“Yes, let’s do that,” said George. He had given them the reassuring impression that he was content with his picture of them as simple revolutionaries still fighting for a lost cause. That was enough. “I expect you’d like to know a bit more about the whole affair, wouldn’t you, Sergeant?” he added.
“That is what I wish.”
George told him the history of the case from the beginning.
For a time the Sergeant listened politely, interrupting only to ask for the explanation of a legal word or phrase he did not understand. When Miss Kolin translated it into German he acknowledged the service each time with a nod. He seemed almost indifferent, as if he were listening to something that was really no concern of his. It was when George came to the part played in the case by the account of the first Sergeant Schirmer’s exploits at Eylau that his attitude changed. Suddenly he leaned forward across the table and began interrupting with abrupt, sharp-voiced questions.
“You say Franz Schirmer. He had the same name and rank as me, this old man?”
“Yes. And he was roughly the same age as you were when you dropped into Crete.”
“So! Go on, please.”
George went on, but not for long.
“Where was he wounded?”
“In the arm.”