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The writer commends Wagstaffe's work, and writes of Casaubon, "If any one could possibly have bewitcht me into the Belief of Witchcraft, this reverend person, of all others, was most like to have done it." We come now to the second great figure among the witch-ologists of the Restoration, John Webster.
"It sounds a lot," said Bobby. "It looks precious little!" was Wagstaffe's reply. "I suppose they won't be particular to a pound or so," said Bobby optimistically. "Listen," commanded Wagstaffe. "When we go abroad, your Wolseley valise, containing this" he swept his hand round the crowded hut "this military museum, will be handed to the Quartermaster.
"Four bulls and one inner, I think, sir. I'm afraid I pulled that last one off a bit." The Captain is already at the telephone. For the moment this most feminine of instruments is found to be in an accommodating frame of mind. Captain Wagstaffe's voice is quickly heard. "That you, Wagstaffe?" inquires the Captain.
Possibly he was interested in Wagstaffe's unusual expansiveness: possibly he hoped to steer the conversation away from the topic of V.A.D.'s possibly towards it. You never know. "Well," said Wagstaffe, "we are all going to understand one another a great deal better after this war." "Who? Labour and Capital, and so on?" "'Labour and Capital' is a meaningless and misleading expression, Bobby.
All around the British guns were thundering forth their hymns of hate full-throated now, for the hour for the next great assault was approaching. Wagstaffe's thoughts went back to a certain soft September night last year, when he and Blaikie had stood on the eastern outskirts of Béthune listening to a similar overture the prelude to the Battle of Loos.
Waddell, and you acted quite rightly in laying them before me. I will consult the Deputy Assistant Instructor in Military Etiquette, and will obtain a written answer to your inquiries." "Oh, thanks awfully, sir!" exclaimed Waddell. The result of Captain Wagstaffe's application to the mysterious official just designated was forthcoming next day in the form of a neatly typed document.
He was the subject of Wagstaffe's reference. "Is it not possible," suggested Mr. Waddell, who habitually considered all questions from every possible point of view, "that this bombardment has been specially initiated by the German authorities, in order to impress upon their own troops a warning that there must be no Christmas truce this year?"
"I'm here, old son," replies a gentle voice, as Captain Wagstaffe touches him upon the shoulder. "Been here some time!" After mutual asperities, it is decided by the two Captains to dispense with the aid of the telephone proper, and communicate by bell alone. Captain Wagstaffe's tall figure strides back across the heather; the red flag on the butts flutters down; and we get to work.
"Rotten!" said Bobby, as a shell sang over the parapet and burst in the wood behind. Kaiser or no Kaiser, Major Wagstaffe's extravagant analogy held good. Between six and seven next morning, the Battalion, which had stood to arms all night, lifted up its heavy head and sniffed the misty dawn-wind an east wind dubiously.
Bobby took Wagstaffe's advice, with the result that that genial obstructionist, the Quartermaster, smiled quite benignly upon him when he presented his valise; while his brother officers, sternly bidden to revise their equipment, were compelled at the last moment to discriminate frantically between the claims of necessity and luxury often disastrously.
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