""Thank your lucky stars that you fellows aren't in Blighty," was the greeting Setley and Danvers received on the following morning, when they put in an appearance in the building pretentiously styled the Mess.
"What's wrong now?" asked Danvers. "Rotten news in the papers?"
"We were referring to your escapade last night," continued the speaker. "Your efforts are like the padre's egg: good in parts. We don't deny that the fellow who was shot by the sentry was a spy, but the other——"
"What about him?" enquired Ralph impatiently.
"Don't jump down my throat, old chap," was the feigned indignant protest. "That's the secret of the whole business. You simply leap at erroneous conclusions like a bull at a gate. Sometimes the gate goes, sometimes it doesn't, and then the animal is sorry for itself. Do you remember what Gladstone said in 'sixty-eight?"
"Nothing to do with this spy business, I'll swear," interrupted Danvers, seizing his tormentor by the scruff of the neck. "Now, you prevaricating blighter, out with it! What are you hinting at?"
"I was testing your knowledge of political history before enlightening you——"
The young officer had no further opportunity in that direction, for Setley gripped him by the heels and Danvers by the shoulders. Between them they bumped their victim till he yelled for mercy.
"Then straight to the point," declared Danvers, "or we'll strafe you again."
"I was recalling the Prime Minister's immortal quotation in the year of grace eighteen hundred and sixty-eight," gurgled the captive, whereat the bumping process proceeded, until the entry of the senior major restored things to their normal state.