CHAPTER SIXTEENMr. Cioni saw the man approach jauntily. Who, he wondered, can be full of bounce at this hour—one of the new people from the field hospital? But as the man came into the cone of light from the shaded Coleman lantern he saw that the fellow wasn’t army, that he wore in fact the uniform of an old-timer who had been through the day and a half on the spot. The uniform was a stained and shapeless suit, mud-caked shoes, red eyes and a growth of beard.
“I’m Mr. Chesbro,” the man said to Mr. Cioni. “I’ve come to pick up the car allotted to Mrs. Goudeket.”
“The hotel lady? She said she’d be back herself.”
Chesbro smiled and handed over the trip ticket. “She’s exhausted. I’ll pick her up and drive.”
“I see. It’s that Dodge. Be careful.”
Artie almost laughed aloud at the absurdity
