The supposed von Stopelfeld pulled himself together. Giving the prisoner a swift glance that conveyed a warning, he turned to the Austrian, thankfully remembering that the latter knew no English.
"I told the fellow to stand to attention," replied the "baron" mendaciously. "Himmel! he looks a scarecrow. Nevertheless, he interests me. Do your men speak English?"
"No, baron."
"That is unfortunate. For my part I loathe having to make use of the jargon. I would far rather that others cross-questioned the fellow. Does he speak German?"
"He does, but he won't," replied the major. "A more obstinate mule I never had to deal with."
"You know me, Slogger?" asked the spurious Hun.
"Yes," replied Farrar slowly, almost reluctantly. "You're Sylvester, usually known as the Moke. But since you are wearing an enemy uniform and are presumably a traitor I want no truck with you."
"Don't be an ass, Slogger!" said the Moke hoarsely, in order to keep up the rôle of an arrogant Hun. "And stick to your defiant attitude. I'll explain. Got away from Ruhleben, changed clothes with a Fritz and assumed his name and rank. Quite by accident I came here, and it may prove a fortunate occurrence. Hope so, for I'll do my level best to get you away."
"Sorry I did you an injustice, old bird," said the sub. "I was rattled, I expect. This life is hell.... Think you'll manage it all right? Without landing yourself in the cart, I mean."
"I'll take my chance at that," replied Sylvester. "We'll sink or swim together. Passive resistance is your cue. Now, I must switch off and tackle the commandant."