“That has always been our trouble, hasn’t it? The unsubdued Spanish zone,” he said, moodily. “What does Bartels do with his two thousand riflemen?”
“He wages war. He comes across into French Morocco, and raids and loots and burns and generally plays the devil. And, mark you, he gets information; he chooses his time cleverly. When we are just about to embark fresh troops to France, that’s his favourite moment. The troops have to be retained, rushed quickly up country—and he, Bartels, is snugly back on the Spanish side of the line and we can’t touch him. Bartels, my dear De Montignac”—and here Baumann, of the Affaires Indigènes, tapped the table impressively with the butt of his pencil—“Bartels has got to be dealt with.”
“Yes,” Gerard replied. “But how, doesn’t seem quite so obvious, does it?”
“We leave that with every confidence to you, my dear Colonel.”
“Oh, you do, do you! I don’t know that I’ve the type of brain for that job,” he said, and thought disconsolately how often he had jeered at the officers who simply passed everything that wasn’t in “the book.” He would very much have liked to take the same line now. “How does this fellow Bartels get his twelve thousand pounds?”
“Through Tetuan probably. We don’t quite know,” said Baumann.
“And where exactly is his camp on the map?” Gerard asked next.
“We are not sure. We can give you, of course, a general idea.”
“We have nobody amongst his two thousand men, then?”
“Not a soul. So, you see, you have a clear field.”
“Yes, I see that, and I need hardly say that I am very grateful,” said De Montignac.
Baumann was not quick to appreciate irony even in its crudest form. He smiled as one accepting compliments.
“We do our best, my dear Gerard,” and Gerard beamed with satisfaction. He had heard what he had wanted to hear, and he would not spoil its flavour. He rose at once and took up his cap.
“I will go and see the Governor-General.”
“You will find him next door,” said Baumann. “We keep him next door to us whilst he is in Paris, so far as we can.”
“You are very wise,” said Gerard, gravely, and he went next door, which was the War Office. There he met his chief, who said:
“You have seen Baumann? Good! Take a little leave, but go as soon as you can. Ten days, eh? I will see you in a fortnight at Rabat,” and the Governor-General passed on to the Elysée.