And Captain Cable snorted at the suggestion.
“Sailed with a crew of Germans,” he answered; “I understand a bit, and I know a few words. I know the German for d—n your eyes, and handy words like that.”
“Then,” said Kosmaroff, addressing the gentle-eyed man, “we had better continue our talk in German. Captain Cable is a man who likes plain dealing.”
He himself spoke in the language of the Fatherland, and Captain Cable stiffened at the sound of it, as all good Britons should.
“We have not much to say to Captain Cable,” replied the man who seemed to be a leader of the Brothers of Liberty. He spoke in a thin tenor voice, and was what the French call chetif in appearance—a weak man, fighting against physical disabilities and an indifferent digestion.
“It is essential in the first place,” he continued, “that we should understand each other; we the conquerors and you the conquered.”
With a gesture he divided the party assembled into two groups, the smaller of which consisted only of Kosmaroff and another. And then he looked out of the window with his woman-like, reflective smile.
“We the Russians, and you the Poles. I fear I have not made myself quite clear. I understand, however, that we are to trust the last comer entirely, which I do with the more confidence that I perceive that he understands very little of what we are saying.”
Captain Cable's solid, weather-beaten face remained rigid like a figure-head. He looked at the speaker with an ill-concealed pity for one who could not express himself in plain English and be done with it.
“Our circumstances are such that no correspondence is possible,” continued the speaker. “Any agreement, therefore, must be verbal, and verbal agreements should be quite clear—the human memory is so liable to be affected by circumstances—and should be repeated several times in the hearing of several persons. I understand, therefore, that, after a period of nearly twenty years, Poland—is ready again.”