Recklow laughed under his breath, unlocked the handcuffs.
"Echt Deutsch," he whispered in German—"and ZERO-TWO-SIX. A good hint to you!"
"Waidman's Heil!" said the girl faintly. "O God! what a fright you gave me…. There's a man at Delle—we were warned—Seventy is his number, Recklow—a devil Yankee—"
"A swine! a fathead, sleeping all day in his garden, too drunk to open despatches!" sneered Recklow.
"We were warned against him," she insisted. Recklow laughed his contempt of Recklow and spat upon the dead leaves.
"Stupid one, what then is closest to the Yankee heart? I was sent here to buy this terrible devil Yankee, Recklow. That is how one deals with Yankees. With dollars."
"Is that why you are here?"
"And to watch for McKay and the young woman with him!"
"The Erith woman!"
"That is her barbarous name, I believe. What is your number?"