When the captain looks up, he looks into the round opening of a Luger revolver.
“This is a sad moment for me, mon Capitaine,” Sergeant Zhakof tells him. “But from this moment on, you are under arrest. Please do not resist because then I would have no choice but to shoot you to death in the interest of the French Foreign Legion.”
mon Capitaine Outside, Fritz Mundt had hit the orderly only once. He now enters the office and stands behind and to the side of Zhakof.
Lefevre’s voice is low and unclear when he rises halfway, and glancing angrily at Zhakof, he says. “You are a fool, Zhakof. You are a stupid, blind fool, and they will court-martial you for this. Then, after that, you will land up in front of the white wall.”
“We can talk about that later, mon Capitaine,” Zhakof answers fearles
