Leopold blinked up at the man suddenly looming over him and tried to compose himself. “I am not used to finding myself in the debt of men whose names I do not know,” he whispered. “You have already done a great deal more for me than many would have, you and Rose, and you seem prepared to do more.”

Pausing to take a breath, Leopold grimaced at the pain even that small movement caused, not at all looking forward to the surgery to come. He privately did not believe that he was going to be all right at all, but he kept his doubts to himself. At times like these, he wished he believed in God.

He lifted his head as much as he could when Sam held the bottle to his lips, gulping the liquid gratefully. He coughed as it burned his throat, but most of it did go down, dulling the pain a little. “I cannot fathom how you Americans drink that stuff,” he spluttered, trying for a little levity.