The remainder of the afternoon resolved itself into a constant dispatching of orderlies, a constant running in and out to the jingling clicking telephone station.
At half-past four, the aquiline one returned. Peter, instructed to report communication completed, found him closeted with a big vaguely seen man in the semi-dusk of yet another dug-out. At five o’clock, these two removed themselves.
Said the Weasel: “What sort of a dug-out was the one in which you found him?”
Said Peter: “Pretty good, sir.”
Ordered the Weasel: “Then we’d better occupy it.”