“Was there much damage done?”
“Damage? I believe you. The top of Cheapside pretty near blown away, and the General Post Office half wrecked.”
“How did I get here?”
“In fine state, my boy—on a stretcher. They were taking you to the hospital when I came along—which I did as soon as I heard about the explosion—but I said I knew you, and told them who you were, and had you brought here instead. And a bad time you’ve had of it, I can tell you. But now you mustn’t talk any more.”
“Oh, I’m all right! Tell me, were there many people killed?”
“A good many in the Post Office, but not many outside. You see, being Saturday, most of the places were empty, except for caretakers. And now go to sleep.”
“One more question only. Does any one know I was after Mullen when it happened?”
“No, they thought you were passing by chance. You see I told them who you were, but I couldn’t tell them what had happened, as I didn’t know, and you couldn’t speak for yourself, so I thought I’d better say nothing until you were well enough to tell your own story.”
“And Mullen got clean away?”
“Look here, old man, this won’t do, you know. The doctor said you weren’t to be allowed to talk more than could be helped.”