himself into some sort of physical condition to undertake duties for
which his previous life had ill-prepared him. Though considerably past
the age for military service, he had not contemplated the possibility of
being refused a commission.

Dropping in one day at the Carlton for lunch, he met Harold Clancey, who,
to his surprise, was wearing the Staff cap. Clancey told him that he had
been working for some time at the War Office, and had been given the rank
of captain.

"Let's have lunch together," suggested Bobby.

Bobby had met Clancey at all sorts of places, but they had never been on
intimate terms; in fact, the two men had little more than a nodding
acquaintance. Bobby had run into him the last time at Homburg, and
Clancey had given him to understand that he had some sort of vague
diplomatic appointment. He had drifted across Bobby's life afterwards in
a shadowy way, seeming to have nothing special to do, but to know a great
many people and to take life as a sort of a joke. He talked lightly and
cynically about serious things, and used foreign expressions with great
ease and fluency. It was characteristic of him that since the War he made
frequent use of German idioms, and when conversation turned upon passing
events he professed a complete contempt for English ideas, habits, and
methods, and a great admiration for those of the Germans.

"What's your job at the War Office?" asked Bobby.

"As I really don't know myself it is rather difficult to explain it to
you," answered the other, "but it seems chiefly to consist in sitting
tight and preventing other people from annexing it."