"No," interrupted John Bull. "It only means more trouble turning into Europeans again at Oran. We want to be four obvious civilians, of the sort who could, without exciting suspicion, take the train at a wayside station."
"What nationalities are you?" enquired the Jew.
"English," was the reply.
"Then take my advice and don't pretend to be French," said the other, and added, "Are any of the others gentlemen?"
Sir Montague Merline smiled.
"One," he said.
"Then you and that other had better go as what you are—English gentlemen. If you are questioned, do not speak too good French, but get red in the face and say, 'Goddam' … Yes, I think one of you might have a green veil round his hat.… the others might be horsey or seamen.… Swiss waiters.… Music-hall artistes.… Or German touts, bagmen or spies.… Father Abraham! That's an idea! To get deported as a German spy! Ha, ha!" There was a knock at the door.…
"Escuche!" he whispered with an air of mystery, and added, "Quien esta ahi?"
"It's the Lord Mayor o' Lunnon, Ole Cock," announced 'Erb as he entered. "Come fer a new set of robes an' a pearly 'at."
"That one can go either as a dismissed groom, making his way back to England, or an out-of-work Swiss waiter," declared Mendoza, as his artist eye and ear took in the details of 'Erb's personality.
A great actor and actor manager had been lost in le bon M. Mendoza, and he enjoyed the work of adapting
