“Lucky dog!”
“Ach, was! what’s the good of having been drunk so long ago? There isn’t a bottle of wine now within five miles.”
“Tell us then, Herr Kaporal, do we remain here till dawn?”
Dalroy grew faintly interested. It was absurd to harbour the slightest expectation of Jan Maertz bringing succour, but one might at least analyse the position, though the only visible road led straight to a firing-party.
“Those were our orders,” answered Franz. “Things may be altered now. You fellows haven’t grasped the real value of this cop. It wasn’t stated on the notice, but somebody of much more importance than any ordinary officer was interested in the girl being caught—she far more than the man.”
“Well, well! Tastes differ! A peasant like that!”
“You silly ass, she’s no peasant. That’s the worst of living in a suburb. You acquire no standard of comparison.”
These men were Berliners, and were amused by a sly dig at some locality which, like Koepenick, offered a butt for German humour.
“Hello! isn’t that a car?” said one.
There was silence. The thrumming of a powerful automobile could be heard through the patter of the rain.