“Thank God for that,” said Bertram.
“Upper Silesia has been divided by the League of Nations. The Germans are howling in agony.”
“I guessed they would,” said Dr. Weekes. “Any local news?”
The Colonel pondered again.
“Sims left his heart behind him in Kazan, with that Persian prima donna. Sad business!”
“A libel, sir!” said Sims.
The Colonel thought again, and a grave look, not of mockery, came into his face.
“One tragic thing that makes us all sad. Our Russian Princess—you remember her?—Nadia—died a week ago. Typhus. A most devoted and beautiful young lady. I hate to think of it.”
“I’m sorry,” said Dr. Weekes, in a low voice.
Bertram said nothing.