As the days wore on the strain became more and more intense. William's
old school had contrived an association which begged to be allowed to
do anything in the world for him except leave him for a single day in
idleness. And what time the Army was not making inquiries about his
own civil intentions and abilities it was insisting on his extracting
the same information from the platoons. William grew haggard and
morose. He began looking under his bed every night for prospective
employers and took to sleeping with a loaded Webley under his pillow
for fear of being kidnapped by a registry office. He slept in
uneasy snatches, and when he did doze off was tormented by hideous
nightmares.

In one of them he dreamt he was on leave and walking through the City.
At every doorway he had to run the gauntlet of lithe and implacable
managing directors, all ready to pounce on him, drag him within and
chain him permanently to a stool--with the complete approval of
the Army Council. In another he was appearing before a tribunal of
employers as a conscientious objector to all forms of work.

The last straw was when the Brigadier caused it to be made known that
if any officer was particularly unsettled about his future he might be
granted a personal interview and it would be seen what could be done
for him. William sat down with the air of one who has established a
thumping bridgehead over his Rubicon and wrote to the Brigadier direct
and as follows:--

"SIR,--I have the honour to hope that this finds you a good deal
better than it leaves me at present. In case you should be in any
uncertainty over your prospects on return to half-pay, I shall be