The governor nodded impatiently.
Capper leaned far over the desk, and began in an eager whisper:
"General, remember Cook—that chap in Rangoon—the polo player?" The other looked blank. "Haven't forgitten him, General? How he lived in Burma two years, mingling with the English, until one day somebody discovered his name was Koch and that he was a mighty unhealthy chap to have about the fortifications. Surely"
"Yes, I remember him now. But what"
"There was Hollister, too. You played billiards in your club with Hollister, I fancy. Thought him all right, too—until a couple of secret-service men walked into the club one day and clapped handcuffs on him. Remember that, General?"
The commander exclaimed snappishly that he could not see his visitor's drift.
"I'm just refreshing your memory. General," Capper hastened to reassure. "Just reminding you that there isn't much difference between a German and an Englishman, after all—if the German wants to play the Englishman and knows his book. He can fool a lot of us."
