“So?”
“His leg is broken, I think. I made him as comfortable as I could. Can you get a doctor? The man will rest quiet till a doctor comes. He can’t be moved very well.”
“Ein doctor? Ja. Es ist one bei Niles Center. Mein son vill go for him. Too bad! Too bad! Come in.”
“No, thank you,” said Orme carelessly.
“Do I look it?” Orme laughed.
“Nein, you do not look it. Ach! Dese autymobles! Dey makes much harm.”
“It is too bad,” admitted Orme.
“He vas a millionaire, maybe. Dey comes by here so fast, going to Arradale. Hans! Komm Hier! Ein man is gesmashed. Du must for der doctor go.” He turned back to Orme. “Mein son, he will go.”
But Orme had no ears for what the sympathetic German said. One word had made his heart leap.