"It would have written one of its darned notes."
"Oh!" said Father Constantine, disappointed at this unexpected reply. "It would have written one of those notes? They must be very interesting to compose, but will not mend broken heads. And England won't even write a note. But her brothers would probably blame us for letting her stop here. And Ruvno is one of the most dangerous houses in Poland. You can see for yourself what the Prussians have done to the tower and the west wing."
"That I have," agreed the major, more interested in the west wing than the prospect of Minnie's broken skull. "I'd like to wring the Kaiser's neck for bringing down that old bit." He was an admirer of antiquities, you see, and Minnie was still far from being one. "No, Father, Poland isn't safe for young girls and I'll speak to her about it."
He rose from the depths of the armchair.
"Thank you so much. It will be a great weight off our minds when we know that this charming young lady is out of danger. When did you say you were returning to France?"
"Not yet. I'll have to go to Moscow, and can take her to Petrograd and find an escort for her to England."
The Countess came in then and Healy went off. Minnie was half-way across the room on her way out when a laugh from the patient stopped her. There was something wicked about it, out of keeping with a broken skull and high temperature.
"What is it?" asked the Countess.
He laughed again. The visit had cheered him immensely.
"I think I've managed it."