I showed him old Tornado Toby—officially known as Major-General Sir Tobias Blast, K.C.M.G., D.S.O., M.V.O., O.U. D.S., etc. I stood in a far corner, and was very silent.
“What d’you want?” said Sir Toby.
“Job of work, sir.”
“Where?”
“Commission going to Iraq, sir.”
“Why?”
“Don’t know, sir. But it’s going.”
“Idiot. Why d’you want the job?”
“Chap must have a job of work, sir.”
Tornado Toby looked him over contemptuously, and his eye roved from the crown on Hugo’s shoulder-strap to the bits of ribbon on Hugo’s sleeve and the light in Hugo’s eye.