"HIS EYES SPAT FIRE"
The fat little A.D.C. was called up to ask questions. He gave me a friendly wink, and I notched up a point in his favour.
He jabbered away to the President and I heard 'Wilson no Don Geraldio' and 'Hector buque de guerra—Inglesa—Los Angelos.'
He asked me if I knew where Gerald was. Of course I didn't and shook my head, 'No! old chap, I don't.'
The President didn't believe it when this was told him.
'El Presidente say shoot you if do not say where is Don Geraldio.'
Of course that was only bluff, and I smiled.
Then the firing party were called across, but that was still only bluff, I thought, and it didn't frighten me in the least till I saw the fat little A.D.C.'s face turn yellow under his brown skin.
Well, then I was in a mortal funk, if you like, and something inside me went flop down into my boots.
'Our cannon—cannon of Hector—shoot thirty kilometres,' I jerked out, remembering how impressed the A.D.C.'s had been with our after 9.2, my tongue feeling a bit sticky and my knees not altogether steady.