"It’s extraordinary, the persistence of a fixed idea," said Granger in a low tone to Kenneth. "If he heard us speaking English I suppose he would take it as a clinching proof that we are Germans! The uniforms, our salvation in Cologne, are here our damnation." "They’ll send us to the General, won’t they? He won’t be such an ass." "We shall see." A few minutes passed. Then the look of blank expectancy on the Colonel’s face gave way to a look of satisfaction. He laid down the receiver. "Shoot them!" he said laconically, turning to the lieutenant. Granger smiled at Kenneth, whose cheeks had gone red with indignation rather than pale from fear. "What rot!" said the boy. "I said I should die in my boots," remarked Granger. "My fate has been hanging over me these ten years. But there’s a chance for you. Why not tell them about the bridge?" "They’d only think I was funking, and wouldn’t believe me. I won’t do it." They were led away towards a clump of trees on the outskirts of the camp. The lieutenant was selecting his firing party. A crowd of troopers, some in uniform, others in their shirt sleeves, came flocking around. One or two officers moved more leisurely towards the scene. Suddenly one of these started, and hurried forward with an exclamation of surprise. "Mon Dieu, it’s you, Ken!" he cried, seizing Kenneth’s hand. "Hullo, Remi," said Kenneth, his face lighting up. "Just tell your colonel I’m not a German, will you?" "Of course I will. And your friend?" "As English as I am. This is my pal, Remi Pariset," he said to Granger. "I am delighted to meet you," said Granger, bowing, "even though our acquaintance should prove of the shortest." Pariset, asking his fellow lieutenant to delay, ran to the Colonel, and returned immediately with him. "I beg a thousand pardons, gentlemen," said the Colonel. "I am desolated at the injustice I have unwittingly done you. Pray accept my apologies." "Not at all, Colonel," said Granger. "Appearances were against us. You were quite justified in your suspicions; it was our misfortune that we couldn’t change our dress on the way.... I’ve had many a close shave," he added in an undertone to Kenneth, "but was never quite so near my quietus." "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.