from submarines.”
The General frowned.
“Who’s been talking?” he demanded.
“No one who is to be blamed,” Thomson replied. “Can’t you realise the
position? Here’s a fellow Service man, a soldier, a D. S. O., who
has been specially mentioned for bravery and who very nearly got the
Victoria Cross, comes here with the halo of a brilliant escape from
the Germans, wounded, a young man of good family and connections, and
apparently as keen as mustard to get back again in the fighting line.
Good Heavens! The most careful sailor in the world might just drop a
hint to that sort of man. What nearly happened last night may happen
a dozen times within the next week. Even our great secret, General,”
Thomson continued, dropping his voice a little, “even that might come to
his ears.”
The General was undoubtedly disturbed. He searched amongst the papers on
his desk and brought out at last a flimsy half-sheet of notepaper which
he studied carefully.
“Just read this, Thomson.”
Thomson rose and looked over his shoulder. The letter was an autograph
one of a few lines only, and dated from a village in the North of
France--
My dear Brice,
This is a special request to you. Arrange it any way you please but
don’t send me Captain Granet out again in any capacity. Keep him at
home. Mind, I am not saying word against him as a soldier. He has done
some splendid work on more than one occasion, but notwithstanding this I
do not wish to see him again with any of the forces under my command.
Ever yours,
F.
“Did you show this to our friend?” Thomson inquired.
“I gave him a digest of its contents,” the General replied. “He smiled
in a supercilious manner and said I had better do as I was asked.”
Thomson said nothing for a moment. His face was very set and he had the
air of a man desperately but quietly angry.
“As a matter of fact,” General Brice continued, glancing at the clock on
his desk, “Granet is in my anteroom at the present moment, I expect. He
asked for an interview this afternoon.”
“Have him in, if you don’t mind,” the other suggested. “I can sit at the
empty desk over there. I can be making some calculations with reference
to the number of hospital beds for each transport. I want to hear him
talk to you.”
The General nodded and touched a bell.
“You can show Captain Granet in,” he told the boy scout who answered it.
Thomson took his place in the far corner of the room and bent over
a sheaf of papers. Presently Granet was ushered in. He was leaning a
little less heavily upon his stick and he had taken his arm from the
sling for a moment. He saluted the General respectfully and glanced
across the room towards where Thomson was at work. If he recognised him,
however, he made no sign.
“Well, Granet,” the General inquired, “how are you getting on?”
“Wonderfully, sir,” was the brisk reply. “I have seen my own doctor this
morning and he thinks I might come up before the Board on Saturday.”
“And what does that mean?”
“I want to get back again, sir,” Granet replied eagerly.
The General stroked his grey moustache and looked searchingly at the
young officer. He was standing full in the light of a ray of sunshine
which came streaming through the high, uncurtained windows. Although he
was still a little haggard, his eyes were bright, his lips were parted
in an anticipatory smile, his whole expression was engaging. General
Brice, studying him closely, felt compelled to admit the improbability
of his vague suspicions.
“That’s all very well, you know,” he reminded him quietly, “but you
won’t be fit enough for active service for some time to come.”
The young man’s face fell.
“I am sure they must be wanting me back, sir,” he said naively.
The General shook his head.
“I don’t want to disappoint you, young fellow,” he continued, “but I
heard from your Brigadier only yesterday. He has been obliged to fill up
your place and I don’t think he has room for any one on his staff.”
Granet looked a little hurt.
“I thought he might have made a temporary appointment,” he said
gloomily.
“This is no time to consider individuals,” the General pointed out.
“What about finding you a billet at home for a time, eh? You’ve seen a
bit of the rough side of the war, you know.”
“I’d sooner go out and dig trenches!”
Thomson had risen slowly from his place and, with a sheet of foolscap in
his hand, closely covered with writing, crossed the room.
“You might get taken prisoner again, Captain Granet,” he remarked drily.
There was a moment’s rather tense silence. The young man’s lips had come
together, his eyes flashed.
“I did not recognise you, Major Thomson,” he said calmly. “Have you
found a new billet?”
“My old one is sufficiently absorbing just at present,” the other
replied laying his calculations on the General’s desk. “Forgive my
interrupting you, sir, but you told me to let you have this as soon as
I had finished. That is my estimate of the number of beds we could stow
away in the cubic feet you offer us.”
The General glanced at the paper and nodded.
“Don’t go, Thomson,” he said. “I’ll talk to you about this later on.
Well, Captain Granet,” he added, “you’d better leave things in my hands.
I’ll do the best I can for you.”
“I shall be very disappointed if I don’t get out to the Front again
soon, sir,” the young man declared simply.
“I’ll do the best I can,” the General repeated, touching his bell.
Granet was shown out and the door was closed. General Brice turned
towards his companion.
“Thomson,” he said, “frankly, I can’t believe it. However, we’ll find
him a billet where he can’t possibly do any mischief.”
“If you found him a billet where I should like to see him,”
Surgeon-Major Thomson observed bitterly, “he would never do any more
mischief in this world! Any dispatches from the Front, sir?”
General Brice raised his eyebrows.
“Are you off again?” he asked.
“I am going to see that young man’s General,” Thomson replied. “I shall
cross over to-day and be back to-morrow night or Saturday morning.”
General Brice nodded thoughtfully.
“Perhaps you are right,” he assented. “Yes, I shall have a few reports.
You’d better let them know at the Admiralty, and what time you want to
go over.”
Surgeon-Major Thomson shook hands with the General and turned towards
the door.
“When I come back,” he said, “I hope I’ll be able to convince even you,
sir.”