All is arranged.

Come along to my quarters, they are on the line that the convoy goes to the gate.

Jump in bed, then I will bandage up your head with plaisters so that not more than space to see and breathe out of will be left.

When the convoy arrives at the door, he will have an empty litter ready, will bring up four men who will lift you in, supposing you to be a wounded French officer, carry you down, and off you go with the convoy, not a soul save the doctor, you, and I, the wiser.

He has got a pass to leave the city with forty-eight sick and ten soldiers, and he has only to tell one of those marked to go that he is not well enough to be moved, and will go with the next convoy.