So saying, he walked off with his companions.
"You can't draw blood from a turnip," said Marcel, "nor the truth from a man who has decided not to tell it."
"Not since the torture-chamber was abolished," I said, "and I would even guess that this countryman is no very warm friend to the British, from the insolent tone that he adopted towards us."
"And I would guess also that his news, whatever it may be, is something that will not be to the taste of the British, or he would tell it to us," said Marcel.
But we were not daunted by one repulse, and we decided to try elsewhere. From another little group to which we addressed ourselves we received treatment perhaps not quite so discourteous, but as unproductive of the desired result. All this we took as further proof that there was in reality something of importance afoot. At last we went into a little eating-house where strong liquors also were sold.
"Perhaps if we moisten their throats for them," said Marcel, "they may become less secretive. It is a cure I have rarely known to fail."
There were eight or ten men in this place, some citizens of the town and some countrymen.
"What news?" I asked of one who leaned against the counter. "There seems to be a stir about the town, and we ask its cause."
"You are British officers," he replied. "The British hold this town. You should know more than we."