"Never mind your drink." James released the surgeon's head from under his arm and sat down again. "Is she down here?"
"She is, James—and she's a devilish pretty girl now, too. If it wasn't that we're most of us crocks here we'd——"
A signalman entered and glanced inquiringly round the room.
"Who is it for, signalman? Anybody hurt?"
"No, sir." The man looked at his signal-pad again. "Send despatch officer to Admiralty House instantly."
"Help!" The surgeon turned to Rainer. "There's only one available to-night, and he's at the Boxing. It's probably only stuff to be brought back here. What about——? But I forgot, you're tired, aren't you? They'd better telephone."
Rainer picked up his cap. "I'm not supposed to join till to-morrow night, and I'm going even if it means another filthy railway journey. 'Night, Doc!"
The door banged decisively, and the surgeon chuckled at some deep jest of his own.
Vice-Admiral Sir Charles Woodcote grunted ferociously as a knock sounded at his study door.