Von Loringhoven was breathing freely now. The crucial moment of the ordeal was passed. By making a bold statement he had "drawn" the men with whom he was in company.
"Must break the ice," he remarked pleasantly. "I've been sitting here the greater part of the evening in icy isolation. Sorry the Defence of the Realm Regulations will not permit me to stand drinks."
For the next hour conversation proceeded briskly, the ober-leutnant "pitching a yarn" of how he earned his gold stripes, giving elaborate details with such fidelity that an old soldier might have been deceived, let alone a group of commercials. In return they gave him hints about the country around Hereford, and learning that he was making his way there by road, considerately mapped out the best route from Birmingham to the Welsh border.
Refreshed and with renewed confidence von Loringhoven left Selly Oak early next morning, and riding steadily found himself at Gloucester by noon.
About five miles beyond the city he halted at a small wayside inn, where half a dozen yokels were exchanging mutual congratulations upon their being able to obtain beer. Presently the countrymen left to resume work, and von Loringhoven found himself in the sole company of a short, thick-set man dressed in a blue serge coat and trousers, a soiled peaked cap, and a muffler of doubtful colour round his neck. From the fact that the bottoms of his trousers were tucked into his grey woollen socks the ober-leutnant came to the correct conclusion that the seafarer was the possessor of a bicycle which von Loringhoven had observed leaning against the outside wall.
"Roads heavy, mate," remarked the man, wiping his lips with the back of his hand.
"Fairish stiff," agreed the Hun.
The other, producing a plug of hard tobacco from his cap deliberately cut off a few thick flakes and then handed the plug to his companion.
Von Loringhoven accepted the gift. He realised that there might be possibilities in engaging in conversation with the seaman.
"S'pose I'm out o' gear," continued the latter. "Ain't been riding for over a twelvemonth. I'm deck-hand aboard the old 'Andromeda,'" he added gratuitously, pronouncing the classical name with tremendous accent upon the "me." "A swine of a tub she is; still we diddled Old Fritz on the homeward run from Mobile."