To-day at two o'clock Tom's orders are that his car is to be ready at two-thirty. My orders are to be ready in twenty minutes. I am ready in twenty minutes. The Commandant thinks that he has transacted all his business and is ready in twenty minutes too. Tom and his car are nowhere to be seen. I go to look for Tom. Tom is reported as being last seen riding on a motor-lorry towards the British lines in the company of a detachment of British infantry.
The chauffeur Tom is considered to have disgraced himself everlastingly.
Punctually at two-thirty he appears with his car at the door of the "Flandria."
The Commandant is nowhere to be seen. He has gone to look for Tom.
I reprove Tom for the sin of unpunctuality, and he has me.
His orders were to be ready at two-thirty and he is ready at two-thirty. And it is nobody's business what he did with himself ten minutes before. He wants to know where the Commandant is.
I go to look for the Commandant.
The Commandant is reported to have been last seen going through the Hospital on his way to the garage. I go round to the garage through the Hospital; and the Commandant goes out of the garage by the street. He was last seen in the garage.
He appears suddenly from some quarter where you wouldn't expect him in the least. He reproves Tom.
Tom with considerable violence declares his righteousness. He has gathered to himself a friend, a Belgian Red Cross man, whose language he does not understand. But they exchange winks that surpass all language.