The train chanced to stop just after dinner was finished, and the
Commandant, seizing his opportunity, hurriedly paid his bill and got
into another carriage. My _vis-à-vis_ also left the car, though I must
confess that I had not stood _him_ so much as a glass of beer. I and
the Canadian Corporal were left facing each other, and the position
was such that I couldn't avoid his eye. I had no feelings with regard
to him, but I simply could not smile at him, since I do not like
champagne. So I suppose I must have frowned at him; anyhow, he came
along and sat down at my table in order to explain at length that he
was not drunk.

He wasn't drunk, and I had never said he was, and I was not in the
least interested in his theme, until he got to the point of what his
main reason was for not being drunk. This, I admit, interested me
deeply. "When we get to Parry," said he, "we shall be met by Military
Police, and they will ask to see our papers. And if my papers weren't
in order and if I wasn't in order myself I should be put under arrest
and sent back again. And I don't mean to be sent back, and I have all
my papers in order and I'm in order myself." And, dash it all, the
fellow was right, and when we got to the Gare du Nord there were the
Military Police as large as life, and clearly there was no avoiding
them.

At first I didn't quite know what to do about it, but a little thought
decided me. "There are your M.P.," I said to the Corporal, as we
trooped slowly out of the dining-car. "I'm afraid I'll have to ask you
to come along with me and interview one of them." Giving him no time
to argue, I led him straight to the Police Sergeant and insisted
upon this case being dealt with before all others. "I must ask you,
Sergeant, to make this man produce his papers. I have reason to doubt