Soon afterwards the Captain entered and passed between the beds, stopping to ask each of the patients how he was getting on, and giving a cheery word of encouragement to everyone. At last he reached the bed where Dora Fletcher stood over the dead figure, whose fingers still clasped the little silver crucifix.
"H'm," he grunted, "another loss. Anything to report?"
In a few words the girl described the condition and progress of the various patients. At the conclusion Calamity nodded, but made no comment.
"I should like to ask you a favour, Captain," she said quietly.
"A favour? Well, what is it?" he demanded in a tone that was the reverse of encouraging.
"Do you think you could give this poor fellow"—she indicated the dead man on the bed—"a Christian burial? I—I think he would have wished it."
A look of mingled surprise and annoyance came into the Captain's face as he glanced at the unconscious figure.
"The man's dead, isn't he?"
"Yes, of course," answered the girl, puzzled by the question.
"Then what difference can it make to him how he's buried?" demanded Calamity, and, without waiting for an answer, walked away.