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khaki-coloured greatcoat turned up over his ears.
“I am so sorry,” said the Mayor, “I
quite forgot to tell you about him. He is an
Englishman. We found him down by the
river half buried under the wreckage of the
blown-up bridge. The poor fellow was
quite stunned. He has two of his fingers
blown away, and he has a bullet wound in
the back.”
“Rather an unusual place for an
Englishman to be hit in,” said the Doctor.
“I have not been able to examine the
wound very well, he is so very sensitive,
and he begins to groan as soon as one touches
him. He has had no internal hæmorrhage,
and to-day his temperature is normal. His
appetite is very good, he sleeps a lot, and I
think he is doing very well considering.”
“It takes a lot to kill an Englishman,”
said the Doctor.
“He does not speak French and none of
us here understand his English, but we are
trying to look after him as well as we can.
You know we all like the English here,” said
the Mayor. “He will be very glad to see
you.”
“Hallo!” said the Doctor in English.
“How are you getting on, Tommy Atkins?”
The man did not move.
“I think he is sound asleep,” said the Mayor.
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