“Don’t lie to me. It came out of this window.”
“I was asleep, sir. Something struck me on the chest. I didn’t see it, sir!”
Behind his curtains Sergeant Gray had been struggling into his trousers. He emerged now, slightly pale but determined.
“I threw it, sir,” he explained. “I had no idea—it bounced, sir.”
The general surveyed him grimly.
“It’s a curious thing, sergeant,” he said, “that when there is any deviltry going on in the Headquarters Troop I find you at the bottom of it. Report to me in my car at eight o’clock.”
Then he stalked away.
Down the car a sonorous bass spoke from behind a curtain: “The commanding general presents his compliments to Sergeant Gray, and will Sergeant Gray breakfast with him in his private car at eight o’clock?”
Sergeant Gray dressed hastily. There was the bitterness of despair in his heart, for he knew what was coming. He would have no twenty-three and a half hours’ leave, no theatres, no decent food, no girl. And over his head still that idiotic bet.
“Oh, hell!” he muttered, and started back.