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There was a hush of attention among them as the lieutenant and I saluted. His left hand was gone at the wrist and the sleeve pinned back on itself. He asked my name; I told him. In the car there was a stir of deepening interest. I inquired if he was the post-quartermaster here. He was.

"That's a lie," he pleasantly remarked, and lay back, enjoying my silent wrath. "Send him, General," he added, "he's your man."

The flap fell again and my panic was turned into a joy qualified only by a reduced esteem for my general as a judge of character.

"Oh, no, no! I cannot let you!" She clutched the hand she had been stroking.

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