CHAPTER XIX
"Your name is Robert Nancarrow?" The words came suddenly, not in the form of a question, but as an assertion.
The voice was light, almost thin; the eyes were the eyes of a commander; the face, to Bob, suggested weakness.
He spoke English almost as an Englishman might; there was scarcely the suggestion of a German accent.
"Yes, sir," was Bob's reply.
"You are under General Fortescue, and to-night were placed on outpost duty. By your quick, decisive action you gave your men alarm and frustrated the plans of those you call your enemy?"
"I'm very proud to think so, sir," replied Bob.
Again those piercing eyes rested on him. Bob felt a shiver run down his spine as he saw them. Evidently the man at the desk was reading him like an open book; he was estimating his quality—his position.
"You wear a lieutenant's uniform, I see?"
"Yes, sir."