“Enter,” answered Grace.
A sergeant of infantry crunched in, coughed as he inhaled the smoke, and, snapping to attention, saluted, which both girls returned.
“What is it, Sergeant?” asked Grace.
“Captain Rowland wishes you to report at his headquarters at half past seven o’clock, Madame.”
“Very good, Sergeant. Where are the captain’s headquarters?”
“Four dumps down the street from here, to the right as you go out, down one flight to the cellar.”
“Thank you. Will you have a nip of tea? We still have some left.”
The sergeant accepted a tin-cup of tea, gulped it down, thanked them, and saluting tramped out.
“Queer fellows those doughboys,” murmured Grace. “All gold, but odd josies every one of them.”
“Is that what you are thinking of? Were I in your place I should be thinking of what I am going to say to Captain Rowland this evening. This is the summons I have been waiting for. You understand what this means, do you not, Grace?”