"A Britisher," the officer shouted. "Get out on the bank!" His English was a bit thick but understandable.
Stan climbed out and was surrounded by armed men in an instant. He was marched up the bank and halted under the floodlight. The officer stood glaring at him.
"Where do you come from?" he demanded.
"I came out of that canal, and it was a bit chilly," Stan answered. "I'd appreciate some dry clothing."
"American!" the officer exclaimed. "A spy dressed in the clothes of a farmer."
"I just borrowed these. I'm not a spy. You can check up on that." Then Stan clamped his lips shut. If he revealed his identity now, the Germans would know where to look for O'Malley and Sim.
"A spy, no less," the officer snapped. "Come with me."
"Gladly," Stan said.
He was taken to a small shack a few yards back from the canal. There was a stove in the shack and Stan edged close to it. The officer stepped to a wall phone and put through, a call. He talked quite a while and finally began to laugh loudly. After he hung up he turned to Stan.
"The colonel agrees you are a spy and a very dumb one. You will be sent to him and he will have you shot at once. It is easy to see why you Americans cannot fight the Germans. You are careless fools, all of you."