He pointed to a tin of cigarettes with a wry face.
"Dead off baccy," he said lugubriously.
"Well," I replied, "that'll do you no harm. All right otherwise?"
He nodded. "All right last night. Lord knows why I should have been rammed into bed while all you pirates lapped up bubbly and made a night of it."
"Doctor's orders. Anyhow, he says you can go to town to-day."
Mouldy sat up. "Damn good of him, 'cos I was goin', anyhow. I'm going to have a hell of a jamboree." He blinked at me defiantly from under a lank lock of black hair.
"You've got to come with me to the Admiralty at three o'clock," I said as sternly as I could. Mouldy groaned.
"Have I got to keep sober till three—an' pubs closing at half-past two?"
"Yes," I said. "You won't have a drink till the evening—and then you can have as many as you want."
He acquiesced reluctantly, and we caught a train to town that landed us at the terminus shortly before three; thence we taxied to Whitehall.