Knight Without Armour

During delirium the had suddenly astonished these nurses by murmuring a few phrases in English, and this, on being reported to the higher authorities, had caused some little sensation. The Harvard graduate went even so far as to take a card from the filing-cabinet, inscribe in the ‘profession’ column the words ’speaks a little English—perhaps a waiter,’ and then replace the card in the filing-cabinet. When, after his delirium, the patient recovered consciousness, the nurses naturally addressed him in English; he would not answer at first, but on being told of his ravings, admitted that he knew the language. He would not, however, tell them anything more about himself, and firmly declined to converse. He soon gained a mysterious reputation, and several doctors, including one very eminent psycho- analyst from Boston, paid him special visits. The psycho-analyst said that he must have been blown up in the war, and specified the exact sections of his brain that had suffered most damage.

Once during Isis illness he had enquired about the child, but his questions could not be answered, being outside the province of the hospital staff. They assured him, however, that all children received by the relief detachments were splendidly looked after and that he had nothing at all to worry about. He was not worrying, as it happened. When he left the hospital he called at the relief headquarters to make further enquiry; the Harvard graduate turned up his card in the filing-cabinet, turned up the girl’s card, and declared, with business-like promptness, that she had been sent away. Then, seeing his own note on the man’s card, he added: “Ah, you’re the chap who speaks a little English, aren’t you? You won’t mind if I drop the Russian, then, eh?”

“I don’t mind,” A.J. said.

So they talked, or rather the Harvard graduate talked, in English. He explained that all orphaned children were being transferred to a big children’s camp in the Crimea, run by the Americans in connection with several American charitable organisations. There the children were being housed, fed, clothed, and looked after at American expense, and an attempt was even being made to get certain families in America to adopt individual children. “So far the response has been very gratifying,” declared the young man, toying with his horn-rimmed spectacles. “Of course it depends on our State Department how many are allowed to go, but I believe permission has already been given for the first batch.”

A.J. nodded.

“It would be possible, no doubt,” continued the young man agreeably, “to trace any particular child.”

“Yes, I see. But that would take time.”

“You are in a hurry?”

“No—not really—but I must get away.”

“Where to?”

“I don’t know.”

The Harvard man stared at the desk, thinking how typically Russian the reply was—so like a piece out of a Chekov play—in fact, to be candid, more than a little imbecile. Contenting himself with a final rally of his official self, he rejoined: “I trust there has been no mistake of any kind. We have it noted here that you came with the child, that you denied that you were the child’s father, and that you indicated that the child was without parents. That being so—”

“Oh yes, quite,” answered A.J., taking up his paper parcel. “It doesn’t matter, I assure you.”

And, after all, it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. He was just passing out of the office after a perfunctory good-day, when the other called him back. “Just a moment. I don’t know whether—you see, you said you didn’t know where you were going to—”

“Yes?”

“Well, perhaps in that case you’d consider staying on here for a little while?”

“Why?”

“Well, you’d be pretty useful as an interpreter. The pay would be a dollar a day, and you could feed and sleep here, of course.”

“Thanks. I’ll stay.”

Such an instant acceptance seemed rather to disconcert the young man, but he managed to express his pleasure, and soon afterwards set A.J. to work on a pile of letters waiting to be deciphered from the Russian.

Thus A.J. became part of the American Relief detachment at Pavlokoff. His jobs, besides the translating and answering of letters, included the receiving and questioning of applicants for assistance, and he was also called for by anybody and everybody in all linguistic emergencies of every kind. He worked hard and was rather a success. Yet at the end of six months nobody knew him any better than at the beginning. The Harvard graduate, as well as many of the doctors and nurses, made innumerable efforts to break down the harrier and become intimate; hut, though always polite, A.J. never yielded an inch. They all concluded that he must be slightly mad, yet they all trusted him to a degree oddly inharmonious with such a conclusion.