AT THE HOSPITAL
★
A policeman on duty at the station, attracted by the shooting, came on
the run and Condon Adams flashed his federal badge.
“Get an ambulance and get this man to a hospital. See that a heavy guard
is placed at his bed. We’ll take the fellow in the car down to the
central station with us and make a personal report.”
The federal men remained on the scene until an ambulance arrived. In the
meantime Condon Adams had handcuffed the driver of the car, who was now
regaining consciousness. He pushed him into the back seat, tossed in his
own traveling bag, and with Bob driving the car, they started for the
police station.
The trip was uneventful and they parked the car in front of the station
where a few hours before Bob had telephoned the news of his uncle’s
abduction to Washington. The same night captain was on duty and his eyes
widened when he saw Bob and Condon Adams with their handcuffed prisoner.
Before the policeman could ply them with questions Condon Adams explained
what had happened.
“Throw this fellow into a solitary cell; I’ll question him after I get
back from the hospital,” he said.
“What charge shall I book him on?” asked the policeman.
“Attempted abduction of a federal officer,” snapped Adams, who then
turned toward Bob.
“We’ll get over to the hospital now and see if the fellow you clipped
with a couple of bullets is ready to talk.”
They hurried outside the station, but Adams stopped short when he saw the
sedan at the curb.
“I forgot all about the car,” he said. “It’s probably stolen. I’ll report
it to the captain.”
By the time the older federal agent was back Bob had a cab waiting at the
curb and they told the driver to speed them to the hospital.
“If we can get either one of these fellows to talk, it may be the break
that will open up this case,” mused Adams as the cab roared along the now
almost deserted streets.
They pulled up at the hospital where a dim light glowed over the
entrance. There was no general admittance at that hour of the night, but
continued ringing of the bell brought an orderly and they gained
admission.
Condon Adams revealed their identity to the night supervisor and asked
the condition of the man who had been brought in.
“He’s resting fairly comfortably,” said the nurse. “The bullet in his
shoulder has been removed and the one in his leg will be taken out in the
morning.”
“Case serious?” pressed Adams.
“I wouldn’t say so,” replied the nurse cautiously, leading the way down
the darkened corridor to a room where the lights were aglow. She opened
the door and they stepped in, a nurse who had been near the bed rising as
they entered. A policeman on the other side of the bed did likewise.
“Don’t make him talk too much,” cautioned the night supervisor.
Bob looked at the man who had attempted to kidnap them. His face was thin
and marred with a sneer.
“You fellows can save your breath. I won’t talk,” he said, an unpleasant
whine in his voice, and Bob catalogued him as a dangerous man when armed,
but one who was weak physically.
“We’ll see about that,” said Adams confidently. “The boys down at the
station are working over the fellow who was driving for you. If you don’t
talk here, we’ll work you over when you get out.”
Bob knew that was only a threat, but he was interested in the reaction in
the face of the man on the bed and he saw a weakening of the lines around
the mouth as though the thought of physical punishment was unnerving.
Condon Adams must have sensed the same thing for he advanced with a
threatening gesture of his fists and the man on the bed cringed away from
him.
“You can’t hit me,” he cried.
“Maybe not, but I’d like to,” scowled Adams, and Bob knew that the older
federal agent was sincere in that.