"From Divisional Headquarters," he said, mechanically. "The Brigade Major has sent it on."
The message was quite brief:
Lt.-Col. E. F. B. Bethune, D.S.O., commanding Second Battalion, Royal Covenanters, will return home forthwith and report to War Office.
Pinned to the despatch was a hastily scrawled covering slip from the Brigade Major:
Passed to you, for immediate compliance, please.
The next thing that I remember was Roy's voice:
"They've done it on him! The dirty dogs! They're sending him home! Did you—know?"
"No! Yes! Well, I was half afraid of it. I knew the people higher up were getting a bit restive: in fact, I tried to warn him only this afternoon. But I never dreamed they would strike back at a moment like this. You are right, Roy—it will break his heart." (It was the second occasion upon which I had employed that phrase within the last hour.)
Another thought struck Roy.
"You are in command now!" he said.