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five sitting round the table in the midst of the
room; their faces are as red as turkey-cocks,
and they never cease to laugh except when
they empty their glasses at one gulp and put
them down on the table with a bang. They
all talk at the top of their voices and don’t
hear anything. I crept up close under the
window; I was as near them as I am to you,
and could have heard every word they said
had I understood the Boche language.
“Do you want to see them?” said the
hunchback in an uncanny whisper, as a fresh roar
of laughter struck the Doctor’s ears like the
cut of a whip across the face.
They walked cautiously over the grass,
and as they entered the garden gate he heard
his own voice say:
“Five, they are five.”
“Hush!” whispered the hunchback.
They crept alongside the hedge and stood
still under a tree in front of the window.
The room was strongly lit up by half a dozen
candles on the table, laden with bottles and
the Curé’s Christmas turkey in its midst.
Round the table sat the five officers, all young
and strong, their faces flushed with wine.
The last story must have been a good one,
for a terrific outburst of laughter shook the
window-panes. One of the officers stood up,
bowing with grotesque gravity as though
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