"Truly shooting them?"
"_Como lo oyes_," the corporal said.
"That old one kills more than the bubonic plague. _Mata mas que la peste bubonica_.
But he doesn't kill fascists like we do. _Que va_.
Not in joke. _Mata bichos raros_.
He kills rare things.
Trotzkyites.
Divagationers.
Any type of rare beasts."
Andres did not understand any of this.
"When we were at Escorial we shot I don't know how many for him," the corporal said.
"We always furnish the firing party.
The men of the Brigades would not shoot their own men.
Especially the French.
To avoid difficulties it is always us who do it.
We shot French.
We have shot Belgians.
We have shot others of divers nationality.
Of all types. _Tiene mania de fusilar gente_.
Always for political things.
He's crazy. _Purifica mas que el Salvarsan_.
He purifies more than Salvarsan."
"But you will tell some one of this dispatch?"
"Yes, man.
Surely.
I know every one of these two Brigades.
Every one comes through here.
I know even up to and through the Russians, although only a few speak Spanish.
We will keep this crazy from shooting Spaniards."
"But the dispatch."
"The dispatch, too.
Do not worry, Comrade.
We know how to deal with this crazy.
He is only dangerous with his own people.
We understand him now."
"Bring in the two prisoners," came the voice of Andre Marty.
"_Quereis echar un trago?_" the corporal asked.
"Do you want a drink?"
"Why not?"
The corporal took a bottle of anis from a cupboard and both Gomez and Andres drank.
So did the corporal.
He wiped his mouth on his hand.
"_Vamonos_," he said.
They went out of the guard room with the swallowed burn of the anis warming their mouths, their bellies and their hearts and walked down the hall and entered the room where Marty sat behind a long table, his map spread in front of him, his red-and-blue pencil, with which he played at being a general officer, in his hand.
To Andres it was only one more thing.
There had been many tonight.
There were always many.
If your papers were in order and your heart was good you were in no danger.
Eventually they turned you loose and you were on your way.
But the _Ingles_ had said to hurry.