He little dreamed how much that something was going to be.
"I don't know," he answered aloud. "I haven't received any orders yet."
"You'd better begin to find out then," was the expert's advice uttered in tones of startling sharpness. "I suppose you know it's up to you to decide that matter yourself."
"Oh, yes, I suppose so," Irving replied with a matter-of-factness of manner, which was anything but expressive of what was going on in his mind. The fact is, he was a little disturbed by the last remark of his companion.
"I'll have to undergo a surgical operation before I start back," he added.
"What's that?" inquired Strauss. "Were you wounded?"
"No," Irving replied. "But I must get rid of a mark of identification and go back as another person."
Strauss nodded a stoical sign of interest. They were now at the entrance of the restaurant for which they were headed, and the conversation ceased until they were seated at a table in one corner of the room and well removed from other lunchers. After they had been served they resumed their discussion of Irving's proposed operation in subdued tones.
"It must be a curious growth on your body that you should have to remove it in order to avoid identification," Strauss remarked as he spread a "knife-end" of war-time "butter" on a piece of black bread.
"No, it isn't a growth," Irving replied. "It's that cubist art picture on my arm."