"Renaud."
She repeated the name of the spy wonderingly. "He was not here? He did not kill that man?"
"Listen," Sanderson explained as she cracked his egg. "I thought it was Erard when he came creeping down the ward. Ah! a wonderful man is that Renaud. If the other wounded heard him they would not mind Erard. You see?"
"And he dared come here?"
"Yes. Good fellow! He means to bring about our escape. He is already assured of his own through the German lines to-day. We talked it all over. Even the day and hour is set. I shall then be able to walk about with my arm in a sling.
"I know the rendezvous. We shall escape together, Belinda—you and I," and he smiled upon her lovingly.
"Ah! but shall we?" she murmured, yet did not dare to put into words her fear of Doctor Herschall.
The effect of the mysterious happening of the night upon Erard was to make him for the first time since Belinda had known him quite silent. And he kept away from Sanderson's end of the ward.
This was an occurrence—the death of the orderly—that must be investigated by both the regimental commander and Doctor Herschall. But the black-browed surgeon came into the ward alone.
He said not a word when he entered. His eyes glittered. His air seemed more threatening as he passed down the aisle between the cots than it had ever before seemed to Belinda.