“What!” he said to me. “There is no one here to receive me!”
“I ask your pardon, Monsieur——”
“Hold your tongue! You can see for yourself there is no one here. You have to-night taken in some of the wounded from Hut 521. I went to see the fire myself—at two o’clock in the morning—risking an attack of pneumonia. I’m not bothering about that, though; but it is my wish that some one should be here to receive me—here—when I come out of the car. If you hadn’t come there would have been no one, and I will not be kept waiting these very cold days. In future you will have an orderly permanently stationed here.”
“But you understand, Monsieur——”
“Hold your tongue! How many wounded did you take in to-night?”
“Thirteen, Monsieur. It is true that——”
“Enough! Thirteen! Thirteen!”
M. Perrier-Langlade began to repeat the number, presumably for his own benefit. It was quite clear that this number suggested to his mind thoughts of a deep and wide significance. I don’t know what foolish impulse made me then open my mouth.
“But note, sir——”
“Be quiet!” he said angrily. “Thirteen! Thirteen!”