At the end of an hour he calculated that he was within two or three hundred of the door.  He had only lately come out of hospital and was beginning to feel rather weak.

“I shall have to give it up,” he said.

The Captain tried to encourage him with tales of gallantry.  There was a Lieutenant in the Manchesters who had worked his way up on three occasions to within fifty of the door, at which point he had collapsed each time from exhaustion; whereupon two kindly policemen had carried him to the end of the queue again for air....  He was still sticking to it.

“I suppose there’s no chance of being carried to the front of the queue?” said William hopefully.

“No,” said the Captain firmly; “we should see to that.”

“Then I shall have to go,” said William.  “See you to-morrow.”  And as he left his place the queue behind him surged forward an inch and took new courage.

A week later William suddenly remembered Jones.  Jones had been in the War Office a long time.  It was said of him that you could take him to any room in the building and he could find his way out into Whitehall in less than twenty minutes.  But then he was no mere “temporary civil-servant.”  He had been the author of that famous W.O. letter referring to Chevrons for Cold Shoers which was responsible for the capture of Badajoz; he had issued the celebrated Army Council Instruction, “Commanding Officers are requested to replace the pivots,” which had demobilised MARLBOROUGH’s army so speedily; and, as is well known, Henry V. had often said that without Jones—­well, anyhow, he had been in the War Office a long time.  And William knew him slightly.

So William sent up his card.

“I want to talk to somebody,” he explained to Jones.  “I can’t manage more than of couple of hours a day in the queue just now, because I’m not very fit.  If I could sit down somewhere and tell somebody all about myself, that’s what I want.  Any room in the building where there are no queues outside and two chairs inside.  I’d be very much obliged to you.”

“I’ll give you a note to Briggs,” said Jones promptly.  “He’s the fellow to get you out.”

“Thanks awfully,” said the overjoyed William.

A messenger girl took him and the note to Captain Briggs.  Briggs listened to the story of William’s qualifications—­or rather disqualifications—­and considered for a moment.

“Yes, we ought to get you out very quickly,” he said.

“Good,” said William.  “Thanks awfully.”

“Walters will tell you just what to do.  He’s a pal of mine.  I’ll give you a note to him.”

So in another minute the overjoyed William was following a messenger girl to the room of Lieutenant Walters.

Walters was very cheerful.  The thing to do, he said, was to go to Sanders.  Sanders would get him out in half-an-hour.  He’d give William a note, and then Sanders would do his best.  The overjoyed William followed the messenger girl to Sanders.