The doctor returned to them in fifteen minutes; at sight of the expression on his face they all sighed with relief, and Tom pulled off his gloves and head-dress.
“Mick, you were right,” said the doctor. “That’s what is the matter with her, but it hasn’t got much of a hold. And she is strong and I’m here in plenty of time.”
Mick Otter nodded his head just as if this good news was no news to him. Gaspard leaned heavily on Tom’s shoulder. Tom took off his goggles and fell to polishing them diligently with a handkerchief.
“Bless that old bus,” he said, making a swift and furtive pass with the handkerchief across his eyes.
Doctor Smith pulled a cigarette-case and a folded newspaper from a side-pocket of his coat. He lit a cigarette and then unfolded the paper.
“Ah! here it is,” he said. “Dickon and I were wondering how we could get word to you about it, Tom. Here you are.”
He handed the big sheet to Tom, indicating this official advertisement with a finger.
“Major Thomas Villers Akerley, M. C. This officer is hereby instructed to apply at his early convenience for transfer to the Reserve of Officers, with his present rank and seniority, and to return to any Officer of the Permanent or Active Militia, with a complete statement attached, all such Government Property for which he is officially responsible. Major Akerley will understand that, in consideration of his distinguished services, fine record and good character and the peculiar circumstances of his case, his compliance with these instructions will cause the cessation of all Official action in the matter.
(Signed) T—— W——
Deputy Minister of Militia.”