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Page 31
He drove to the nearest hospital without the loss of a single
moment's time. Round the monstrous building, with it's spreading
maze of pavilions, he went through a court, and stopped at a
doorway which opened directly on a large elevator.
He pressed a button, and a white-clad attendant appeared.
"Drunk?" he asked.
"Stuck!" said Jim briefly.
"Stabbed?" asked the attendant.
"'S what I said," retorted Jim, and almost before he could
realize it, the unconscious Weasel, the attendant and himself
were being smoothly carried to the emergency ward, far above.
The attendant motioned to Jim, and they went silently into an
office where another man, also in while, sat at a desk, and took
down in a big book the circumstances of the Weasel's arrival. He
finished, then Jim saw him reach under the desk and press a
button. Immediately the door opened, and a couple of heavily
built men in plain blue uniforms entered. They read the entry in
the big book, then looked searchingly at Jim.
"You are detained, Morris," said the taller of the two, "pending
an examination into this affair." He took up the house telephone.
Presently he turned. "The man is very badly hurt; perhaps dying.
He is unconscious."
He nodded to Jim. "Come along," he said. "I'll have to keep you
here awhile."
"That's all right," Jim said airily. "I wish I could send a
telephone message. Don't see what harm there is in that."
"No, there's no harm in that," said the detective, "providing the
person you wish to talk to is a decent sort."
"It's Leffingwell--Leffingwell who is Chairman of all the city
committees," said Jim proudly. "Look up his number yourself."
The detective did so. Jim called and began speaking.
"Say, is this Mr. Leffingwell?" he asked. "No, I don't want no
Timmons. I want Mr. Leffingwell."
Jim smiled wickedly into the receiver. "Well, say, young feller,
I'm surprised you don't know me. This is J. P. Morgan speaking'.
I want sell--Huh? Oh, y-y-yes, Sir. Why, yes, sir, Mr. Leffingwell.
I thought I was talking to some fresh guy on the phone. Excuse
me, Sir! Yes, sir! I have news for you. I'm here at the Park
Hospital with a fare what got stabbed. No, sir, it's not a boy.
He's a little thin man. I know where the boys is, and they want
help. Yes, Sir! My car is right here, but I'm been' detained.
Yes, sir, they won't let me go 'til the young feller gets better
or croaks."
The detective cut in. "Does he want you to come there?"
"He sure does that!" said Jim.
The detective took the receiver. He told Mr. Leffingwell the
circumstances.
He listened attentively. Then "Yes, sir," he said. "I will come
right over with him."
CHAPTER X
BY WAY OF THE HOUSE NEXT DOOR
The boys will never know how long it took to drive to the street
and number given them by the poor Weasel. Arriving at the corner
where the old brown stone house stood looking the picture of
desolation, with its closely boarded-up windows, its dusty steps
and seedy doors, the boys passed down the side street and left
the car in the shadow of the buildings there. They separated and
hurried back to the house, one at a time. Slipping through the
dense shadows in the weedy, cluttered-up back yard, a yard that
had once been a trim garden with smooth paths and neat little
hedges, as back yards were once in the olden days, they met under
the iron fire-escape attached to the house next door. This
building, much higher than the corner house, was used as a
private sanitarium or hospital by one of the highest-priced
specialists in the city. The fire-escape, therefore, was in
perfect condition, and safe as such a spidery stairway could be
made, with strong rails and good treads.
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