“Yes,” Dick admitted.

“Of what regiment?” demanded the questioner.

“Infantry regiment,” Dick replied.

“Yes, but how is your regiment known?”

“As an infantry regiment,” Dick answered, though he knew well what was wanted of him.

“Are your American regiments numbered?”

“Oh, yes.”

“How is yours numbered?”

“Numbered among the best, I believe,” Dick returned, with a smile.

“You are a captain?”

“Yes.”

“Then you know what I mean to ask, and you must not try to trifle with me.  How is your regiment numbered?  What is the number of your regiment?”

“Numbered among the best, as I told you.”

“How long have you been in France?”

“Long enough to like its people, meaning those who belong here, not those who have come into France by force of arms.”

“Captain, is your regiment on the line yet?”

“It’s a line regiment, of course,” Prescott replied dumbly.

“Captain,” spoke the questioner angrily, “you must not try to make game of us!  If you do not answer our questions you will regret it.”

“And if I did answer them I’d feel ashamed of myself,” Dick smiled blandly.  “I’m going to take the liberty of asking you a question.  If you were captured and questioned, how much would you tell that would injure Germany?”

“I’d tell nothing,” replied the German officer stiffly.

“Same here,” Dick went on smilingly.  “I’m as strong for my country as you are for yours.”

“But, Captain, you will have to tell us your name and rank, also the designation of your organization.  That has to be entered on our records.”

“I am Captain Richard Prescott, captain of infantry, United States Army,” Dick returned, in a business-like way.  “But when you go further, and ask me for information about the American Army, you need expect no sensible answers.”

“Take this man to the temporary prisoners’ camp, and see that he is put in the officers’ section,” said the questioner to the two guards who had brought Dick in.

So Dick was led out again, and once more escorted along a road.  He judged that the walk from dug-out to camp must have been at least two miles in length.  The “prison” to which he found himself taken consisted of a high barbed wire enclosure, with a small wooden building at one end, and another end of the enclosure fenced off for officers.

Into the building Dick was taken first.  It contained only one room and was evidently used as a booking and record office.

Again he was asked his name by an officer behind a desk.  As before Prescott refused to state anything further than that his name was Richard Prescott, and that he was a captain of infantry in the American Army.

“But you will have to tell us more than that,” objected the German officer blandly.

“I’ll answer any questions you may put to me,” promised Dick, “but I won’t agree, in advance, to answer them truthfully.”