“I did,” answered one of them, smiling. “We really thought you would not be such fools as to be taken in.”
“Extraordinary, wasn’t it?” laughed Gerald. Yes, the ass period had quite passed. His laugh caused the smiling German to stop smiling.
“As you avoided our bombs entirely owing to an unwarrantable mistake on my part—which cost me the life”—he swallowed once or twice and his hands clenched—“the life of a valued man, I can only remedy this loss on your part to the best of my ability.”
“Ah, well,” answered the German, “we shall no doubt meet after the war and laugh over the episode. All is fair in love and——” He shrugged his shoulders. “And now we are your prisoners.”
“Quite so,” drawled Gerald. “All ready for a first-class ticket to Donington Hall. You shall now have it. Bring, my lads, three hair-brush grenades and put in four inches of fuse. That’s about eight seconds, my dear friends,” and he smiled on the Germans, who were now grovelling on their knees.
“Gott in Himmel!” screamed the one
