"But it'll be all right, you fat-'ed. Eustace...."
"Don't you talk about Eustace to me."
Alf, dressing in feverish haste, tied his puttee-tapes and put on his tunic.
"I ain't goin' to 'ave nothing more to do with Eustace, nor no one else is neither. It ain't right. If you 'ave dealin's with the Devil you're sure to get it in the neck some'ow."
Bill, who had encountered before the streak of pig-headed obstinacy which underlay Alf's easy-going nature, realized that no useful purpose could be served by argument. For a moment the prospect of losing the life of ease that had been his for the past week tempted him to try to force Alf by physical violence to countermand his order. Then a subtler plan occurred to him. Alf had proved himself utterly unworthy to possess the Button; he, Bill, would wait his chance to get it from him by fair means or foul and then.... His brain reeled at the possibilities that opened before him. First, of course, he would send Eustace over to Germany, kidnap the Kaiser and possibly a selection of his higher command, and would thus bring the war to a speedy and triumphant conclusion; after that, he would start out upon a career of dazzling glory. Meanwhile he must humor Alf.
"Oh, well," he said, in a resigned tone. "P'raps you're right. What you goin' to do now?"
"First thing is to get clear o' this blinkin' place," said Alf. "If we get nabbed in this 'ere village, I tell yer straight we'll be damn well murdered."
Bill gave an uneasy laugh. "They'll never know us in these things," he said.
He remembered that P.C. Jobling at any rate knew him by sight, and he felt nervous. "Look 'ere," he suggested, "why not use the Button—just once more—to get us 'ome?"