United States or Lebanon ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
"However, in consideration of the happy chance that mate you the instrument unter Gott of this Pooterage flying-machine reaching his Highness's hand, you haf been spared. Yes, you were the pearer of goot tidings. You will be allowed to remain on this ship until it is convenient to dispose of you. Do you understandt?"
"It is fery curious and amusing, yes: but I am afraid the Prince may be annoyt. He acted wiz his usual decision always he acts wiz wonterful decision. Like Napoleon. Directly he was tolt of your descent into the camp at Dornhof, he said, 'Pring him! pring him! It is my schtar! His schtar of Destiny! You see? He will be dthwarted. He directed you to come as Herr Pooterage, and you haf not done so.
It can all pe done, Herr Pooterage." He drummed on the table for a second or so, and resumed. "I haf to tell you, sir, zat you come to us at a crisis in Welt-Politik. There can be no harm now for me to put our plans before you. Pefore you leafe this ship again they will be manifest to all ze worldt. War is perhaps already declared. We go to America.
A higher power" his voice changed its emotional quality, his magnified eyes seemed to dilate "has prought you and your secret straight to us. So!" he bowed his head "so pe it. It is ze Destiny of Chermany and my Prince. I can undershtandt you always carry zat secret. You are afraidt of roppers and spies. So it comes wiz you to us. Mr. Pooterage, Chermany will puy it." "Will she?"
Herr Pooterage was so much more ah! in the picture. I am afraid you are not equal to controlling the flying machine department of our aerial park as he wished you to do. He hadt promised himself that.... "And der was also the prestige the worldt prestige of Pooterage with us.... Well, we must see what we can do." He held out his hand. "Gif me the plans."
The Prince does not listen. He is impatient in the high air. Perhaps he will think his schtar has been making a fool of him. Perhaps he will think I haf been making a fool of him." He wrinkled his forehead, and drew in the corners of his mouth. "I got the plans," said Bert. "Yes. There is that! Yes. But you see the Prince was interested in Herr Pooterage because of his romantic seit.
He was particularly bad with his "b's," and his "th's" softened towards weak "z'ds." He called Bert explosively, "Pooterage." He began with some indistinct civilities, bowed, took a folding-table and chair from behind the door, put the former between himself and Bert, sat down on the latter, coughed drily, and opened his portfolio.
I do not think he approffed of your appearance last night. No! I can't answer for him. He wanted Pooterage, and you haf spoilt it. The Prince I do not understand quite, he is in a strange state. It is the excitement of the starting and this great soaring in the air. I cannot account for what he does. But if all goes well I will see to it you shall haf five hundert poundts. Will that do?
Von Winterfeld told his story, and every now and then the words Ballon and Pooterage struck on Bert's ears. The Prince's face remained stern and ominous and the two officers watched it cautiously or glanced at Bert. There was something a little strange in their scrutiny of the Prince a curiosity, an apprehension. Then presently he was struck by an idea, and they fell discussing the plans.
Then he put his elbows on the table, pinched his lower lip with his two fore-fingers, and regarded Bert disconcertingly with magnified eyes. "You came to us, Herr Pooterage, against your will," he said at last. "'Ow d'you make that out?" asked Bert, after a pause of astonishment. "I chuge by ze maps in your car. They were all English. And your provisions. They were all picnic.
Word Of The Day