Credentials being requested, and the request complied with accompanied by a dazzling smile, there ensued a silent interval of some length during which the young man wearing the uniform of an American Intelligence Officer was not at all certain whether Recklow was examining him or the papers of identification.
After a while Recklow nodded: "You came through from Toul, Captain?"
"From Toul, sir," with the quick smile revealing dazzling teeth.
"Matters progress?"
"It is quiet there."
"So I understand," nodded Recklow. "There's blood on your uniform."
"A scratch—a spill from my motor-cycle."
Recklow eyed the cut on the officer's handsome face. One of the young officer's hands was bandaged, too.
"You've been in action, Captain."
"No, sir."