He glared about the ward once more, ignoring Belinda, and taking his departure before Sanderson was ready to go.
There was, nevertheless, no opportunity for the nurse and the aviator to say much together in private. Besides, grasping a drifting straw of hope, both saw that the Herr Doktor had not openly treated them as enemies.
It was plain by their looks that the wounded men did not know what to make of the affair. For all that the Prussian surgeon had said, Erard's story of the night's tragic happening might be the exact truth.
If the Herr Doktor had been stern with the wounded aviator—even with the nurse—it might be only his bullying way. They all knew what that was.
Jacob wrung Sanderson's good hand as the American started up the aisle. "Gemüth, mein Herr! A brave man with your record of flying for the Fatherland need have no fear of a drumhead court. Viel Glück!"
Belinda went with the aviator to the door. The two soldiers stepped out first, one of them politely holding the door open for Sanderson. They evidently did not consider him a prisoner.
"Don't lose your grip, Belinda," the young man whispered. "All is not lost. And I believe that black-browed devil has it in his mind to save you, at least."
"Oh, but I do not want to be saved without you, Frank!" she breathed.
"Don't fear. We'll pull through. And that plucky Erard——"
"He is a hero," murmured Belinda. "His lie may save you."