"Send him to me. Some way must be found to save Renaud."
"But you will be risking your own safety," she warned him. "Oh, Frank, I am at my wits' end to think how to get you free."
"Never mind me, Belinda," he said. "Renaud comes first. He will carry important papers and much information of value to the French commander."
"But—but," stammered the girl, "this is only to help the French. And you risk your safety. You are an American, Frank!"
"That I am an American makes it all the more necessary that I should help France," he whispered. "My heavens, girl! didn't we both come over here for that purpose? At any rate I feel myself to be one of those Americans who are helping uphold the hands of France while my people are awakening to the peril of an autocracy that menaces the world. No, Belinda, I must do my part though the heavens fall!" and once more the old-time smile overspread his countenance and mirth again danced in his eyes.
"Oh, Frank——"
She was forced to leave him suddenly, for there was a call for her at the other end of the ward. Their conference had been brief but illuminating.
As the aviator turned his head on the pillow he saw fixed upon him a pair of hungry eyes from a cot across the aisle. The face was emaciated, and a silky yellow fuzz of whisker the patient wore betrayed his youth.
This was Ernest, Belinda's single unruly patient. Frank was conscious that this youth fixed him with an attention that seemed almost uncanny. Had the American, easily wearied in his weakened state, not dropped asleep almost immediately he might have been made anxious by the glare of the young German.
Meanwhile Belinda looked for somebody to carry a request to Erard. Courteously as she had been thus far treated by the Germans, she had noted even her Cousin Carl's evident determination to give little Erard and herself small opportunity for private conversation.