[pshrynk]

Harv continued to struggle against the ropes holding him to the millstone. Who in their right mind made a millstone with tie downs? Obviously the sign of a disoriented and ill mind. Even more annoying than the professional job the Nazis had done with the ropes was the whinging coming from Biggles. He had long ago tuned out the complaints about not being allowed to go first to ghastly death and the roughness of the ropes and the beam of sunlight from the holey roof that was lancing his face and he just had to wait until the whole thing had turned away in order to not be blinded before being horribly crushed and mutilated, he supposed.

"Biggles!" he finally cried out.

"Yes, Old Boy?"

"Do you ever shut up?"

"Never that I have been aware of. An old family tradtion! It's managed to keep us out of harm's way on more than one occasion, I might say, as well."

"Huh?"

"Well, my great great grandfather Biggles was chatting up a barmaid at the Twin Oxen Pub in Lexington when the British came knocking up the Colonials and he completely missed the battle. Swore that it saved his life."

"Your great great grandfather was a British soldier in the Revolution?"

"Dear me, no! My family has been in New England since the Mayflower, old chap! Great great grandfather Biggles was a colonel in the Massachusetts Militia."

"A Minute Man? Your great great grandfather was a Minute Man?"

"Yes. Very well known."

"Then when did you move to England?"

"England, Old Boy? I've never been in England in my life? What makes you say that?"

"Well, I was just thinking, what with the accent..."

"Didn't I just say that I hailed from New England?"

"Well, yes..."

"There are parts of New England that are older than others, Old Boy."

Harv opened his mouth to point out the inherent absurdity of that, but was distracted by the door exploding inward with some force.