the Regulars, of course--do gas a good deal when you come back. I don't
suppose you any of you know anything, so it doesn't really matter," he
added, glancing at his watch.

"Army's full of Johnnies, who come from God knows where nowadays,"
Holderness assented gloomily. "No wonder they can't keep their mouths
shut."

"Seems to me you need them all," Miss Pamela Van Teyl remarked with a
smile.

"Of course we do," Holderness assented, "and Heaven forbid that any of
us Regulars should say a word against them. Jolly good stuff in them,
too, as the Germans found out last month."

"All the same," Lutchester continued, still studying the notice, "news
does run over London like quicksilver. If you step down to the American
bar here, for instance, you'll find that Charles is one of the
best-informed men about the war in London. He has patrons in the Army,
in the Navy, and in the Flying Corps, and it's astonishing how
communicative they seem to become after the second or third cocktail."

"Cocktail, mark you, Miss Van Teyl," Holderness pointed out. "We poor
Englishmen could keep our tongues from wagging before we acquired some
of your American habits."

"The habits are all right," Pamela retorted. "It's your heads that are
wrong."

"The most valued product of your country," Lutchester murmured, "is