NUMBER 28
For a month the Landes Hospital had been greatly interested in the mystery of patient Number 28. In spite of the imminence of war, and the preparations which were being made to care for the wounded along the border, the physicians, the nurses, and the other patients had all formed theories as to the man's history and the possible causes of his injuries. And during the long period in which he lay unconscious, hovering in the dim realm between life and death, not a day passed in which his temperature, respiration, and other symptoms were not discussed from one end of the hospital to the other. The Head Surgeon, Colonel Bohratt, inclined to the opinion that if the man continued for a few days longer without change he would recover. But the Head Nurse shook her head sagely. The wound in the head had been difficult, as the operation was an unusual one, the wound in the shoulder was nothing, but the one in the stomach! If the operation of Colonel Bohratt proved successful, then a miracle had been performed.
The interest in the case, both from the sentimental as well as the professional point of view, was so great that the man's bed had been carefully wheeled from a ward where he had been taken from the operating table, into a private room, where every chance would be given him to recover.
On the twenty-seventh of July, Fräulein Roth, the nurse on duty at the bedside of the man of mystery, noted a slight change in his breathing, and saw that he had opened his eyes, which were regarding her calmly, but with the puzzled expression of one who has come a great distance into a strange country. She knew then that what the Head Surgeon had said was true, and that the man of mystery had turned the corner which led away from the land of the Great Beyond. But being a prudent person, she gave no sign of her delight, merely moving softly closer to the bedside, and in German quietly asked him if he felt better.
The man did not or could not reply at once, but she saw that his gaze slowly passed beyond her to the bare walls of the room and to the open window, beyond which were clouds, sunshine, and the distant drowsy murmur of the city.
"You are feeling more comfortable?" she asked again, in German.
"Yes," he muttered.
"You have been sick," she whispered softly, smoothing his pillow.
"Ah, yes, sick," the man muttered, and closing his eyes, slept again.
It was not long before the news of the awakening of Number 28 had reached the nurses and attending physicians. Colonel Bohratt, greatly pleased at the correctness of his prophecy and the end of the period of coma, at once a tribute to his wisdom as well as to his professional skill, came himself and viewed the patient, gave directions for treatment and predicted speedy recovery.