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THE next time I saw Stojanoff was in the infirmary. He had been to Lyons, had been to see the Colonel, and tried every means in his power not to have to stay at Valbonne. It was useless. Nothing could be done for him. He returned, without being caught with his forged permission, tore open his wound and reported ill. The doctor seeing the condition of the wound sent him to the infirmary.
"Here at least are beds to sleep on and the place is fairly clean," he said. "Only we don't get any food and I am nearly starved. All we get is milk and broth and bread."