Desmond looked blankly at him. Then he--turned to Spencer.

"You must let me into this, Spencer," he said, "what's old
Maurice been up to? Has he been cashiered for wearing shoes or
what?"

Spencer's manner became a trifle formal.

"Captain Strangwise has escaped from a prisoners' of war camp in
Germany, Major," he said, "we've been trying to get hold of him
for days! He's the talk of London!"

Desmond turned like a shot.

"Maurice!" he cried, "'pon my soul, I'm going to have an
interesting evening... why, of course, you are just the sort of
fellow to do a thing like that. But, Spencer, you know, it won't
do... fellows are never allowed to talk to the newspaper men
about matters of this kind. And if you're a good fellow, Spencer,
you won't even say that you have seen Strangwise here... you'll
only get him into trouble!"

The little man looked rather 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 haven a drink for old times' sake!"