"He has a marvellous command of languages; is Protean in his disguises; and in nimbleness of wit outdoes any other German I have ever come across.... They mixed the salad with engine oil, and when Lady Barbara took a mouthful of it, she swallowed it without blinking, and remarked to me, 'The chef is a perfect marvel in inventing new flavours.' ... Waiter!"
"Monsieur?" said the waiter, smiling and bowing.
"Another lemon squash."
When the waiter had gone, Granger said:
"I must have that fellow arrested."
"What on earth for?" asked Pariset.
"And what are you driving at, with your County Kerries and your Lady Barbaras?" said Kenneth.
"The waiter has been hovering round a little more closely than the most officious garçon need do. You didn't notice him, perhaps? He speaks pretty good French, with a strong Belgian accent. Did you see what happened when I called him?"
"What was it?" asked Kenneth.
"I put something of the parade ground tone into my voice, and the fellow brought his heels together in the correct German style. One could almost hear the click. Well greased as his hair is, you can see it trying to rise en brosse, and I caught him just now twirling an invisible moustache."