rueful. “Oh, of course, Major, if you put it that way,” he said. “... And you’ll use your influence to make those other fellows with you drop it, will you, Spencer? And then come along to the bar and we’ll have a drink for old times’ sake!” Spencer seemed doubtful about the success of his representations to his colleagues but he obediently trotted away. Apparently, he succeeded in his mission for presently he joined the two officers alone in the American Bar. “I haven’t seen Strangwise for six months, Spencer,” said Desmond over his second cocktail. “Seeing him reminds me how astonishing it is the way fellows drop apart in war. Old Maurice was attached to the Brigade of which I am the Brigade Major as gunner officer, and we lived together for the best part of three months, wasn’t it, Maurice? Then he goes back to his battery and the next thing I hear of him is that he is missing. And then I’m damned if he doesn’t turn up here!” Spencer cocked an eye at Strangwise over his Martini. “I’d like to hear your story, despite the restrictions,” he said. Strangwise looked a trifle embarrassed. “Maybe I’ll tell you one day,” he replied in his quiet way, “though, honestly, there’s precious little to tell...” Desmond marked his confusion and respected him for it. He rushed in to the rescue. “Spencer,” he said abruptly, “what’s worth seeing in London? We are going to a show to-night. I want to be amused, mark you, not elevated!” “Nur-el-Din at the Palaceum,” replied the reporter. “By Jove, we’ll go there,” said Desmond, turning to Maurice. “Have you ever seen her? I’m told she’s perfectly marvelous...” “It’s an extraordinarily artistic turn,” said Spencer, “and they’re doing wonderful business at the Palaceum. You’d better go and see the show soon, though, for they tell me the lady is leaving the programme.” “No!” exclaimed Strangwise so suddenly that Desmond turned round and stared at him. “I thought she was there for months yet...” “They don’t want her to go,” answered Spencer, “she’s a perfect gold-mine to them but