“We’ll waive for a moment your action in not carrying out orders. How do you know he’s innocent?”
“Because, sir, with all his unruliness, this is exactly the sort of thing he couldn’t do. And, besides, he told me the real story himself. He wouldn’t lie to me.”
And Stacey very swiftly repeated Monahan’s story. As he did so, he watched the general’s face closely. A little gleam, Stacey thought, came into the candid blue eyes at the mention of Monahan’s black-listing. Leonard Wood, too, knew what it meant to be a man against a combination. When Stacey had finished the general made some hasty notes on a scratch-block. Then he looked up again.
“I’m glad you brought this matter up to me, Captain,” he said soberly. “I’ll see to it that the charge against Monahan is dismissed. I want every man punished who was implicated in Sunday night’s shameful affair; I don’t want any man dragged into it on account of something else he may have done. No taking advantage of this to settle old scores. However,” he concluded, with a smile, “you can’t expect me to approve officially of your action, can you?”
“Certainly not, sir,” said Stacey cheerfully. He rose.
But the general detained him. “Captain,” he asked, his mouth twitching slightly, “when you were in the service did you frequently employ your—er—admirable spirit of personal initiative?”
“No, sir,” said Stacey calmly. “Only once.”
“And—excuse my curiosity!—was it because of that occasion that you received your decoration?”
“Oh, no, sir, quite decidedly not!” answered Stacey reproachfully.
The general laughed and stood up. “Good-bye, Captain Carroll, and thanks,” he said.