Part 14 (1/2)

'I don't think about him at all,' said Lieutenant Orford.

Again conversation flagged. William led his companion over a stile and across a field, breaking the silence finally with: 'I expect they're wonderin' what's happened to you over there.'

'Who?' snapped Lieutenant Orford, 'and over where?'

William sighed. The ill.u.s.trious captive was evidently determined not to give himself away. Probably he'd made a 'cross my throat' promise not to.

'Oh well,' he said, 'I suppose you don't want people to know about it.'

'Where is this Poppleham place?' said Lieutenant Orford irritably.

He was tired of trailing over the countryside with a half-witted child.

'We're nearly there,' said William.

They had reached the old barn now and the next thing was to lure his captive into it.

'I say!' he said, pausing at the open door and peering into the dark corner. 'There's somethin' funny in that corner, isn't there?'

Lieutenant Orford was not devoid of curiosity. He stepped into the barn. William pushed the door to and shot home the bolt.

Robert, seated comfortably in a deck-chair in the garden, looked up at William with a mixture of helplessness and elder-brother severity.

'I don't know what you're talking about,' he said shortly.

'Well, I keep tellin' you,' persisted William. 'This man came down in a parachute an' he was dressed like a British officer an' he asked me in German where Rudolph Hess was an'-'

'You don't know any German,' objected Robert.

'No, but he translated it into broken English for me an' I got him to the ole barn an' locked him in. He looked to me sort of as if he might be Hitler, an' I thought it'd be nice for you to take him prisoner.'

'Don't be ridiculous,' said Robert. 'He couldn't possibly be Hitler.'

'All right,' shrugged William, 'but he'd got a face like Hitler's an' he came down by a parachute in a British uniform an' started talkin' German.'

'Was it a khaki uniform?'

'Yes.'

'Where's the parachute?'

'Dunno. Think he must have hid it.'

'It's a ridiculous story,' said Robert again, pretending to return to his book.

It sounded ridiculous, of course, but Robert wasn't quite happy about it. Ridiculous things of that sort had happened all over Europe and might happen in England any day, impossible as it still seemed. Suppose there were something in the kid's tale, after all . . . It wouldn't do any harm to verify it. He stood up and closed his book.

'I happen to be going in that direction,' he said loftily. 'You can come along if you like.'

Lieutenant Orford had spent a very uncomfortable quarter of an hour trying to escape from the old barn. It had no windows and, though the door was old, it held firmly. He had kicked and shouted, but no one had heard him. His anger against the half-witted child, who had locked him in had risen to boiling point when suddenly the door opened, revealing the half-witted child in company with a young man. Without stopping to consider, Lieutenant Orford leapt forward to execute vengeance. Robert, for his part, had taken for granted that the whole story was one of William's fantastic inventions. When therefore a figure in khaki, with what in the semi-darkness looked like the face of the German Fhrer in one of his brain-storms, hurled itself upon them, he lost no time in closing with it. They fought fiercely and silently. Though they were fairly well matched, Robert seemed to be getting the best of it.

'Hold on, Robert!' shouted William. 'I'll go and get a rope.'

It had occurred to him suddenly that it would be a fine score over Hubert if Robert could lead his prisoner past the Lanes' house at the end of a rope . . .

William sat in the wheelbarrow, munching an apple and gazing morosely at the next-door cat, who sat on the fence that divided the gardens, gazing morosely back at William. The adventure had ignominiously petered out to nothing. To worse than nothing . . . for Robert, from being super-hero, had become again the old Robert, unheroic but with a swift sure hand for avenging insults and injuries, and he had considered that the events of the afternoon const.i.tuted both . . .

'HOLD ON, ROBERT!' SHOUTED WILLIAM. 'I'LL GO AND GET A ROPE.'

It had taken William some time to secure a rope and when he returned to the old barn he had found it empty. He had scoured the countryside for traces of either Robert or his captive, and had then returned home to find the two of them in amicable converse in the morning-room. The visitor had a black eye and Robert a swollen nose. Robert fell upon William without ceremony and it was the visitor who finally rescued him.

'Let the kid off now,' he said. 'It wasn't a bad joke and I thoroughly enjoyed the sc.r.a.p. It's years since I had a really good one. You're pretty useful with your left, you know.'

'My defence is too slow,' said Robert modestly. 'You were too quick for me. But it was a jolly good sc.r.a.p.'

It turned out that Robert and Lieutenant Orford had taken to each other. Lieutenant Orford was bored to death with Hubert's cousin and the Lanes. He and Robert were fixing up various dates for the remainder of their leave. They wouldn't even listen to William when he tried to explain what had happened.

'Get out!' ordered Robert threateningly.

And William got out.

He munched his apple, continuing to stare morosely at the next-door cat. The next-door cat had, as he knew, troubles of its own. From a diet of sardines, chicken and cream, it had gradually been relegated to skim milk and a nauseous bran-like mixture sold under the misleading name of Cat Food. Meeting William's eye, it opened its mouth in a raven-like croak of disgust.

'Huh!' said William through a mouthful of apple. 'It's all right for you. You've not had your leg pulled by Hubert Lane.'

The cat eyed him sardonically and repeated its raven-like croak.

'An' been half killed on top of it,' continued William. 'Gos.h.!.+ I'm sorry for those Germans when Robert gets at 'em.'

He aimed his apple core at the cat. It missed it by several feet.

'Can't even hit a cat,' he continued dejectedly.

The cat uttered what sounded like a sardonic chuckle.

William sank back again into the wheelbarrow and took another apple out of his pocket.

'You're right,' he agreed as he bit into it. 'It's a rotten war.'

CHAPTER 8.

WILLIAM AND THE MOCK INVASION.