"
"Being sandbagged seems to have given you an appetite," Furley
observed.
"And a game leg seems to have done the same for you," Julian
rejoined. "Did the doctor ask you how you did it?"
Furley nodded.
"I just said that I slipped on the marshes. One doesn't talk of
such little adventures as you and I experienced last night."
"By the bye, what does one do about them?" Julian enquired. "I
feel a little dazed about it all, even now living in an unreal
atmosphere and that sort of thing, you know. It seems to me that
we ought to have out the bloodhounds and search for an engaging
youth and a particularly disagreeable bully of a man, both dressed
in brown oilskins and--"
"Oh, chuck it!" Furley intervened. "The intelligence department
in charge of this bit of coast doesn't do things like that. What
you want to remember, Julian, is to keep your mouth shut. I shall
have a chap over to see me this afternoon, and I shall make a
report to him."
"All the same," persisted Julian, "we--or rather I--was without
a doubt a witness to an act of treason. By some subtle means
connected with what seemed to be a piece of gas pipe, I have seen
communication with the enemy established."
"You don't know that it was the enemy at all," Furley grunted.
"For us others," Julian replied, "there exists the post office,
the telegraph office and the telephone. I decline to believe that
any reasonable person would put out upon the sea in weather like
last night's for the sake of delivering a letter to any harmless
inhabitant of these regions.
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