"A detention house, yes. Even the flying-man is there until the court convenes. But he is only a witness, of course," Carl said cheerfully.
"Carl," whispered the girl, "do you suppose I could speak to poor Erard?"
"That rat?"
"Don't speak so of him. He has aided me for months—ever since I came to the war zone to work. He has been my only help and comfort at times."
"I declare I believe him a gutter-rat from the sewers of Paris."
"I do not care. To me he has always shown his better nature."
"And he says he was trying to steal from—from the flying-man last night before the orderly was killed."
"But I pity him so! And he will surely be shot! Do, Carl!"
"It might be done," said the good-natured fellow. "I can get you a pass and take you to the château myself. It is true that there probably will be no chance for you to see him after Herr Major Baron von Brandenburg passes sentence. Ach! he is a martinet, that old boy. Yes, it might be done, by a shrewd fellow like me," and Carl winked at her.
It was done. The old château in question was less than half an hour's walk from the hospital gate. The walls about it and the grounds had been ruined by gunfire. However, all but one wing of the great building remained in remarkably good condition.