Osman shrugged his shoulders in precisely the same way.
'Who knows?' he said quietly. 'If they value the redoubt at four thousand lives, they might do it.'
Trist set his two elbows on the table and looked up at the speaker's face with calm speculative scrutiny. He did not offer him a chair, because he knew that Osman rarely sat down. The great soldier had no time for rest.
'Skobeleff,' said the Englishman, 'is a great man, but Napoleon would have been in here some time ago.'
Tefik moved slightly, and looked towards his two companions with a vague smile. He knew nothing of Napoleon the Great and his method of making war. Moreover, he did not care to know.
It was the chief of staff who finally broke a silence of some duration.
'Listen, Osman,' he said in a soft, dreamy voice. 'I hear the sound of a new gun. The Russians have mounted another big one. We are going to get it very hot.'
All three raised their heads and listened. After the lapse of a minute a dull thud broke upon their ears. The Russians had mounted a new siege gun, and Plevna was beginning its career as a target for a steadily increasing army of artillery. There was no indecent haste in loading or sponging. It was excellent practice for the gunners, and through the next three months the sound of heavy firing never quite ceased night or day. At times, by way of variety, the whole of the artillery combined in directing its fire upon a spot previously selected. But the grim game was not all on one side, for Plevna pluckily returned blow for blow.
'There is,' said an expert at Russian headquarters, 'a European directing those guns—probably a German.'
But Trist never sighted a single shot, although he did not withhold his advice.