Over his shoulder he carried a sack, and to this he clung while he flourished his free hand in voluble and impassioned argument.
Warner spoke sharply from the window above:
"Asticot!"
The disheveled one looked up with a joyous exclamation of recognition; the sentry also looked up.
"He's my servant," said Warner quietly. "Asticot! What do you want?"
"M'sieu' Warner, I have something for you and for Mademoiselle Philippa——"
"Very well. Go to the harness room; make something approaching a toilet, put on the clean suit I gave you, and report to me."
"'Fait, M'sieu'!"
The sentry scowled after him as he departed, and Asticot pulled a hideous face at him and thrust his tongue into his cheek in derision.
Warner, immensely amused, reassured the soldier on guard, folded his arms and leaned on the sill to watch the interminable columns of motor lorries moving through the valley.