hand, which she recognized as that of
Marmaduke's anonymous correspondent, was found in the Deanery
letter-box. The envelope enclosed a copy of a cutting from the
"Gazette" of the morning paper, and a sentence was underlined and
adorned with exclamation marks at the sides.

"R. Fusiliers. Tempy. 2nd Lieutenant J. Trevor resigns his
commission."

The Colonel dealt with him as gently as he could in that final
interview. He put his hand in a fatherly way on Doggie's shoulder and
bade him not take it too much to heart. He had done his best; but he
was not cut out for an officer. These were merciless times. In matters
of life and death we could not afford weak links in the chain.
Soldiers in high command, with great reputations, had already been
scrapped. In Doggie's case there was no personal discredit. He had
always conducted himself like a gentleman and a man of honour, but he
had not the qualities necessary for the commanding of men. He must
send in his resignation.

"But what can I do, sir?" asked Doggie in a choking voice. "I am
disgraced for ever."

The Colonel reflected for a moment. He knew that Doggie's life had
been a little hell on earth from the first day he had joined. He was
very sorry for the poor little toy Pom in his pack of hounds. It was
scarcely the toy Pom's fault that he had failed. But the Great Hunt
could have no use for toy Poms. At last he took a sheet of regimental
notepaper and wrote:

"DEAR TREVOR,--

"I am full of admiration for the plucky way in which you have
striven to overcome your physical disabilities, and I am only
too sorry that they should have compelled the resignation of
your commission and your severance from the regiment.

"Yours sincerely,
"L. G. CAIRD,
"Lt-Col."

He handed it to Doggie.

"That's all I can do for you, my poor boy," said he.

"Thank you, sir," said Doggie.

* * * * *

Doggie took a room at the Savoy Hotel, and sat there most of the day,
the pulp of a man. He had gone to the Savoy, not daring to show his
face at the familiar Sturrocks's. At the Savoy he was but a number
unknown, unquestioned. He wore civilian clothes. Such of his uniforms
and martial paraphernalia as he had been allowed to retain in
camp--for one can't house a ton of