“I haven't got any on. I forgot to put any on this morning.” “No tag, no insignia.” “Yes, I have, infantry.” “No papers.... I bet he's been out a hell of a time,” said Handsome meditatively. “Better put the cuffs on him,” said Bill in the middle of a yawn. “Let's wait a while. When's the loot coming?” “Not till night.” “Sure?” “Yes. Ain't no train.” “How about a side car?” “No, I know he ain't comin',” snarled Bill. “What d'you say we have a little liquor, Bill? Bet this bloke's got money. You'll set us up to a glass o' cognac, won't you, School Detachment?” Andrews sat very stiff in his chair, staring at them. “Yes,” he said, “order up what you like.” “Keep an eye on him, Handsome. You never can tell what this quiet kind's likely to pull off on you.” Bill Huggis strode out of the room with heavy steps. In a moment he came back swinging a bottle of cognac in his hand. “Tole the Madame you'd pay, Skinny,” said the man as he passed Andrews's chair. Andrews nodded. The two M. P.'s drew up to the table beside which Andrews sat. Andrews could not keep his eyes off them. Bill Huggis hummed as he pulled the cork out of the bottle. “It's the smile that makes you happy, It's the smile that makes you sad.” Handsome watched him, grinning. Suddenly they both burst out laughing. “An' the damn fool thinks he's in a school battalion,” said Handsome in his shrill voice. “It'll be another kind of a battalion you'll be in, Skinny,” cried Bill Huggis. He stifled his laughter with a long drink from the bottle. He smacked his lips. “Not so goddam bad,” he said. Then he started humming again: “It's the smile that makes you happy, It's the smile that makes you sad.” “Have some, Skinny?” said Handsome, pushing the bottle towards Andrews. “No, thanks,” said Andrews. “Ye won't be gettin' good cognac where yer goin', Skinny, not by a damn sight,” growled Bill Huggis in the middle of a laugh. “All right, I'll take a swig.” An idea had suddenly come into Andrews's head. “Gee, the bastard kin drink cognac,” cried Handsome. “Got enough money to buy us another bottle?” Andrews nodded. He wiped his mouth absently with his handkerchief; he had drunk the raw cognac without tasting it. “Get another bottle, Handsome,” said Bill Huggis carelessly. A purplish flush had appeared in the lower part of his cheeks. When the other man came back, he burst out laughing. “The last cognac this Skinny guy from the school detachment'll get for many a day. Better drink up strong, Skinny.... They don't have that stuff down on the farm.... School Detachment; I'll be goddamned!” He leaned back in his chair, shaking with laughter. Handsome's face was crimson. Only the zigzag scar over his eye remained white. He was swearing in a low voice as he worked the cork out of the bottle.