The Field-Marshal beckoned a firing party.
As the shots rang out I whispered, "How did you know he wasn't English?"
"Watson, Watson, did you not see that he had no handkerchief in his sleeve?"
"It is all-important, Captain Holmes," said the British Commander, "that we should ascertain what army is opposing our right wing. Our airmen are useless in this fog. I detail you for this duty."
Holmes saluted. "Come, Watson," he said, and led me through the fog towards the enemy's lines. We had not walked a mile when we reached a fine chateau.
"You are cold, Watson," said Holmes. "Light a fire in the front room whilst I scout for Uhlans."
In a moment he returned to me after having looked round the house. It was, I think, the first time the Chateau had known the scent of shag tobacco. A glow of heat rushed through me. I felt another man.
"Better than the trenches," said Holmes, penetrating to my inmost thought. We sat for an hour and then I said, "Holmes, your mission."
"Ah, I forgot. Come on."