Four thick-necked, grey-haired German officers were seated at a long table in the front room of a chateau that had been in German hands for more than three years. Candles flickered uncertainly on the table, lighting the center of the large room but leaving the corners in dim shadows.
The four officers sat stiffly erect, without comment, their eyes on the double door as though they were awaiting someone. Outside, on the stone flagging of a courtyard, sounded the heavy tread of a Prussian Guardsman walking guard before the sanctum of these “Most High” ones who sat so stolidly waiting.
The resounding footfalls of the guardsman came to a clicking halt, followed by a guttural challenge which was replied to in a softer voice. The guardsman again took up his beat.
A moment later the door to the council room opened. A smooth-faced, blond young man stood at stiff salute in the doorway–dressed in the uniform of an English officer!
For a long minute he stood at salute while the four at the table eyed him studiously. Then the hand came down, and a quick smile spread over his face 224as he stepped forward into the brighter light of the room. He carried in his hand one of the swagger sticks so commonly used by English officers.
“Well, Herr Hauptmann,” he addressed the officer at the head of the table, “do you find my disguise, and my English, sufficiently correct?”
“Correct, yes,” the heavy-jowled officer replied in German, “but not pleasing, Count von Herzmann. Himmel!How I hate the sight of the Englander’s uniform and the sound of his thin, squeaky tongue. And I say to you again that this wild plan of yours is a fool’s errand. I would forbid it, had you not gained the consent of the General Staff. I do not understand it. You are too valuable to the cause for the General Staff to permit you to take such a chance. I say again, it is a fool’s errand.”
Count von Herzmann smiled reassuringly. “Fool’s errand, Herr Hauptmann?” he responded in German. “Is there anything more precious to our cause than to learn just now where this next blow is to be struck? For the past ten days all of our secret operatives have sent us conflicting reports. The English and the French are too quiet on their fronts. It presages a storm. As for the Americans, we need not worry. They are still boasting of their victory at St. Mihiel. They will not be ready to strike again before late Fall–perhaps not until Spring. We must–”
“Speak in English,” interrupted one of the other 225officers. “Much as we hate it, we must see to it that it is perfect.”
“Right you are!” von Herzmann replied with the perfect accent of a well-bred Englishman. “My three years’ schooling in England was not for nothing, sir. Accent top hole, eh, what! Rawther.” He smiled at his own mimicry. “I was saying,” he went on, “that we must discover where the English will strike next. Victory depends upon it.”