At this moment an orderly entered the room with a pink telegraph message.
"Relief complete, sir!" announced the Brigade Major, reading it.
"Good work!" replied both Brigadiers, looking at their watches simultaneously, "considering the state of the country." The Brigadier of "A" rose to his feet.
"Now we can pass along quietly," he said. "Good luck to you. By the way, take care of Edgar, won't you? Any little attention which you can show him will be greatly appreciated."
"Who is Edgar?"
"Oh, I thought the Staff Captain would have told you. Edgar is the swan—the last of his race, I'm afraid, so far as this place is concerned. He lives on the lake, and usually comes ashore to draw his rations about lunch-time. He is inclined to be stand-offish on one side, as he has only one eye; but he is most affable on the other. Well, now to find our horses!"
As the three officers departed down the backdoor steps, a hesitating voice followed them—"H'm! Is there any place where one can go—a cellar, or any old spot of that kind—just in case we are—"
"Bless you, you'll be all right!" was the cheery reply. (The outgoing Brigade is always excessively cheery.) "But there are dug-outs over there—in the garden. They haven't been occupied for some months, so you may find them a bit ratty. You won't require them, though. Good-night!"
III
Whizz! Boom! Bang! Crash! Wump!