The glaring light of an acetylene lamp was thrown up towards the window. It fell on the major's face, which, ghastly in itself, looked death-like in the glare.
"He is dead!" the captain shouted.
"Not at all--only afraid; he overheard your amiable intentions. We will demonstrate." He turned to Pierre, saying: "Fetch some pepper."
"There is none upstairs, monsieur. I dare not go below."
"Some snuff?"
"Ah, oui! monsieur le marquis likes his pinch. A moment, monsieur."
He went into the bedroom, took a snuff-box from his master's pocket, and returned. Burton opened the box, took a large pinch of snuff, and held it to the major's nose. There was a slight but dramatic pause. All was silent. Then the major's features became convulsed, and the silence was rent by a resounding sneeze.
"Now, monsieur le capitaine," cried Burton, "could a dead German sneeze like that?"
There were snarls of rage from below, mingled, Burton thought, with suppressed laughter from some of the troopers who had gathered in the background behind their officers.
"With your good pleasure we will resume our interesting conversation above," said Burton.