He was to be forgiven, for he was new to comic opera; and besides, when a page of _Punch_ falls to one in real life, one hardly realises it till too late.
But it was plain that nothing could be done that night, and he went to bed with what consolation he could derive from the cheerful Harold.
Next morning his breakfast was hardly over when an orderly came in.
Harold had been earlier than usual, and had finished and gone out.
"Captain Graham, sir ?" queried the man.

"Captain Harold's compliments, and a telephone message has just come in that you are to report to H.Q.
10th Group as quickly as possible." Peter brushed himself up, and outwardly cheerful but inwardly quaking, set off.

Half an hour's walk brought him to the place, a little office near a wharf is a tangle of trolley lines.

He knocked, went in, came to attention, and saluted.
Colonel Lear was a short, red-faced, boorish fellow, and his Adjutant sat beside him at the desk, for the Colonel was not particularly well up in his job.

The Adjutant was tall, slightly bald, and fat-faced, and he leaned back throughout the interview with an air of sneering boredom, only vouchsafing laconic replies to his superior's occasional questions.
Peter didn't know which he hated the more; but he concluded that whereas he would like to cut the Colonel in Regent Street, he would enjoy shooting the Adjutant.
"Ah!" said the Colonel.