"Yes," said the nurse, "with stab wounds in the back, and one in the heart." She regarded her patient keenly a moment, and then went on. "There were no marks of identification upon either of you. You were without clothing. Following so closely upon the assassination of the Archduke Franz and his wife, the circumstances were suspicious, and the police of Sarajevo and the secret service officials have done all they could to find some clew to the murderers. You see," she concluded with a smile, "you are a man of mystery and all Sarajevo awaits your recovery."
"Oh, I see. They are waiting for me to speak?"
Number 28 lay silent, regarding the ceiling intently, frowning a little. His mind worked slowly and Fräulein Roth saw that he found some difficulty in mental concentration.
"We will talk no more at present," she said firmly. "If you are no worse—perhaps again tomorrow."
But on the following day and the next the condition of the patient was not so favorable, for he lay in a drowsy condition and showed no interest in anything. It seemed that the pallid fingers of Death were still stretched over him. There were whispered consultations at the bedside, and a magistrate came to take a deposition, but the Head Surgeon advised delay. He had a reputation at stake.
The wisdom of his advice was soon proved, for at the end of three days Number 28 rallied, his fever subsided, and he smiled again at Nurse Roth. But she had learned wisdom and refused to talk.
Number 28 straightened in bed and ran his thin fingers through the beard with which his face was now covered. He ate of his food with a relish and then eagerly questioned.
"I am quite strong again, Fräulein. See—my hand does not even tremble. Will you not talk with me?"
"My orders are to keep you quiet."
"I have been quiet long enough—a month!" he sighed. "The world does not stand still for a month."