“Seems to me,” said Bertha, when I had duly inscribed my name on the Government envelope, “that this is what you call a demonstration in force. This is not serious war. You are not going to fight at all. Things are much too quiet and orderly--with church parade, and soirees-dansantes, and visiting cards.”
She looked at me, and if I had had any secrets I should have told them to her then and there.
“Then you think there'll be fighting,” she added, with a calmness of demeanour which was in itself unusual and fascinating enough.
She had no reason to arrive at such a conclusion, for I had not uttered a sound. I probably did not know, however, in those days that the lies requiring the minutest care are the unspoken ones.
“You see, I'm only a doctor,” I answered, “and, strange to say, the Brigadier has not as yet taken me into his confidence.”
“I know a lot about war,” she went on after a momentary pause. She appeared to have some misgiving about one of the buttons on her long glove which she had undone and was tentatively tugging at the thread.
“May I button that?” I said hurriedly in my extreme youth, and with a palpitating courage.
“Why, yes--if you have any ambition that way.” And she extended her arm towards me. “Now,” she said, with a grave air of confidence which I now distrust whenever it is tried upon me, “if I was the man in charge of this show, I would just go on like this, giving balls and private theatricals and exchanging visiting cards. This place is full of spies, of course. The very servants who wait on the General probably read all his letters and send copies of them to the enemy. The plan of campaign is probably as well known to What-'em-you-call-it Khan as it is to the Brigadier.”
“No, I am sure it isn't,” I interrupted; “because Graham keeps it locked up in a medical-comfort chest with his dressing-case locked, which we screwed on ourselves.”
“Ah, is that so, doctor? Well, you can't be too careful, can you? As I was saying, I should convey to the spies the impression that it was only a demonstration in force. Then one night I should start off quietly, march twenty miles, and give What-'em-you-call-it Khan Hail Columbia before sunrise.”
She looked at me, gave a knowing little nod of the head, and began fanning herself.