able to "tap" a certain number of our trench telephone
messages. If he does, his daily Intelligence Report must contain some
surprising items of information. At the moment when we attach our
invisible apparatus to Mr. M'Gurk's wire, the Divisional Telephone
system appears to be fairly evenly divided between--

(1) A Regimental Headquarters endeavouring to ring up its Brigade.

(2) A glee-party of Harmonious Blacksmiths, indulging in the Anvil
Chorus.

(3) A choleric Adjutant on the track of a peccant Company Commander.

(4) Two Company Signallers, engaged in a friendly chat from different
ends of the trench line.

(5) An Artillery F.O.O., endeavouring to convey pressing and momentous
information to his Battery, two miles in rear.

(6) The Giant Mosquito aforesaid.

The consolidated result is something like this:--

REGIMENTAL HEADQUARTERS (_affably_). Hallo, Brigade! Hallo, Brigade!
HALLO, BRIGADE!

THE MOSQUITO. Ping!

THE ADJUTANT (_from somewhere in the Support Line, fiercely_). Give me
B Company!

THE FORWARD OBSERVING OFFICER (_from his eyrie_). Is that C Battery?
There's an enemy working-party--

FIRST CHATTY SIGNALLER (_from B Company's Station_). Is that yoursel',
Jock? How's a' wi' you?

SECOND CHATTY SIGNALLER (_from D Company's Station_). I'm daen fine!
How's your--

REGIMENTAL HEADQUARTERS. HALLO, BRIGADE!

THE ADJUTANT. Is that B Company?

A MYSTERIOUS AND DISTANT VOICE (_politely_.) No, sir; this is Akk and
Esses Aitch.

THE ADJUTANT (_furiously_). Then for the Lord's sake get off the line!

THE MOSQUITO. Ping! Ping!

THE ADJUTANT. And stop that ---- ---- ---- buzzing!

THE MOSQUITO. Ping! _Ping_! PING!

THE F.O.O. Is that C Battery? There's--

FIRST CHATTY SIGNALLER (_peevishly_). What's that you're sayin'?

THE F.O.O. (_perseveringly_). Is that C Battery? There's an enemy
working-party in a coppice at--

FIRST CHATTY SIGNALLER. This is Beer Company, sir. Weel, Jock, did ye
get a quiet nicht?

SECOND CHATTY SIGNALLER. Oh, aye. There was a wee--

THE F.O.O. Is that C Battery? There's--

SECOND CHATTY SIGNALLER. No, sir. This is Don Company. Weel, Jimmy,
there was a couple whish-bangs came intil--

REGIMENTAL HEADQUARTERS. HALLO, BRIGADE!

A CHEERFUL COCKNEY VOICE. Well, my lad, what abaht it?

REGIMENTAL HEADQUARTERS (_getting to work at once_). Hold the line,
Brigade. Message to Staff Captain. "Ref. your S.C. fourr stroke seeven
eight six, the worrking-parrty in qu