"What is your rank?" the German asked.

"Squadron leader!"

"Oh!"

The two stood up, and now there was no mistake about the German's
heels; they clicked. The two were almost of a height, although the
Sikh's head--dress made him seem the taller. They were both unusually
fine--looking men, and limb for limb they matched.

"If war were in Europe you would be taken there to fight," said the
German.

Ranjoor Singh showed no surprise.

"Whether you wanted to fight or not."

There was no hint of laughter in the Sikh's brown eyes.

"Germany has no quarrel with the Sikhs."

"I have heard of none," said Ranjoor Singh.

"Wherever the German flag should fly, after a war, the Sikhs would
have free footing."

Ranjoor Singh looked interested, even pleased.

"Who is not against Germany is for her."