“No good. They wouldn’t let anybody in. They say he just lies with his eyes half open. When you say he’s alive that ends it. It’s a matter of days, they say.”
“Seems like we ought to do something—this crowd he trained with,” said O’Mera.
“We’ll get together and send him some bang-up flowers,” said Randall. “One of those pillow things, or a horseshoe or something. Most likely they’ll want us for pall-bearers.”
“I sent him a box of cigars and a book,” said Kraemer, seriously.
“Which, being unconscious, he’s enjoyed like the devil,” said La Mothe. “There’s the Teutonic mind for you, fellows. Gets an idea and goes ahead with it regardless.... I suppose if Potter had been an Englishman you’d have sent him cigars with dynamite in ’em.” La Mothe took great joy in baiting Kraemer, for whom, nevertheless, he had a very considerable affection.
“You always send cigars and books to a sick man,” Kraemer said.
“And torpedo vessels—even when there are women and babies on ’em. Women and babies ought to keep off vessels, is that your idea?”
“Of course.... Listen here, you fellows.” His voice changed to the voice of one repeating a lesson learned by heart. Even the wording was not his own. “Germany acted within her rights in sinking the Lusitania, because she gave preliminary notice to all the world by establishing a war zone around England. She gave special notice to travelers before the sailing of the Lusitania. England is to blame for what happened because she used American citizens as human shields to guard ammunition supplies on an English auxiliary cruiser.”
“Hear! Hear!” applauded La Mothe. “Doesn’t he recite beautifully! Who taught you the piece, Wilhelm?”
“I hear the von Essen girl is coming out all right,” said Watts.