A
tall man, dark, keen and of most soldierly bearing; beside the genial
downrightness of the British officers he was urbane, suave, but full
of decision. His post requires diplomacy but not concession.
Sir John French, he regretted to say, was at the front and would not
return until late in the evening. But Colonel Fitzgerald hoped that I
would come to luncheon at headquarters, so that we might talk over
what was best to be done. He would, if the arrangement suited me,
return at one o'clock for me.
It was half past twelve. I made such concessions to the occasion as my
travelling bag permitted, and, prompt to the minute, General Huguet's
car drew up at the inn door. It was a wonderful car. I used it all
that afternoon and the next day, and I can testify both to its comfort
and to its speed. I had travelled fast in cars belonging to the
Belgian and French staffs, but never have I gone as I did in that
marvel of a car. Somewhere among my papers I have a sketch that I made
of the interior of the limousine body, with the two soldier-chauffeurs
outside in front, the two carbines strapped to the speedometer between
the _vis-a-vis_ seats inside the car, and the speedometer registering
ninety kilometres and going up.
We went at once to British Headquarters, with its sentries and its
flag; a large house, which had belonged to a notary, its grim and
forbidding exterior gave little promise of the comfort within.
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