“Qui de vous a brulé l’avion, et ou est votre comrade?” I quite well understood his French, but I felt it would be better policy to say nothing, so I looked absolutely blank. Again he demanded who burned the airplane and where was my comrade, which ultimatum he sharpened by a threatening “Vite! Vite!” I realized that something was necessary on my part, for deafness would be a very lame excuse for any flyer, so, I told him in English that I did not understand him. “Ah,” he smiled in delight, finding his prize had been even greater than he had expected, “then you are English or American. Which?” He said this in perfect English, which upset my whole scheme of reticence, for it did not occur to me that he spoke still a third language. I said nothing, but looked at the ground, contemplating my reply. “American or British?” he demanded. I was proud of my nationality, so, looking up, I threw out my chest and exclaimed, “I’m American.” I expected him to immediately recognize the strength of my citizenship, just as the wise old Biblical character, whoever he was, got out of a tight hole by saying that he was a Roman. I had a surprise awaiting me, however, for he gave me a cynical laugh that gave him an opportunity to divert from the subject in mind. “So you are an American, are you?” he sneeringly went on. “Well, I’ve lived in your America ten years, myself, and I know you all. You’re a rotten bunch of lying hypocrites.” Strange as it may seem I did not see fit to take issue with him under the circumstances, so, he went on with another little round of abuse of the Americans that made my blood boil, but again I failed to go to the bat for my country. Thinking he had sufficiently riled me, he started on the subject of more vital importance. “Now, which one of you burned that plane?” he sharply demanded. Again I said nothing, but I thought a lot, for since he was getting so individualistic about it, I was convinced that we were in a pretty serious situation; yet I knew I was going to have to answer that question. I was hoping that if Davis was caught he would say that he did it and I knew that Davis was human, and was hoping that I would say that I did it. He interrupted my silent study. “Are you going to answer?” he growled. What would I say to get by? I decided to spar. “It burned itself,” was my brilliant repartee. “Don’t lie to me,” he hissed. “It might have been afire when you started down, but we saw you go back and burn it.” “Well, if you saw me go back and burn it, why did you ask me who did it?” I unthoughtedly retorted, and then I was sorry for if at first I thought him fierce, he had now become an irate demon. “You did do it then, eh?” he said persuasively, as he slowly looked around to his companions in order that they might bear witness to my confession. “What’s the use,” I thought to myself, so, I looked him squarely in the eyes and said, “Yes, I did it.”