“Where is he?” he asked sharply.
“Ward Six, County hospital,” the sergeant told him.
“Tell the Commissioner if he wants me I’ll be back in an hour,” Adams said, and went quickly back to his car.
He got over to the County hospital in five minutes.
“Manchini ?” the house surgeon said when Adams asked him if he could talk to Louie. “Not much hope for him. He has an abnormally thin skull. Someone hit him with a bicycle chain. I doubt if he’ll last the night.”
“Is he conscious?”
“No, but he might come round at any moment. One of your men is with him. You can go up if you want to. There’s nothing more we can do for him.”
Paradise Louie lay in bed, his bruised and broken face swathed in bandages. Detective Watson sat glumly at his side. He got up hurriedly when he saw Adams, nearly upsetting his chair.
“Is he conscious?” Adams asked.
“Yes, sir, but he’s pretty bad.”