"When I wouldn't answer the questions he asked me—he talked English—about how the brown satchel had come unstrapped and tumbled into the sea. And he said to an officer: 'Show him your whip!'—and he did—and it was short-stocked and covered with leather, like a dog-whip—with three thongs strung with little balls of lead. Man alive! you ought to see my back. Though they only hit me once!" He winced, and flushed, and paled. "I was a coward to squeal—though when they asked: 'Will you tell now?' I did say: 'Not to stop you from killing me!'"
"Good egg you! Great Snipe!—if I'd been there. With a Service Revolver—! Never mind.... Go on!"
"I forget.... Oh!—they pulled on my shirt and gave me some strong stuff to drink. Corn brandy, I think it was—and then He got up and came round the table and began to talk to me. He said I must not be an obstinate boy, for in another few days there would be War. Our pitiful little Army'd be wiped out and our Fleet sent to the bottom of the sea. The British Isles would be Deutsch Brittanien—and English people who would not swear to be good Brito-German subjects of their new Emperor and Overlord would be instantly put to death. But if I told up about the brown satchel I would be permitted to live, and possibly my parents also. If I said No!—nothing would be left but to call back the officer with the whip."
"Coaxin', wasn't he? And what did you tell him?"
"I said: 'You've only said you're going to conquer England, Sir. You haven't done it yet!"
It was not merely the treble voice of a courageous child answering. It was the utterance of a race untamable and indomitable. Franky could hear the metal balls on the whip clink one against another as the loaded thongs were shaken out.... He whispered with dry lips:
"Then——?"
"Then I don't quite know. I was sick and sleepy, and the blood was running down my back under my shirt. If they had killed me I wouldn't have cared much. Perhaps he saw that, for he called up von Herrnung. He was not to be dismissed from the Field Flying Service—because of the War that was coming!—but he was to forfeit his Order of the Red Eagle and rank as a Supernumerary Officer Pilot. Man alive!—you should have seen how that big man squirmed and crawled and blubbered." The young lips curled, and the jaw thrust out contemptuously. "'Thanks! Gratitude! ... My blood to prove devotion! ... All I ask—the service of danger—the reconnaissance under enemy fire!' And the Emperor——"
"Kicked him, I hope!"
"No, he said: 'Supernumerary Officer Pilot von Herrnung you will now to your Flying Headquarters return. Let it be your task to win back at the cost of a thousand lives—if you had them—the lost esteem of your Emperor. Take this boy with you. Make of him a decent German. It is "up to you," as the English say.' And then the Wireless went 'S'ss! Crackle! Pzz!' and the telephone-bell said 'Pr'rr!' and the room was cleared—they said because of a Call from the Winter Palace at Petersburg."