"One you've been attending?"
"Yes."
"What arm—the artillery?" he asked with sudden interest.
"Yes, the artillery."
He turned towards the door of the hospital again. "One of my men? What battery? Do you know?"
"Not yours—Schiller's."
"Schiller's! A Boer?"
She nodded. "A Boer spy, caught by Boer bullets as he was going back."
"When was that?"
"This morning early."