essly. . . .

He ran over in his mind the day's work. He had met him at about eleven
that morning, wandering along the support line with an officer in the
Loamshires whom he knew well, who had hailed him and introduced Jesson.

"A recruit--a new recruit," he had said, "for your atrocious trade.
He's just left old pimple-faced Charlie, who was writing returns in
triplicate as usual."

Now pimple-faced Charlie was his own Major, who habitually did write
returns in triplicate; wherefore, after a few remarks of a casual
nature in which he elicited the fact that Jesson was a mining engineer
and had suddenly been ordered while waiting at the base to join the
940th Tunnelling Company, he took him in tow and showed him round the
mine galleries.

Mining work was very active in the sector. Four or five small mines
and one big one were going up in the near future, so the tour of
inspection had been a long one. That his companion was not new to the
game was obvious from the outset; and his pertinent inquiries anent
cross-cuts, listening galleries, and the whole of the work in hand had
shown that he was keen as well. Altogether a promising recruit, he had
mused: quite a find--keen and able, two qualities which unfortunately
do not go hand in hand quite as often as one would like. And now
Staunton and this find of his were facing one another in silence across
the plank table of the dug-out; Jesson, with an expression of polite
indifference as befitted a subaltern compelled to listen to a senior
officer's story which he didn't want to hear; Staunton, with an
enigmatic smile. Then of a sudden Staunton spoke.

"Have you ever studied the question of the importance of matters of
detail, Jesson?" he remarked quietly to the impassive figure facing him
across the table.

"I can't say that I have, sir," answered the other, politely stifling a
yawn.

"You should. A most interesting study. My story concerns points of
detail. The imperative thing is to be able to sort out the vital
points from all the others; then piece them together, and arrive at the
right answer."

"It must be very easy to be led astray, I should imagine; and arrive at
the--er--wrong one." Jesson concealed a smile, and waited for the
Major to continue.

"Yes and no. It's all a matter of practice." Staunton's imperturbable
voice was as quiet as ever. "And anyway, it's only in peace time that
it matters very much whether one is right or wrong. Nowadays