"Parlez-vous français? Sprechen sie Deutsch?"
The men were grinning now, and Lamoureux felt his face growing warm. He must look like a fool, trying to carry on a conversation with a bird.
He asked, "Anybody here know Russian? Polish? Spanish?"
His men supplied him with phrases in the languages he asked for, but the Mercurian remained unresponsive.
McCracken ventured, "He don't look very bright to me, Captain. I can't understand why Kalinoff said they were intelligent."
"Maybe," suggested Sprott, "it's because they just stand there looking wise and don't say anything."
Lamoureux shook his head. "Kalinoff wouldn't be impressed by anybody's just looking wise. And he wouldn't be impressed by anybody's not saying anything. He didn't go for either stuffed shirts or strong silent men. That's why I believe that this thing must have a language of its own, and a fairly decent brain."
The Mercurian closed its two eyes slowly, like a sleepy cat, and opened them again. Then it poked one of its four feet out from under its body and scratched on the ground.
"He's nuts," decided McCracken. "Just scrabbling around."