The Chief nodded.
“He told me something about it at dinner last night,” said Desmond, “but he’s such a modest chap he doesn’t seem to like talking about it!”
“He must have a cool nerve,” replied the Chief, “he doesn’t know a word of German, except a few scraps he picked up in camp. Yet, after he got free, he made his way alone from somewhere in Hanover clear to the Dutch frontier. And I tell you he kept his eyes and ears open!”
“Was he able to tell you anything good” asked Desmond.
“The man’s just full of information. He couldn’t take a note of any kind, of course, but he seems to have a wonderful memory. He was able to give us the names of almost every unit of troops he came across.”
He stopped to skirt a tram, then added suddenly:
“Do you know him well, Okewood?”
“Yes, I think I do,” said Desmond. “I lived with him for about three months in France, and we got on top-hole together. He’s a man absolutely without fear.”
“Yes,” agreed the Chief. “But what about his judgment? Would you call him a well-balanced fellow? Or is he one of these harum-scarum soldier of fortune sort of chaps?”
“I should say he was devilish shrewd,” replied the other. “Strangwise is a very able fellow and a fine soldier. The Brigadier thought a lot of him. There’s very little about artillery work that Strangwise doesn’t know. Our Brigadier’s a good judge, too... he was a gunner himself once, you know.”