"I was feeling rather rummy," Kenneth confessed: "a queer feeling, not exactly fear; a sort of emptiness."
When the troopers learnt the truth, they broke into cries of "Vivent les Anglais! Vive l’Angleterre!" and the prisoners found themselves the idols of the camp. They were invited to join the officers at lunch, and ate with good appetites, having had no food but rye bread and beer since the previous midday. The officers drank their health with hilarity when Granger had related the trick by means of which they had escaped from Cologne, and Kenneth was toasted with embarrassing fervour.
"The bridge! That will be a clincher," whispered Granger in his ear.
Kenneth’s French was not so good as his German, but he managed, even though haltingly, to convey to his interested auditors the gist of the scheme he had overheard. The officers were much concerned. None of them was able to identify the place from the bare description which was all that Kenneth could give them. The bridge was clearly not in the line of the Germans’ probable advance; its destruction could only be meant to assist them. But the clues, slight though they were, must be followed up, and the Colonel declared that he would communicate with headquarters about the matter.
"I gather that you have not known your companion long?" he said.
"That is true," replied Kenneth. "I met him for the first time yesterday."
"You will pardon me, I am sure. Lieutenant Pariset’s voucher for you is sufficient; but in such times as these I should not be doing my duty if I allowed Mr. Granger to be at large without enquiry. Will you explain that to him, and ask him to give me a reference to a British authority?"
"Certainly. I am sure you will find things all right."
"The dear man!" laughed Granger when Kenneth told him this. "He needn’t have been so careful of my feelings as to ask you to break it to me. I’ve no doubt I can satisfy him."
He mentioned the name of an official high in the British Foreign Office.
"A telegram to that address will bring me a character," he said. "Meanwhile I am out of work, and a sort of prisoner on parole. I am sorry, because I fear it means that we shall be separated for a time. You, I suppose, will want to be up and doing."