Stopping short on his way to the bed, he pointed to the recumbent figure on it, and said to Mercy, in good English, spoken with a strong German accent.
"Can I be of any use there ?" His manner was ironically courteous, his harsh voice was pitched in one sardonic monotony of tone.

Mercy took an instantaneous dislike to this hobbling, ugly old man, staring at her rudely through his great tortoiseshell spectacles.
"You can be of no use, sir," she said, shortly.

"The lady was killed when your troops shelled this cottage." The Englishman started, and looked compassionately toward the bed.
The German refreshed himself with a pinch of snuff, and put another question.
"Has the body been examined by a medical man ?" he asked.
Mercy ungraciously limited her reply to the one necessary word "Yes." The present surgeon was not a man to be daunted by a lady's disapproval of him.

He went on with his questions.
"Who has examined the body ?" he inquired next.
Mercy answered, "The doctor attached to the French ambulance." The German grunted in contemptuous disapproval of all Frenchmen, and all French institutions.

The Englishman seized his first opportunity of addressing himself to Mercy once more.
"Is the lady a countrywoman of ours ?" he asked, gently.
Mercy considered before she answered him.