The two officers had been in earnest conversation, but when Mr. Merrick’s party was ushered in, the elder man leaned back in his chair, squinting and scowling, and regarded them silently.

“Huh!” exclaimed the colonel, in a brusque growl.  “What is it, von Holtz?”

The young officer explained that the party had just arrived from Dunkirk in a launch; the commandant had asked Colonel Grau kindly to examine them.  Uncle John proceeded to state the case, Captain Carg interpreting.  They operated a Red Cross hospital ship at Dunkirk, and one of their patients, a young Belgian, was dying of his wounds.  They had come to find his young wife and take her back with them to Dunkirk in their launch, that she might comfort the last moments of her husband.  The Americans asked for safe conduct to Charleroi, and permission to take Mrs. Denton with them to Dunkirk.  Then he presented his papers, including the authority of the American Red Cross Society, the letter from the secretary of state and the recommendation of the German ambassador at Washington.

The colonel looked them all over.  He uttered little guttural exclamations and tapped the desk with his finger-tips as he read, and all the time his face wore that perplexing expression of surprise.  Finally he asked: 

“Which is Mr. Merrick?”

Hearing his name, Uncle John bowed.

“Huh!  But the description does not fit you.”

Captain Carg translated this.

“Why not?” demanded Uncle John.

“It says you are short, stout, blue-eyed, bald, forty-five years of age.”

“Of course.”

“You are not short; I think you are as tall as I am.  Your eyes are not blue; they are olive green.  You are not bald, for there is still hair over your ears.  Huh!  How do you explain that?”

“It’s nonsense,” said Uncle John scornfully.

Carg was more cautious in interpreting the remark.  He assured the colonel, in German, that the description of Mr. Merrick was considered close enough for all practical purposes.  But Grau was not satisfied.  He went over the papers again and then turned to face the other officer.

“What do you think, General?” he asked, hesitatingly.

“Suspicious!” was the reply.

“I think so, myself,” said the colonel.  “Mark you:  Here’s a man who claims to come from Sangoa, a place no one has ever heard of; and the other has endorsements purporting to come from the highest officials in America.  Huh! what does it mean?”

“Papers may be forged, or stolen from their proper owners,” suggested the squinting general.  “This excuse of coming here to get the wife of a hurt Belgian seems absurd.  If they are really Red Cross workers, they are not attending to their proper business.”

When the captain interpreted this speech Patsy said angrily: 

“The general is an old fool.”

“An idiot, I’ll call him,” added Uncle John.  “I wish I could tell him so.”