His thoughts were interrupted at last by the entrance of the Commandant. There was a complacent smile upon his broad German face.
“The Kaiser will be pleased,” said he, rubbing his hands. “Yes, certainly it should mean a decoration. ‘Defence of Ichau against the Boxers by Colonel Dresler, late Major of the 114th Hanoverian Infantry. Splendid resistance of small garrison against overwhelming odds.’ It will certainly appear in the Berlin papers.”
“Then you think we are saved?” said the old man, with neither emotion nor exultation in his voice.
The Colonel smiled.
“Why, Professor,” said he, “I have seen you more excited on the morning when you brought back Lepidus Mercerensis in your collecting-box.”
“The fly was safe in my collecting-box first,” the entomologist answered. “I have seen so many strange turns of Fate in my long life that I do not grieve nor do I rejoice until I know that I have cause. But tell me the news.”
“Well,” said the Colonel, lighting his long pipe, and stretching his gaitered legs in the bamboo chair, “I’ll stake my military reputation that all is well. They are advancing swiftly, the firing has died down to show that resistance is at an end, and within an hour we’ll see them over the brow. Ainslie is to fire his gun three times from the church tower as a signal, and then we shall make a little sally on our own account.”
“And you are waiting for this signal?”
“Yes, we are waiting for Ainslie’s shots. I thought I would spend the time with you, for I had something to ask you.”
“What was it?”