“You ought to know,” she smiled. “We expect you to tell us. Your leg is broken below the knee. Just the small bone, you know. Do you mean to say you did not know it?”
“I should say not!” said Zaidos. “You are sure it is broken? It hurts a lot, but I don’t see how it could be broken without my knowing it.”
“Yes, it is certainly broken,” the nurse repeated.
“Oh, you are talking English, aren’t you?” cried Zaidos with delight.
“Why, yes. This is an English Red Cross ship,” replied the nurse. “You are English, are you not? Or American?”
Zaidos shook his head. “No, I’m a Greek,” he explained. “But I’ve been in America at school since I was a little chap, and I have had an English room-mate for three years.”
“That’s it, then,” said the nurse. “You must not talk now, however. You must drink this and sleep if you can. There are a lot of badly hurt men here. You are all right, but pretty well water-soaked and tired out. Try to sleep.”
She started on, but Zaidos put out his hand and detained her.
“Just a moment, please,” he said, smiling at her in his sunny way. “Is there a fellow here called Velo Kupenol? Tall fellow, thin, and looks a little like me perhaps?”
“Perhaps not again,” said the nurse, frowning a little. “Yes, your friend is here. He does not seem to have anything the matter with him, yet he acts like a very sick boy.”