Without Orders [antikvár]

CHAPTER I SOMEWHERE in the early dawn a church bell was chiming. Its thin, melodious sound made Charles stir in his sleep, and in the half-consciousness of awakening he thought, "Ah, it's good to be home again the church bells and the foghorns . . . how I've missed themi Because of them I'll never move uptown. I'll live down here on Washington Square forever. . . A smile fluttered across his face. He yawned, he stretched his whole body, felt the soft linen of the sheets which covered him. Still only half awake, he turned his head and buried his face deeper in the hard square pillow. It felt good and cool. Yet, at the same time, it felt strange. And all of a sudden the smooth linen of the sheets, the soft warmth of the blanket, seemed unfamiliar, too. He sat up with a start and looked about him. He had never been in this room before. It was perfectly white, its walls and its furniture, like a private room in a hospital. "Hospital," he thought. "Hospital? But I wasn't wounded. Or, was I? Did we try to get away . . . and they caught us . . . sent a few bullets after us?" His hands felt along his body. No bandage. Anywhere. He lifted his legs. All right. No pain, 7