When he had laid his violin in its case, the old American doctor came forward, with his hand extended.
“Let me, as an American and a Christian, thank you, sir,” he said.
One by one the group of Americans came to shake hands with him, the last being Paula, who held his hand a moment and said softly:
“Thank you, Barry. I believe all that stuff now. I have learned it here.”
The last of all to come was the V. A. D. Shyly, with a smile radiant through her tears, she offered her hand, saying: “Thank you! He would have liked that, I know.”
“Captain Dunbar, where's your own violin?” The abrupt tone of the A. D. C. S. startled them all.
“At home, sir. I didn't think a chaplain would need one.”
“Whose violin in this?” asked the A. D. C. S. in his brusque manner.
“I rather think this is mine,” said one of the doctors.
“Will you sell it? I'll buy it from you, at any price you say. I want it for him.”