The Dop Doctor

part in the search. He stood by the stone-coloured cart, busy at the

locker, the sapper who had sat upon it being his aid. Very soon he returned to the yard, and stood in the middle of the litter motionless as a little figure of pale, dusty bronze, holding a cigar-box carefully in both his dogskin-gloved hands. In spite of his patched khaki and ragged puttees there was something dan...