In the morning he found young Andrews as young as ever and got down to his job at once: “Do you remember joining 469 T.M.B.?” “Yes, sh’d think I do.” “Do you remember the man you had as servant while you were with them?” “I do. Topping feller. Gad, I was sorry when I had to leave him behind. Of course, I dropped him when I went to hospital. Never was so done!” At last! “You couldn’t give me his name and number, I suppose?” “I must have got a note of it somewhere. I say, what’s all this about? Do you want to get hold of him?” “I do. He’s wanted, over a question of damage in billets. They’ve sent me to find him out.” “Then I’m damned if I’ll tell you. Because he was a topping chap!” rejoined Andrews, laughing. “You’d better tell me, I think. The matter has gone rather high up, and it might be awkward if I had to report that the information was refused.” “Lord, you aren’t going to make a Court of Inquiry affair of it, are you?” “It may come to that, and they’ve got hold of your name.” “Gee whizz! I don’t like landing the chap. I may not have got any particulars of him, now, my things have been so messed about.” “Well, look and see!” “All right.” Andrews fumbled out from the night-table beside his bed, the usual bedside collection. Letters in female handwriting, some young, some old--from one or more sweethearts and a mother, thought Dormer. Paper-covered novels. The sort (English) that didn’t make you think. The sort (French) that make you feel, if you were clever at the language. Cigarettes, bills. One or two letters from brother officers. “Blast. It’s in my Field Note Book, in my valise, in store here. I shall have to send to have it got out. Wait half a mo’ and I’ll get an orderly.” As they waited, he went on: “What’s he wanted for? Some dam’ Frenchman going to crime him for stealing hop-poles?” “Something of that sort. You wouldn’t remember it, it happened before you joined the Battery.” “Then it jolly well wasn’t my man Watson. He’d only just come up from Base!” “Come, the man was of middle size and ordinary to look at, and had been servant to an officer of the name of Fairfield, who was killed!” “Oh, that chap. I know who you mean now. I don’t call him my servant. I only had him for a day or two. His name was Smith, as far as I can recollect. We were in the line, and I never got his number. He disappeared, may have been wounded, or gone sick of course, we were strafed to Hell, as usual. I should have got rid of him in any case. He was a grouser!” “Didn’t like the War?” “I should say not.” Hopeless, of course. When Andrews saw Dormer rise and close his notebook, he apologized: “Beastly sorry. Afraid I’m no good.” “That’s all right. I don’t want to find the fellow, personally. It’s simply my job.” “Fair wear and tear, so to speak?” “Yes. Good morning.” “Don’t go--I say, don’t. You’re just getting interesting!” Heads popped up in the surrounding beds. “Do tell us what it’s all about.”