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Updated: June 13, 2025
But Herter industriously chummed with him, and not for nothing. To Herter was due the 'discovery' of the inventor; and as he boasted experience in flying, he asked the privilege of being Hupfer's companion on the trial trip. "The success of this trip would depend even more on the machine's worth as a bomber than on her speed and climbing qualities.
"I'd seen so much of his plans that they remained printed on my brain, and I could if I would set that biplane on its wings again almost as easily as if I had invented it. "Odd that the Bosches and I both trusted Herter, seeing he must be false to one side or other! But he's that sort of man. And I always take a tip from my own instinct before listening to my reason.
Herter is often there, it seems. Besides, Gerbéviller was the principal end and aim of our day's excursion. Once no more than a pleasant town of quiet beauty on a pretty river, now it is a monument historique, the Pompeii of Lorraine. As we arrived the sun clouded over suddenly, and the effect was almost theatrical. From gold the light had dimmed to silver.
"Now I will tell you how he came which I can freely do, as we are both safe in Paris, having come from somewhere near Compiègne. One of the first things Herter said about you was that you must have guessed where he was going, and more or less for what purpose.
If Paul Herter proved to be mistaken, it would be for her like losing her son a second time, and the dear one's strength might not be equal to the strain. After thinking and unthinking all night, I decided to keep silent until our two men returned from the British front. Then, perhaps, I might tell Brian of the message from Doctor Paul, and ask his opinion about speaking to Father Beckett.
There's a halo round the man's head for me since I've heard that tragic story. Before, he was only a queer genius. Now, he's a hero. Will he turn away, I wonder, if I walk up to him and hold out my hand? I am longing, for a double reason, to see Vitrimont and Gerbéviller and Lunéville, since I've learned that at one of those places Paul Herter may appear.
But he's sure enough to say: 'Hope. If he's right about the man, you may get further news almost any minute by way of Switzerland or somewhere neutral. That's all. Yet it's enough to show you what danger you're in. If Herter hadn't been practically certain, he wouldn't have sent any message. He'd have waited.
Still, the air was electric with suspense, and heavy with dread of some vague tragedy: disgrace for the hospital, ruin for Herter. "You need not be afraid," he said to his assistants. "These canaille are sacred for me. They do not count as Bavarians." Nevertheless, the young doctors would have tended the wounded prisoners themselves, leaving Herter to care for his countrymen alone.
All the surgeon's serene confidence in himself returned in these emergencies, and he was doing invaluable work. People were grateful, but the man's ways and looks were so strange, his restlessness so tragic, that they dubbed him "le Juif Errant." Now, Padre, I have come to the right place to bring in my part of this story. While I was training at "Bart's," I met a doctor named Paul Herter.
And there had been so much else to think of, just then! His offer of introductions to specialists for Brian had appealed to me more than a vague suggestion of service to myself "some day." But now, through the darkness of night, a ray like a searchlight struck clear upon his cryptic hint. Somehow, Herter hoped to get across the frontier into Germany!
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