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The man looked uneasily from one to the
other of those around him, till at last, with a
quivering of his eyelids, he faced the doctor:
“It is all up,” said he in perfect French.
“Answer!” said the Doctor.
“I have been in Belgium these last two
years.”
“What became of you when the war broke
out?”
“I became dispatch-rider to the General
Staff, but had to give it up on account of my
weak heart.”
“How long were you with the English?”
“Since after Mons.”
“In what capacity?”
“I served first in the Transport service,
and then as chauffeur with a Red Cross motor
ambulance.”
“You were then a Belgian refugee, I
suppose?”
“Yes.”
“And you were an English straggler when
you were with the French? You did good
work?”
“I think so, for I was promoted.”
“Who had you to report to?”
“To my nearest superior, who was
interpreter to the General Headquarters.”
“You had no difficulties?”
“No, it is easy with the English.”
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