Lieutenant Cockerell whistled softly and vindictively through his teeth.
"Well," he said, "for consummate and concentrated nerve, give me the underlings of the A.S.C.! This pot-bellied blighter not only butts into an area which doesn't belong to him, but actually leaves a chit to warn people off the grass even when he isn't here! He hasn't signed the document, I observe. That means that he is a newly joined subaltern, trying to get mistaken for a Brass Hat! I'll fix him!"
With great stateliness Lieutenant Cockerell tore the offending screed into four portions, to the audible concern of Madame. But the Lieutenant smiled reassuringly upon her.
"Je vous donnerai un autre, vous savez," he assured her.
He sat down at the table, tore a leaf from his Field Service Pocket
Book, and wrote:—
_The Supply Officer of the District is at liberty to occupy this billet only at such times as it is not required by the troops of the Combatant Services.
Signed, F.J. Cockerell,
Lieut. & Asst. Adj.,
7th B. & W. Highes_.
"That's a pretty nasty one!" he observed with relish. Then, having pinned the insulting document conspicuously to the mantelpiece, he observed to the mystified lady of the house:—
"Voilà, Madame. Si l'officier reviendra, je le verrai moi-même, avec grand plaisir. Bon jour!"
And with this dark saying Sparrow Cockerell took his departure.