"The Germans do Ranjoor Singh's thinking for him these days," said one man; "take that answer and let us see what the Germans have to say to it through his mouth!" So I went and told Ranjoor Singh, whispering to him in a corner of the officers' mess.

Some Turks had joined the Germans and most of them were bending over maps that a German officer had spread upon a table in their midst; he was lecturing while the others listened.
Ranjoor Singh had been listening, too, but he backed into a corner as I entered, and all the while I was whispering to him I kept hearing the word Wassmuss--Wassmuss--Wassmuss.

The German who was lecturing explained something about this Wassmuss.
"What is Wassmuss ?" I asked, when I had given Ranjoor Singh the men's answer.

He smiled into my eyes.
"Wassmuss is the key to the door," said he.
"To which door ?" I asked him.
"There is only one," he answered.
"Shall I tell that to the men ?" said I.
At that he began scowling at me, stroking his beard with one hand.
Then he stepped back and forth a time or two.

And when he saw with the corner of his eye that he had the senior German officer's attention he turned on me and glared again.