Guild said thoughtfully: "I have an officer's uniform of the Guides among my luggage."
"Lord!" exclaimed Darrel, "you brought it with you?"
"There was to have been a regimental dinner in Brussels in September. I was asked last June, and they requested me to wear uniform. I had my uniform, so I packed it."
"Then it is there in your luggage at Quellenheim!"
"Yes."
"Well," said Darrel heartily, "I'm devilish glad of it. If they catch you in uniform they can't court-martial you with a jerk of their thumbs."
"I'm not worrying about that," said Guild carelessly, "but," looking at Michaud, "if you think a reserve officer in uniform is likely to encourage recruiting, I certainly shall use my uniform. You know your own people better than I do. I leave it to you, Michaud."
"Then, Monsieur, wear your uniform. It means everything to us all; we honour and respect it; it represents authority; better still, it reassures our people. If an officer of the Guides is seen in charge of a batch of recruits, no young man, whose class has been summoned to the colours, would entertain any misgivings. Nor dare anybody hang back! Our women would jeer and ridicule them."
"Very well," said Guild. "Now take me as far as the wood's edge where I can see the house at Quellenheim. Wait for me there and guide me back here, for I never could find this dark bivouac alone."