"Are you a deserter, Henry, hiding from justice?" Frieda demanded scathingly, and still following the example of the method employed in detective stories, since her experience was so exactly of the same kind.
I Assure You I Have Official Permission
"I most certainly am not, my dear," Professor Russell answered firmly, but still somewhat apologetically.
"I was slightly wounded soon after my arrival at the front. But I also found that my scientific knowledge could be of more service than my abilities as a soldier. So I came back to England and have been experimenting with gas bombs with that in mind. I assure you I have official permission."
"Then why have you been hiding and why did you come down here?"
Professor Russell looked at Frieda and smiled slowly.
"You are the answer to both those questions, Frieda."
Unexpectedly Frieda's blue eyes filled with tears.
"I don't see how you can say that, Henry, when you have never even tried to see me, or to let me know what had become of you. You knew I was suffering horribly for fear you might be hurt or dead or something and you wouldn't write me."