"Here is the very place!" announced Cockerell almost at once. "This house, Number Five. We can put the gunners and their little guns into that stable at the back, and the officer can have a room in the house itself. Sonnez, for the last time before lunch!"
The door was opened by a pleasant-faced young woman of about thirty, who greeted Cockerell—tartan is always popular with French ladies—with a beaming smile, but shook her head regretfully upon seeing the billet de logement in his hand. The inevitable duet with Alphonso followed. Presently Alphonso turned to his superior.
"Madame is ver' sorry, sair, but an officier is here already."
"Show me the officier!" replied the prosaic Cockerell.
The duet was resumed.
"Madame say," announced Alphonso presently, "that the officier is not here now; but he will return."
"So will Christmas! Meanwhile I am going to put an Emma Gee officer in here."
Alphonso's desperate attempt to translate the foregoing idiom into French was interrupted by Madame's retirement into the house, whither she beckoned Cockerell to follow her. In the front room she produced a frayed sheet of paper, which she proffered with an apologetic smile. The paper said:—
_This billet is entirely reserved for the Supply Officer of this District. It is not to be occupied by troops passing through the town.
By Order_.