'So we meet again, Kenneth Carrington,' he said. Like most German
officers, he spoke excellent English, though with a thick, unpleasant
accent.
Ken did not answer. It did not seem worth while. He stood facing the
other, watching him with a slightly contemptuous expression in his clear
blue eyes.
'We meet under different conditions from the last time,' continued Henkel.
'There is now no Othman Pacha to protect you from your just fate.'
Ken shrugged his shoulders.
'Why talk that sort of rot? You know just as well as I do that the last
thing we shall get is justice.'
Henkel flushed slightly, but he kept his temper.
'What! Do you not shoot spies in your own army?'
'We are not spies. We went too far in the charge yesterday when we smashed
up your people. We could not get back. We are prisoners of war and should
be treated as such.'
'That is your story,' replied Henkel. 'We have plenty of evidence to the
contrary. Any commanding officer would be justified in shooting you out of
hand.
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