Some days later, Lieutenant Donaldson was sitting in "C" Company officers' billet, when the battalion intelligence officer entered. "Hallo," said Donaldson. "You look worried. What's up?" "I am worried. I wish you'd point out to your company what a nuisance they make themselves to their superiors when they go capturing Boche officers in the rest area. Ask 'em to think twice in future. It'd save trouble if they'd kill the next one they find and bury him on the spot." "Why, what's up?" "Well, the Staff's very anxious to know what this particular chap was doing and how he got there. I do see their point, you know. They take the highly reasonable view that as prisoners are not usually captured miles behind the lines in full uniform, this chap must have been up to some extra special form of devilry. The presumption is that he'd been spying, but they can't get a word of sense out of the man himself. He pretends not to know how he got into our lines. And the queer thing is that we found papers on him dated the same day as his capture--routine orders and so on--which tally with papers of the same date on other prisoners taken in the usual way. The thing's uncanny, because it's so senseless." "Have you noticed," said Lieutenant Donaldson reflectively, "that there've been one or two things out of the ordinary that have happened in this battalion lately?" "I know. And the colonel wants it stopped. Says it'll give the battalion a bad name." "Perhaps we've a family ghost," suggested Donaldson. "Anyway, I don't see how it hurts _you_." "Me? The Staff seem to think I'm entirely responsible for the whole thing. They want to know--in writing--why I didn't get a full biography of the blighter when he was brought in--as if he was any more likely to unbosom himself to me than to the people who caught him. And now, to give me a chance of recovery of my prestige, I suppose, I've to see Higgins and Grant and find out anything I can from them. Could you have 'em sent for?" "Of course." "The officer's compliments to 'is conquerin' 'eroes," said Sergeant Lees when the message arrived, "an' would they favor 'im with their company for a quiet chat?" Ever since Alf and Bill's exploit had shed brilliant if unexpected luster on their platoon, Sergeant Lees had unbent with them and assumed a heavy jocularity. This was his method of indicating that he was pleased with them, but it filled Alf with grave forebodings. Bill, on the other hand, took what the gods gave and basked in the brief sunshine of the sergeant's smile. On this occasion, however, he basked too openly and the sun went in. "Well," he answered in languid, aristocratic tones. "If Don feels 'e'd like to see us, I s'pose we might as well drop round for a minute or two, eh, Alfred?" "'Ere," said the sergeant, who held that a joke was only a joke so long as the right person made it, "none o' that. Clean yourselves up an' report to the officers' billet immediate."