Its
absurdity seems the most natural thing in the world and its machinery
(rare virtue!) does not creak.
_Rooty Tooty's_ brigade then was resting--if in the circumstances you
can call it resting. The rather stodgy Brigade-Major's leave being due,
his wife has come over to Paris to wait for him. The leave being
cancelled (and you could see how desperately overworked Headquarters
was) there suddenly appears what purports to be a niece of the billet
landlady's, a _Mdlle. Juliette_, of the Paris stage, with a distinctly
coming-on disposition (and frock). The uxorious Brigade-Major, weakly
consenting to the deception, suffers the tortures of the damned by
reason of the gallantries of the precocious Staff-Captain and the
old-enough-to-know-better Brigadier. There is marching and
counter-marching of detached units in the small hours; arrival of the
Brigade Interpreter with Intelligence's reports; sorrowful conviction in
the Brigadier's mind that _Juliette_ is _Olga--Olga Thingummy_, the
famous German spy. Confusions; explosions; solutions.
That's a dull account of a bright matter.
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