"O world, thy slippery turns. Friends now fast sworn
Unseparable, shall within this hour,
On a dissension of a doit, break out
To bitterest enmity."
To which the prisoner replied, in a faultless English accent:
"Alderhame! I little thought to see you here. Let me see: only three years and six months ago we were on the boards together in Much Ado about Nothing."
"And now," added Alderhame, "we're producing Measure for Measure."
"I hope it will be All's Well that Ends Well," rejoined the German. "I'm properly fed up with this war, and will be glad to be out of it."
"You will be—in a prison camp in England," the sergeant assured him. "We'll see that you are sent under escort to the rear. Unless your own guns cop you there'll be nothing to fear. What made the crowd of you make a dive for this cellar?"
"I don't mind telling you now," he said, in a low voice. "There's a tunnel. That Tank has blocked up the entrance. It communicates with our reserve lines, and the whole place is heavily mined. I would advise you to clear out as soon as possible, for when our people have waited sufficiently long to enable our troops to withdraw—the few that are left, that is—the village will be blown to atoms."
Strong-nerved though he was, the ex-actor felt a cold shiver in the neighbourhood of his spine. The possibility of being in close proximity to a quantity of high explosive that would explode by the act of touching a key—and more than likely a Hun was at that very instant toying with the electric battery that would fire the charge—was enough to make any man blench.
With an effort he pulled himself together.
"All right," he said, addressing his former brother actor and present enemy. "I'll send you out under escort. Yes, the whole crowd of you, I mean."