“‘He is a damned spy—a damned franc-tireur. Else why did he come back?’
“I was speechless, monsieur. My throat ached horribly, for I was half throttled; my senses ebbed and flowed like water; I could say nothing.
“‘You understand German, spy?’ the Lieutenant spat at me. ‘You understand German bullets, nicht? You understand Leffe, Latour, Gelrode, Bovenloo?’ He named over some of the towns where our brother-priests had been done to death.
“I spoke. I said, ‘I am Brother Jan, of this monastery.’
“‘You are a spy!’
“‘I am no spy! I am Brother Jan of Mont César!’
“His eyes seemed to probe me in the candlelight. ‘Come here!’ he ordered.
“I advanced a step.
“‘Nearer.’