“Shall I speak French or German?” he said quietly. The other spat.
“Qu’est-ce que tu veux que je te dise, moi?” he demanded. Now, the plain English of that question is, “What do you wish me to say?” But the expectoration, no less than the biting tone, lent the words a far deeper meaning.
Dalroy was reassured. “Are you Monsieur Henri Joos?” he said.
“Ay.”
“This lady and I have come from Aix-la-Chapelle with your man, Maertz.”
“Oh, he’s alive, then?”
“I hope so. But may we not enter?”
Joos eyed the engine-cleaner’s official cap and soiled clothes, and his suspicious gaze travelled to Dalroy’s well-fitting and expensive boots.
“Who the deuce are you?” he snapped.