But we--" with a gloomy shake of the head--"we are wiped out." "Your father and brothers ?" "All in same boat--wiped out." I would have liked to question him further, but the talking was evidently trying to him, and I had to wait.

It was much to have learnt that up to a month ago all was well with those dearest to me, though his last words raised new black fears.
I hung about outside till the hospital attendant paid his belated visit, and then questioned him.
"A shot through the lung," he told me, "and a bout of fever on top of it.
Lung healing, needs nursing.

Do you know him ?" "He is from my country.

If you'll tell me what to do I'll see to him." "Then I'll leave him to you.

We've got our hands full over there," and he gave me simple directions as to treatment, and told me to report to him each day.
And so my work was cut out for me, and for the time being all thought of escape was put aside.
It was as much as I could do to keep Le Marchant from talking, but I insisted and bullied him into the silence that was good for him, and had my reward in his healing lung and slowly returning strength.
To keep him quiet I sat much with him, and told him by degrees pretty nearly all that had happened to me.