"Then you weren't on the front for the victory?"
"I was in the battle that made the victory. The war was won in the first battle of the Marne ... That's where I almost lost my leg and picked up a medaille militaire ... Ah, there's another chemist ... Arretez donc. Bon ... Perhaps you could help me explain."
They got out of the cab and went into the shop.
"What I want is tincture of yohimbine ... a very useful product ... a slight aid, that's what it is."
The clerk was a small yellow man with a bald head who wore a stained pongee jacket. He looked up through slanting eyeglasses at the French captain who stood over him twirling the end of his moustache.
"Avez-vous de la teinture de yohimbine, monsieur?"
"Non comprendo, signore."
"Won't you explain to him what I want?... It's a little help, a slight aid." Le Capitaine Eustache de la Potinière waved a tightly gloved hand under the druggist's nose.
Is this man crazy? Fanshaw was thinking. Why am I riding round in a cab with this man?
"Cré nom d'un chien, por l'amore!" shouted the French captain. "Teinture de yohimbine."