"Then," said the King slowly, "Jean was not with you?"
Only he did not call him Jean. He gave him his other name, which, like
Henri's, is not to be told.
Henri's brain cleared then with the news that Jean was missing. When,
somewhat later, he staggered out of the villa, it was under royal
instructions to report to the great hospital along the sea front and
near by, and there to go to bed and have a doctor. Indeed, because the
boy's eyes were wild by that time, the equerry went along and held his
arm. But that was because Henri was in open revolt, and while walking
steadily enough showed a tendency to bolt every now and then.
He would stop on the way and argue, though one does not argue easily
with an equerry.
"I must go," he would say fretfully. "God knows where he is. He'd
never give me up if I were the one."
And once he shook off the equerry violently and said: "Let go of me, I tell you! I'll come back and go to bed when I've
found him."
The equerry soothed him like a child.
An English nurse took charge of Henri in the hospital, and put him to
bed. He was very polite to her, and extremely cynical. She sat in a
chair by his bed and held the key of the room in her hand. Once he
thought she was Sara Lee, but that was only for a moment. She did not
look like Sara Lee. And she was suspicious, too; for when he asked her
what she could put in her left hand that she could not put in her right,
she moved away and placed the door key on the stand, out of reach.
However, toward morning she dozed. There was steady firing at Nieuport
and the windows shook constantly. An ambulance came in, followed by a
stirring on the lower floor. Then silence. He got up then and secured
the key. There was no time for dressing, because she was a suspicious
person and likely to waken at any time. He rolled his clothing into a
bundle and carried it under his well arm. The other was almost useless.
The ambulance was still waiting outside, at the foot of the staircase.
There were voices and lights in the operating room, forward along the
tiled hall. Still in his night clothing, Henri got into the ambulance
and threw his uniform behind him. Then he got the car under way.
Outside the village he paused long enough to dress. His head was
amazingly clear. He had never felt so sure of himself before. As to
his errand he had no doubt whatever. Jean had learned that he had
crossed the channel. Therefore Jean had taken up his work--Jean, who
had but one eye and was as clumsy as a bear. The thought of Jean
crawling through the German trenches set him laughing until he ended
with a sob.