No.  It would have to be—­unless, of course, the General had a stroke before Saturday, or was smitten with delirium tremens in time.  For it was an article of faith with Colonel Dearman since the disgraceful episode—­that a “stroke” hung suspended by the thinnest of threads above the head of the “aged roue” and that, moreover, he trembled on the verge of a terrible abyss of alcoholic diseases—­a belief strengthened by the blue face, boiled eye, congested veins and shaking hand of the breaker of hearts.  And Colonel Dearman knew that he must not announce the awful fact until the Corps was actually present—­or few men and fewer Officers would find it possible to be on parade on that occasion.

Saturday evening came, and with it some five hundred men and Officers—­the latter as a body, much whiter-faced than usual, on receipt of the appalling news.

“Thank God I have nothing to do but sit around on my horse,” murmured Major Pinto.

“Don’t return thanks yet,” snapped Colonel Dearman.  “You’ll very likely have to drill the battalion”—­and the Major went as white as his natural disadvantages permitted.

Bitterly did Captain Trebizondi regret his constant insistence upon the fact that he was senior Captain—­for he was given command of “A” Company, the post of honour and danger in front of all, and was implored to “pull it through” and not to stand staring like an owl when the Colonel said the battalion would advance; or turn to the left when he shouted “In succession advance in fours from the right of Companies”.

And in the orderly-room was much hurried consulting of Captain Ross-Ellison’s well-trained subaltern and of drill-books; and a babel of such questions as:  “I say, what the devil do I do if I’m commanding Number Two and he says ‘Deploy outwards’?  Go to the right or left?”

More than one gallant officer was seen scribbling for dear life upon his shirt-cuff, while others, to the common danger, endeavoured to practise the complicated sword-brandishment which is consequent upon the order “Fall out the Officers”.

Colonel Dearman appealed to his brothers-in-arms to stand by him nobly in his travail, but was evidently troubled by the fear that some of them would stand by him when they ought to march by him.  Captain Petropaulovski, the acting-adjutant, endeavoured to moisten his parched lips with a dry tongue and sat down whenever opportunity offered.

Captain Euxino Spoophitophiles was seen to tear a page from a red manual devoted to instruction in the art of drill and to secrete it as one “palms” a card—­if one is given to the palming of cards.  Captain Schloggenboschenheimer was heard to promise a substantial trink-geld, pour-boire, or vot-you-call-tip to Sergeant-Instructor Progg in the event of the latter official remaining mit him and prompting him mit der-vord-to-say ven it was necessary for him der-ting-to-do.

Too late, Captain Da Costa bethought him of telephoning to his wife (to telephone back to himself imploring him to return at once as she was parlous ill and sinking fast), for even as he stepped quietly toward the telephone-closet the Sergeant-Major bustled in with a salute and the fatal words:—­