Then work closed over his head. He became a railway time-table, a lost-luggage office, a registrar, and a store commissioner.
He had the duties of a special Providence thrust upon him, with all the disadvantages of being readily held accountable, so skilfully evaded by the higher powers.
Junior officers flew to him for orders as belated ladies fly to their pin cushions for pins.
He ate when it was distinctly necessary, and slept two hours out of the twenty-four.
He left nothing undone which he could do himself; his mind was unfavorable to chance. The heads of departments listened when he made suggestions, and found it convenient to answer with accuracy his sudden questions.
Subordinates hurried to obey his infrequent but final orders; and when Winn said, "I think you'd find it better," people found it better.
The division slipped off like cream, without impediment or hitch.
There were no delays, the men acquired their kit, and found their railway carriages.
The trains swept in velvet softness out of the darkened London station through the sweet, quiet, summer night into a sleepless Folkestone. The division went straight onto the right transports; there wasn't a man, a horse, or a gun out of place.
Winn heaved a sigh of relief as he stepped on board; his troubles as a staff officer had only just begun, but they had begun as troubles should always begin, by being adequately met. There were no arrears.