For all that, he reached Storeton Grange in time and, running up the
drive, saw lights in the windows and a car waiting at the door. Getting
down and stating his business, he was shown into a room where a
stern-faced man in uniform sat talking to another in evening clothes.
"I understand you come from Captain Hallam," said the Colonel.
"Yes, sir. He sent me with some papers."
"You know what they are?"
"Plans of pontoons, sir."
"Very well," said the Colonel, taking out a fountain pen. "Let me have
them."
Dick put his hand into his breastpocket, which was on the outside of his
coat. The pocket was unbuttoned, and the big envelope had gone. He
hurriedly felt the other pockets, but they too were empty, and his face
got red.
The Colonel looked hard at him, and then made a sign to the other man,
who quietly went out.
"You haven't got the plans! Did you leave them behind?"
"No, sir," Dick said awkwardly. "I felt to see if they were in my pocket
when I left the camp."
The Colonel's face hardened.
"Did you come straight here?"
"No, sir. I had an hour or two's leave."
"And spent it with your friends? Had you anything to drink?"
"Yes, sir."
"As much as, or more than, usual?"
"Perhaps a little more," Dick said in confusion.
The Colonel studied him with searching eyes; and then took some paper
from a case on the table and began to write. He put the note in an
envelope and gave it to Dick.
"It's your Commanding Officer's business to investigate the matter and
you'll take him this. Report yourself to him or to the Adjutant when you
reach camp. I'll telegraph to see if you have done so."
He raised his hand in sign of dismissal and Dick went out, crushed with
shame, and feeling that he was already under arrest. If he were not in
camp when the telegram came, he would be treated as a deserter.