"I suppose I must have a pretty tough skull." "Any news ?" "News enough, of a sort, if you haven't heard it.

They caught the man who sandbagged me, and who I presume sawed your plank through, and shot him last night." "The devil they did!" Furley exclaimed, taking his pipe from his mouth.
"Shot him?
Who the mischief was he, then ?" "It appears," Julian replied, "that he was a German hairdresser, who escaped from an internment camp two years ago and has been at large ever since, keeping in touch, somehow or other, with his friends on the other side.

He must have known the game was up as soon as he was caught.

He didn't even attempt any defence." "Shot, eh ?" Furley repeated, relighting his pipe.

"Serves him damned well right!" "You think so, do you ?" Julian remarked pensively.
"Who wouldn't?
I hate espionage.