He took no heed of any of those standing about, except to give an occasional order as he worked; and after ten minutes he looked up at the Czar and said:
“There is no danger, sire.”
“Thank God!” exclaimed the Czar again. “I will not have him die. He shall have the best that the Empire affords. Have him taken to my own suite immediately.”
And the Czar would hear of nothing else. Lord Hastings he commanded to be his guest in the palace and the latter could do naught but comply.
And so, for the next three days, Jack lay ill in the Czar’s palace. Daily he grew stronger, for he was of a vigorous and healthy constitution and after the first day there was absolutely no danger.
It was a dismal time for Lord Hastings, who now had both of his officers on the sick list; and the commander of the D-17 divided his time between the sick room in the Czar’s palace and the hospital, where Frank was confined.
But at last the time came when the physician decided that Jack could get up and move about a little. This was indeed welcome news to Jack, who insisted, the first day he was out of bed, upon being taken to see Frank.
“Well,” said Frank, as he greeted his chum with outstretched hand, “it seems that if I get into a little trouble, you must do likewise.”
“That’s not the reason I did it,” was the reply. “Say, we’re a couple of fine officers for King George, aren’t we? We’re always in trouble of some kind. The first thing you know, he’ll be asking for our resignations.”
“Oh, I guess not,” said Lord Hastings, who had overheard this remark. “However, I am greatly afraid that I am going to lose you both.”