"To-morrow. They're getting our movement orders, yours to Havre, mine to Rouen. I put in a spoke for you, to get one via Rouen, but I don't know if you will. It's a vile journey otherwise."
"By Jove!" cried Peter. "I've an idea! Miss Gamelyn's troop of motor-buses goes back to Havre to-morrow empty. Why shouldn't I travel on them? Think I could work it?"
Langton puffed solemnly. "Sure, I should think," he said, "being a padre, anyway."
"What had I best do?"
"Oh, I should go and see Jackson and get him to 'phone the hospital for you—that is, if you really want to go that way."
"It's far better than that vile train," said Peter. "Besides, one can see the country, which I love. And I've never been in Dieppe, and they're to go through there and pick up some casualties."
"Just so," said Langton, still smoking.
"Well," said Peter, "reckon I'll go and see about it. Jackson's a decent old stick, but I'd best do it before he tackles the R.T.O. Coming?"
"No," said Langton. "Leave that novel, and come back for me. You won't be long."
"Right-o," said Peter, and set off.