"They won't," said Hobin. Colonel Hobin was constitutionally inclined to pessimism, despite his ability. "They won't," he said. And at that moment the door opened, and a young lieutenant, who had that day joined the battery, entered the room.
"Good evening, sir," said the young man to Colonel Hobin.
Hobin nodded grumpily. The young man drew out a chair, seated himself, and reached for the bread and butter. Hobin, from the head of the table, handled the teapot.
"Weak or strong?" he demanded of the new-comer.
"Weak," answered John Manton, who had been at Heatherpoint a matter of four hours, and was taking his first meal in the fort.
The Lieutenant-Commander pushed the marmalade pot towards him, and John began to spread it upon his bread and butter, not quite so thickly as his Colonel had spread it a minute or two before.
Everything was in order in regard to John's presence at Heatherpoint. Dacent Smith had arranged the whole matter, and for the first time in his life John Manton, who had once before been on the way to an officer's uniform, found himself of commissioned rank.
And for once, Colonel Hobin was mistaken in thinking that the War Office and Intelligence Department had left him entirely neglected.
"Well, how do you like Heatherpoint, Mr. Treves?" inquired the old Lieutenant-Commander genially.
"So far as I have got," answered John, "I am delighted with the chance to be here." He spoke truthfully.