“Confound it, man! don’t dictate to me,” cried Dickenson testily.
“Certainly not, sir. Beg your pardon, sir; but we’ve got a heavy job on to-night, and it’s my duty to warn you as an old soldier.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, sir, that I’ve had twenty years’ experience, and you’ve had two, sir. A man can only do so much; when he has done that and tries to do more, he shuts up all at once. I don’t want you to shut up, sir, to-night. I want you to lead us to where we can find Mr Lennox.”
“Of course, sergeant. I know you always mean well. Don’t take any notice of my snappish way.”
“Not a bit, sir,” said the man, smiling. “It’s only a sign that, though you don’t know it, you’re just ready to shut up.”
“But, hang it all, man!” said the young officer, with a return of his irritable manner, “I only want to just see my brother officer for a few minutes.”
“Yes, sir, I know,” said the sergeant stubbornly; “but you’re better away. He’s right off his head, and abusing everybody. If you go he’ll say things to you that will upset you more than three hours’ sleep will wipe out.”
“Oh, I know what you mean now—what he said before—about my being a coward and leaving him in the lurch.”
“Something of that sort, sir,” replied the sergeant.