"Search the man and his car. Keep everything till the Intelligence Officer arrives."
"Very good, sir," said Sergeant Killem, hanging up the 'phone. A further search revealed many things. Papers showed the amazing daring and skill of this spy. The strength, guns, morale, and distribution of the Allied Arms was almost perfect. In the garb of a staff officer he had been everywhere—an easy thing when one remembers the mighty salaams and reverential awe which the "Brass Hats" receive from the respectful Tommy Atkins.
[pg 250] "This is his last trip, onywiy," said the sergeant, casually picking up the woman's photo which the spy had carried in his pocket. Spud came forward to view it.
"That's an actress," remarked Tamson.
"Ay. English at that."
"It's the Principal Boy in that big London panto," exclaimed Spud, who knew the name of every actress, boxer, and racehorse.
"Man, you're richt; but listen——"
"A motor-caur! That'll be the officer," said Spud.
A few minutes afterwards the car stopped at the door, and a major of the Intelligence Staff came in.
"Here he is, sir," said the sergeant, showing him the wounded German in the corner of the hut.