A Man in Uniform by Kate Taylor

stupid.”
    His parents pounced.
    “André, that is unnecessary,” said his mother, who tolerated honesty but never rudeness.
    “Really,
mon petit,
” Dubon added. He should have known better than to ask the adolescent André his opinion of his relations. Goodness knows what the boy thought of his own dull, old father. Dubon’s history was completely unknown to his son. He was tempted to tell him sometimes, to fill the boy up with stories that could match the tales in the adventure books he so loved, but Geneviève would be appalled if she heard him. Events that had once seemed so exciting were now forbidden territory.
    “Anyway,” Dubon continued, trying to take hold of the situation, “we’re family, and it will be very nice to see everyone here Sunday.”
    “You have something up your sleeve,” Geneviève remarked.
    “Just a question, a little business matter. I thought one or the other of them could explain a bit of military protocol to me,” Dubon replied, as Luc came into the room to announce dinner.

    He had his chance to question his brothers-in-law on Sunday. He tried the younger one first because he had a moment alone with him in the salon before lunch. Jean-Jean still seemed uncharacteristically ebullient and replied enthusiastically when Dubon broached him with a question about the structure of the military.
    “Fire away, Dubon. Ask whatever you like.”
    “Came up at work the other day. I won’t bore you with the details, but there’s a military department called the Statistical Section. What do they do now, eh?”
    Jean-Jean looked taken aback, and then blinked hard. After a long pause during which he seemed to consider his reply, he answered, “The Statistical Section? They compile military statistics.”
    “What kind of statistics?”
    “Um. Well, casualties and deaths, I guess, if there’s a war on. Or … number of men needed to do
X
or
Y
; number of loaves of bread eaten; average shoe size of French soldier … that kind of thing.”
    “They need a whole section to do that?”
    “Well, I guess it’s a small section … I really don’t know much about it.” He seemed his own awkward self and relieved to be interrupted by the arrival of the major and his wife, she of whose intelligence André had been so scornful.
    The major quickly gravitated toward the men.
    “Major, I was just asking a professional question,” Dubon continued. “Your brother was able to enlighten me a bit, but I’m still puzzled. There is a military department called the Statistical Section and I was wondering what kind of statistics—”
    “Counterespionage, Dubon,” the major replied with a grin.
    “Don’t tell him that,” Jean-Jean said. “If it were true, it would be classified.”
    “Worst-kept secret in town. Everyone knows what they do over on the rue de Lille,” the major replied, at which point his younger brother retorted, “I want no part of this,” and stomped across the room.
    The major grimaced at Dubon. “Some people never change.”
    “He was awfully cheerful when he arrived on Thursday. Intimated there were some changes in his life or a move in the works … I even thought he might be in love.”
    “We can only hope, eh?”
    “You were telling me about the Statistical Section …”
    “Yes, it can hardly be counted as a national secret. It’s where they run the counterespionage ops.”
    “And what, excuse my ignorance, is counterespionage?”
    “Well, you have spies, yes? Like that German and that Italian I introduced you to the other night. The military attachés, so-called.” Dubon nodded to indicate he recalled having met the two foreigners the night of the disastrous ball, and the major continued. “I guess we have our own in other countries too, I would imagine. Not like we French are so pure. Anyway, then you have fellows whose job it is to root them out. That’s what they actually do in the Statistical Section, try to see if they can figure out who is