“In all communications please quote Ref.  No. 73856/SP/QR.

“SIR,—­We note your claim for garments injured by an outbreak of fire at your residence.  We await the reports of the Fire Brigade and Salvage Corps, on receipt of which we will again communicate with you.  Meanwhile, will you kindly inform us what other damage was done?

“We are, yours, etc.”

I at once wrote back to remove their misapprehension:—­

“DEAR SIRS,—­My fire was not what you would call an outbreak.  It was essentially a quiet affair, attended by neither Fire Brigade nor Salvage Corps, but just the family (like being married at a registry-office, don’t you think?).  My khaki slacks were the only articles injured.  As I am now going about without them, you will realise that no time should be lost in settling the claim.

“Yours, etc.

“P.S.  I nearly forgot—­73856/RS/VP.  There!”

A day or two later I received a request, pitched in an almost slanderously sceptical tone, for more detailed information.  I humoured them, and there ensued a ding-dong correspondence, in which that wretched Ref.  No. was bandied backwards and forwards with nauseating reiteration, and of which the following are the salient points:—­

They. Kindly state what you estimate the total value of the contents of your residence to be.

Myself (after a searching inquiry into present prices).  L1,500.

They (promptly).  We beg to point out that you are only insured for a total sum of L750.  In accordance with the terms of your policy you are only entitled to recover such proportion of the value of the loss or damage as the total insured bears towards the total value of the contents—­i.e., one-half.

Myself. Two guineas is exactly one-half of four guineas, the present cost of slacks.  Please see attached affidavit from tailor. (By a masterly stroke I had actually induced the rascal to set out his iniquity in black and white.)

At last, twenty days after the fire, when I had finally screwed myself up to the point of going out to buy a pair of reach-me-downs, I was rewarded by receiving a cheque for two guineas from the Insurance Company, “in full settlement.”

By the same post I received a letter from the Adjutant of my Depot informing me that I was not to return at the expiration of my leave, but by War Office instructions (I will spare you the Ref.  No.) was to proceed instead to the Crystal Palace for immediate demobilization. (That, by the way, is part of the game of being a volunteer for the Army of Occupation.) It was Suzanne who brought the two letters into their proper correlation.

“You won’t have to get a new pair of slacks now,” she said.

“Bless my soul, no!” I exclaimed.  “Then what ought I to do with this cheque?  Send it back?”

“Certainly not,” cried Suzanne as she snatched it from my wavering hand.  “I’ve been wanting a new hat for some time.”