“Something of the kind.”
Eliphalet sat down again and looked worried. “That’s a pity,” he said. “A great pity. I should like to have it right. Perhaps, if you—er——”
Raeburn spread out his legs. It was evident he rather enjoyed this tribute to his professional skill.
“Certainly, I will. Now, let’s see. These rebels are at the gate, aren’t they? A few shots are fired—answered by rifle-fire from the defenders. That ’ud want organising to a certain extent. There’d be time in it—they’re trained troops—see? Probably a machine-gun would open up somewhere.”
Eliphalet had begun to take notes on the back of an envelope.
“A machine-gun—very good,” he said. “Now, how would that sound?”
Raeburn tapped his forefinger in a metrical beat upon the table.
“I see, I see. Please continue.”
“Isn’t there some talk about the rebels bringing up artillery?”
“Yes; they open fire on the consulate.”