A BRAVE BOY’S RESOLVE.
Nick Collins’ first impulse was to rush from his place of concealment
and call the police. But he did not do so, probably because a desire to
see what Vail and Loucks would do held him to his point of observation.
Evidently Vail had not intended to inflict bodily injury on the
admiral, and the serious result of his interference with the old man
filled him with fear for the consequences.
For a minute or two he stood looking down at the prostrate, motionless
figure on the floor, and then he turned to Loucks. The latter had
ceased his work of copying the letter, and was leaning on the rail
beside his employer.
“Loucks,” said Vail gravely, “this is bad work.”
Loucks came from behind the rail, bent down, and examined the face of
the admiral.
“What do you think of it?” asked the broker.
Loucks, intent on his examination, did not answer.
“Is he--dangerously hurt?” faltered Vail.
“No, I think not,” was the other’s answer. “But he breathes strangely.”
“What does that mean?”
“Can’t say exactly, but I don’t like it.”
“What shall we do?”
“Leave it to me,” said Loucks reassuringly.
“But what--what is--to be done?” asked Vail anxiously.
“Oh, don’t get frightened,” Loucks muttered. “We’re not responsible for
accidents. Our main care should be for the paper.”
“That’s so. Give the paper to me.”
Loucks handed the bit of writing to Vail, then started to leave the
room.
“Where are you going?” asked his employer, in surprise.
“For a doctor.”
“Is it as bad as that?”
“Best to be on the safe side. If he should die on our hands it might be
awkward for us. Here, Nick!”
Loucks had entered the outer office, and approached the door of the
messenger’s closet.
Nick Collins fully realized that fate, in leading him to a knowledge of
the dark plots of these evil men, had made him seemingly the guardian
of an imperiled man’s interests. He therefore feigned sleep and closed
his eyes as Loucks opened the closet door.
“Here, Nick, wake up! wake up!”
Nick started to his feet.
“An errand, sir?” he asked, in as calm a tone as he could command.
“Yes--run for a doctor.”
“Where, sir?”
“The nearest doctor is in the Hills Building, around the corner. A
client has fallen in the office, and needs medical care.”
Nick sped away with a pounding, anxious heart. He could only think of
obeying orders just now.
When he returned in five minutes a professional-looking man accompanied
him.
Nick followed him into the private office and watched his
ministrations to the injured admiral with an anxious face.
The admiral had recovered motion but not consciousness. He moved
restively and moaned incoherent words and sentences.
The physician looked puzzled, and his face grew graver and graver as
the minutes passed by.
“The hurt is a trivial one,” he said, “a mere scalp wound, yet its
effect alarms me. Who is the gentleman, sir?”
“A chance visitor who came here to borrow money,” said Loucks. “He fell
as he was leaving the office.”
“Did he seem rational when he came here?”
“Scarcely,” replied Vail. “He seemed to be entertaining some delusion
regarding an immense amount of money.”
“Ah! that explains it. I would advise you to get him to his friends.”
“We do not know them.”
“Then to some hospital. He needs watching and care more than medicine.
The fall evidently has precipitated a long-threatened mental trouble.
I may be mistaken, gentlemen, but all the indications tend to the
distressing conclusion that when the patient recovers consciousness he
will be hopelessly insane.”
Nick Collins heard this with a sinking heart. A sense of responsibility
for the safety of the old friend of his father had grown upon the lad
in the last few minutes. Admiral Semmes was friendless now, at the
mercy of unscrupulous and powerful plotters. Who would protect his
interests? Who would wrest the stolen secret of the treasure of the
Western deep from the clutches of these cruel, heartless schemers?
“Heaven help me to be a friend to this lonely old man in his misery and
misfortune!” was the wish that Nick breathed.