“Well, I don’t mind the British Navy ruling the waves,” grumbled Binnie, “but I object to its extending its sphere of influence over my bath-water.”

“It jolly well doesn’t extend over mine,” said Percival with pride.  “Frederick’s ’Enery doesn’t get the better of my Elfred.  This morning a queue, consisting of two perfectly good Loots, a really excellent Skipper and a priceless Major were waiting for vacant baths.  But was Elfred Fry dismayed?  To forestall an answer that might possibly be wrong I may say that he wasn’t.  He promptly appropriated a cubicle that happened to be unoccupied—­”

“Really, my frowsty old Camembert, don’t ask us to believe that they had all overlooked it,” expostulated Frederick.

“Not for worlds would I endeavour to impose on your gentle trusting natures.  So far from their overlooking it the bath had been the subject of earnest scrutiny, and they had all regretfully come to the conclusion that it lacked one important attribute of a bath—­it wouldn’t hold water.  The plug was missing.”

“And by a singular chance the plug happened to be in the possession of your Elfred?”

“That is my case, me luds,” said Percival simply.  “If the silent Navy wants to beat my Elfred it’s got to rise very early in the morning.”

“We shall see,” said Frederick darkly.  “I’m going to tell this tale to the Marines.”

That evening the troops had organised a stupendous boxing tournament in the Recreation Hut.  Binnie by invitation combined the offices of referee, M.C. and timekeeper, and Frederick and Percival at the ring-side unanimously disagreed with his verdicts.

“Most appalling decision,” said Percival in a loud whisper.  “The referee has obviously been got at.”

“Sh!” replied Frederick.  “He hasn’t been told it’s a boxing contest.  He thinks it’s a clog-dancing competition and is giving the points for footwork.”

Unfortunately the M.C. did not hear.  He was speaking himself.

“The next bout should conclude our programme,” he said, “but I am asked to announce that Private Henson challenges Private Fry to box six two-minute rounds, backing himself for five francs against a small article of no intrinsic value.”

Enthusiastic applause greeted the announcement.  A disturbance in the rear of the hut indicated that Elfred was heading for cover.

“’E ’s twice my size,” he wailed as strong hands hauled him back.

“The challenger admits that he holds a slight advantage in weight,” continued the M.C., “but considers that is counterbalanced by his advanced years.”

“This is your fiendish work,” hissed Percival to Frederick.

“Not a bit of it, old sportsman,” replied Frederick cheerfully.  “The patent rights are held by ’Enery.  I merely mentioned to him that Elfred possessed a desirable bath-plug that it might be useful to acquire.”

Percival left his seat to confer with the shrinking Elfred.