“You richly deserved it.  Amongst you the troops in the Crimea have been dying from starvation, perishing from cold.”

“I can assure you that is distinctly unjust.  I can assure you great quantities of warm clothing were dispatched in due course.”

“Ay, but when?”

“I can’t give you the exact dates, but we have been advised of their arrival these last few weeks.”

“Warm clothing in May?  A very seasonable provision!  But it’s all of a piece.  How about those fuzes?”

“To what do you refer, may I ask?” said Mr. Faulks very blandly; but his blood was boiling at the indignity of being lectured thus by a young man altogether new to the office.

“It is all in this morning’s Times.  The siege is at a standstill; the fuzes won’t fit the shells.  There are plenty of 10-inch fuzes, but only 13-inch shells.  Who is to blame for that?”

“Our ordnance branch, I fear.  But it shall be seen to:  I will address a communication to the head, calling his attention to the error.”

“And when will he get the letter?”

“In the course of the next two or three days.”

“And his reply will take about the same time to reach you, I suppose?”

“Probably:  more or less.”

“Where is the office of the ordnance branch?  In this house?”

“Oh, no!” replied Mr. Faulks, in a voice full of profound pity for the lamentable ignorance of his chief.  “It is at No. 14.”

“Just round the corner—­in fact, half-a-dozen yards off?”

“Yes, about that.”

“Well, look here, Mr. Faulks:  you just put on your hat and go round the corner and see the head of the ordnance branch, and settle all this with him in the next five minutes, d’ye hear?”

“What, I? personally?  That would be altogether against precedent and contrary to the rules of the office.  I really must decline to introduce such a radical change.”

“You will obey my order, this very instant!  It is utterly preposterous to waste six days sending letters backwards and forwards about a paltry matter that can be settled by word of mouth in as many minutes.  No wonder the troops have died like rotten sheep!”

“I have been five-and-thirty years in this office—­” began Mr. Faulks.

“Oh! don’t bother me with your historical reminiscences,” said Sir Humphrey, cutting him short.

“And never, during all that period—­” went on Mr. Faulks, manfully.

“—­Have you done anything to-day that could be put off till to-morrow?  But now go and see about this at once—­do you understand?—­and then come back to me; I have other matters to arrange.  We have news that a fresh expedition will shortly start for Kertch, and we are requested to send out with all dispatch considerable supplies of salt rations.”

“It will be necessary to refer to the Admiralty:  they will require proper notice.”

“You will get the rations within twenty-four hours, notice or no notice.  But we will discuss that by-and-by.  Meanwhile, hurry off to the ordnance branch.”