He was
surrounded by a group of fellow-heroes who hailed my coming with
considerable enthusiasm. "Your bunky's leaving" said somebody. "Going to
Paris" volunteered a man who had been trying for three months to get
there. "Prison you mean" remarked a confirmed optimist whost disposition
had felt the effects of French climate.
Albeit confused by the eloquence of B.'s unalterable silence, I
immediately associated his present predicament with the advent of the
mysterious stranger, and forthwith dashed forth, bent on demanding from
one of the tin-derbies the high identity and sacred mission of this
personage. I knew that with the exception of ourselves everyone in the
section had been given his seven days' leave--even two men who had
arrived later than we and whose turn should, consequently, have come
after ours. I also knew that at the headquarters of the Ambulance, _7 rue
Francois Premier_, was Monsieur Norton, the supreme head of the Norton
Harjes fraternity, who had known my father in other days. Putting two and
two together I decided that this potentate had sent an emissary to Mr. A.
to demand an explanation of the various and sundry insults and
indignities to which I and my friend had been subjected, and more
particularly to secure our long-delayed permission.
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