"That's a curious-looking officer, Schofield," he resumed, the door having closed behind Hector. "Stuff in him, I should say, must be. How does he do his work?"
"Indifferently well, to be truthful, sir."
"Hum, very likely. Three-cornered beggar I can see. Wouldn't do for an A.B.C., you think? Belman wants one, I know, for this Tirah show, and if you recommend I could easily get him the job."
"Couldn't do it, sir, really; his General would starve in a week, and I should get the blame. As you told him yourself just now, sir, a man's responsible for his subordinates."
"Hum, in that case I suppose I mustn't ask for him. Pity though, I should like to have done something for him. Good-bye, Colonel, I must get back to Saidabad. Not done much inspecting, thanks to Graeme. Good-bye."
* * * * *
Meanwhile Hector, with wrath in his heart, was striding back to his quarters, passing, as he went, the officers' Mess, a disused stable, where a crowd was assembled discussing lunch and the morning's events.
"Hullo, there goes the hero," said Kinley, seeing him pass. "Hi, Graeme, come here, tell us all about it," vainly calling. "Lord, he looks sick; wonder what the old man's been saying to him? Damned bad luck, really, to earn a V.C. and get a choking off."
"V.C. be hanged," said another, "damned disgraceful, the whole thing, I call it. Nice show up for the regiment, Golliwog looking on too."
"Shut up, O'Hagan," said Royle, one of the majors. "It was a devilish plucky thing to do, and I for one mean to tell Graeme so when I see him."