“Stop!” cried Lotus, fiercely gripping the young officer’s jacket front. “You say he is well, yet he will not be punished! Do you mean his mind has been injured? That wound on his head ... No! No! I would rather have André dead than insane! Tell me! Tell me the whole truth, or I will call Cho-San!”
Quickly Don gave her an outline of Count Borg’s strange situation, from the moment when he came to his senses in the Gatoon’s sick bay.
“You see, Miss Lotus,” the young commander explained, “your friend is a lot saner now than he was during the seven years he served Scorpia. It is fortunate for him that he doesn’t recall anything of that time. To him, April, nineteen thirty-three, seems only last week!”
The girl’s eyes had filled with tears that suddenly overflowed. Her small mouth quivered like a lost child’s.
“Then—then he isn’t my André any more!” she sobbed softly. “He doesn’t remember that he ever knew me. Now I have nothing left to live for—not even one true friend!”
XXIV
CHO-SAN’S NEWS
A drooping, discouraged little figure, Lotus stumbled back to the closed curtains. As she raised a hand to part them, Don Winslow called her back.
“You are wrong,” he said huskily as the girl turned. “Count Borg needs friends right now. He needs you, Lotus! One of these days he will be released. If he has no friend to whom it matters, he’s going to feel life and liberty aren’t worth much, isn’t he? Answer me that!”
Slowly Lotus’ small chin lifted. Her shoulders lost their discouraged droop.
“Thank you, Don Winslow!” she whispered. “André was like that, too, saying things to give me courage when all seemed hopeless. You resemble each other in more things than voice and appearance. That is why I couldn’t ever betray you to Cho-San! But come! It is dangerous to talk here longer. We must return to the living room, in case Cho-San comes looking for us.”