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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?"
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 does not wear such a uniform as this, nor do you find spies on the staff of an army. I rode by mistake into the heart of this Prussian corps, and I concealed myself here in the hope of escaping when they are past.
I will not hurt you if you do not hurt me, but if you do not swear that you will be silent as to my presence you will never go down alive from this attic."
"You can put up your sword, sir," said the surgeon, and I saw a friendly twinkle in his eyes. "I am a Pole by birth, and I have no ill-feeling to you or your people.
I will do my best for my patients, but I will do no more.
Capturing Hussars is not one of the duties of a surgeon.
With your permission I will now descend with this truss of hay to make a couch for these poor fellows below."
I had intended to exact an oath from him, but it is my experience that if a man will not speak the truth he will not swear the truth, so I said no more. The surgeon opened the trap-door, threw out enough hay for his purpose, and then descended the ladder, letting down the door behind him. I watched him anxiously when he rejoined his patients, and so did my good friend the landlady, but he said nothing and busied himself with the needs of his soldiers.
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|The Adventures of Gerard
Arthur Conan Doyle
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