“The only fly in the ointment when we first arrived was a fairly natural one, and a thing which only time could cure. The men were a bit restive. We’d been abroad, don’t forget, for more than ten years—India, Egypt, South Africa—and the feel of the old country under their feet unsettled ’em temporarily. Nothing very bad, but an epidemic of absence without leave and desertion broke out, and the officers had to settle down to pull things together. Continual courts-martial for desertion don’t do a regiment any good with the powers that be, and we had to stop it. “Of course, one of the first things to look to, when any trouble of that sort is occurring, is the general type and standard of your N.C.O.’s. In my squadron they were good, though just a little on the young side. I remember one day I discussed the matter pretty thoroughly with the squadron sergeant-major—an absolute top-notcher. “‘They’re all right, sir,’ he said. ‘In another two or three years there will be none better in the British Army. Especially Trevor.’ “‘Ah! Sergeant-Major,’ I said, looking him straight in the face, ‘you think Trevor is a good man, do you?’ “‘The best we’ve got, sir,’ he answered quietly, and he stared straight back at me. “‘You weren’t so sure when he first came,’ I reminded him. “‘Well, I reckon there was a bit of jealousy, sir,’ he replied, ‘his coming in from the link regiment over a good many of the chaps’ heads. But he’s been with us now three months—and we know him better.’ “‘I wish I could say the same,’ I answered. ‘He defeats me, does Sergeant Trevor.’ “The Sergeant-Major smiled quietly. ‘Does he, sir? I shouldn’t have thought he would have. That there bloke Kipling has written about the likes of Trevor.’ “‘Kipling has written a good deal about the Army,’ I said, with an answering smile. ‘Mulvaney and Co. are classics.’ “‘It’s not Mulvaney I’m meaning, sir,’ he answered. ‘But didn’t he write a little bit of poetry about “Gentlemen-rankers out on the spree”?’ “‘Why, yes, he did.’ I lit a cigarette thoughtfully. ‘I’d guessed that much, Manfield. Is Trevor his real name?’ “‘I don’t know, sir,’ and at that moment the subject of our discussion walked past and saluted. “‘Sergeant Trevor,’ I called after him, on the spur of the moment, and he came up at the double. I hadn’t anything really to say to him, but ever since he’d joined us he’d puzzled me, and though, as the sergeant-major said, the other non-commissioned officers might know him better, I certainly didn’t. “‘You’re a bit of a cricketer, aren’t you?’ I said, as he came up. “A faint smile flickered across his face at my question. ‘I used to play quite a lot, sir,’ he answered.