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How The Brigadier Bore Himself At Waterloo | Arthur Conan Doyle | |
The Story Of The Forest Inn |
Page 9 of 14 |
Several of the German soldiers who had recovered from their prostration were sitting about on the kitchen floor and watching the quarrel with stolid, but attentive, faces. The landlord was nowhere to be seen. "There is no liquor there," said the woman. "I do not want liquor; I want hay or straw for these men to lie upon. Why should they lie on the bricks when there is straw overhead?" "There is no straw." "What is up there?" "Empty bottles." "Nothing else?" "No." For a moment it looked as if the surgeon would abandon his intention, but one of the soldiers pointed up to the ceiling. I gathered from what I could understand of his words that he could see the straw sticking out between the planks. In vain the woman protested. Two of the soldiers were able to get upon their feet and to drag her aside, while the young surgeon ran up the ladder, pushed open the trap-door, and climbed into the loft. As he swung the door back I slipped behind it, but as luck would have it he shut it again behind him, and there we were left standing face to face. Never have I seen a more astonished young man. "A French officer!" he gasped. "Hush!" said I, "hush! Not a word above a whisper." I had drawn my sword. "I am not a combatant," he said; "I am a doctor. Why do you threaten me with your sword? I am not armed." "I do not wish to hurt you, but I must protect myself. I am in hiding here." "A spy!" |
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