In a low tone, but with great animation, Errington explained the plan which had suddenly suggested itself. For some time the two discussed it together. It was a strange conversation, conducted under the eyes of the German, glaring at them as he lay fierce and helpless on the floor.
They were interrupted by the entrance of the cook man bringing the midday meal. It was a generous repast; the cook had taken a hint from what happened at breakfast-time, and provided food in even greater variety than before. Burroughs and Errington took their chop-sticks and sat on the floor in front of the pots and pans. Errington glanced at Reinhardt.
"We can't feed while he goes hungry," he said.
"Speak for yourself," said Burroughs. "I've not the slightest objection."
"But they've brought grub for him. He'd better have his share."
"Just like you! All right; but he'll be a sort of skeleton at the feast."
"A substantial skeleton! He won't depress me. But it's a rummy go, when you come to think of it."
Burroughs went to the German and released him.
"Some of this food is for you," he said, speaking close to Reinhardt's ear. "Errington suggests that you should join us."
He went back to his place beside Errington. For some seconds Reinhardt made no movement beyond sitting up and stretching himself, with a sullen stare at Burroughs. Then either the matter-of-fact consideration that he was hungry, or something in the humour of the situation, caused him to banish his sulks. He crossed the room, and squatted heavily opposite the Englishmen.