“I wish I was as sure of a uniform.”
The girl was waiting, and together they went down to the street. Though her eyes were eager she asked no questions. She preceded Sergeant Gray to the little car and got in. And suddenly a chill struck to the sergeant’s heart.
On the pavement, eying him with cold and glittering eyes, were the stable sergeant, the troop mess sergeant, the second mess sergeant and two corporals. Like himself they wore slickers to cover certain deficiencies, and unlike him they wore an expression of cold and calculating deviltry.
“Hello!” they said, and surrounded him. “Having a good time?”
He cast an agonised glance at the car. The girl was looking ahead.
“Pretty fair,” he replied; and calculated the distance to the car.
“We’ve been keeping an eye open for you,” said the stable sergeant, stepping between him and the car. “We want to have a word with you.”
“I’ll meet you somewhere.” There was pleading in his voice. “Anywhere you say, in an hour.” Their faces were cold and unrelenting. “In a half hour, then.”
“What we’ve got to do won’t wait,” observed the stable sergeant. “How do you think we like going about like this anyhow? Our only chance to have a time, and going round like a lot of lunatics. We warned you, didn’t we? We——”
Sergeant Gray knew what was coming. He had known it with deadly certainty from the moment he saw that menacing group, cold of eye but hot of face. And strong as he was he was no match for five of them, hardened with months of training and infuriated with outrage.