"Because the money's gone," said Jimmy, tragically. In France, three
thousand miles away from home, with their army pay uncertain, ready
cash meant much to our doughboys.

"Gone! Did you lose it?" asked Bob, with a reportorial instinct.

"No, but Maxwell is gone and the money's gone with him. He's missing,"
Jimmy hastened to explain. "Been missing since just before we went
into action."

"Where was the sergeant stationed?" asked Roger.

"In that big concrete dugout we captured from the Germans in the
scrap just before this," Jimmy explained. "He was in command of a hand
grenade squad there, and just before the fight, or at least soon after
the signal to advance was given, that was the last seen of Sergeant
Maxwell and my money," added the owner of it ruefully.

His companions received the news in silence. Then Franz spoke up and
asked:

"What's to be done? I don't so much mean about the money," he added
quickly, as he saw the others look curiously at him. "That doesn't
matter, though, of course, I'll be glad of my share, and it's mighty
generous of you, Blazes, to offer to whack up. But I mean what's to be
done about Sergeant Maxwell? Do you suppose he--"

He did not finish, but his meaning was obvious.

"If you mean, do I think he went away with it, I most certainly do