Sir Robert pulled himself together and walked away sharply. By the cathedral the carven Christ hung on in the wan yellow light, very still.
CHAPTER V
Peter lay on a home-made bed between the blankets and contemplated the ceiling while he smoked his first cigarette. He had been a fortnight at Rouen, and he was beginning to feel an old soldier—that is to say, he was learning not to worry too much about outside things, and not to show he worried particularly about the interior. He was learning to stand around and smoke endless cigarettes; to stroll in to breakfast and out again, look over a paper, sniff the air, write a letter, read another paper, wander round the camp, talk a lot of rubbish and listen to more, and so do a morning's work. Occasionally he took a service, but his real job was, as mess secretary, to despatch the man to town for the shopping and afterwards go and settle the bills. Just at present he was wondering sleepily whether to continue ordering fish from the big merchants, Biais Frères et Cie, or to go down to the market and choose it for himself. It was a very knotty problem, because solving it in the latter way meant getting up at once. And his batman had not yet brought his tea.
There came a knock at the door, and the tea came in. With it was a folded note. "Came last night, sir, but you was out," said the man. He collected his master's tunic and boots, and departed.
Peter opened the note and swore definitely and unclerically when he had read it. It was from some unknown person, who signed himself as Acting Assistant Chaplain-General, to the effect that he was to be moved to another base, and that as the A.C.G. was temporarily on leave, he had better apply to the Colonel of his own group for the necessary movement order. On the whole this was unintelligible to Peter, but he was already learning that there was no need to worry about that, for somebody would be able to read the riddle. What annoyed him was the fact that he had got to move just as he was settling down. It was certainly a matter for another cigarette, and as he lit it he perceived one gleam of sunshine: he need worry no more about the fish.
Peter waited till Harold had finished his breakfast before he imparted the news to the world a couple of hours or so later. "I say, skipper," he said, "I've got to quit."
"What, padre? Oh, hang it all, no, man! You've only just taken on the mess secretary's job, and you aren't doing it any too badly either. You can't go, old dear."
"I must. Some blighter's written from the A.C.G.'s office, and I've got to get a movement order from the Colonel of the group, whatever that means. But I suppose you can put me straight about that, anyway."
"Sure thing. Come up to the orderly-room 'bout eleven, and you can fill up the chit and I'll fire it in for you. It's only a matter of form. It goes through to Colonel Lear at La Croisset. Where to?"
Peter told him moodily.