He opened a door and backed inwards with it, keeping his hand on the knob.
“Major T. V. Akerley, M. C.,” he announced; and as Tom crossed the threshold three paces, halted with a smack of his right heel against his left and saluted, the door closed behind him.
The Inspector General, a large man in a large suit of gray tweed, looked up from some papers on his desk and said, “How are you, Akerley? Glad to see you.”
“Thank you, sir,” returned Tom, standing very stiff.
The general left his desk, advanced and extended his hand. Tom grasped it.
“Glad to hear the machine is all right,” said the general. “You have had a long flight. Loosen up, my boy. You are not on the carpet, I’m glad to say.”
Tom’s back and shoulders relaxed a little.
“I can scarcely believe it, sir,” he replied. “May I ask how it happened? Did Colonel Nasher say how the trouble began?”
“Something like that,” said the general. “Not of his own free will, of course. It came hard, but we scared it out of him. One of your men, Dever by name, told of your speaking to him of poor Angus Bruce just before you flew away that night. And we had Nasher’s letter objecting to Bruce’s name on the list of posthumous awards; a letter fairly reeking with cowardly spite. A disgraceful letter. I looked into that matter and learned that Nasher and the father of Angus Bruce were enemies of long standing in their home town. I was inspired to put one and one together and suspect the result of being two; so I sent for Nasher, to see if the answer really was two. He came; and I saw at a glance that his wind was up already. The Vets were hot on his tracks by that time, you know. Half the old soldiers in Canada had pen in hand, most of them painting you in colors almost too good to be true; and the remainder demanding to know why, when and by whom, a person like Nasher had been given a commission. So, when I asked Nasher, in this very room, what he had said to you about your friend, young Bruce, fear shook enough of the truth out of him to satisfy me that you had done exactly what I should have done in your place.”
“You would have knocked his head clean off, sir,” said Tom.