“Sick man!” cried the secretary. “Why, certainly! Why not try the R. A. M. C.? They've a hospital half a mile up the street. They will certainly help you out. I'll come with you.”
“No, you don't,” said Barry. “You go back to bed. I'll find the place.”
Half a mile up the street, as the secretary had said, Barry came upon the flaring lantern of the R. A. M. C., at the entrance to a huge warehouse, the gate of which stood wide open.
Entering the courtyard, Barry found a group of men about a blazing fire.
“May I see the officer in charge?” he asked, approaching the group.
The men glanced at his rank badges.
“Yes, sir,” said a sergeant, clicking his heels smartly. “Can I do anything for you, sir?”
“Thank you,” said Barry, and told him his wants.
“We have plenty of biscuits,” said the sergeant, “and coffee, too. You are welcome to all you can carry, but I don't see how we can do any more for you. But would you like to see the officer in charge, sir?”
“Thank you,” said Barry, and together they passed into another room.