But on more than one occasion his imagination, or intuition or sixth sense or whatever it might be, had brought most astonishing results; as, for example, the capture of a band of plotters; to which he had referred when discussing the flood of Bolshevist literature and the wave of crime with his coworkers.
Now, as he studied his notes of Smernoff’s statements and at times half closed his eyes as if concentrating on some far-off matter, a smile spread across his features and from time to time he nodded approvingly.
“I’d wager it is,” he commented to himself. “Everything points that way. The submarine, Smernoff—a fanatical socialist—those remarkable deep-sea suits—the under-sea radio, the mystery about it all and yes—the time hitches perfectly. Bloody sort of brute he is—wish I could get him for that—sorry it’s out of our hands. Jove! I
hope that mate of his lives long enough to give us what we want. Smernoff admits he knows. By Jove, it would be a coup! Wonder if those boys even dream what their experimenting has led up to!”
He was still deeply engrossed in his occupation when the phone bell rang and Mr. Pauling’s voice came to him. “He’s conscious,” said the latter, “Come to the hospital as quickly as possible. Yes, I’m going this instant. Of course. Bring Ivan.”
“Come along, Ivan!” exclaimed Mr. Henderson, as he hung up the receiver, and grasping his hat he hurried from the room into which the janitor instantly popped like some sort of automaton.
As soon as the ambulance bearing the injured prisoner had reached the hospital, the man had been taken to a private room and the doctors had devoted every attention, every latest appliance, every resource known to modern medicine and surgery to patching the horribly burned and disfigured fellow up in order to prolong his life until he could regain consciousness. In the hospital a more thorough examination had revealed the fact
that the interior of his mouth was not so seriously burned as had been thought when first aid was being administered at the dock. Evidently he had had presence of mind enough to snap off the valve and to shut his lips at the first burst of flames from the chemicals when, startled by the submarine deserting them, he had instinctively cried out a warning to his mate and had allowed water to enter the tube.
“There’s about one chance in ten thousand that he may live,” announced the gray-haired surgeon to his assistant. “He has not inhaled flames and it all depends upon his constitution. The shock was enough to kill an ordinary man outright, but it will be no kindness to have him survive. If it were not for Mr. Pauling’s orders I’d take the responsibility of letting him go, I believe. Gad! Can you imagine any one living with a face like that or caring enough to live to undergo the agony that he’ll suffer if he becomes conscious?”
“Not me!” replied the younger man. “I’d think it a Christian act to let cases of this sort find relief in death, but I suppose every man has a right to his life if he wants it. Have any idea