Adams gulped. "I'm sorry about the car. You see, it was this way...."
The general, he saw, was beaming at him fondly.
"I had faith in you," the general said.
He waved the shotgun by way of invitation. "Come on in. I have a call to make."
Adams stumbled up the stairs.
"Move!" the general ordered, shivering. "On the double! You want me to catch my death of cold out here?"
Inside, he fumbled for the lights and turned them on. He laid the shotgun across the kitchen table and picked up the telephone.
"Give me the White House at Washington," he said. "Yes, I said the White House.... The President? Naturally he's the one I want to talk to.... Yes, it's all right. He won't mind my calling him."
"Sir," said Adams tentatively.
The general looked up. "What is it, Adams? Go ahead and say it."