He talked freely and
ably of such things as tanks, the limited objective in the attack
and the decentralization of responsibility in the field.
Encouraged by his volubility, for he was a man who delighted in
conversation, Desmond gradually gave the talk a personal turn.
But willing as Mortimer showed himself to discuss the war
generally, about his personal share he was as mute as a fish. Try
as he would Desmond could get nothing out of him. Again and
again, he brought the conversation round to personal topics; but
every time his companion contrived to switch it back to general
lines.
At last Desmond risked a direct question. By this time a pint of
Pommery and Greno was tingling in his veins and he felt he didn't
care if the roof fell in.
"Ever since Nur-el-Din told me yon were of the Crown Prince's
personal service," he said, "I have been devoured with curiosity
to know what you were doing before you came to England. Were you
at Metz with his Imperial Highness? Did you see the assault at
Verdun? Were you present at the capture of the Fort of
Douaumont?" '
Mortimer shook his head, laughing, and held up a deprecating
hand.
"Professional discretion, my dear fellow, professional
discretion!" he retorted. "You know what it is!"
Then lowering his voice, he added:
"Between ourselves the less said about my connection with Master
Willie the better.
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