"I beg pardon, sir. I don't understand," he said.
"Why the H—— do you stare at me?"
"I didn't know that I did stare, sir."
"Yes, you did. Cut it out. It annoys me."
But Corporal Weyl still stared as the regulations demand, looking his Captain squarely in the eye. And the Captain's gaze wavered and fell.
"When I'm about," he ordered, "you look some other way. Understand?"
"Yes sir. I understand," said Weyl, saluting again as Harry turned away, but still staring at him. And Harry felt the fishy stare, more than ever omniscient, more than ever contemptuous, in the middle of his back, all the way down the road to mess. But he had just enough of self control to refrain from looking around at the object of his fury.
And at mess a disagreeable surprise awaited him, in the person of a medico who had just joined the outfit. The new Captain had barely finished his coffee when he found himself addressed by the officer, a Major, who sat just opposite him at table.
"How are you, Captain Horton?" asked the man cordially, extending a hand across. "Didn't recognize you at first. How's the head?"
Harry stammered something.