The lean, grey moustached face of the German showed stern resolution; his blue eves were cold and commanding; the blue black steel barrel of the big pistol that was trained so unwaveringly upon Charlton's middle held a threat which he could not ignore. It would have been stark lunacy to force the hand of such a man with such a weapon. Pulling up with a jerk Freddie slowly raised his clenched fists above his head.
As he stared at the German he thought with bitter fury how utterly futile it had been to spend the last thirty miserable hours hiding in the wood only to be caught at last. Evidently Gregory had been quite wrong in his supposition that, having searched the wood without success, the soldiers would conclude that the fugitive airmen had succeeded in getting further afield and abandon the hunt for them there. Obviously the officer who was staring at him so intently could be in the wood only for the purpose of inspecting pickets that he had left posted in it the previous night.
When the German rapped out, "Was machen Sie hier?" it conveyed nothing to him; he could only reply
"Sorry, I don't understand."
"You are English, eh?" exclaimed the officer with evident surprise, and lowering his gun a little he added: "I asked what is it that you do in this place."
He spoke fluent, if ungrammatical, English and his question made Charlton stare, since it showed that he was not, after all, an officer of the anti aircraft battery and evidently had not heard that two enemy airmen were being sought for in the neighbourhood.
"Perhaps you'll tell us what you're doing here yourself?" said a quiet voice, and swinging round Freddie saw that the sound of talking had wakened Gregory. He was now standing up and stepped out of the gully on to the higher ground at its edge.
The German's blue eyes narrowed in a queer, uneasy look or a second, but he straightened himself and said abruptly: "I own this wood so I haf a very goot right to be here in. What two Englishmen should be making here in time of war is another question and I haf the right to demand the answer."
From where Gregory was standing he could see the officer’s rank badges and a pile of tumbled rugs round his feet. He bowed, lightly and his voice held a gentle note of amusement as he Said: "Herr Oberst, if you own this wood presumably you also own the charming little manor house just through the trees there? I have no right to question you at all but I confess that 'I’m extremely curious to know why, instead of sleeping in your own bed, you passed the night in the ditch where you are now standing."
"Enough of this!" said the Colonel, with rising irritation. "You will observe, please, that I am armed while you haf not. Reply instantlich to my question! What do you do here?"
"The same as you, apparently."
"Donnerwetter! I haf a right to camp out if I am wishing," the German snapped. "What else do you think I make but hard sleeping which for a soldier is goot?"
"Why, that you are trying to keep out of the hands of the Gestapo, of course," Gregory grinned.
For a second the Colonel's jaw dropped, then he said harshly: "Absurdity l What makes you that believe?"
"Simply because even the most hardened soldier would not spend a night in the woods at this season of the year if he could sleep in his own comfortable bed. Evidently the Putsch was a failure and you're on the run."
"ThePutsch! What do you know of that?"
"I started it." Gregory pulled back the flap of his greatcoat and displayed the Iron Cross of the First Class which was still pinned upon his chest. "For the part I played General Count von Pleisen honoured me with this. I can only say how immeasurably distressed I am to learn from your presence here, Herr Oberst, that the Nazis succeeded in suppressing the rebellion which was to have freed Germany."
The Colonel suddenly, put his pistol back in its holster and took a step forward. "Gott im Himmel.'I thought I haf somewhere seen your face. I was at der Pleisen Palest with the comradeship of officers before the Putsch when the Count decorated you. Permit that I introduce myself." Drawing himself up he clicked his heels and bowed sharply from the waist, "Oberst Baron von Lutz."
Gregory imitated the movement and rapped out his name, adding with a wave of his hand: "This is flight Lieutenant Charlton. After I'd completed my mission he was to fly me home and we left from a secret air field, east of Berlin, on the night of the 8th; but we were shot down a couple of miles on the far side of this wood and have been hiding here ever since."
"Ach so! I knew nothing of this as I escape from the Capital only last night."
"Then, I take it that all hope of the Putsch succeeding has been abandoned?"
Colonel Baron von Lutz nodded despondently. "It might haf succeeded if Hitler had been blown up in Munich as was planned, but swiftly it becomes known that he had escape the bomb and all Army leaders outside Berlin postponed action. This makes him free to concentrate his entire effort against those who in the Capital had risen. He sent bombing squadrons against us early yesterday morning which caused many casualties the Artillery and Tank Depots. Battalions of S.S. and S.A. men were rushed to the city from all quarters of the Reich. By afternoon our situation desperate became. At six o'clock five four leading Generals haf taken decision to give their brother officers chances to escape, also to save further slaughter of their men by issuing the 'Cease fire!' order and giving themselves up.
I haf the goot fortune to get away by automobile but I walked the last twelve kilometres point to point so that of the local people none should see me to my estate arrive."
"A sad ending to a gallant effort, Herr Oberst Baron," Gregory said, in an attempt to hearten the elderly officer, "but it is only a postponement. Germany will yet throw off the Nazi yoke.
"Most true. But in the meantime the names of all who attacked the Gestapo Chiefs in the Adlon and of many other officers who participated in the revolt will haf been listed. If among the dead their bodies are not found they will be hunted, as the hares, to all corners of the Reich. Few of us who were in the rising of the 8th will live to see the day of freedom."
"As far as you're concerned…" Gregory paused to step back and support himself against a tree "… since you managed to get this far there's a decent chance that you may be able to remain in hiding until the time when there is a successful revolution."
Von Lutz brushed up his grey moustache. "I shall certainly endeavour to do so; but if the Nazis hunt me out I intend to sell my life very dear."
"It seems that the three of us are in the same boat," Gregory smiled weakly; "although Charlton, here, could surrender peaceably if he wished, since when he was shot down he was acting as an R.A.F. officer on duty."
"Oh, if there's any fighting you can count me in," Freddie shrugged. "I'd rather take a chance with you two now than he starved to death in a prisoners of war camp. We couldn't put up much of a fight without arms; but perhaps the Baron could help us there?"
"Yes; arms and food that's what we need," muttered Gregory. "I'm afraid, though, that in my case I shan't be able to give much of an account of myself for a day or two."
Von Lutz gave him a searching look. "You are pale. And surely those stains under your left arm are dried blood? Are you wounded?"
"I got one through the shoulder during that fight at the Adlon. The wound's not dangerous but it's become inflamed, and I've an idea that I was delirious last night."
"You certainly were," Freddie supplemented. "How're you feeling now?"
"Pretty groggy. I'm still running a temperature."