"Good God!" And then: "He can't have told the general anything against me. . . . Then it must be against . . ." Levin said: "Do you want the general always to be told things against you in contradistinction to things about . . . another person." Tietjens said: "We shall be keeping the fellows in my cook-house a confoundedly long time waiting for inspections. . . . I'm in your hands as regards the general. . . ." Levin said: "The general's in your hut: thankful to goodness to be alone. He never is. He said he was going to write a private memorandum for the Secretary of State, and I could keep you any time I liked as long as I got everything out of you. . . ." Tietjens said: "Did what Major Thurston allege take place . . . Thurston has lived most of his life in France. . . . But you had better not tell me. . . ." Levin said: "He's our anti-craft liaison officer with the French civilian authorities. Those sort of fellows generally have lived in France a good deal. A very decentish, quiet man. He plays chess with the general and they talk over the chess. . . . But the general is going to talk about what he said to you himself. . . ." Tietjens said: "Good God! ... He going to talk as well as you. . . . You'd say the coils were closing in. . . ." Levin said: "We can't go on like this. . . . It's my own fault for not being more direct. But this can't last all day. We could neither of us stand it. . . . I'm pretty nearly done. . . ." Tietjens said: "Where _did_ your father come from, really? Not from Frankfurt? . . ." Levin said: "Constantinople. . . . His father was financial agent to the Sultan; my father was his son by an Armenian presented to him by the Selamlik along with the Order of the Medjidje, first class." "It accounts for your very decent manner, and for your common sense. If you had been English I should have broken your neck before now." Levin said: "Thank you! I hope I always behave like an English gentleman. But I am going to be brutally direct now. . . ." He went on: "The really queer thing is that you should always address Miss Wannop in the language of the Victorian _Correct Letter-Writer_. You must excuse my mentioning the name: it shortens things. You said 'Miss Wannop' every two or three half-minutes. It convinced the general more than any possible assertions that your relations were perfectly . . ." Tietjens, his eyes shut, said: "I talked to Miss Wannop in my sleep. . . ." Levin, who was shaking a little, said: "It was very queer. . . . Almost ghostlike. . . . There you sat, your arms on the table. Talking away. You appeared to be writing a letter to her. And the sunlight streaming in at the hut. I was going to wake you, but he stopped me. He took the view that he was on detective work, and that he might as well detect He had got it into his mind that you were a Socialist." "He would," Tietjens commented. "Didn't I tell you he was beginning to learn things? . . ." Levin exclaimed: