“Yes.”
“You are no longer connected with headquarters, I presume. But—can you get men?”
“If need be.”
“You will need them!” Just then Watson noticed the uniform of General Hume. “Jerome, can you give this officer a bodyguard?”
It was both unusual and lightning-sudden. Nevertheless, there was something in Watson's manner that called for no challenge; something that would have brooked no refusal. And the general, although a sceptic, was acting solely from force of habit when he objected:
“It seems to me, Watson, that you—”
Those who were present are not likely to forget it. Some men are born, some rise, to the occasion; but Watson was both. He was clear-cut, dominant, inexorable. He levelled his pencil at the general.
“It SEEMS to you! General, let me ask you: If your country's safety were at stake, would you hesitate to throw reinforcements into the breach?”
“Hardly.”
“All right. It's settled. Take care of your red tape AFTERWARDS.”