The Major seemed to see him now for the first time. “Where in creation did you get that gunny sack you’re wearing?” he demanded.
Larkin grinned, foolishly. “From Lieutenant Robinson, sir.”
159“What’s it supposed to be?”
“A uniform, sir.”
“Thanks. I didn’t know.” He turned to McGee, who still wore his British uniform. “Didn’t Robinson have any more masquerade costumes?”
“Not my size, sir.”
“Oh, you go in for size? I see Larkin doesn’t. Why don’t you get uniforms?”
“We haven’t had a chance, sir,” Larkin answered. “There is no tailor around here, so I chinned Robinson out of this enlisted man’s issue. Perhaps,” he offered, smiling, “the Major will give us a pass to Paris to have uniforms made.”
“The Major will not! We’ve some real work ahead. But–”
The door opened and Siddons entered.