“I’m sorry,” said Peter, very politely, “but our taxi only holds _two_. However”—he glanced at his wrist-watch—“You’re in nice time for the last train.” * * * * * “That’s put the lid on it,” remarked Bromley in the darkness of the jolting car: and, just before they went to sleep, “Mark my words, there’ll be some trouble in this ruddy Battalion.” There was! ----- [2] Royal Field Artillery. § 5 It started with Bareton. Bareton, disregarding both Locksley and his new Company-Commander (a full Lieutenant by right of being over thirty), went straight to Colonel Andrews. He told the Colonel, very respectfully until he began to lose his temper, that on no account would he, Jack Bareton, continue to serve in the same regiment as Locksley-Jones. The Colonel asked him, very mildly, why he objected to Locksley. Said Bareton—they were alone in the Orderly Room—“With all due respect to you, sir, the man isn’t fit to hold His Majesty’s Commission.” Said the Colonel, “If you have any accusation to make against my Adjutant, you must make it in his presence. Meanwhile, go back to your billet and consider yourself under open arrest till I send for you.” The Mess seethed. On the following day, Jack Bareton (without his belt) confronted Locksley before the Colonel’s table:—Major Fox-Goodwin, as temporary second-in-command, lounging, slightly contemptuous, by the fireplace. Decided the Colonel, having listened to ten minutes of tight-lipped vituperation—all true, but entirely incapable of proof, and some clever dialectics for the defence: “It doesn’t, er, seem to me, Bareton, that you’ve made out any case at all. It seems to me that, er, having heard the Adjutant’s explanation of what are, er, obvious misconceptions on your part, it’s your duty to apologize.” Jack Bareton stood very quietly for six seconds. Then he said: “As I am not satisfied with your ruling, sir”—he was, it will be remembered, a lawyer by profession—“I believe I am entitled to call for a Court of Enquiry.” The Colonel sent both juniors out of the room. “What had we better do?” he asked Fox-Goodwin. The Major’s eyes twinkled. “Get rid of ’em both, me dear fellow. Get rid of ’em _both_.” “I can’t do that. Locksley’s a very capable fellow, very capable indeed. Locksley’s saved me a great deal of trouble.” “Has he?” thought the Major. But discipline is discipline. “A Court of Enquiry won’t do the Regiment any good,” went on Andrews. “Besides, it might break Bareton. Bareton’s a good subaltern, and a patriotic chap. . . . I hate trouble,” he added pathetically. . . . Bareton, re-called, found himself alone with the Major who said: “Look here, me lad, take a tip from a fellow who’s old enough to be your grandfather. Don’t you press this Court of Enquiry. Ask for a transfer, see!” “But it’s so damned unfair, sir.” “I know that as well as you do, me lad. But we’ve got to think of the men. . . .”