I became suddenly conscious that Herriott was stiffening to attention. This meant that Herriott desired permission to deliver himself of a remark.
"Well, Herriott?" I said.
"I beg your pardon, sirr—"
"Yes? What?"
"Yon, sirr, is—"
At that moment a German trench-mortar bomb came sailing over, and burst some thirty yards to our left. Fortunately our bay was screened from the effects by a stout island-traverse. However, I fear I missed the purport of Herriott's statement. In fact, I doubt if I heard it at all, for at that moment Roy appeared round the corner on the right, followed by an orderly.
He was bleeding from a scratch on the cheek, and held his Colt automatic in his hand.
"We have just pushed them back on the right, sir," he announced. His eyes were blazing. "They tried to rush a bad bit of our line about a hundred yards along; but our boys were splendid, and very few Boches got as far as the parapet. They simply withered up when they got to the wire."
I pointed to the bastion, where the Lewis gunners were recharging magazines.
"Those are the fellows you have to thank," I said. "How is the situation generally?"