“But, my stars! Jack, are we going to stay out in the rain right along just because some silly person might think all strangers are German spies? Don’t you intend to knock again?”
For answer Jack once again brought his knuckles against the door with more vim than before. It might even be considered a knock of authority, for there is such a thing.
This time they plainly heard the shuffling of feet within. Then a bar seemed to be removed, which in itself was a mute evidence of the radical change that had come to this land since war stalked abroad; for in the good old days of peace it was likely that no door had ever been fastened, since thievery was next to unknown.
As the door was partly opened they saw a man of middle age, whose sight was confined to one eye. He looked plainly worried, Amos could see; but being content to leave all matters to Jack, he held his peace.
It was the usual habit of the boys when desiring to communicate with any of the people whom they chanced to meet to test them first of all with English. There were a certain number of Belgians who could speak that language, having picked it up in trade, or by reason of having been across the Channel working in English factories during dull seasons in their own country.
Jack first of all pointed to that wonderful little flag which Amos bore in his buttonhole.
“We are Americans—from the United States—can you talk English?”
He saw the man’s face give a twitch, and even fancied that his worried face took on a partially relieved expression, though his hand resting upon the edge of the door still quivered.
“Yes, I can speak and understand English,” he immediately said in a quavering tone. “Both the wife and me, we have worked over in Birmingham in the days that are gone. What is it you want, m’sieu?”
Jack waved his hand as if to call his attention to the descending rain.