“You are—vot you say—du génie, n’est-ce- pas? Eet is important—ver important that I see monsieur le commandant.”
“Look here, cully,” murmured the cook, removing a clay pipe from his mouth and expectorating with great accuracy; “moosoo le commondant is in ’is bath—see. You’ll ’ave to wait. Bath—savez. Eau.” He pointed to a bucket of water.
“Mon Dieu!” shuddered the Belgian.“Eh bien! mon ami, ees zere anozer officer? It is très important.” He was getting excited again. “Les Boches—zere is a bruit under ze earth—comprenez? Zey make a—oh! ze word, ze word—zey make une mine, and zen we all go Pouff!” He waved his hands to Heaven.
“Mean. Mean,” remarked the cook contemplatively. “Wot the deuce does he mean? Anyway, Bob, we might take ’im on as a sparklet machine.”
Then I thought it was about time I came to the rescue. “What’s all the trouble, Brown?” I asked, coming out of the dug-out.
“These ’ere blokes, sir …” he began; but as both Belgians began talking at once, he got no further.
