"Splendidly, sir. They only lost two men. They have blown up a mine, destroyed the trench and brought back nearly forty prisoners. Very good work, sir. But please come quickly. The Commandant is in a hurry."
I started at a run. There was a very decent communication trench leading to battalion headquarters, situated some few hundred yards back. There was only one place, a kind of open slope, which offered no cover. I crossed it without quickening my pace, for at that moment the German lines were silent under our bombardment, and I ran no risk.
The Commandant was standing at the door of his dug-out.
"Oh, there you are. I'm sorry to have made you run. But it is all owing to the success of the 22nd."
"What can I do, sir?"
"Look here. You're an expert in German, while I have hardly touched the beastly language since I left Saint-Cyr. We have here a prisoner of rank. I've had a shot at questioning him, but can't get a word out of him. Yet he could give us some mighty useful information. He's a major in the Engineers, and it was he who was organizing the sap we've just played Old Harry with. Coste got him, and he'll certainly get his captaincy for it."
"A senior officer who can't speak French! That's an extraordinary thing!" I said. "You know many of them pretend not to speak it."
"I do know, otherwise I shouldn't have sent for you. He won't be able to pretend he doesn't understand the excellent German in which you'll address him. There is the fellow."
I went into my Commanding Officer's dug-out, where I found the German major, guarded by the two men of the 22nd who had brought him across from the German lines. They were so proud of their achievement that they couldn't help giving me the following piece of information:
"He shot poor Labourdette with his revolver. But with Lieutenant Coste's help we got him at last."