"Hey!" said a voice suddenly behind me. I swerved, choking back a sneeze. "Hey, hey, hey!" some broad Doric tongue continued.
A heavy hand came plump on my shoulder; a large Highland face was pushed into mine; a kilt flapped round long bare shanks. I sneezed again.
"Got ye this time, lad!" announced the son of the North, who now appeared to be a brawny lance-corporal. "Signallin' ye are. Oot to sea. Ah saw ye blinkin' wi' a licht."
I sneezed again. "I was'd!" I declared as well as the cold in my head would allow. "It was a batch. I've dever sigdalled id by life. You're wrog—quite wrog!"
He gripped me firmly by the arm.
"Dinna tell me!" he announced in conclusive tones. "Ah ken better! Ye're the second spy Ah've cotched. Come along, ma freend Fritz! Ye'll hae the job o' explainin' to the Colonel whaur ye got that second-lootenant's uniform."
Hunching his rifle over his shoulder, he marched me back the way I had come.
"Where are you takig be to?" I enquired thickly. "Take be to your Cobbadig Officer at wudce. I wad to egsplaid!"
"Ah'll hae nane o' your clavers," he said shortly. "Ye're for the gaird-room. Dinna tell ma ye're no a German wi' a tongue like yon!"
"I've god a gold id by head!" I shouted at him. "I'b dot a Gerbud! I'b Lieutedad Dobsod——"