"Have you heard about Jones?" he asked.
"No," I replied.
"He's gone," said Peters solemnly.
A thrill of hope shot through me. "To the Front?" I asked.
"No, not exactly; to a convalescent home."
"Dear, dear!" I exclaimed, "how very sudden! What was it?"
"German measles," said Peters, "and a mistake in tactics. If he had only waited to let them come out into the open the beggars could have been cut off all right in detachments. But you remember Jones's theory; he never believed in finesse. So he went for them to suppress them en masse, and they retreated into the interior, concentrated their forces and compelled him to surrender on their own terms."
"Poor old Jones!" I murmured sadly.
