"Yes—yes; Bronson-Webb—knew him in Rangoon in the late nineties—mighty decent chap and a good executive. He's standing the sun, I warrant."
Captain Woodhouse accepted the cigarette from the general's extended case.
"No complaint from him at least, General Crandall. We all get pretty well baked at Wady, I take it."
The governor laughed, and tapped a bell on his desk. Jaimihr Khan was instantly materialized between the double doors.
"My orderly, Jaimihr," General Crandall ordered, and the doors were shut once more. The general stretched a hand across the desk.
"Your papers, please, Captain. I'll receipt your order of transfer and you'll be a member of our garrison forthwith."
Captain Woodhouse brought a thin sheaf of folded papers from his breast pocket and passed it to his superior. He kept his eyes steadily on the general's face as he scanned them.
"C. G. Woodhouse—Chief Signal Officer—Ninth Grenadiers—Wady Halfa——" General Crandall conned the transfer aloud, running his eyes rapidly down the lines of the form. "Right. Now, Captain, when my orderly comes——"
A subaltern entered and saluted.
"This is Captain Woodhouse." General Crandall indicated Woodhouse, who had risen. "Kindly conduct him to Major Bishop, who will assign him to quarters. Captain Woodhouse, we—Lady Crandall and I—will expect you at Government House soon to make your bow over the teacup. One of Lady Crandall's inflexible rules for new recruits, you know. Good day, sir."