"He is conscious now; I will call you when the time comes. Go into that room—Lorraine is there, alone. Ah, go, Alixe; it is charity!—and you wear the white cross—"
"It is dyed scarlet," she whispered through her tears.
He returned to Sir Thorald, who lay moving his restless hands over the sheets and turning his head constantly from side to side.
"Go on," said Jack; "finish what you were saying."
"Will she come?"
"Yes—in time."
Sir Thorald relapsed into a rambling, monotonous account of some military movement near Wissembourg until Jack spoke again:
"Yes—I know; tell me about Alixe."
"Yes—Alixe," muttered Sir Thorald—"is she here? I was wrong; I saw her at Cologne; that was all, Jack—nothing more."
"There is more," said Jack; "tell me."