“Yes. Oh, I can’t wade through all this. But I tell you what, young Dormer. You’ve got yourself involved in this correspondence, and I shouldn’t be at all surprised if you didn’t ever get out. I shouldn’t really.” “I can’t see that I’ve done anything wrong, sir.” “Can’t you? Well, it’s no good your telling the French Mission that, I’m afraid. You might go and try to persuade them that there’s a mistake, or an exaggeration, and get them to drop it. You’d better go and see them anyhow. They’re at Flan! Take what’s-his-name with you.” From this, Dormer, by long experience, understood that he was to go to Army Head-quarters and to take the Divisional French Liaison Officer with him. He neither liked nor disliked the job. It was the sort of thing one had to do in war-time and he was used to it. So he went down the little stony street to the pork-butcher’s, where, upon the swing-gate that admitted one to the dank, greasy, appetizing interior, where every sort of out-of-the-way portion of the pig lay cooked and smelling “sentimental,” hung the placard “French Liaison Officer,” with the number of the Division carefully smudged out. Here, blue-coated, booted and spurred, sat the French Liaison Officer, innumerable small printed sheets of instructions before him, carefully arranged on this pile or on that, while in between lay the cardboard-covered _dossiers_. Dormer’s immediate impression was: “Not enough to do. Passing the time away,” but he had too much sympathy with such an attitude to say so. He was greeted with effusion: “My dear Dormer, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Dormer never liked effusion. He replied briefly: “This,” and threw the papers on the table. It amused him to watch the change in the other’s face from purely official politeness to perfectly genuine determination to keep out of it. “Well, Dormer, you’ve heard of System D?” He had to think whether it was Swedish gymnastics or a patent medicine. “It means ‘_Debrouillez vous_,’ or ‘Don’t get mixed up with it.’ That is my advice to you. In any case I shall leave it alone. It is a matter of discipline purely.” “Quite so.” Dormer did not care whether the sarcasm was obvious. “But I have received orders to go and see your Chief at Army Head-quarters, and to take you with me. I suppose you don’t mind going. It’ll be a ride.” “I shall be delighted. I will go and tell my servant to have my horse round. I will introduce you to Colonel Lepage. He is a man of excellent family.” “I thought you would,” said Dormer to himself.