He was counting on this transfer of the ambulances to get credit with McClane; to silence him.

There were other letters which he had told her to answer.  As soon as he had started she went into his room to look for them.  If they were not on the chimneypiece they would be in the drawer with his razors and pockethandkerchiefs.

It was John’s room, after she had gone through it, that showed her what he was doing.

Sutton looked in before she had finished.  She called to him, “Billy, you might come here a minute.”

He came in, eyebrows lifted at the inquisition.

“What’s up?”

“I’m afraid John isn’t coming back.”

“Not coming back?  Of course he’s coming back.”

“No.  I think he’s—­got off.”

“You mean he’s—­”

“Yes.  Bolted.”

“What on earth makes you think that?”

“He’s taken all sorts of things—­pyjamas, razors, all his pockethandkerchiefs...  I had to look through his drawers to find those letters he told me to answer.”

Sutton had gone through into the slip of white tiled lavatory beyond.  She followed him.

“My God,” he said, “yes.  He’s taken his toothbrush and his sleeping draught....  You know he tried to get leave yesterday and they wouldn’t give it him?”

“No.  That makes it simply awful.”

“Pretty awful.”

“Billy—­we must get him back.”

“I—­I don’t know about that.  He isn’t much good, is he?  I think we’d better let him go.”

“Don’t you see how awful it’ll be for the Corps?”

“The Corps?  Does that matter?  McClane would take us all on to-morrow.”

“I mean for us.  You and me and Gwinnie.  He’s our Corps, and we’re it.”

“Sharlie—­with the Germans coming into Ghent do you honestly believe anybody’ll remember what he did or didn’t do?”

“Yes.  We’re going to stick on with the Belgian Army.  It’ll be remembered against us.  Besides, it’ll kill his father.”

“He’ll do that any way.  He’s rotten through and through.”

“No.  He was splendid in the beginning.  He might be splendid some day again.  But if we let him go off and do this he’s done for.”

“He’s done for anyhow.  Isn’t it better to recognize that he’s rotten?  McClane wouldn’t have him.  He saw what he was.”

“He didn’t see him at Berlaere.  He was splendid there.”

“My dear child, don’t you know why?  He didn’t see there was any danger.  He was too stupid to see it.”

“I saw it.”

“You’re not stupid.”

“He did see it at the end.”

“At the end, yes—­When he let you go back for the guns.”

She remembered.  She remembered his face, the little beads of sweat glittering.  He couldn’t help that.

“Look here, from the time he realised the danger, did he go out or did he stay under cover?”