“Will you oblige me with the story of your recent doings?” he asked.

“I can’t, guv’nor,” I said in a real beggar’s whine. “I’ve not had a bite to eat for two days. Give me a mouthful of food, and then you’ll hear God’s truth.”

I must have showed my hunger in my face, for he signalled to one of the men in the doorway. A bit of cold pie was brought and a glass of beer, and I wolfed them down like a pig⁠—or rather, like Ned Ainslie, for I was keeping up my character. In the middle of my meal he spoke suddenly to me in German, but I turned on him a face as blank as a stone wall.