"American?" repeated Von Glahn in his gentle, well-bred voice, offering his hand. And, in turn, becoming sponsor, he presented his stocky companion as Dr. von Dresslin; and the cere[pg 46]mony instantly stiffened to a more rigid etiquette.
Then, in his always gentle, graceful way, Von Glahn rested his hand lightly on Stent's shoulder:
"You made us jump—you two Americans—as though you had been British. Of what could two Americans be afraid in the Carnic Alps to challenge a pair of wandering ibex stalkers?"
"You forget that I am Canadian," replied Stent, forcing a laugh.
"At that, you are practically American and civilian—" He glanced smilingly over their equipment, carelessly it seemed to Stent, as though verifying all absence of military insignia. "Besides," he added with his gentle humour, "there are no British in Italy. And no Italians in these mountains, I fancy; they have their own affairs to occupy them on the Isonzo I understand. Also, there is no war between Italy and Germany."
Stent smiled, perfectly conscious of Brown's telepathic support in whatever was now to pass between them and these two Germans. He[pg 47] knew, and Brown knew, that these Germans must be taken back as prisoners; that, suspicious or not, they could not be permitted to depart again with a story of having met an American and a Canadian after ibex among the Carnic Alps.
These two Germans were already their prisoners; but there was no hurry about telling them so.
"How do you happen to be here, Siurd?" asked Stent, frankly curious.
Von Glahn lifted his delicately formed eyebrows, then, amused:
"Count von Plessis invites me; and"—he laughed outright—"he must have invited you, Harry, unless you are poaching!"