The officer smiled with a kind of grim exultation as he spoke. Then he added:
"And it contained very important information."
"I'm glad of it," the boy answered simply, although he felt almost as if he would burst with a "hurrah!" that threatened to explode within him.
"Of course you are," the commander concurred. "And I suppose you'd like to know what's in it."
"Naturally," Irving replied; "but I doubt very much if you are going to tell me."
"Why?"
"Because, in the first place, it's none of my business as a private; and, secondly, I presume it is information of a character that the war department wishes to keep secret."
"Right you are, Ellis. That's the main reason I put the matter up to you. I wanted to find out what you thought of it. But there's another reason why you shouldn't know the contents of that message, and I'll tell you that later. Meanwhile, I have another important matter that I want to quiz you on. Do you want to go back to the trenches?"
"I'm perfectly willing to go back if that is the best thing I can do," Irving answered readily. "But I'll say this, that if there's any other place where I can be of greater service, I prefer to be sent there. It's a question of service pure and simple with me. Naturally, I have my selfish preferences, but I manage to suppress them."
"Have you any idea where you could be of greater service than in the trenches?" asked the colonel.
"I'll answer your question in this way: I'm sure that the time I spent helping to run down a dangerous spy was put to much better purpose than it would have been if spent in the trenches, although I think I did some good work out in No Man's Land in front of the trenches. But, of course, there's no more of that kind of work left for me to do."
"Are you sure about that?"
Irving looked curiously at the putter of this question, considered a moment or two, and then replied:
"No, I'm not; but I don't know of anything more."
"Suppose some more of that kind of work should be found, would you like to do it?"
"Surely."
"Irrespective of the size of the task or the danger?"
"I don't know how I could find anything much more dangerous than that skirmish in No Man's Land," Irving replied slowly. "The other part of your question I don't wish to answer rashly. Tell me the task, and I'll tell you if it's too big for me."
"That's the very answer I wanted you to make," said the colonel, almost eagerly. "Now, suppose we should ask you to go over into Germany on an important spy mission, how would that strike you?"
This was something Irving was not looking for, and he was so astonished that he did not answer for several moments. Then he said:
"It would strike me all right."
"Suppose you were given a credential that would effect admittance for you into high official circles--would you go there and attempt to obtain information that might be available, because of your credential?"
"Yes, sir," Irving replied firmly.
"What do you think of that stunt of tattooing a message in the form of a freak art production on the arm of Lieut. Tourtelle?"
Irving smiled.
"Of course," he said, "it was clever and under ordinary circumstances ought to have been successful; but I'd rather not go through life with a thing like that on my arm. It might brand me as a freak, if not something worse."
"I don't blame you," returned the colonel, but as he spoke a peculiar shrewdness lighted his eyes, causing the boy to wonder a little. Then he added: "Still, it might be possible for one to submit to such nonsense if thereby he might advance a great and worthy cause."
"Sure, that's quite possible," Irving agreed; "but I don't see how Tourtelle, or Hessenburg, can claim any such motive."
"No, but if he had done it for his own country, the British empire, to advance the cause of human freedom, what then?"
"Well, in spite of the ridiculous appearance of the picture on his arm, I'd say he ought to be proud to keep it there. I would. I think I'd be proud to show it. It would be something to show and tell about to--to--my great-great-grandchildren when I got old, you see," Irving finished with a really illuminating smile.
"I think I've quizzed you far enough on this subject," Col. Evans announced at this point, throwing off the manner of vagueness that had hitherto characterized a good deal of his conversation, and speaking with unmistakable directness. "I'm now going to ask you to consent to have that cubist picture tattooed on your arm."
Irving looked in astonishment at the commanding officer of the regiment, being scarcely able to believe his ears. Surely the proposition was nonsensical. And, yet, this was no occasion for nonsense. But the boy's wondering conjectures were interrupted by the officer, who was adding to his last announcement.
"After the art work on your arm is finished," he said, "I'm going to send you into Germany to find out some things we want to know."
"Yes?" Irving responded, with a rising inflection that carried with it a suggestion of an interrogation.
"Yes," the officer continued; "I want you to take the place of the spy whose tattooed arm had to be amputated."