"Oh, hallo, Kirby! Glad you've come!" said a voice.
"Evening, sir!"
Kirby descended, almost into the arms of a general in evening dress.
They walked into the club together, leaving the adjutant wondering
what to do. He decided to follow them at a decent distance, still
humming and looking happy enough for six men.
"You'll be among the first," said the general. "Are you ready, Kirby
--absolutely ready?"
"Yes,"
"The wires are working to the limit. It isn't settled yet whether
troops go from here via Canada or the Red Sea--probably won't be
until the Navy's had a chance to clear the road. All that's known--
yet--is that Belgium's invaded, and that every living man Jack who
can be hurried to the front in time to keep the Germans out of Paris
will be sent. Hold yourself ready to entrain any minute, Kirby."
"Is martial law proclaimed yet?" asked Kirby in a voice that the
general seemed to think was strained, for he looked around sharply.
"Not yet. Why?"
"Information, sir. Anything else?"
"No. Good night."
"Good night, sir."
Kirby nearly ran into Warrington as he hurried back toward the door.
"Find a police officer!" he ordered.
"They all passed you a minute ago, sir," answered Warrington.
"They're headed for police headquarters. Heard one of 'em say so."
Kirby pulled himself together.
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