"And who wouldn't be to you, sweet Belinda?" murmured Frank in English. "Who indeed could be unkind to you?"
There was no time to explain to Sanderson who might be—who was, indeed!—very unkind to her. Nor did she wish to worry him if she could help it about Doctor Herschall, save to warn him that if the surgeon came through the ward, to do nothing or say nothing to arouse suspicion in the Prussian's mind.
"Oh, I am German," the aviator told her, laughing lightly. "I learned that poor fellow's name by the light of the burning aeroplanes. So I am August Gessler—some Swiss blood in me supposedly, from the name I bear. Ah, we are both sailing under false colors, it seems, Nurse Genau."
But Belinda could not take the matter lightly.
Doctor Herschall showed the cloven hoof again that day. He sent for Belinda to come to the operating ward and kept her there for several hours to aid him in certain delicate operations. She really had very little to do but to hand him instruments and the like, as she was wont to do in the New York hospital.
Doctor Herschall gave her a shock—as he intended, of course—just before she went back to her hut.
"Hum! I was told you crossed on the Belle o' Perth, Miss Belinda," he said in English. "And Sanderson, who was attempting to fly and came to the hospital to be patched up, was in your party. Your little friend, Miss Blaine, told me," he added maliciously.
"Mr. Sanderson was aboard, yes," answered Belinda, secretly shrinking from him. "He was not of my party. Only Aunt Roberta traveled with me."
"Hum! What became of him? Did he attempt to join the French Flying Corps?"
"He told me in Paris," said the girl honestly, and in full command of herself now, "that he expected to go to an aviation school."