“I wish you would,” said Zaidos. “I have often wondered how your people could let a dandy girl like you get into this sort of thing.” He wanted to say such a pretty girl, but did not quite have the courage to do it. “You know you might even get hurt.”
“It’s quite likely,” said Helen simply. “One has to accept that chance. And there is a chance about everything. A lot of the people in this war, dreadful as it is, will go home when it is over, and get run over by London busses, or fall down stairs, or things like that.”
“Or slip on banana peels,” added Zaidos. “You are right about it. I wonder I never thought of it before.”
“Who is Velo Kupenol?” asked Helen. “Is he really your cousin?”
“My second cousin, to be exact,” said Zaidos. “He has lived at our house ever since he was a boy eight years old. I don’t exactly understand Velo lots of the time.”
“I wouldn’t think he was too awfully hard to understand,” said Helen.
“Well, he is,” said Zaidos. “He has been just nice to me ever since I was hurt, but he has done some of the queerest things. And what he told the doctor about what happened the day we were in the water—Oh well, I can’t explain it very well!”
Zaidos was too modest to tell Helen that the account had simply been twisted around to Velo’s advantage.
“Don’t try,” commented Helen. “There is one thing I feel as though I ought to tell you. That is that I want you to watch that cousin of yours. If we are doing him an injustice, we will find it out just so much sooner. Otherwise it pays to be on guard. Just tell me one thing, John. If anything happened to you, would there be anything for Velo to gain by your death?”
Zaidos looked uncomfortable.