“Oh, I suppose so,” he said. “Why, yes, to be honest with you, he would gain a lot. But I can’t—Oh, he wouldn’t be such a sneak! Perhaps I had better tell you all about everything, now you have sort of adopted me.”
“Not if you think best not to,” said Helen; “but of course I would love to know all about you.”
“And I had better tell you,” said Zaidos. “You see, I have no relatives at all except Velo, and we aren’t too sure of him yet, are we?”
He rapidly recounted the happenings of the past from the time the telegram reached him in far America. Several times Helen interrupted with a keen question.
When Zaidos finished, she sighed.
“Well, John,” she said, “as far as I can see, there is not a thing you can take as a real clue. But it all looks queer, just the same. Sometimes everything will happen so things look black. That is why circumstantial evidence is always so dangerous. But all the same, I worry over you.”
“Don’t do that,” said Zaidos. “I ought to be old enough to look out for myself.”
“What are you going to do when your leg heals?” asked Helen.
“I’m going to join the Red Cross,” said Zaidos.
“How perfectly fine!” exclaimed Helen. “We will be posted together for awhile if you do, because the field hospitals at the front where I am going are very short handed. Don’t you suppose we could persuade Velo that his duty lies in some other sphere of action?”